The hills

- one golden dream!

Blest be the two Promoters

Of the Great Loch Lomond scheme.

They travelled on by glen and loch
Enjoyed great things and small,
But one another's company

Enjoyed they most of all

Until at Stron-na-chlacher

They deigned to sit and feed:
Blessing the kind and prudent hand
Which had supplied their need.

Good appetites to all who eat,
And drink, by bog and stream;
But most to the two Promoters
Of the Great Loch Lomond scheme.

Adown Loch Katrine's silver wave
They steamed; passed Ellen's Isle
Beneath umbrellas. The skies wept :
But they the more did smile :
So placid were their thankful hearts;
Forgetting "might have beens,"

They sat and soaked, and soaked and sat,

Happy as kings and queens.

How sweet is rain that makes the hills

To vanish like a dream

How wise were the Promoters

Of the Great Loch Lomond scheme.

504 GREAT LOCH LOMOND SCHEME.

Ere long the kindly skies grew bright
As Kandy's merry eyes:

The clouds pass off: the purple peaks
Like Victor's spirits rise.

And though the Glasgow tourists swarm
About them, just like bees,
This Noble Family, I say,

Enjoys itself at ease.

Success to every drop of rain
Followed by sunny gleam,

But most to the Promoters

Of the Great Loch Lomond scheme.

On the thirtieth of November,

Eighteen hundred and seventy-five,

The humble poet sat her down
And, being still alive,
Though not so very much alive,

As on that pleasant day,
Began to jog her memory

To finish up this lay:

But ah, she only went to sleep,
And wrote as in a dream,

"Good luck to the two Promoters

Of the Great Loch Lomond scheme."

In clouds across her window pane
The feathery white snow flies:

And all her brains are frozen up,

Her soul alone has eyes.

With them she sees the gleaming loch,

The sunset hues, as clear

As paradise

the silent moon,

The faces kind and dear.

And still she says, "Tis good to sleep,

And better still to dream

Long life to the two Promoters

Of the Great Loch Lomond scheme."

MISSED.

M. C. N. P. Died September 20, 1879.

"Four corners to my bed,

Four angels round my head;
One to watch and one to pray,
Two to bear my soul away."

OUR angels, sure, stand round

That small spot of moonlight ground,
Where the turf folds safe and sweet

O'er his eyes, and hands, and feet.
Hands more meet to gather flowers
Than to strain and toil like ours:

Feet too soft for this world's road,
Eyes that seemed to search for God, -
So, God took him.

-

Five years' space ·

Just to learn the little face

And remember it: to hear

In the child-voice pure and clear

Words that seemed to teach His ways,

Who "out of babes' mouths perfects praise; " Then, this silence.

Gather here,

Living children, good and dear,
Let your Christmas mirth arise,
What has youth to do with sighs?
Cluster round the Christmas fire;
Labor, dream, endure, aspire :
Live your lives as Heaven sees best,
Struggle, conquer, work, and rest.
But he rests already. Done,
All his task, ere heat of sun.
In the five years did he drain,
Every drop, the cup of pain,
With a saintly patience sweet,
Laid it down, and rose complete
Into the perfect life of God.
Moon, shine softly on that sod,
Colder than this household hearth-

Yet the holiest spot on earth

To the hearts, whose lips are dumb.
And each Christmas that shall come
Bringing memories at flood-tide,
Smiles long faded, tears long dried,

There will come too, unforgot,
One among them who "is not:
Never changing as they change,
Never growing old or strange.
Creeping, silent and unseen,

Them and the harsh world between : Entering with noiseless foot

Each heart's door, open or shut:

An angelic influence mild,

Yet eternally a child.