The Departure.

‘ Remember what you promis'd me:

‘ And see, the Sun is getting low;

‘ The Children want an hour ye see

‘ To talk a bit before we go.’

Like youthful Lover most complying

He turn'd, and chuckt her by the chin:

Then all across the green grass hieing,

Right merry faces, all akin,

Their farewell quart, beneath a

That droop'd its branches from above,

Awak'd the pure felicity

That waits upon PARENTAL LOVE.

KATE view'd her blooming Daughters round,

And Sons, who shook her wither'd hand;

Her features spoke what joy she found;

But utterance had made a stand.