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 LUCY GRAY. 
 
 Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray, 
 And when I cross'd the wild 
 
 I chanced to see at break of day 
 The solitary child. 
 
 No mate, no comrade Lucy knew, 
 She dwelt on a wild moor, 
 
 The sweetest thing that ever grew 
 Beside a human door. 
 
 You yet may spy the fawn at day. 
 
 The hare upon the green 
 But the sweet face of Lucy Gray 
 
 Will never more be seen. 
 
 To-night will be a stormy night, 
 We to t lie town must sro. 
 
Si 
 
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 They track'd them on, nor never lost, 
 And to the bridge they came. 
 
 Then followed from the snowy bank 
 The footmarks, one by one, 
 
 Into the middle of the plank, 
 And further there was none. 
 
 Yet some maintain that to this clay 
 
 She is a living child, 
 That you may see sweet Lucy Gray 
 
 Upon the lonesome wild. 
 
 O'er rough and smooth she trips along, 
 
 And never looks behind; 
 And sings a solitary song 
 
 That whistles in the wind. 
 
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 SLEEP, BABY, SLEEP. 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep, 
 Your father herds his sheep, 
 Your mother shakes the little tree 
 From which fall pretty dreams on thee, 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep, jj 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep, 
 
 The heavens are white with showers, 
 
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 And take a lantern, child, to light 
 Your mother thro' the snow. 
 
 That, Father, will I gladly do; 
 
 'Tis scarcely afternoon — 
 The minster-clock has just struck two 
 
 And yonder is the moon. 
 
Went shouting far and wide; 
 But there was neither sound nor sight 
 
 jf| At this the Father raised his hook, 
 
 «*|| And snapped a faggot-hand; ^> 
 
 ^_p, He plied his work, and Lucy took |fe 
 
 The lantern in her hand, H*- 
 
 *8 it 
 
 ; Not blither is the mountain rue; — g£ 
 
 e-4 j With many a wanton stroke i ]-> 
 
 Her feet disperse the powd'ry snow jp£ 
 That raises up like smoke. 
 
 The storm came on before its time, 
 
 She wander d up and dd"#n, Mo 
 
 ^ And many a hill did Lucy climb ■ 
 
 But never reache'd the town. \ "-■> 
 
 J] | The wretched parents all that night ; ^ 
 Went shouting far and widp.: 
 
 To serve them for a guide. $r°- 
 
 .o|| At day-break on a hill they s(ood ||£ 
 f*g That overlook'd the moor; 
 
 And thence they saw the bridge of wood 
 A furlong from their door. 
 
 £ So now they homeward turned, and cried, . : 
 
 «H • In Heaven Ave all shall meet. if© 
 
£f| When in the snow the mother spied, 
 The print of Lucy's feet. 
 
 Then downward from (he steep hills edge 
 
 They track' d the footmarks small, 
 And through the broken hawthorn hedge 
 And by the long stone -wall; 
 
 And then an open field they cross. 
 The marks were still the same, 
 
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