Page:FirstSeriesOfHymns.djvu/127

Rh 

fly about the candle gay Will dance with thoughtless hum; But short, alas I her giddy play— Her pleasure proves her doom.

The child in like simplicity About the bee-hive clings, And with one drop of honey she Receives a thousand stings.

 

mate, no comrade Lucy knew, She dwelt on a wide moor, The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a cottage-door. You, too, may spy the fawn at play, The hare upon the green, But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen.

"To-night will be a stormy night, You to the town must go, And take a lantern, child, to light Your mother through the snow." "That, father, I will gladly do; 'Tis scarcely afternoon— The minster clock has just struck two, And yonder is the moon."

At this the father raised his hook, And snapp'd a faggot-band; He plied his work, and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. 