one from heaven;
Dark hair and dark brown eyes, -
Not to be sad she tries,
Still - still it's lonely lies
Poor Miss 7.

One day-long watch hath she,
Poor Miss 7,
Not in some orchard sweet
In April Devon -
Just four blank walls to see,
And dark come shadowily,
No moon, no stars, ah me!
Poor Miss 7.

And then to wake again,
Poor Miss 7,
To the cold night, to have
Sour physic given;
Out of some dream of pain,
Then strive long hours in vain
Deep dreamless sleep to gain:
Poor Miss 7.

Yet memory softly sings
Poor Miss 7
Songs full of love and peace
And gladness even;
Clear flowers and tiny wings,
All tender, lovely things,
Hope to her bosom brings -
Happy Miss 7.

SAM

When Sam goes back in memory,
It is to where the sea
Breaks on the shingle, emerald-green,
In white foam, endlessly;
He says - with small brown eye on mine-
'I used to keep awake,
And lean from my window in the moon,
Watching those billows break.
And half a million tiny hands,
And eyes, like sparks of frost,
Would dance and come tumbling into the moon,
On every breaker tossed.
And all across from star to star,
I've seen the watery sea,
With not a single ship in sight,
Just ocean there, and me;
And heard my father snore. And once,
As sure as I'm alive,
Out of those wallowing, moon-flecked waves
I saw a mermaid dive;
Head and shoulders above the wave,
Plain as I now see you,
Combing her hair, now back, now front,
Her two eyes peeping through;
Calling me, 'Sam!' -quietlike- 'Sam!'...
But me .... I never went,
Making believe I kind of thought
'Twas some one else she meant....
Wonderful lovely there she sat,
Singing the night away,
All in the solitudinous sea
Of that there lonely bay.

P'raps,' and he'd smooth his hairless mouth,
'P'raps, if 'twere now, my son,
Praps, if I heard a voice say, 'Sam!'...
Morning would find we gone.'

ANDY BATTLE

Once and there was a young sailor, yeo ho!
And he sailed out over the say
For the isles where pink coral and palm branches blow,
And the fire-flies turn night into day,
Yeo ho!
And the fire-flies turn night into day.

But the Dolphin went down in a tempest, yeo ho!
And with three forsook sailors ashore,
The portingales took him wh'ere sugar-canes grow,
Their slave for to be evermore,
Yeo ho!