MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE. 121 



NEW YEAR'S EVE, 



If you're waking call me early, call me early, mother dear, 



For I would see the sun rise upon the glad Newyear. 



It is the last Newyear that I shall ever see, 



Then you may lay me low i' the mould and think no more o' me. 



Tonight I saw the sun set : he set and left behind 



The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind ; 



And the Newyear^s coming up, mother, but I shall never see 



The May upon the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree. 



Last May we made a crown of flowers : we had a merry day ; 

 Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May ; 

 And we danced about the maypole and in the hazel-copse. 

 Till Charles's wain came out above the tall white chimneytops. 



There's not a flower on all the hills : the frost is on the pane : 

 I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again : 

 I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on high 

 I long to see a flower so before the day I die. 



The building rook 'ill caw from the windy tall elmtree, 

 .And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea, 

 And the swallow '11 come back again with summer o'er the wave, 

 But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave. 



Upon the chancel-casement, and upon that grave o' mine, 

 In the early early morning the summer sun 'ill shine, 

 Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill, 

 When you are warm asleep, mother, and all the world is still. 



When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light, 

 Ye'll never see me more in the long gray fields at night ; 

 When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool, 

 On the oatgrass and the swordgrass, and the bulrush in the pool. 



Ye'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade, 

 And ye'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid, 

 I shall not forget ye, mother, I shall hear ye when ye pass, 

 With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant grass. 

 I have been wild and wayward, but ye'll forgive me now ; 

 Ye'll kiss me, niy own mother, upon my cheek and brow ; 

 Nay nay, ye must not weep, nor let your grief be wild, 

 Ye should not fret for me mother, ye have another child. 



If I can I'll come again, mother, from out my resting place : 

 Tho' ye'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face ; 

 Tho' I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken what ye say, 

 And be often often with ye when ye think I'm far away. 



Goodnight, goodnight, when I have said goodnight for evermore, 

 And ye see me carried out from the threshold of the door ; 

 Don't let Erne come to see me till my grave be growing green : 

 She'll be a better child to you than ever I have been. 



She'll find my gardentools upon the granary floor : 

 Let her take 'em : they are her's : I shall never garden more : 

 But tell her when I'm gone, to train the rosebush that I set, 

 About the parlour- window and the box of mignonette. 



Goodnight, sweet mother, call me when it begins to dawn. 

 All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn ; 

 But I would see the sun rise upon the glad Newyear, 

 So, if you're waking, call me, call me early mother dear. 



