LOVE AMANG THE HEATHER. 



Love Amang the Heather 



Fly we to some desert isle, 



There we'll pass OUT days together, 

 Shun the world's derisive smile, 



Wandering tenants of the heather. 



J. Ross. 



The Rose Among the Heather 



Grew a baby rosebud rare, 



Lonely 'mong the heather ; 

 Morning was not half so fair, 

 One looked long who, lingering there, 



Fain had looked forever. 

 Dainty, wayward, crimson rose ; 



Rosebud 'mong the heather ; 

 "Sweet, I'll steal thee, ay or no!" 



Quoth he, from the heather. 

 "Then I'll prick thee," laughed she low, 

 Heedless, heartless even so, 



"Thou'll think on me ever." 

 Rosebud, rosebud; red, red rose; 



Rosebud 'mong the heather. 

 Willful wooers are not slow, 



Rosebud's o'er the heather. 

 Thorns can wound till life-drops flow ; 

 In two hearts a weary woe 



Woke to slumber never. 

 Rosebud, rosebud ; red, red rose ; 



Rosebud 'mong the heather. 



-Translation of Goethe's "Heiden-Roslein," Cham- 

 bers' Journal, 1879. 



198 



