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Throbs  ‘neath  Ins  coat,  and  that every one
                                  Of  flic  clover  blossoms  lit  the  field
                                    Is  breathing  to  liim  an  old  love-song,
                                  And  that  everv  bad  a  joy  ran  vield.
                                                          j    j    ?
                                    So  the  maiden  there by  :;ho  broken  wall
                                    Takes  up  and  icings  the  old  time  call,
                                          “  Ho  boss !  ho  boss ■  ho  boss ! ”

                                  Once  more  Sam stands  by the  meadow bars
                                    With  his  wife  beside  him,  and  her  arms
                                  Enfold  a  dear  form,  whose  baby  prate
                                    Is  sweeter  to  them  than  the  brook's  gay song
                                  A.l:  it  flows  away at  the  foot  of  the  hill.
                                    Happy  they  wait,  for  they  know  ere  long
                                  The  cows  will  come  from  the  meadow  side.
                                    S ;'j  Sam  caresses  his  little  son,
                                  W hile  t he  y o  u n g   wife  1 oohs  w :tn  \c-y  and  pride;
                                    And  a  piping  voice  o'er the  old  stone  wall
                                    Just breathes  in  baby  notea  the  call,
                                          " Ho boss !  ho  boss  !  ho  boss [ "
                                                                                A lbert  H ardy.


                                              A  TRIBUTE  TO  COLUMBUS.

                                  B   E H IN D   him  lay  the  gray Azores,
                                         Behind  the  gates  of  Hercules;
                                      Before  him  not the  ghost  of  shores,
                                         Before  him  only  shoreless  seas,
                                       The  good  mate  said,  ir Now  must  we pray,
                                         For lo !  the  very  stars  are  gone.
                                       Brave  Adm’rai,  speak j  what shall  I  sa y ?"
                                         '£  Why  say,  Sail  on !  sail on !  and  on ! ”


                                       ‘■My  men  grew  mutinous  day  by  day;
                                         My  men  grew  ghastly,  wan  and  weak,"
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