FADED FLOWERS.

    My love she sent a flower to me
    Of tender hue and fragrance rare,
    And with it came across the sea
    A letter kind as she was fair;
    But when her letter met mine eyes,
    The flower, the little flower, was dead: 
    And ere I touched the tender prize
    The hues were dim, the fragrance fled.

    I sent my love a letter too,
    In happy hope no more to roam;
    I bade her bless the vessel true
    Whose gallant sails should waft me home. 
    But ere my letter reach’d her hand,
    My love, my little love, was dead,
    And when the vessel touch’d the land,
    Fair hope for evermore had fled.

SPEED WELL.

    What time I left my native land,
      And bade farewell to my true love,
    She laid a flower in my hand
      As azure as the sky above. 
        “Speed thee well!  Speed well!”
      She softly whispered, “Speed well! 
          This flower blue
          Be token true
      Of my true heart’s true love for you!”

    Its tender hue is bright and pure,
      As heav’n through summer clouds doth show,
    A pledge though clouds thy way obscure,
      It shall not be for ever so. 
        “Speed thee well!  Speed well!”
      She softly whisper’d, “Speed well! 
          This flower blue
          Be token true
      Of my true heart’s true love for you!”

    And as I toil through help and harm,
      And whilst on alien shores I dwell,
    I wear this flower as a charm,
      My heart repeats that tender spell: 
        “Speed thee well!  Speed well!”
      It softly whispers, “Speed well! 
          This flower blue
          Be token true
    Of my true heart’s true love for you!”

HOW MANY YEARS AGO?

    How many years ago, love,
      Since you came courting me? 
    Through oak-tree wood and o’er the lea,
      With rosy cheeks and waistcoat gay,
      And mostly not a word to say,—­
        How many years ago, love,
        How many years ago?

    How many years ago, love,
      Since you to Father spoke? 
    Between your lips a sprig of oak: 
      You were not one with much to say,
      But Mother spoke for you that day,—­
        How many years ago, love,
        How many years ago?

    So many years ago, love,
      That soon our time must come
    To leave our girl without a home;—­
      She’s like her mother, love, you’ve said: 
     —­At her age I had long been wed,—­
        How many years ago, love,
        How many years ago?

    For love of long-ago, love,
      If John has aught to say,
    When he comes up to us to-day,
      (A likely lad, though short of tongue,)
      Remember, husband, we were young,—­
        How many years ago, love,
        How many years ago?