Oh, April tide's a pleasant tide,
However times may fall,
And sweet to welcome Spring, the Bride,
You hear the mavis call;
But all adown the water-side
The Spring's most fair of all.



TIRED OF TOWNS.



'When we spoke to her of the New Jerusalem, she said she would rather go to
a country place in Heaven.'

Letters from the Black Country.


I'm weary of towns, it seems a'most a pity
We didn't stop down i' the country and clem,
And you say that I'm bound for another city,
For the streets o' the New Jerusalem.

And the streets are never like Sheffield, here,
Nor the smoke don't cling like a smut to THEM;
But the water o' life flows cool and clear
Through the streets o' the New Jerusalem.