Come, child, that I may make
A primrose wreath to crown thee Queen of Spring!
Of thee the glad birds sing;
For thee small flowers fling
Their lives abroad; for thee--for Dorothea's sake!

Hasten! For I must pay
Due homage to thee, have thy Royal kiss,
Our thrush shall sing of this;
--In many a bout of bliss
Tell how I crown'd thee Queen, Spring's Queen, this glad May-day.

JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A.




SWEET NANCY.


Shenton was a dull and sleepy village at the best of times; but then it
was situated so far from any town. Exboro' was the nearest, and that was
ten miles away. To reach it you must traverse a range of pine-clad
hills, descending now and again into cool valleys, full of sweet scents
and sounds in summer, but dreary enough in winter, when the snow lay
thick and the wind whistled through the leafless branches.

Shenton consisted of one long street, terminating in a green on which