POETRY.
EDEN GARDEN.
(A SOMERSET BALLAD.) THERE'S a dream that comes when daylight's dying, And the noisy craws are homewards flying ; When the tews and toils of day are ended, The maids abed, and the cattle tended; And I watch the yields grow dim and dimmer In summer sunset's fading glimmer, While to and fro the bats go flitting About the porch where I be sitting.
And there i' th' dusk I smoke and ponder, Till forth on the wings of my dream I wander.
Zims as some gentle sperrit bore me To where my child has gone before me.
Full forty years their tale have written On my brow by sin and sorrow smitten; But her white soul bath won my pardon, And opened the geates of Eden Garden.
Oh! Eden Garden's all a-flower, By angels made for a childern's bower;
And our lost little ones go thither,—
Flowers of the spring that bloom and wither !
Smiling they go, with happy faces.
For there's no more death in those vair places ; No more weeping and no more crying For summer over and sweet things dying.
And there the childless women waken : The maids unloved, and the maids forsaken; The buds that never came to blossom ; The empty lap and the barren bosom. For there the Lord o' th' place bath set them Among the babies, to kiss and pet them. Their hearts are light; they call to each other; And every one is a happy mother.
Droo Eden Garden I go straying : All in the midst o' th' pretty playing.
And I'm lost among a world o' diadem.: They pull me, they tug me, 'tis fair bewilderin' Till, sudden, I hear my Janey's laughter ; Bird alone ! but a cry comes after.
Oh ! my hungry arms are wide and ready; But she sees me first, and springs to her Daddy !
EDWARD SYDNEY TYLEE,
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