How  gently,  0  sleep,  fall  thy  poppies  on  me !

For  I  drink  water,  pure,  cold,  and  bright.
And  my  dreams  are  of  Heaven  the  livelong  night.
So  hurrah  for  thee.  Water !  hurrali !  hurrah  !

Thou  art  silver  and  gold,  thou  art  riband  and  star^.
Hurrah  for  bright  water !  hurrah !  hurrah !


80.  THE  DATS  THAT  ARE  GONE.  —  Cikor/M  Mackay,

Who  is  it  that  mourns  for  the  days  that  are  gone.
When  a  Noble  could  do  as  he  liked  with  his  own  ?
When  his  serfe,  with  their  burdens  well  filled  on  their  backs
Never  dared  to  complain  of  the  weight  of  a  tax  ?
When  his  word  was  a  statute,  hb  nod  was  a  law.
And  for  aught  but  his  "  order  "  he  cared  not  a  straw  ?
When  each  had  his  dungeon  and  racks  for  the  poor,
And  a  gibbet  to  hang  a  refractory  boor  ?

They  were  days  when  the  sword  settled  questions  of  ri^t
And  Falsehood  was  first  to  monopolize  might ;


MORAL  J.5D  MDACTlv..  101

When  Law  never  dreamed  it  was  good  to  relent,
Or  thought  it  less  wisdom  to  kill  ^ban  prevent ;
When  Justice  herself,  taking  Law  for  her  guida,
Was  never  appeased  till  a  victim  had  died ;
And  the  stealer  of  sheep  and  the  slayer  of  men
Were  strung  up  together,  again  and  agun.
They  were  days  when  the  Crowd  had  no  freedom  of  speeoh,

And  reading  and  writing  were  out  of  its  reach ;

When  Ignorance,  stolid  and  dense,  was  its  doom.
And  Bigotry  swathed  it  from  cradle  to  tomb ;

When  the  Few  thought  the  Many  mere  workers  for  them.
