by sunile was fair,

d eye so bright, cradle care cafond delight,

with weak embrace
spread wing detain?
seek thy place
e cherub train.

TO A CHILD.

HENRY WHITWORTH.

tie rover, didst thou chase cies of that western sky,

rom thine home, the storm so nigh,

the night that falls apace?

0 (for

that sweet cherub face

hast thou watched with sparkling

waves dance trippingly

in endless race.

- lovely boy,

lden dreams will stay,

pe, that flatterer coy? int to thee each day

d sinless joy,

ere reft, how soon, away!

then

my

mind dwelt on the words

ith long and earnest gaze;

eath swept o'er its broken chords

f harmony and praise.

ead of long-enduring love,
Of hopefulness and trust,

the quiet of the world above,
Of meetings of the just.

A change came o'er my spirit then,
A light was on my path;
I looked upon the world again,
In the blessedness of faith.

I loved a happy sound-my boy,
His welcome when we met,
His tones of sweetness and of joy
I did not then forget.

But when I saw young children so
To revel in delight,

I thought what mother's eyes wou
With rapture at the sight.

I welcomed the returning sun
To scenes so lately dim
The flowers reviving one
They spoke to me of

So heavy with accumulated tears,

And cross with such amount of weary years,

Thy day-sum of delight?

E'en if the verse were said,

Thou, who wouldst clap thy tiny hands to hear
The wind or rain, gay bird or river clear,
Wouldst, at that sound of sad humanities,
Upturn thy bright uncomprehending eyes
And bid me play instead.

Therefore no song of mine!

But prayer in place of singing! prayer that would
Commend thee to the new-creating God,

Whose gift is childhood's heart, without its stain
Of weakness, ignorance, and changings vain-
That gift of God be thine!

So wilt thou aye be young,

In lovelier childhood than thy shining brow
And pretty winning accents make thee now!
Yea! sweeter than this scarce articulate sound
(How sweet!) of "father," "mother," shall be found
The ABBA on thy tongue!

And so as years shall chase

Each other's shadows, thou wilt less resemble

Thy fellows of the earth who toil and tremble,

Than him thou seest not, thine angel bold,
Yet meek, whose ever-lifted eyes behold
The Ever-loving's face!

DEATH OF AN INFANT.

MRS. SIGOURNEY.

DEATH found strange beauty on that cherub brow,
And dashed it out. There was a tint of rose
On cheek and lip ;-he touched the veins with ice,
And the rose faded. Forth from those blue eyes
There spake a wishful tenderness,-a doubt
Whether to grieve or sleep, which innocence
Alone can wear. With ruthless haste, he bound
The silken fringes of their curtaining lids

For ever.-There had been a murmuring sound,
With which the babe would claim its mother's ear,
Charming her even to tears. The spoiler set
His seal of silence. But there beamed a smile
So fixed and holy from that marble brow-
Death gazed, and left it there ;-he dared not steal
The signet-ring of Heaven.

N

THE LITTLE FRIEND.

WRITTEN IN THE BOOK WHICH SHE MADE AND SENT TO ME.

MISS BARRETT.

-το δ' ηδη εξ οφθαλμων απεληλυθεν.

MARCUS ANTONINUS.

THE book thou givest, dear as such,
Shall bear thy dearer name;

And many a word the leaves shall touch
For thee who form'dst the same!

And on them many a thought shall grow
'Neath memory's rain and sun,

Of thee, glad child, who dost not know
That thought and pain are one!

Yes! thoughts of thee, who satest oft,
A while since, at my side-
So wild to tame,-to move so soft,

So

very hard to chide :

The childish vision at thine heart,

The lesson on the knee;

The wandering looks which would depart

Like gulls, across the sea!