And the while these frolic playmates twain Piped and frisked from bough to bough again 'Neath the morning skies, In the little childish heart below All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow, From her blue, bright eyes. By her snow-white cot at close of day, Rose the praying voice to where, unseen, "What good child is this," the angel said, "That with happy heart, beside her bed Prays so lovingly?" Low and soft, oh! very low and soft, Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft, 'Bell, dear Bell," crooned he. 66 "Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair Murmured, "God doth bless with angels' care; Child, thy bed shall be Folded safe from harm. Love, deep and kind, Shall watch around, and leave good gifts behind, Little Bell, for thee." Westwood. THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF. "O H, call my brother back to me ! The summer comes with flower and bee--Where is my brother gone? The butterfly is glancing bright I care not now to chase its flight— The flowers run wild-- the flowers we sowed Around our garden tree; Our vine is drooping with its load Oh, call him back to me!" "He could not hear thy voice, fair child, The face that once like spring-time smiled A rose's brief bright life of joy, Thy brother is in heaven!" "And has he left his birds and flowers, And must I call in vain ? And, through the long, long summer hours, And by the brook; and in the glade, Mrs. Hemans. LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. C OME back, come back together, Ye shadows that are cast By the haunted hours before! The fields were covered over Summer shed its shining store; She was happy as she press'd them She plucked them and caressed them; They were so very sweet, They had never seemed so sweet before, To Red Riding Hood, the darling, The flower of fairy lore. How the heart of childhood dances It has its own romances, And a wide, wide world have they! Made all of eager dreaming; Do such pleasant fancies spring She seems like an ideal love, A younger sister for the heart; Never can the memory part Did the painter, dreaming In a morning hour, Catch the fairy seeming Of this fairy flower? Winning it with eager eyes Giving us a sweet surprise Too long in the meadow staying, As with early friends, Did the little maiden stay. Sorrowful the tale for us; We, too, loiter 'mid life's flowers, A little while so glorious, So soon lost in darker hours. All love lingering on their way, E. L. Landon. A THE SMILE OF SORROW. S a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow, While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while. One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay Like a dead leafless branch in the summer's bright ray; The beams of the warm sun play round it in vain, APPLE BLOSSOMS IN MAY. Moore. HROUGH the green wood-paths, with bird songs about her, ΤΗ May has come softly, the beautiful child! Skies that were sullen and joyless without her, Broke into sunshine above her, and smiled. Green on the uplands the wheat-fields are springing, Cowslips are shining, and daisies are white; Through the still meadows the waters are singing, Brimming with melody, flashing with light. Blooming with clover the orchards are growing, Flecked by the shadows that tremble and glide; Round their grey trunks, when the west wind is blowing, Sways the young grass in a billowy tide] |