THE LITTLE LOST ONE. 297 THE LOST LITTLE ONE. WE miss her footfall on the floor, Her tip-tap at our bedroom door, And when to heaven's high court above Though there are voices that we love, And dreary seems the hours, and lone, We miss that farewell laugh of hers, And empty is her little bed, And on her pillow there Must never rest that cherub head, But often as we wake and weep, Then, then it is Faith's tear-dimm'd eyes That dear, that well-known face, With beckoning hand she seems to say To this celestial shore. "Doubt not she longs to welcome you THE PETRIFIED FERN. In a valley, centuries ago, Grew a little fern-leaf, green and slender, Waving, when the wind crept down so low. Rushes tall, and moss, and grass grew round it; But no foot of man e'er trod that way, Earth was young, and keeping holiday. Monster fishes swam the silent main; Stately forests waved their giant branches; Earth, one time, put on a frolic mood, Heaved the rocks, and changed the mighty motion Of the deep, strong current of the ocean; Moved the plain, and shook the haughty wood; TUBAL CAIN, Crushed the little fern, in its soft, moist clay, Oh! the long, long centuries since that day! Since that useless little fern was lost. Useless ?-Lost? There came a thoughtful man, He withdrew a stone, o'er which there ran Veinings, leafage, fibres, clear and fine; 299 TUBAL CAIN. CHARLES MACKAY. OLD Tubal Cain was a man of might And he lifted high his brawny hand Till the sparks rush'd out in scarlet showers, And he sang: "Hurrah for my handiwork! Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well, To Tubal Cain came many a one, And each one pray'd for a strong steel blade And he made them weapons sharp and strong, And gave him gifts of pearls and gold, And they sang: "Hurrah for Tubal Cain, But a sudden change came o'er his heart And Tubal Cain was fill'd with pain He saw that men, with rage and hate, Made war upon their kind, That the land was red with the blood they shed And he said: "Alas! that ever I made, Or that skill of mine should plan, The spear and the sword for men whose joy Is to slay their fellow-man!" And for many a day old Tubal Cain Sat brooding o'er his woe; And his hand forbore to smite the ore, But he rose at last with a cheerful face, And bared his strong right arm for work, And he sang: And the red sparks lit the air; "Not alone for the blade was the bright steel m And he fashion'd the first plough-share! And men, taught wisdom from the past, Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the ade;" wall, And SENT TO HEAVEN. sang: "Hurrah for Tubal Cain! Our staunch good friend is he; And for the plough-share and the plough But while oppression lifts its head, Though we may thank him for the plough, 301 SENT TO HEAVEN. ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER. (By permission of the Publishers.) I HAD a message to send her, To her whom my soul loved best; And she was gone home to rest. To rest in the far bright heaven : darling, For I knew she could not hear! I had a message to send her, So tender, and true, and sweet, I placed it, one summer evening, I gave it the Lark next morning, |