If in field or tree

There might only be

Such a warm, soft sleeping-place
Found for me!

THE LAMB.

WILLIAM BLAKE.

LITTLE lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life and bade thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?
Little lamb, I'll tell thee;
Little lamb, I'll tell thee.
He is called by thy name,
For He calls himself a Lamb.
He is meek and He is mild,
He became a little child.
I a child and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little lamb, God bless thee!
Little lamb, God bless thee!

THE LITTLE ANGEL.

ELIZABETH PRENTISS.

RIGHT into our house one day
A dear little angel came;
I ran to him, and said softly,
"Little angel, what is your name?"

He said not a word in answer,

But smiled a beautiful smile;

Then I said, "May I go home with you? Shall you go in a little while?"

But Mamma said, "Dear little angel,
Don't leave us; oh, always stay!
We will all of us love you dearly;
Sweet angel, oh, don't go away!"

So he staid and he staid, and we love him
As we could not have loved another.
Do you want to know what his name is?
His name is
-my little brother!

CHILD'S SONG.

ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE.

WHAT is gold worth, say,
Worth for work or play,
Worth to keep or pay,

Hide or throw away,

Hope about or fear?
What is love worth, pray?
Worth a tear?

Golden on the mould

Lie the dead leaves rolled
Of the wet woods old,
Yellow leaves and cold,

Woods without a dove.

Gold is worth but gold;
Love's worth love.

A LITTLE BRAWL.

TRANSLATION OF MARY HOWITT FROM THE SWEDISH OF F. BREMER.

AT times a little brawl

Injures not at all,

If we only love each other still.

Cloudy heaven clears

Itself and bright appears,

For such is Nature's will.

The heart within its cage

Is a bird in rage,

Which doth madly strive to fly.

Love and Truth can best

Flatter it to rest,

Flatter it to rest right speedily.

LITTLE THINGS.

ANONYMOUS.

LITTLE drops of water,
Little grains of sand,
Make the mighty ocean
And the pleasant land.

Thus the little minutes,
Humble though they be,
Make the mighty ages
Of eternity.

Thus our little errors

Lead the soul away
From the path of virtue
Off in sin to stray.

Little deeds of kindness,
Little words of love,
Make this earth an Eden,
Like the heaven above.

MOTHER'S SONG.

ANONYMOUS.

DON'T grow old too fast, my sweet!

Stay a little while

In this pleasant baby-land,

Sunned by mother's smile.

Grasp not with thy dimpled hands
At the world outside;
They are still too rosy soft,
Life too cold and wide.

Be not wistful, sweet blue eyes!
Find your rest in mine,

Which through life shall watchful be
To keep all tears from thine.

Be not restless, little feet!
Lie within my hand;
Far too round these tiny soles
Yet to try to stand.

For awhile be mine alone,
So helpless and so dear;
By-and-by thou must go forth,
But now, sweet, slumber here!

FIRST FOOTSTEPS.

ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE.

A LITTLE way, more soft and sweet
Than fields aflower with May,
A babe's feet, venturing, scarce complete
A little way.

Eyes full of dawning day

Look up for mother's eyes to meet

Too blithe for song to say.