Such a number of rooks came over her head, She did not say to the sun, "Good-night!" And, while on her pillow she softly lay, CHOOSING A NAME. MARY LAMB. I HAVE got a new-born sister; And papa has made the offer, I shall have the naming of her. Now I wonder what would please her- Ann and Mary, they're too common; Edith's pretty, but that looks Emily is neat and fine; What do you think of Caroline ? Lest the name that I should give her BE gentle! The sea is held in check, not by a wall of brick, but by a beach of sand. A NOVEMBER CHILD. R. W. GILDER. NOVEMBER winds, blow mild And befriend her, Fill her days with warmth and color; Hide this blossom, Safe from summer's rain and thunder! When these eyes of light and wonder Full of years and full of graces— Take her back to heaven again! BABY'S SHOES. W. C. BENNETT. Он, those little, those little blue shoes! Those shoes that no little feet use; Oh, the price were high That those shoes could buy,— Those little blue, unused shoes. For they hold the small shape of feet Years since grew still, And ceased from their totter so sweet. And oh, since that baby slept So hushed, how the mother has kept, That dear little treasure, And over them thought and wept! For they mind her for evermore Look up from her knees, With the look that in life they wore. As they lie before her there, A little sweet face That's a gleam in the place, With its little gold curls of hair. Then, oh, wonder not that her heart From all else would rather part, Than those tiny blue shoes That no little feet use, And whose sight makes such fond tears start. PHILIP, MY KING. DINAH MARIA MULOCH. Look at me with thy large brown eyes, For round thee the purple shadow lies Lay on my neck thy tiny hand, With Love's invisible sceptre laden; I am thine Esther to command Till thou shalt find thy queen hand-maiden, Philip, my King! Oh, the day when thou goest a-wooing, When those beautiful lips are suing, For we that love, ah! we love so blindly, I gaze from thy sweet mouth up to thy brow, Ay, there lies the spirit, all sleeping now, My Saul, than thy brethren higher and fairer, Let me behold thee in coming years! |