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"And for the fruits and flowers
Rich blessing shall be given
"For in the fields of heaven Thou shalt roam with me at will,
And of bright fruits celestial
Thou shalt have, dear child, thy fill!"
Thus tenderly and kindly The fair child Jesus spoke;
And thus it was accomplished: —
And thus he spoke in dying: —
"O mother dear, I see The beautiful child Jesus
A coming down to me I
"And in his hand he beareth Bright flowers as white as snow, And red and juicy strawberries,— Dear mother, let me go!"
He died —but that fond mother
Her sorrow did restrain,
And she asked him not again!
16 THE BROKEN DOLL,
THE BROKEN DOLL. — Miss Lamb.
An infant is a selfish sprite;
But what of that? the sweet delight
Which from participation springs
Is quite unknown to these young things.
We elder children, then, will smile
At our dear little John a while,
And bear with him, until he see
There is a sweet felicity
In pleasing more than only one,
Dear little, craving, selfish John.
He laughs, and thinks it a fine joke,
Reproof a parent's province is;
Only perchance for half a day, —
BLINDNESS. —Miss Lamb.
Ik a stage-coach, where late I chanced to be,
I saw she looked at nothing by the way,
Her mind seemed busy on some childish thought
Ij with an old man's courtesy, addressed
The child, and called her pretty, dark-eyed maid,
And bid her turn those pretty eyes, and see The wide-extended prospect. —" Sir," she said,
"I cannot see the prospect, — I am blind."
Her child was sightless. On a fine, bright day,
And, as on such occasions mothers will,
"I '11 do it when't is day-light, if you please;
I cannot work, mamma, now it is night."
And yet her eyes received no ray of light.
18 A Negro's Song.
A NEGRO'S SONG.
FROM PARK'S TRAVELS IN AFRICA. VERSIFIED BY TJIE
The loud wind roared, the rain fell fast,
The white man shall our pity share;
The storm is o'er, the tempest past,
Go, white man, go; but with thee bear
"MABEL ON MIDSUMMER DAY.—Marv Bmitt
A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME.
"arise, my maiden, Mabel,"
The mother said; "arise,
Is shining in the skies.
"Arise, my little maiden,
"And thou must carry with thee
This wheaten cake so fine,
This little flask of wine.
"And tell the dear old body,
This day I cannot come,
And he is not come home.
"And more than this, poor Amy
Upon my knee doth lie;
The little child will die!
"And thou canst help thy grandmother;
The table thou canst spread;
And thou canst make her bed.