Y daughter, go and pray! See, night is come: à Listen! the distant wheels in darkness glideAll else is hushed; the tree by the roadside Shakes in the wind its dust-strewn branches still. Day is for evil, weariness, and pain. Let us to prayer! calm night is come again: Sighs mournfully the herds, the flocks, the streams, It is the hour when babes with angels speak. And sinful, all young children, with bent knees, No. 135. 1 And then they sleep. Oh peaceful cradle-sleep! II. Pray thou for all who living tread For those who, labouring, suffer still; Or on their heavenward course. Pray thou for him who nightly sins Child! pray for all the poor beside; And those who in the city wide With crime and misery dwell; For the wise sage who thinks and dreams; Religion's holy law. Pray thou-for prayer is infinite Thy faith may give the scorner light, -VICTOR HUGO. A REASSURING PROSPECT. ALL is light and all is joy. D. M. M. -Ibid. The dragon-fly on fluttering wings, The full-blown rose, grown young again, He blesses God, who ne'er is hid In woods that soften every sound, The moon, all pale in sunlit skies, And opens soft her opal eyes, Whence heaven's sweetness downward streams. The wallflower with the gamesome bee Moved by the seeds that burst their fold. All lives and sits around with grace- On joyful plains bright sun-rays fall, C. WITCOMB. A HYMN. THERE is an unknown language spoken April, that dost thy yellow, green, and blue, When, as thou goest, the grassy floor Have diapered the meadows o'er. April, at whose glad coming zephyrs rise To tangle Flora on her way. April, it is thy hand that doth unlock, Odours and hues, a balmy store, That earth or heaven can ask no more. April, thy blooms, amid the tresses laid Her shining hair With them hath blent a golden glow. April, the dimpled smiles, the playful grace, That in the face Of Cytherea haunt, are thine; And thine the breath, that from their skies Inhale, an offering at thy shrine. "Tis thou that dost with summons blithe and soft, High up aloft, From banishment these heralds bring, These swallows, that along the air Scud swift, and bear Glad tidings of the merry spring. April, the hawthorn and the eglantine, Streaked pink, and lily-cup, and rose, THE TROUBADOUR AND HIS SWALLOW. THE warm breath of summer Has burst the frost's chain; My beautiful swallow, returns not again. I hear its gay fellows- I see them across the blue lake's surface pass. When wilt thou return To cheer me, heart-weary? From thee, oh, my swallow! I linger and mourn. None other can give thee A life half so fair; Like thine was my nature, Thou bright joyous creature; The same food and shelter with me thou didst share. For thee does my window What hinders thee, dearest? Can it be that thou fearest In me a harsh tyrant with prison and chain? The flower in the wild-wood Gives place to the fruit.: The summer on stealeth; And each day revealeth My hope of thy coming grown fainter and mute. My strain, once so gleesome, Is now a sad song: Art thou faithful no longer? No matter; thy minstrel will pine for thee long. -Anon. THE ANGEL AND THE CHILD. AN angel form, with brow of light, D. M. M. |