Yet-pause a moment-strangely, did I

say?

Scarcely, since, after all, it was but clay;The stuff Hope takes to build her brittle

boat,

And therein sets the wisest men afloat.

Truly, a bark would need be somewhat

stronger,

To make the halting history much longer.

Doubtless, the good Dame did but gener

alize,

Took a broad glance at human enterprise,
And earthly expectation, and so drew,

In pithy lines, a parable most true,-
Kindly to warn us ere we sail away,

With life's great venture, in an ark of

clay,

26

BOWLS.

Where shivered fragments all around be

token,

How even the "golden bowl" at last lies broken!

CRADLED IN GREEN.

"Rockaby, baby,

Your cradle is green;

Father's a nobleman,

Mother's a queen;

And Betty's a lady,

And wears a gold ring,

And Johnny's a drummer,

And drums for the king!"

O GOLDEN gift of childhood!

That, with its kingly touch, Transforms to more than royalty The thing it loveth much!