I remember, I remember, To know I'm farther off from heav'n Than when I was a boy. Thomas Hood. Good-night and Good-morning A fair little girl sat under a tree Sewing as long as her eyes could see; Then smoothed her work and folded it right, Such a number of rooks came over her head 66 The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed; The sheep's" Bleat, bleat!" came over the road, All seeming to say, with a quiet delight, "Good little girl, good-night, good-night!" She did not say to the sun, "Good-night!" Though she saw him there like a ball of light; For she knew he had God's own time to keep The tall, pink Fox-glove bowed his head— And while on her pillow she softly lay, begun." Lord Houghton. (Richard Monckton Milnes.) Little Children Sporting through the forest wide; Like the flowers that spring up fair, With their wishes, hopes, and fears; On the wide earth are ye known, Mary How tt. The Angel's Whisper A baby was sleeping; Its mother was weeping; For her husband was far on the wild raging sea; And the tempest was swelling And she cried, "Dermot, darling, Oh, come back to me !" Her beads while she numbered The baby still slumbered, And smiled in her face as she bended her knee. 66 Oh, blest be that warning, Thy sweet sleep adorning, For I know that the angels are whispering to thee ! "And while they are keeping Bright watch o'er thy sleeping, Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me! They'd watch o'er thy father, For I know that the angels are whispering to thee." The dawn of the morning And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see; And closely caressing Her child with a blessing, Said, "I knew that the angels were whispering to thee." Samuel Lover. Little Garaine "Where do the stars grow, little Garaine? "If you shut your eyes," quoth little Garaine, "I will show you the way to go To the orchard of suns and the garden of moons And the field where the stars do grow. "But you must speak soft," quoth little Garaine. "And still must your footsteps be, For a great bear prowls in the field of stars, "And the suns have the Children of Signs to guard, And they have no pity at all— You must not stumble, you must not speak, When you come to the orchard wall. |