Still gazing at them through the open door, So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest so gently, that we go Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay, Being too full of sleep to understand How far the unknown transcends the what we know. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow BEDTIME 'Tis bedtime; say your hymn, and bid Good-night; 66 God bless Mamma, Papa, and dear ones all." Your half-shut eyes beneath your eyelids fall, Another minute, you will shut them quite. Yes, I will carry you, put out the light, And tuck you up, although you are so tall! What will you give me, sleepy one, and call My wages, if I settle you all right? I laid her golden curls upon my arm, I drew her little feet within my hand, warm She nestled to me, by Love's command, Paid me my precious wages-"Baby's Kiss." Francis, Earl of Rosslyn HER FIRSTBORN It was her first sweet child, her heart's delight: And, though we all foresaw his early doom, To vex her happy heart with vague alarms, arms. She smil❜d upon him, waking or at rest: She could not dream her little child would die: She toss'd him fondly with an upward eye: She seem'd as buoyant as a summer spray, That dances with a blossom on its breast, Nor knows how soon it will be borne away. Charles Tennyson Turner TO A YOUNG CHILD As doth his heart who travels far from home thee. Thou art so late arrived that I the tale From out Heaven's gate when it was oped for thee, That thou awhile mightst leave thy bright abode Amid these lone and desolate tracks to be A homesick, weary wanderer, and then Return unto thy native land again. Eliza Scudder THE VIRGIN MOTHER! whose virgin bosom was uncrost Our tainted nature's solitary boast; Brighter than eastern skies at daybreak strewn With fancied roses, than the unblemished moon Before her wane begins on heaven's blue coast; Thy image falls to earth. Yet some, I ween, Not unforgiven the suppliant knee might bend, As to a visible Power, in which did blend THANKSGIVING AFTER CHILDBIRTH WOMAN! the Power who left his throne on high, And deigned to wear the robe of flesh we wear, The Power that thro' the straits of Infancy Did pass dependent on maternal care, His own humanity with Thee will share, Pleased with the thanks that in his People's eye Thou offerest up for safe Delivery From Childbirth's perilous throes. And should the Heir Of thy fond hopes hereafter walk inclined That ever he was born, a glance of mind MY MOTHER THERE was a gather'd stillness in the room: Only the breathing of the great sea rose From far off, aiding that profound repose, With regular pulse and pause within the gloom Of twilight, as if some impending doom Was now approaching;-I sat moveless there, Watching with tears and thoughts that were like prayer, Till the hour struck, the thread dropp'd from the loom; And the Bark pass'd in which freed souls are borne. The dear still'd face lay there; that sound forlorn Continued; I rose not, but long sat by: And now my heart oft hears that sad seashore, When she is in the far-off land, and I Wait the dark sail returning yet once more. William Bell Scott |