INFANCY.

ANONYMOUS.

SWEET, lovely infancy! When every attitude is grace, The rounded limb, the smiling face, All charming symmetry.

How the glad mother hears

Another self in its first cry,

Rejoices in its laughing eye,
And weeps in all its tears!

Trying its little power,
It grasps at every shining toy,

Fears not the steel that can destroy,

Or flame that can devour.

Its little, winning way

Secures in every breast a friend :

Hard is the heart, that does not bend, And feel that gentle sway.

CHILDHOOD.

BY MISS EMILY TAYLOR.

I LOVE to bid myself adieu, with all the motley

train

Of hopes and fears and fancies thick, and be a child

again :

To hear the simple voice proclaim at once the spirit's

thought,

Is it not worth a long, long tale, with utmost labour wrought!

The joyous, cheaply-purchased mirth, belief so

quickly won,

Complete oblivion of the day, when once its work is done;

The free, unburthened strength of soul, given out each hour anew,

And springing up, as light as air, fresh objects to

pursue.

But better still it is to win a child's confiding love, Reposing in its perfect peace, as angels rest above;

Well may the guilty shrink to meet that undeservèd

trust,

But joy to him whose conscience says the childish faith is just.

There are sweet musings stored for him, upon his midnight bed;

Bright faces meet him in his dreams, and hover round his head;

The spirit of a younger time leads on to latest years, And childhood's gay and mirthful song is ever in his

ears.

Joy to him! Life to all around a cheerless waste may seem,

A dream of heaven is in his heart, a bright prophetic dream:

Who can destroy his bosom's peace, to whom that lot is given

To feel his spirit peopled thus, and say, OF SUCH IS

HEAVEN!"

THE SEPARATION.

JOANNA BAILLIE.

[EXTRACT.]

GARCIO.

THE child! my child! [Lifting the mantle that covers

it, and gazing on the infant.

ROVANI.

Ay, there are cheeks and lips like roses glowing;
And, see, half-opened eyelids show within
The dewy azure of his sleeping eyes,

Like loopholes in a cloud.-Awake, sweet imp!

GARCIO.

Nay, wake him not; his sleep is beautiful:
Let me support-Come to my stirring heart
And here be cradled, thing of wondrous joy!

[Taking the child.

Here in the inmost core of beating life

I'd lodge thee. Mine thou art! yes, thou art

mine!

Here is my treasured being: thou wilt love me,
[Laying his face close to the child's.
Blest softness! little hand and little cheek!
This is a touch so sweet! a blessed touch!
There is love in it; love that will not change.

SONNET.

ON SEEING A LITTLE CHILD LISTENING TO A COWRIE-SHELL.

H. M. R.

I SEE thee stand, joy beaming in thy eyes,
In childish wonder fixed, and open wide,
Whilst in thy slender grasp a shell doth hide,
That in thine ear its mystic music sighs;
Whispering of Ocean's charmëd mysteries,

The thousand bright and graceful forms that glide
With golden lyres beneath his rolling tide,

And all the splendour there concealed that lies. Listening to this low-murmured melody

Thy guileless heart with sweet delight doth glow; No care, no sin, its work hath wrought on thee, Marring with discord the perpetual flow

Of nature's full and perfect harmony,
Which only purity like thine can know !