TO LAURA, TWO YEARS OF AGE.
BRIGHT be the skies that cover thee,
Child of the sunny
Bright as the dream flung over thee
By all that meets thee now.
Thy heart is beating joyously,
Thy voice is like a bird's,
And sweetly breaks the melody
Of thy imperfect words.
I know no fount that gushes out
As gladly as thy tiny shout.
I would that thou mightst ever be
As beautiful as now,
That Time might ever leave as free
Thy yet unwritten brow,-
I would life were "all poetry,"
To gentle measure set,
That nought but chastened melody
Might stain thine eye of jet
Nor one discordant note be spoken,
Till God the cunning harp hath broken.
I would, but deeper things than these
With woman's lot are wove,
Wrought of intenser sympathies,
And nerved by purer love.
By the strong spirit's discipline,
By the fierce wrong forgiven,
By all that wrings the heart of sin,
Is woman won to heaven.
"Her lot is on thee," lovely child—
God keep thy spirit undefiled!
I fear thy gentle loveliness,
Thy witching tone and air;
Thine eyes' beseeching earnestness
May be to thee a snare.
The silver stars may purely shine,
The waters taintless flow
But they who kneel at woman's shrine
Breathe on it as they bow-
Ye may fling back the gift again,
But the crushed flower will leave a stain.
What shall preserve thee, beautiful child! Keep thee as thou art now?
Bring thee a spirit undefiled,
At God's pure throne to bow? The world is but a broken reed, And life grows early dim:
Who shall be near thee in thy need,
To lead thee up to Him?
He who himself was 66
With Him we trust thee, beautiful child!
TRAVELLER'S EVENING SONG.
In his distant cradle-nest,
Now my babe is laid to rest;
Beautiful his slumber seems,
With a glow of heavenly dreams;
Beautiful, o'er that bright sleep,
Hang soft eyes of fondness deep,
Where his mother bends to pray
For the loved and far away.-
Father, guard that household bower,
Hear that prayer!
Back, through thine all-guarding power,
THE mother stands in the sacred isle,
And looks on her child with a trembling smile;
That smile is mingled with many a fear;
And scarce can she check a rising tear;
In a world which is full of care and strife,
Do her dreams now picture his future life.
She has brought her babe-she has brought it there
Where so oft for him she has breathed a prayer ;
She has brought him-an offering to her God,
On the spot where her own fond steps have trod;
And that early love is mingling now
With a Christian's hope on her kindling brow.
She turns her gaze to that helpless one,
Upon her for love and protection thrown;
And its feebleness causes the tear to start,
And she presses him closer to her heart;
And to the font she draws nearer still,
As a pledge she will shield him from every ill.
The holy words on the air arise,
And hushed are that mother's anxious sighs;
Her thoughts are filled with a deeper faith
As she turns to hear what the preacher saith ;
And every doubt has vanished away,
As in fervent trust she kneels down to pray.
Her child and its fate-oh, what does it seem
Now, in that holier and sweeter dream?
What loftier destinies are given-
That feeble thing is the heir of heaven ;
And a mind with powers and talents sublime
Is given to her training, for more than time.
Oh! as she hears of immortal doom,
How changes upon her cheek the bloom!
How earnest the prayer to Him who gave,
For aid to help her, to succour, and save!
What a sacred trust she feels is hers,
What a deathless hope in her bosom stirs !
It is over-her pledge is borne above,
And her lips have sealed that rite of love;
Her tears have attested her heart's deep vow,
And smiles of affection are round her now.
She has promised to give him a Christian's trust,
She has raised her thoughts from the things of dust.
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