A MOTHER'S GRAVE.
Each look of love I trace, mother,
Thy voice comes trembling by.
yes-I see thee
now, mother,
I feel thy gentle hand
Upon my childish brow, mother,
As by thy side I stand.
And oh, I would forget, mother,
That thou art with the dead;
That thy bright sun hath set, mother,
Thy spirit heav'nward fled.
The wind is murmuring by, mother,
It lifts my dampen'd hair,
As I gaze up to the sky, mother,
And see thee smiling there.
There is one lovely star, mother,
More brilliant than the rest;
That shines its light afar, mother,
Across the blue sky's breast-
I lay my pallid cheek, mother,
Upon my mossy bed;
And think I hear thee speak, mother,
Though thou art with the dead.
Thou tellest of the joy, mother,
Of the pure bliss of heaven;
And a blessing to thy boy, mother,
I feel that thou hast given.
THE GOLDFINCH.
Brightest of the yellow wing,
Little goldfinch, come and sing;
I'll supply thy daily bread,
From my hand thou shalt be fed ;
If with me thou❜lt stay and sing,
Brightest of the yellow wing.
I'll tread each day the verdant mead,
To find groundsel and chickweed ;
Plantain, and every grain that's good,
For thee, shall be my favourite's food;
Do thou but with me stay and sing,
Brightest of the yellow wing.
The golden grain for thee I'll bring,
And water from the crystal spring;
All care and trouble I'll defy,
To please thy taste or sparkling eye;
Then stay with me, my bird and sing,
Warbler sweet, with yellow wing.
I've a home, kind friends, abundance to eat,
And clothing sufficient, so decent and neat,
And books that my mind may to knowledge aspire,
And all that a child can in reason desire;
But to care for my comfort, and only for this,
And forget my poor neighbours-how selfish it is!
I've got a plum-cake, and the whole is my own,
And no one will know if I eat it alone;
But what if the cake be so sweet and so nice,
I dare say poor John would be glad of a slice;
My treat he shall share, a large slice shall be his,
For to eat all one's self-Oh how selfish it is!
My aunt kindly gave me a shilling last night;
For she knew that I wanted to buy a new kite;
But a poor aged widow lives over the way,
And she says she has not had a morsel to-day.
Here dry up your tears, & buy something with this,
For to spend all on playthings-how selfish it is!
As Christ has commanded, I'll constantly try,
My neighbours to love, and myself to deny :
From my own little pleasures a trifle I'll spare,
To gladden their hearts, and to lighten their care;
That whate'er my friends find in my conduct amiss
They never may say-Oh how selfish it is!
THE BLIND BOY.
It was a blessed summer day,
The flowers bloom'd, the air was mild; The little birds pour'd forth their lay, And ev'rything in nature smiled. In pleasant thought I wander'd on Beneath the deep wood's ample shade, 'Till suddenly I came upon
Two children who had hither stray'd. Just at an aged birch-tree's foot, A little boy and girl reclin'd; His band in hers she kindly put, And then I saw the boy was blind. The children knew not I was near, A tree conceal'd me from their view; But all they said I well could hear, And I could see all they might do. "Dear Mary," said the poor blind boy, That little bird sings very long;
Say, do you see him in his joy,
And is he pretty as his song?"
"Yes, Edward, yes;" replied the maid, "I see the bird on yonder tree.'
The poor boy sigh'd, and gently said,
Sister, I wish that I could see!
"The flowers you say are very fair,
And bright green leaves are on the trees;
THE BLIND BOY.
And pretty birds are singing there—
How beautiful for one who sees.
"Yet I the fragrant flowers can smell,
And I can feel the green leaf's shade;
And I can hear the notes that swell
From those dear birds that God has made.
So, sister-God to me is kind,
Though sight, alas! he has not given; But tell me are there any blind,
Among the children up in heaven?"
No, dearest Edward, there all see;
But why ask me a thing so odd ???
Oh, Mary! He's so good to me,
I thought I'd like to look at God."
Ere long disease his hand had laid,
On that dear boy so meek and mild :
His widow'd mother wept and pray'd
That God would spare her sightless child.
He felt her warm tears on his face,
And said, "Oh never weep for me:
I'm going to a bright, bright place,
Where, Mary says, I God shall see.
"And you'll come there, dear Mary, too;
But, mother! when you get up there,
Tell Edward, mother, that 'tis you,
You know I never saw you here."
He spake no more, but sweetly smil'd,
Until the final blow was given;
When God took up that poor blind child,
And open'd first his eyes in heaven!
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