THE ARK AND THE DOVE. "TELL me a story, please," my little girl But one good man, Who long had warned the wicked to repent, Two and two, Of beasts and birds and creeping things, he took, And so the mighty waters bare them up, All was desolation. Chirping nest, Nor face of man, nor living thing she saw; Nought she spied Save wide, dark waters, and a frowning sky, So, with a leaf of olive in her mouth, Sole fruit of her drear voyage, which perchance Upon some wrecking billow floated by, With drooping wing the peaceful ark she sought. The righteous man that wandering dove received, And to her mate restored, who, with sad moans, Had wondered at her absence. Then I looked Upon the child, to see if her young thoughts And so I told her how the waters dried, And the green branches waved, and the sweet buds Came up in loveliness, and that meek dove Went forth to build her nest, while thousand birds Awoke their songs of praise, and the tired ark Upon the breezy breast of Ararat Reposed, and Noah with glad spirit reared Since, many a time, When to her rest, ere evening's earliest star, That little one is laid, with earnest tone, And pure cheek pressed to mine, she fondly says, 66 Tell me the story of the Dove." SIGOURNEY. LITTLE WILLIE. Poor little Willie, With his many pretty wiles; In a workhouse grave. You remember little Willie, From the soil of poverty. Not a friend was nigh, When from the cold world He crouched down to die. In the day we wandered foodless- Ah! so tired was poor Willie ! 'Twas in the dead of winter We laid him in the earth; The world brought in the new year But for lost little Willie Not a tear we crave; Cold and hunger cannot wake him We thought him beautiful, Down, down, poor heart! In his workhouse grave. No room for little Willie- In the world he had no part; On him stared the Gorgon-eye Through which looks no heart. "Come to me," said Heaven; GERALD MASSET. FLY AWAY, LADYBIRD. FLY away, Ladybird, fly away Away, away, away! Fly from the wind of the wintry day; The flower and the tree have no home for thee; Fly away, Ladybird, fly away Away, away, away! Go with the happy, the glad, and the gay; The flower and the tree, what are they to thee? Fly away, Ladybird, fly away Away, away, away! S. C. HALL. THE FRETFUL CHILD. DEAR, unhappy, fretful child, Brows are frowning, eyes are sad, Ah! my darling, this is bad, God hath given you every good- Oh, it is an evil thing For youth, upon its happy way, MARY BENNETT. THE ORPHANS. My chaise the village inn did gain, Across the way I silent sped, The time till supper to beguile In moralizing o'er the dead That mouldered round the ancient pile. There many a humble green grave showed O'er those who once had wealth possest. A faded beech its shadow brown Threw o'er a grave where sorrow slept, A piece of bread between them lay, “My little children, let me know |