GIFT FOR THE HOLIDAYS.

Loving eyes that tell their story,
Speaking to my heart of hearts;
But I sigh, "A thing of glory
Soon departs."

Yet when Mary fades above me,
I must think that there will be
One thing more in heaven to love me,—
Even me.

T. B. READ.

Life.

LIFE is but a day at most,

Sprung from night, in darkness lost;
Hope not sunshine every hour,
Fear not clouds will always lower.

BURNS.

23

Society of Children.

COME the band of children:
A tender nest of soft young hearts,
Each to be separately studied;
A curious eager flock of minds,
To be severally tamed and tutored.
And a man, blest with these,
Hath made his own society;
He is independent of the world,
Hanging on his friends more loosely,
For the little faces around his hearth
Are friends enow for him;

If he seek others, it is for sake of these,
And less for his own pleasure.
What companionship so sweet,
Yea, who can teach so well
As these pure budding intellects,
And bright unsullied hearts?
What voice so musical as theirs,
What visions of elegance so comely,
What thoughts and hopes and holy prayers,
Can others cause like these?

If ye count society for pastime,—

What happier recreation than a nursling,
Its winning ways, its prattling tongue,
Its innocence and mirth?

If ye count society for good,-
How fair a field is here,

To guide these souls to God,

And multiply thyself for heaven!

M. F. TUPPER.

The Gift.

YE may search the earth, and the shoreless deep,

For the fairest things in their cells they keep;
Ye may gather the light of an eastern mine,
And offer it up on affection's shrine;
But ye'll never find it cherished there

Like a simple gift, with the heart's pure prayer.
MRS. L. P. SMITH.

The Secret of Happiness.

WOULDST thou from sorrow find a sweet relief,
Or is thy heart oppressed by woes untold?
Balm wouldst thou gather for corroding grief;
Pour blessings round thee like a shower of
gold?

"Tis when the rose is wrapped in many a fold
Close to its heart, the worm is wasting there
Its life and beauty; not when, all unrolled,
Leaf after leaf, its bosom, rich and fair,
Breathe freely its perfumes through the ambient

air.

Rouse to some work of high and holy love,
And thou an angel's happiness shall know.

CARLOS WILCOX.

Beauty's Smile.

WHAT heart of man unmoved can lie,
When plays the smile in Beauty's eye.

HOGG.

The Heart's Guests.

WHEN age has cast its shadows
O'er life's declining way;
When evening twilight gathers
Round our retiring day,—
Then shall we sit and ponder
On the dim and shadowy past-
In the heart's silent chamber
The guests will gather fast.

Guests that in youth we cherished
Shall come to us once more,
And we shall hold communion
As in the days before.
They may be dark and sombre,
They may be bright and fair;
But the heart will have its chamber,
The guests will gather there.

How shall it be, my sisters,

Who shall be our hearts' guests?

How shall it be, my brothers,

When life's shadow on us rests?