THE HAPPY CHILD. SEE the rosy cherub, see, An infant's bliss, how pure, how sweet! Buoyant is that little breast, Every pulse is life and zest: Whip in hand, upraised on high, Joy is beaming in her eye. An infant's bliss, how pure, how sweet! Mark the loving sister's care! In the fun she takes her share; Gently, Rollo! gently speed Along the path, adown the mead! That merry little laugh of pleasure Tells that you draw the Home's loved treasure! An infant's bliss, how pure, how sweet! Who inspires a baby's mirth? Who gives it gladness e'en on earth? 'Tis the God who reigns above, 'Tis the God of joy and love. His joy, His love, how pure, how sweet! S. H. TIME. TIME speeds away—away—away! Time speeds away—away—away! And leaves us weeping on the shore A WINTER'S TRIP. Time speeds away-away-away! KNOX. 65 A WINTER'S TRIP. SWALLOW! that on rapid wing Sweep'st along in sportive ring, Now here, now there, now low, now high, Chasing keen the painted fly;— Could I skim away with thee Over land and over sea, What streams would flow, what cities rise, Skim Garonne's majestic tide, 'Mid myrtle-groves and orange-trees; Where wolves prowl round the flocks of Spain, Far to South our course away, AIKIN. I'M HERE. 'Twas when its glory o'er the sea And lighted up ten thousand waves I'M HERE. A father and a joyous child And o'er the rippling waters sped Loud laugh'd the happy boy, as soon "Strange sea-weeds on the pebbly beach, Fresh shells and flowers I see! Oh! leave me there-then onward sail, The father to the child's request A favouring answer gave, And bade him watch his swift return 67 Then forward rode the white-wing'd bark Upon the heaving main, Still lessening, till a speck it seem'd Upon the watery plain. But suddenly the sky grew dark, The waves were bright no more; As dense a mist as ever rose |