88

THE ORPHANS.

"Indeed," the wan starved Mary said, "Till Henry eats, I'll eat no more; For yesterday I got some bread,

He's had none since the day before."

My heart did swell, my bosom heave,
I felt as though deprived of speech;
I silent sat upon the grave,

And pressed the clay-cold hand of each.

With looks that told a tale of woe,
With looks that spoke a grateful heart,
The shivering boy then nearer drew,
And did his simple tale impart.

Before my father went away,
Enticed by bad men o'er the sea,
Sister and I did nought but play-
We lived beside yon great ash tree.

"But then poor mother did so cry,

And looked so changed I cannot tell: She told us that she soon would die, And bade us love each other well.

“She said that when the war was o'er, Perhaps we might our father see;

But if we never saw him more,

That God our Father still would be!

THE ORPHANS.

"She kissed us both, and then she died,
And we no more a mother have;
Here many a day we've sat and cried
Together on poor mother's grave.

"But when my father came not here,

I thought, if we could find the sea,
We should be sure to meet him there,
And once again might happy be.

"We hand in hand went many a mile,
And asked our way of all we met;
And some did sigh and others smile,
And we of some did victuals get.

"But when we reached the sea, and found
'Twas one great water round us spread,
We thought our father must be drown'd,
And cried and wish'd we both were dead.

"So we returned to mother's grave,
And only long with her to be;
For Goody, when this bread she gave,
Said father died beyond the sea.

"Then since no parent we have here,
We'll go and search for God around;
Lady! pray can you tell us where

That God, our Father, may be found?

89

90

THE MAY-FLY.

"He lives in heaven, mother said,
And Goody says that mother's there;
So, if she knows we want His aid,

I think, perhaps, she 'll send Him here."
I clasped the prattlers to my breast,
And cried, "Come both and live with me;
I'll clothe you, feed you, give you rest,
And will a second mother be.

"And God shall be your Father still, 'Twas He in mercy sent me here; To teach you to obey His will,

Your steps to guide, your hearts to cheer."

THE MAY-FLY.

LITTLE May-fly,

The sun's in the sky,
The dew's upon the flower,

The thrifty bee

Hums in the tree,

And the bird sings in the bower.

Little May-fly,

Both you and I

Should bless the God of heaven,

By whom the flower,

The sun and the bower,

For our delight were given.

ANON.

The morn has but just look'd out and smiled, When he starts from his humble grassy nest, And is up and away, with the dew on his breast, And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure, bright sphere,

To warble it out in his Maker's ear.

Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays

Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise.

92

WHAT IS THAT, MOTHER.

"What is that, mother?"

The dove, my son:

And that low, sweet voice, like a widow's moan,
Is flowing out from her gentle breast,
Constant and pure by that lonely nest,
As the wave is pour'd from some crystal urn,
For her distant dear one's quick return.
Ever, my son, be thou like the dove;

In friendship as faithful, as constant in love,

"What is that, mother ?"
The eagle, boy,

Proudly careering his course with joy,
Firm on his own mountain vigour relying,
Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt de-
fying;

His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun,
He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right

on.

Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine,
Onward and upward, and true to the line.

"What is that, mother ?"
The swan, my love;

He is floating down from his native grove,
No loved one now, no nestling nigh;

He is floating down by himself to die: