MY LITTLE DAUGHTER'S SHOES. We may be the mightiest preachers, In the day that dawneth now! Such the children's mute appealing! Said, "The children's prayer is heard!" MARY HOWITT. 19 MY LITTLE DAUGHTER'S SHOES. Two little rough, worn, stubbed shoes, A plump, well-trodden pair, With striped stockings thrust within, Of very homely fabric they, A hole is in each toe, They might have cost, when they were new, Some fifty cents or so. And yet this little worn-out pair Is richer far to me, Than all the jewelled sandals are Of Eastern luxury. This mottled leather, cracked with use, 20 MY LITTLE DAUGHTER'S SHOES. These little tarnished buttons shine With all a diamond's light. Search through the wardrobe of the world! So rarely made, so richly wrought, So glorious a pair. And why? Because they tell of her, Whose form is moving beauty, and They tell me of her merry laugh, They tell me that her wavering steps For the old road of human life Is very roughly laid. High hills and swift descents abound, And, on so rude a way, Feet that can wear these coverings Would surely go astray. Sweet little girl! be mine the task BABY'S SHOES. 21 To be thy guide, thy counsellor, Thy playmate, and thy friend! And when my steps shall faltering grow, Thy strength shall lead my tottering age C. J. SPRAGUE. BABY'S SHOES. O THOSE little, those little blue shoes! That those shoes would buy, For they hold the small shape of feet And ceased from their totter so sweet! And O, since that baby slept, So hushed! how the mother has kept, That little dear treasure, And o'er them thought and wept! 22 AN ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. For they mind her forevermore Look up from her knees, With the look that in life they wore. As they lie before her there, That's a gleam in the place, Then O, wonder not that her heart Than those tiny blue shoes That no little feet use, And whose sight makes such fond tears start. W. C. BENNETT. AN ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. How sweet it were, if without feeble fright, At evening in our room, and bend on ours |