But oh, to see once more, when the early dusk is falling,

The nursery windows glowing and the children's table spread; ‘Mother, mother, mother!” the high child-voices calling,. 'He couldn't stay awake for you, he had to go to bed!”

Unknown

LITTLE BOY BLUE

THE little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket moulds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
And the soldier was passing fair;

And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
"And don't you make any noise!"
So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,
He dreamt of the pretty toys;
And, as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Bluc---
Oh! the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true!

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,

Each in the same old place,

Awaiting the touch of a little hand,

The smile of a little face;

And they wonder, as waiting the long years through.

In the dust of that little chair,

What has become of our Little Boy Blue,

Since he kissed them and put them there.

Eugene Field [1850-1895]

THE DISCOVERER

I HAVE a little kinsman

Whose earthly summers are but three,

And yet a voyager is he

Greater then Drake or Frobisher,

The Discoverer

Than all their peers together!
He is a brave discoverer,

And, far beyond the tether

Of them who seek the frozen Pole,
Has sailed where the noiseless surges roll.
Ay, he has travelled whither

A winged pilot steered his bark
Through the portals of the dark,
Past hoary Mimir's well and tree,
Across the unknown sea.

Suddenly, in his fair young hour,
Came one who bore a flower,
And laid it in his dimpled hand
With this command:

"Henceforth thou art a rover!
Thou must make a voyage far,
Sail beneath the evening star,
And a wondrous land discover."
-With his sweet smile innocent
Our little kinsman went.

Since that time no word

From the absent has been heard.

Who can tell

How he fares, or answer well

What the little one has found

Since he left us, outward bound?
Would that he might return!
Then should we learn

From the pricking of his chart

How the skyey roadways part.

Hush! does not the baby this way bring,

To lay beside this severed curl,

Some starry offering

Of chrysolite or pearl?

Ah, no! not so!

We may follow on his track,

But he comes not back.

285

And yet I dare aver

He is a brave discoverer

Of climes his elders do not know.

He has more learning than appears

On the scroll of twice three thousand years,
More than in the groves is taught,
Or from furthest Indies brought;
He knows, perchance, how spirits fare,-
What shapes the angels wear,
What is their guise and speech

In those lands beyond our reach,—

And his eyes behold

Things that shall never, never be to mortal hearers told. Edmund Clarence Stedman [1833-1908]

A CHRYSALIS

My little Mädchen found one day

A curious something in her play,

That was not fruit, nor flower, nor seed;
It was not anything that grew,

Or crept, or climbed, or swam, or flew;
Had neither legs nor wings, indeed;
And yet she was not sure, she said,
Whether it was alive or dead.

She brought in her tiny hand
To see if I would understand,
And wondered when I made reply,
"You've found a baby butterfly."
"A butterfly is not like this,"
With doubtful look she answered me.
So then I told her what would be
Some day within the chrysalis;
How, slowly, in the dull brown thing
Now still as death, a spotted wing,
And then another, would unfold,
Till from the empty shell would fly
A pretty creature, by and by,
All radiant in blue and gold.

Mater Dolorosa

"And will it, truly?" questioned she-
Her laughing lips and eager eyes
All in a sparkle of surprise—

"And shall your little Mädchen see?"
"She shall!" I said. How could I tell
That ere the worm within its shell
Its gauzy, splendid wings had spread,
My little Mädchen would be dead?

To-day the butterfly has flown,-
She was not here to see it fly,-
And sorrowing I wonder why
The empty shell is mine alone.
Perhaps the secret lies in this:
I too had found a chrysalis,
And Death that robbed me of delight
Was but the radiant creature's flight!

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Mary Emily Bradley [1835-1898]

MATER DOLOROSA

I'D a dream to-night

As I fell asleep,

O! the touching sight

Makes me still to weep:

Of my little lad,

Gone to leave me sad,

Ay, the child I had,

But was not to keep.

As in heaven high,

I my child did seek,
There in train came by
Children fair and meek,

Each in lily white,

With a lamp alight;

Each was clear to sight,

But they did not speak.

Then, a little sad,

Came my child in turn,
But the lamp he had,

O it did not burn!
He, to clear my doubt,
Said, half-turned about,
"Your tears put it out;
Mother, never mourn.'

William Barnes [1801-1886]

THE LITTLE GHOST

THE stars began to peep
Gone was the bitter day.
She heard the milky ewes

Bleat to their lambs astray.

Her heart cried for her lamb

Lapped cold in the churchyard sod,
She could not think on the happy children
At play with the Lamb of God,

She heard the calling ewes

And the lambs' answer, alas!

She heard her heart's blood drip in the night

As the ewes' milk on the grass.

Her tears that burnt like fire

So bitter and slow ran down

She could not think on the new-washed children
Playing by Mary's gown.

Oh who is this comes in

Over her threshold stone?

And why is the old dog wild with joy

Who all day long made moan?

This fair little radiant ghost,

Her one little son of seven,

New 'scaped from the band of merry children

In the nurseries of Heaven.