And there a sight-how strangely sweet! My steps in wonder bound.

For on a brilliant bed of flowers,
E'en at the threshold made,
As if to sleep through sultry hours,
A young fair child was laid.

To sleep?-oh! ne'er on childhood's eye,
And silken lashes press'd,

Did the warm living slumber lie,
With such a weight of rest!

Yet still a tender crimson glow

Its cheek's pure marble dyed— 'Twas but the light's faint streaming flow Through roses heap'd beside.

I stoop'd-the smooth round arm was chill,
The soft lips' breath was fled,
And the bright ringlets hung so still-
The lovely child was dead!

"Alas!" I cried, "fair faded thing!
Thou hast wrung bitter tears,
And thou hast left a woe to cling

Round yearning hearts for

years

But then a voice came sweet and low—

I turn'd, and near me sate,

A woman with a mourner's brow,
Pale, yet not desolate.

E

And in her still clear, matron face,
All solemnly serene,

A shadow'd image I could trace
Of the young slumberer's mien.

66

Stranger! thou pitiest me," she said, With lips that faintly smil'd,

"As here I watch beside my dead, My fair and precious child.

"But know the time-worn heart may be
By pangs in this world riven,
Keener than theirs who yield, like me,
An angel thus to heaven!"

THE RECAL.

BARRY CORNWALL.

COME again! come again!
Sunshine cometh after rain.
As a lamp fed newly burneth,
Pleasure, who doth fly, returneth,
Scattering every cloud of pain,
As the year, which dies in showers,
Riseth in a world of flowers.

Called by many a vernal strain,

Come thou, for whom tears were falling, And a thousand tongues are calling!

Come again, O come again!

Like the sunshine after rain!

TO THE MEMORY OF W. P. WATTS, Aged Three Years.

A. A. WATTS.

A CLOUD is on my heart and brow,

The tears are in my eyes,And wishes fond, all idle now,

Are stifled into sighs;

As musing on thine early doom,
Thou bud of beauty snatch'd to bloom,
So soon, 'neath milder skies!

I turn-thy painful struggle past-
From what thou art to what thou wast!

I think of all thy winning ways,
Thy frank but boisterous glee ;-
Thy arch sweet smiles,-thy coy delays,-
Thy step, so light and free,—

Thy sparkling glance, and hasty run,
Thy gladness when thy task was done,
And gain'd thy mother's knee;
Thy gay, good-humour'd, childish ease,
And all thy thousand arts to please!

Where are they now?-and where, oh where,

The eager, fond caress?

The blooming cheek, so fresh and fair,
The lips, all sought to press ?~
The open brow, and laughing eye,-
The heart that leap'd so joyously?
(Ah! had we loved them less!)

Yet there are thoughts can bring relief,
And sweeten even this cup of grief.

What hast thou 'scaped?-a thorny scene!

A wilderness of woe!

Where many a blast of anguish keen
Had taught thy tears to flow!
Perchance some wild and withering grief
Had sered thy summer's earliest leaf,
In these dark bowers below!

Or sickening chills of hope deferr'd
To strife thy gentlest thoughts had stirr'd!

What hast thou 'scaped?-life's weltering sea,

Before the storm arose ;

Whilst yet its gliding waves were free
From aught that marr'd repose !
Safe from the thousand throes of pain,-
Ere sin or sorrow breathed a stain
Upon thine opening rose?
And who can calmly think of this,
Nor envy thee thy doom of bliss?

I cull'd from home's beloved bowers,
To deck thy last long sleep,

The brightest-hued, most fragrant flowers
That summer's dews may steep:-
The rose-bud-emblem meet-was there,-
The violet blue, and jasmine fair,

That, drooping, seem'd to weep ;-
And now I add this lowlier spell:-
Sweets to the passing sweet!-Farewell!

SUMMER'S GONE.

MRS. NORTON.

HARK! through the dim wood dying,
With a moan,

Faintly the winds are sighing-
Summer's gone!

There, when my bruised heart feeleth,
And the pale moon her face revealeth,
Darkly my footstep stealeth,

To weep alone.

Hour after hour I wander,

By men unseen-.

And sadly my wrung thoughts ponder On what hath been.

Summer's gone!

There in our own green bowers,
Long ago,

Our path through the tangled flowers
Threading slow;

Oft hand in hand entwining

Oft side by side reclining

We've watched in its crimson shining
The sunset glow,

Dimly that sun now burneth
For me alone-

Spring after spring returneth,

Thou art gone

Summer's gone!