The fellow that did take in hand These children for to kill Was for a robber judged to die, As was God's blessed will; Who did confess the very truth, The which is here expressed; Their uncle died while he, for debt, In prison long did rest. You that executors be made, Of children that be fatherless, A MOTHER'S LOVE. ANONYMOUS A LITTLE in the doorway sitting, But when the boy had heard her voice, O, what a loveliness her eyes O, mother's love is glorifying, In the eyes a moistened light, Tipsy band of rubious faces, GEORGE DARLEY. UNDER MY WINDOW. UNDER my window, under my window, Flit to and fro together: There's Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen, And Maud with her mantle of silver-green, And Kate with her scarlet feather. Under my window, under my window, Leaning stealthily over, Merry and clear, the voice I hear, Of each glad-hearted rover. Ah! sly little Kate, she steals my roses; Under my window, under my window, I catch them all together : Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen, Under my window, under my window, And off through the orchard closes ; While Maud she flouts, and Bell she pouts, They scamper and drop their posies; But dear little Kate takes naught amiss, And leaps in my arms with a loving kiss, And I give her all my roses. THOMAS WESTWOOD. THE MOTHER'S HEART. WHEN first thou camest, gentle, shy, and fond, My eldest born, first hope, and dearest treasure, My heart received thee with a joy beyond All that it yet had felt of earthly pleasure; Nor thought that any love again might be So deep and strong as that I felt for thee. Faithful and true, with sense beyond thy years, And natural piety that leaned to heaven; Wrung by a harsh word suddenly to tears, Ye patient to rebuke when justly given; Obedient, easy to be reconciled, And meekly cheerful; such wert thou, my child! Not willing to be left - still by my side, Haunting my walks, while summer-day was dying; Nor leaving in thy turn, but pleased to glide Through the dark room where I was sadly lying; Or by the couch of pain, a sitter meek, O boy! of such as thou are oftenest made And clung, like woodbine shaken in the wind! Full of a wild and irrepressible mirth, "Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this can You Moon! have you done something wrong in heaven, That God has hidden your face? Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran; I hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven, And twice in the day, when the ground is wet And shine again in your place. with dew, "Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they? I pray you tell." "Two of us in the churchyard lie, Dwell near them with my mother.” "You say that two at Conway dwell, Then did the little maid reply, "You run about, my little maid; Your limbs they are alive; If two are in the churchyard laid, Then ye are only five." "Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied: "Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side. "My stockings there I often knit ; My kerchief there I hem ; "And often after sunset, sir, "The first that died was Sister Jane; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain; "So in the churchyard she was laid; And, when the grass was dry, Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I. "And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side." TO A CHILD, DURING SICKNESS. And balmy rest about thee I sit me down, and think Yet almost wish, with sudden shrink, Thy sidelong pillowed meekness; The little trembling hand These, these are things that may demand Sorrows I've had, severe ones, But when thy fingers press |