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THE GAMBOLS OF CHILDREN.

Sparkling one another after,
Bursts a flaxen-headed bevy;

Like bright ripples on a river.
Bud-lipped boys and girls advancing,
Love's irregular little levy.

Tipsy band of rubious faces,

Flushed with joy's ethereal spirit, Rows of liquid eyes in laughter,

Make your mocks and sly grimaces How they glimmer, how they quiver! At Love's self and do not fear it.

GEORGE DARLEY.

How

MOTHER NATURE.

Give, sometimes give your sunny gleam, OW like a tender mother, with loving

And let the rest good-humor find; thoughts beguiled,

Yes, let me hail, and welcome give Fond Nature seems to lull to rest each faint And pleased and pleasing let me live,

To every joy my lot may share, and weary child ! Drawing the curtain tenderly, affectionate

With merry heart that laughs at care.

HENRY HART MILMAN. and mild.

Hark to the gentle lullaby, that through the

trees is creeping! Those sleepy trees that nod their heads, ere

the moon as yet comes peeping, Like a tender nurse, to see if all her little ones

THE ROMANCE OF THE SWANS

NEST.

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are sleeping.

ITTLE Ellie sits alone
S'Mid the beeches of a meadow

By a stream-side on the grass,
And the trees are showering down
Doubles of their leaves in shadow

On her shining hair and face.

One little fluttering bird, like a child in a

dream of pain, Has chirped and started up, then nestled

down again. Oh, a child and a bird, as they sink to rest, are as like as any twain.

CHARLOTTE YOUNG.

She has thrown her bonnet by,
And her feet she has been dipping,

In the shallow water's flow.
Now she holds them nakedly
In her hands all sleek and dripping,

While she rocketh to and fro.

Little Ellie sits alone,
And the smile she softly uses

Fills the silence like a speech,
While she thinks what shall be done,
And the sweetest pleasure chooses

For her future within reach.

THE MERRY HEART. WOULD not from the wise require

The lumber of their learned lore; Nor would I from the rich desire

A single counter of their store;
For I have ease and I have health,

And I have spirits light as air,
And more than wisdom, more than wealth,

A merry heart that laughs at care.
Like other mortals of my kind,

I've struggled for Dame Fortune's favor; And sometimes have been half inclined

To rate her for her ill behavior; Bat life was short; I thought it folly

To lose its moments in despair, So slipped aside from melancholy,

With merry heart that laughed at cart.

Little Ellie in her smile
Chooses, “I will have a lover,

Riding on a steed of steeds!
He shall love me without guile,
And to him I will discover

The swan's nest among the reeds.

“ And the steed shall be red-roan, And the lover shall be noble,

With an eye that takes the breath.
And the lute he plays upon
Shall strike ladies into trouble,

As his sword strikes men to death.

So now, from idle wishes clear,

I make the good I may not find; Adown the stream I gently steer,

And shift my sail with every wind;
And half by nature, half by reason,

Can still, with pliant heart prepare
The mind, attuned to every season,
The merry heart that laughs at care.

" And the steed it shall be shod,
All in silver, housed in azure,

And the mane shall swim the wind,
And the hoofs along the sod
Shall flash onward and keep measure

Till the shepherds look behind.

Yet, wrap me in your sweetest dream,
Ye social feeling of the mind;

I will utter, and dissemble

Light to-morrow with to-day! “ Then he'll ride among the hills, To the wide world past the river,

There to put away all wrong; To make straight distorted wills,

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“But my lover will not prize All the glory that he rides in.

When he gazes in my face,
He will say, 'O Love, thine eyes
Build the shrine my soul abides in,

And I kneel here for thy grace!

“Then, ay, then he shall kneel low, With the red-roan steed anear him,

Which shall seem to under

stand, Till I answer- 'Rise and go!

“And her feet she had been dipping

In the shallow water's How."

For the world must love and fear him

Whom I gift with heart and hand.' “ Then he will arise so pale, I shall feel my own lips tremble

With a yes I must not say: Nathless maiden-brave, “Farewell,'

And to empty the broad quiver

Which the wicked bear along. “ Three times shall a young foot-page Swim the stream and climb the mountain,

And kneel down beside my feet'Lo, my master sends this gage,

Lady, for thy pity's counting!

Without the torments of the night's untruth. What wilt thou exchange for it?'

Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires, “And the first time I will send

To model forth the passions of to-morrow; A white rose-bud for a guerdon,

Never let the rising sun prove you liars, And the second time, a glove ;

To add more grief, to aggravate my sorrow. But the third time-I may bend

Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain, From my pride, and answer Pardon,

And never wake to feel the day's disdain. If he comes to take my love.'

SAMUEL DANIEL. “ Then the young foot-page will runThen my lover will ride faster,

SOME MURMUR WHEN THEIR Till he kneeleth at my knee: “I am a duke's eldest son!

SKY IS CLEAR." Thousand serfs do call me master,

YOME murmur when their sky is clear But, O Love, I love but thee!

And wholly bright to view,

If one small speck of dark appear " He will kiss me on the mouth

In their great heaven of blue.
Then, and lead me as a lover
Through the crowds that praise his

And some with thankful love are filled, deeds;

If but one streak of light, And, when soul-tied by one troth,

One ray of God's good mercy gild
Unto him I will discover

The darkness of their night.
That swan's nest among the reeds."
Little Ellie, with her smile

In palaces are hearts that ask,
Not yet ended, rose up gaily ;

In discontent and pride, Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe,

Why life is such a dreary task,
And went homeward, round a mile,

And all good things denied ?
Just to see, as she did daily,
What more eggs were with the two.

And hearts in poorest huts admire

How love has in their aid Pushing through the elm-tree copse, (Love that not ever seems to tire) Winding up the stream, light-hearted,

Such rich provisions made. Where the osier pathway leads

RICHARD CHEVENIX TRENCH.
Past the boughs she stoops—and stops.
Lo, the wild swan had deserted-
And a rat had gnawed the reeds.

SONNET.
Ellie went home sad and slow.
If she found the lover ever,

The young Spring smiles on Winter passWith his red-roan steed of steeds,

ed away ; Sooth, I know not! but I know

The air is balmy with the coming May, She could never show him-never,

A bridal music rings from bush and brake. That swan's nest among the reeds.

All things the glory of the time partake; ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

I would be bright and joyous even as they.

But tearful memory dims the golden day; SONNET TO SLEEP.

The light glares sickly, while this heart must

ache NARE-CHARMER Sleep, son of the sable For eyes long closed, that fondly turned to Night,

mine, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born, And voices dear forever dumb to me; Relieve my anguish, and restore the light, Yet, as the warm wind murmurs in the pine, With dark forgetting of my care, return. Sorrow grows mild and sufferance less sore; And let the day be time enough to mourn

I hear soft whispers from the unseen shore, The shipwreck of my ill-advised youth ; With promise of eternal Spring to be. Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,

ANONYMOUS.

.

FROM "THE PRINCESS."
Mot me no more :

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THERE

THE HOUSE OF CLAY.
WHERE was a house-a house of clay
Wherein the inmate sang all day,

Merry and poor.
For Hope sat likewise heart to heart,

Fond and kind-fond and kind,
Vowing he never would depart--

Till all at once he changed his mind“Sweetheart, good-by!” he slipped away,

And shut the door.

Then o'er the barred house of clay,
Kind jasmine and clematis gay

Grew evermore;
And bees hummed merrily outside

Loud and strong-loud and strong,
The inner silentness to hide,

The steadfast silence all day long-
Till evening touched with finger gray

The close-shut door.

But Love came past, and looking in,
With smiles that pierced like sunshine thin,

Through wall, roof, floor, .
Stood in the midst of that poor room,

Grand and fair-grand and fair, Making a glory out of gloom,

Till at the window mocked old CareLove sighed—“all lose and nothing win!"

He shut the door.

Most like the next that passes by,
Will be the angel whose calm eye

Marks rich, marks poor ;
Who pausing not at any gate,

Stands and calls--stands and calls;
At which the inmate opens straight-

Whom, ere the crumbling clay house falls,
He takes in kind arms silently
And shuts the door.

ANONYMOUS.

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