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Then homeward all take off their several way;
The youngling cottagers retire to rest: The parent-pair their secret homage pay,
And proffer up to Heaven the warm request, That He, who stills the raven's clamorous nest,
And decks the lily fair, in flowery pride, Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best,
For them and for their little ones provide; But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.
From scenes like these old Scotia's grandenr springs.
That make her loved at home, revered abroad: Princes and lords are but the breath of kings;
"An honest man's the noblest work of God:" And eertes, in fair virtue's heavenly road,
The cottage leaves the palace far behind; What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load,
Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined!
O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent! Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!
A virtuous populace may rise the while,
O Thou! who poured the patriotic tide
That streamed through Wallace's undaunted heart;
Or nobly die, the second glorious part,
His friend, inapirer, guardian, and reward!
But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard,
MAKE HOME-LIFE BEAUTIFUL.
|ET me say to parents: Make the home-life beautiful, without and within, and they will sow the seeds of gentleness, true kindness, honesty and fidelity, in the hearts of their children, from which the children reap a harvest of happiness and virtue. The memory of the beautiful and happy home of childhood is the richest legacy any man can leave to his children. The heart will never forget its hallowed influences. It will be an evening enjoyment, to which the lapse of years will only add new sweetness. Such a home is a constant inspiration for good, and as constant a restraint from evil.
If by taste and culture we adorn our homes and grounds and add to their charms, our children will find the quiet pleasures of rural homes more attractive than the whirl of city life. Such attractions and enjoyments will invest home-life, school-life, the whole future of life with new interests and with new dignity and joyousness, for life is just what we make it. We may by our blindness live in a world of darkness and gloom, or in a world full of sunlight and beauty and joy; for the world without only reflects the world within. Also, the tasteful improvement of grounds and home exerts a good influence not only upon the inmates, but upon the community. An elegant dwelling, surrounded by sylvan attractions, is a contribution to the refinement, the good order, the taste and prosperity of every community, improving the public taste and ministering to every enjoyment.
B. G. Northrup.
A Country Home.
"Turn again, turn again." once they rang cheerily,
While a boy listened alone;
All by himself on a stone.
Poor bells! I forgive you; your good days are over,
And mine, the}' are yet to be; Ko listening, no longing shall aught, aught discover:
You leave the story to me.
The fox-glove shoots out of the green matted heather,
Preparing her hoods of snow;
O children take long to grow.
I wish, and I wish that the spring would go faster,
Nor long summer bide so late;
For some things are ill to wait.
SEVEN TIMES THREE.—LOVE.
hr LEANED out of window, I smelt the white clover, Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate; "Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one
Hush, nightingale, hush! O sweet nightingale,
Till I listen and hear
"The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and nearer,
A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree, The fall of the water comes sweeter, comes clearer: To what art thou listening, and what dost thou see? Let the star-clusters glow, Let the sweet waters How, And cross quickly to me.
"You night-moths that hover where honey brims over
From sycamore blossoms, or settle or sleep; You glow-worms, shine out, and the pathway discover To him that comes darkling along the rough steep. Ah, my sailor, make haste, For the time runs to waste, And my love lieth deep—
"Too deep for swift telling; and yet, my one lover.
I've conned thee an answer, it waits thee to-night." By the sycamore passed he, and through the white clover;
Then all the sweet speech I had fashioned took flight;
For children wake, though fathers sleep, With a stone at foot and at head;
0 sleepless God! forever keep, Keep both living and dead!
1 lift mine eyes, and what to see, But a world happy and fair;
I have not wished it to mourn with me, Comfort is not there.
O what anear but golden brooms!
And a waste of reedy rills;
On the rare blue hills!
SEVEN TIMES KOUR.—MATERNITT.
(YJf\EIGII-IIO! daisies and buttercups,
Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall! 'When the wind wakes how they rock in the j| grasses, And dance with the cuckoo-buds slender and small! Here's two bonny boys, and here's mother's own lasses,
Eager to gather them all.
Heigh-ho! daises and buttercups!
Mother shall thread them a daisy chain;
That loved her brown little ones, loved them full fain;
Sing. "Heart, thou art wide, though the house be but narrow,"— Sing once and sing it again.
Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups.
Sweet wagging cowslips, they bend and they bow; A ship sails afar over warm ocean waters,
And haply one musing doth stand at her prow.
Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups,
A sunshiny world full of laughter and leisure,
Send down on their pleasure-smiles passing its measure,
God that is over us all!
SEVEN TIMES FIVE.—WIDOWHOOD.
i*y* SLEEP and rest, my heart makes moan,