And again we two are together, They tell me his mind is failing, He is only back with the children, And still, as the summer sunset And the wee ones, tired of playing, My husband calls from his corner, Say, love, have the children come?" And I answer, with eyes uplifted, "Yes, dear, they are all at home." IRENE BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER [Written on the death of a young friend.] In sweetest blush of maiden bloom, And deep must be the shadow here, No memory of thy life is sad, We think of thee, with pure delight, As alway making others glad, Like music set to tender words, While yet the dew was on the leaf, Sweet gifts, the gold of sacrifice, Our fair Irene! Our child of peace, Thy bitterness is over now, The Cross no more on thee shall press, Or sorrow give thy soul distress. Thou art with Him who loved thee more And there, beyond the storm and strife, As one by one, we all must cross O! mourning ones! through tears and dread OUR OWN BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER If I had known, in the morning, The words unkind would trouble my mind I had been more careful, darling, Nor given you needless pain; But we vex our own with look and tone We might never take back again. For though in the quiet evening You may give me the kiss of peace, Yet it well might be that never for me The pain of the heart should cease; How many go forth at morning Who never come home at night, And hearts have broken for harsh words spoken That sorrow can ne'er set right. We have careful thought for the stranger, Ah, brow with the shade of scorn, A LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE BY EPES SARGENT A life on the ocean wave, A home on the rolling deep; On this dull, unchanging shore: The spray and the tempest's roar! Once more on the deck I stand, Of my own swift-gliding craft: We shoot through the sparkling foam, Like the ocean-bird, our home We'll find far out on the sea. The land is no longer in view, A home on the rolling sea! A life on the ocean wave! TREASURE IN HEAVEN BY JOHN GODFREY SAXE RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO GEORGE PEABODY, ESQ. 66 'What I spent, I had; what I left, I lost; what I gave, I have!" OLD EPITAPH Every coin of earthly treasure For the spending was not losing, |