SEVEN TIMES FOUR.

MATERNITY.

EIGH ho! daisies and buttercups,
Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall!

When the wind wakes how they rock in the

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! daisies and buttercups! Mother shall thread them a daisy chain;

Sing them a song of the pretty hedge-sparrow,

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.

O bonny brown sons, and O sweet little daughters, Maybe he thinks on you now!

Heigh ho! daisies and buttercups, Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall

A sunshiny world full of laughter and leisure, And fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and thrall! Send down on their pleasure smiles passing its

measure,

God that is over us all!

Jean Ingelow.

THE BETTER LAND.

HEAR thee speak of the better land,
Thou call'st its children a happy band;

Mother! O where is that radiant shore?

Shall we not seek it, and weep no more?

Is it where the flower of the orange blows,

And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle boughs ?" "Not there, not there, my child!"

"Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies?
Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
And strange, bright birds, on their starry wings,
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?"
-"Not there, not there, my child!"

"Is it far away, in some region old,
Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold?—
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine,

And the diamond lights up the secret mine,

And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand?— Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?"

-“Not there, not there, my child!"

"Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair—
Sorrow and death may not enter there;
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom,
For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,
-It is there, it is there, my child!"

Felicia Hemans.

Brass buttons or no, sailor,

Anchor and crown or no!

Sure his ship was the Jolly Briton""Speak low, woman, speak low!"

"And why should I speak low, sailor, About my own boy, John?

If I was loud as I am proud
I'd sing him over the town!
Why should I speak low, sailor?"-
"That good ship went down."

"How's my boy-my boy? What care I for the ship, sailor, I never was aboard her.

Be she afloat, or be she aground,

Sinking or swimming, I'll be bound,

I

66

Her owners can afford her!

say, how's my John?"—

Every man on board went down,

Every man aboard her."

"How's my boy-my boy?

What care I for the men, sailor?