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FULFILMENT.

But perhaps I shall meet thee and know thee again
When the sea gives up her dead.

JEAN INGELOW.

FULFILMENT.

WAKING in May, the peach-tree thought:
“Idle and bare! and weaving naught!
Here have I slept the winter through,

I, with my Master's work to do!"

Started the buds. The blossoms came
Till all the branches were aflame.
She rocked the birds and wove the green,
A busy tree as ever was seen

Busy and blithe. She drank the dew,
She caught the sunbeams gliding through;
She drew her wealth from sky and soil,
And rustled gayly in her toil.

Now see the peach-tree's drooping head,
With all her fruit a-blushing red.
Knowing her Master's work is done,
She meekly resteth in the sun.

MARY ELIZAbeth Dodge.

BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND.

BLOW, blow, thou winter wind!

Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude ;

Thy tooth is not so keen,

Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. Then, heigh ho! the holly!

This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,

Thou dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot;

Though thou the waters warp,

Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remembered not.

Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
Then, heigh ho! the holly!

This life is most jolly.

SHAKESPEARE.

AN orphan boy, with weary feet,

On Christmas Eve, alone, benighted, Went through the town from street to street,

To see the clustering candles lighted In homes where happy children meet.

He wept; he clasped his hands and cried:

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Ah, every child to-night rejoices;

Their Christmas presents all divide,

Around their trees, with merry voices;

But Christmas is to me denied.

"Once with my sister, hand in hand,

At home, how did my tree delight me!

No other tapers shone so grand;

But all forget me, none invite me,

Here, lonely, in the stranger's land.

"Will no one let me in, to share

The light, to take some corner nigh it?

In all these houses can't they spare

A spot where I may sit in quiet-
A little seat among them there?

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THE ORPHAN'S CHRISTMAS-TREE.

"Will no one let me in to-night?
I will not beg for gift or token;
I only ask to see the sight

And hear the thanks of others spoken,
And that will be my own delight."

He knocked at every door and gate;
He rapped at window-pane and shutter;
But no one heard and bade him wait,

Or came, the "Welcome in! to utter: Their ears were dull to outer fate.

Each father looked with eyes that smiled,
Upon his happy children only:
Their gifts the mother's heart beguiled

To think of them: none saw the lonely
Forgotten boy, the orphan child.

"O Christ-child, holy, kind, and dear!
I have no father and no mother,
Nor friend save thee, to give me cheer.

Be thou my help, there is none other,
Since all forget me, wandering here!"

The poor boy rubbed his hands so blue,
His little hands, the frost made chilly;
His tattered clothes he closer drew

And crouched within a corner stilly,
And prayed, and knew not what to do.