Wandering alone in the merciless street, Oh! what shall I do when the night comes down On the cold hard pavements alone to die? When the beautiful children their prayers have said, No father, no mother, no sister, not one In all the world loves me; e'en the little dogs run Watching for hours some large bright star, And a host of white-robed, nameless things, And a voice like the carol of some wild bird And tells me of such unbounded love, And away from the hunger and storms so wild- KISSES. PHILA A. CASE. HE kiss of friendship, kind and calm, But more than all the rest I prize Smile, lady, smile, when courtly lips Blush, happy maiden, when you feel Will own as dearer far than they ELIZABETH AXERS ALLEN. THE OLD HOUSE. M standing by the window-sill, Its branches near the door; The little path that used to lead Is overgrown with brier and weed— But there's no change upon the hill, As when we both were young. And yonder is the old oak-tree, Beneath whose spreading shade, And over there the meadow gate LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON. THE DEAREST SPOT OF EARTH IS HOME. 'HE dearest spot of earth to me Is home, sweet home! The fairy land I long to see Is home, sweet home! There, how charmed the sense of hearing! There, where love is so endearing! All the world is not so cheering As home, sweet home! The dearest spot of earth to me Is home, sweet home! The fairy land I long to see I've taught my heart the way to prize I've learned to look with lovers' eyes On home, sweet home! There, where vows are truly plighted! The dearest spot of earth to me W. T. WRIGHTON. "Come, John," said I "We'll choose among them as they lie Asleep ;" so walking hand in hand, First to the cradle lightly stepped, I saw on Jamie's rough red cheek Could he be spared? "Nay, he who gave And so," said John, "I would not dare Then stole we softly up above, And shook his head: "Nay, love, not thee;" And so we wrote, in courteous way, K LEARNING TO PRAY, NEELING, fair in the twilight gray, A beautiful child was trying to pray; His cheek on his mother's knee, His bare little feet half hidden, His smile still coming unbidden, And his heart brimful of glee. "I want to laugh. Is it naughty? Say, O mamma! I've had such fun to-day I hardly can say my prayers. I don't feel just like praying; I want to be out-doors playing, And run, all undressed, down stairs. "I can see the flowers in the garden-bed, Do you mean I can do it by 'Yes?' "When I say, 'Now I lay me-word for word, It seems to me as if nobody heard. Would 'Thank you, dear God,' be right? He gave me my mamma, And papa, and Sammy O mamma! you nodded I might." Clasping his hands and hiding his face, His mother's nod and sanction sweet "Thank you for making this home so nice, The flowers, and my two white mice, I wish I could keep right on; I thank you, too, for every day- "Now, mamma, rock me—just a minute- The mother, singing, clasped him tight, For well she knew that the artless joy And love of her precious, innocent boy, Were a prayer that her Lord had heard. MARY E. Dodge. THE HOUSE IN THE MEADOW T stands in a sunny meadow, The house so mossy and brown, The trees fold their green arms around it,— And the winds go chanting through them, And the sunbeams drop their gold. The cowslips spring in the marshes, And beside the brook in the pasture Within, in the wide old kitchen, The old folks sit in the sun, That creeps through the sheltering woodbine, Their children have gone and left them: That won her heart in her girlhood, That has soothed her in many a care, How, dressed in her robe of white, 0, the morning is rosy as ever, But the rose from her cheek is fled; And the sunshine still is golden, But it falls on a silvered head. And the girlhood dreams, once vanished, Till her feeble pulses tremble With the thrill of spring-time's prime. She thinks how the trees have grown They sat in peace in the sunshine He touched their eyelids with balm, Whose builder and maker is God. Perhaps in that miracle country They will give her lost youth back, One draught from the living waters The love that outlasted time. But the shapes that they left behind them, Made holy to us by the kisses The angel had printed there, We will hide away 'neath the willows, CONDUCT AT HOME. HE angry word suppressed, the taunting Subduing and subdued, the petty strife, The sober comfort, all the peace which springs From the large aggregate of little things; HANNAH MORE. 1 MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME No-no! no fairer were you then than at this hour to me; HE sun shines bright in our old Kentucky And, dear as life to me this day, how could you dearer home; 'Tis summer, the darkeys are gay; The corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the While the birds make music all the day; All merry, all happy, all bright; be? As sweet your face might be that day as now it is, 'tis true; But did I know your heart as well when this old ring was new? Years bring fresh links to bind us, wife,-young voices that are here; faces round our fire that make their mother's Young loving hearts your care each day makes yet yet more dear; more like to you, By'mby hard times comes a knockin' at the door,-Young They hunt no more for the possum and the coon, The day goes by, like the shadow o'er the heart, The head must bow, and the back will have to bend, A few more days, and the troubles all will end, A few more days till we totter on the road, THE WORN WEDDING-RING OUR wedding-ring wears thin, dear wife; ah, Since I put it on your finger first, have passed And, love, what changes we have seen,-what cares Since you became my own dear wife, when this old ring was new! O, blessings on that happy day, the happiest of my life, When, thanks to God, your low, sweet "Yes" made you my loving wife! Your heart will say the same, I know; that day's as dear to you, That day that made me yours, dear wife, when this old ring was new. How well do I remember now your young sweet face that day! How fair you were, how dear you were, my tongue could hardly say; Nor how I doated on you; O, how proud I was of you! But did I love you more than now, when this old ring was new? More like the loving heart made mine when this old ring was new. The past is dear, its sweetness still our memories treasure yet; The griefs we've borne, together borne, we would not now forget. Whatever, wife, the future brings, heart unto heart still true, We'll share as we have shared all else since this old ring was new. And if God spares us 'mongst our sons and daughters to grow old, We know His goodness will not let your heart or mine grow cold. Your aged eyes will see in mine all they've still shown to you, And mine in yours all they have seen since this old ring was new. And O, when death shall come at last to bid me to my rest, May I die looking in those eyes, and resting on that breast; O, may my parting gaze be blessed with the dear sight of you, Of those fond eyes,-fond as they were when this old ring was new! WILLIAM Cox BENNETT. FILIAL LOVE. HERE is a dungeon in whose dim drear light It is not so; I see them full and plain,-- Full swells the deep pure fountain of young life, |