Some will hate thee, some will love thee, A FAREWELL.-Kingsley. My fairest child, I have no song to give you ; Be good, sweet maid, and let who would be clever, ST. HELEN'S-AUCKLAND.-Sir H. Taylor. I WANDER o'er each well-known field And thoughts that were as fountains seal'd The ancient house, the aged trees, They bring again to light The years that like a summer's breeze Were trackless in their flight. How much is changed of what I see, The walks are overgrown and wild, But I am once again a child, I am what I have been. The sounds that round about me rise I see what meets no other eyes, The breaking of the summer's morn- The freshness of the faëry land Alas the real never lent Those tints, too bright to last; The wave that dances to the breast But there shall flow another tide, In every change of Man's estate Nor mourn I less the manly part THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD.—7. H. Newman. LEAD Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home; Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant way-one step enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor pray'd that Thou I loved to see and choose my path; but now I loved the garish day, and spite of fears, So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it stil O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till And with the morn those angel faces smile, TO A CHILD.-F. T. Palgrave. IF by any device or knowledge The rosebud its beauty could know, It would stay a rosebud for ever, And if thou could'st know thy own sweetness, ON AN INFANT NEPHEW.-W. M. Praed. THE little one,--the little one! The lips that cannot lisp my name And the hands too weak for childhood's game The beauteous one,-the beauteous one! In the wide world, I wis, There's many a beauteous thing, but none In youth and age, earth's sinful leaven But there is only peace and Heaven The merry one, the merry one! Our life has nought but a cloudless sun The cherished one,-the cherished one! Of parents for their infant son; It cometh from above. He is all music to their ear, All glory to their sight, By day he is their hope and fear, Their thought and dream by night. The guiltless one,- the guiltless one! If her best and holiest men had done If the blot of sin and the doom of pain THE RAINBOW.-Wordsworth. My heart leaps up when I behold So was it when my life began; The child is father of the man, And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. MARGARET WILSON.-F. T. Palgrave. FOUR children at their little play Across the iron-furrow'd way; Joyous in all the joy of May. Three, babies; and one, Margaret, The sky is blue; the sun is bright; She ran with one to reach the side, The other two, that were forgot, Playing by Death, and knowing not; Between the rails and platform-side, By those she died for there she lay, -My little heroine! though I ne'er Too small a thing from Fame to have Yet thy true heart and fearless faith, |