THE CHILD-MUSICIAN HE had played for his lordship's levee, He had played for her ladyship's whim, Till the poor little head was heavy, And the face grew peaked and eerie, But at dawn, when the birds were waking, 'Twas a string of his violoncello, And they heard him stir in his bed :"Make room for a tired little fellow, Kind God!" was the last that he said. THE CRADLE HOW steadfastly she'd worked at it! How lovingly had drest With all her would-be-mother's wit That little rosy nest! How longingly she'd hung on it!— He came at last, the tiny guest, That rosy nest he never prest BEFORE SEDAN "The dead hand clasped a letter." -SPECIAL CORRESPONDENCE. HERE in this leafy place Quiet he lies, Cold, with his sightless face 'Tis but another dead; Carry his body hence,— Kings must have slaves; Kings climb to eminence So this man's eye is dim ;- What was the white you touched, Paper his hand had clutched Tight ere he died;— Message or wish, may be ; Smooth the folds out and see. Hardly the worst of us Here could have smiled! Only the tremulous Words of a child ; Prattle, that has for stops Just a few ruddy drops. Look. She is sad to miss, His-her dead father's-kiss; Tries to be bright, Good to mamma, and sweet. Ah, if beside the dead Slumbered the pain! Ah, if the hearts that bled If the grief died ;-But no ;- THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE A SKETCH IN A CEMETERY UT from the City's dust and roar, OUT You wandered through the open door; Paused at a plaything pail and spade Across a tiny hillock laid; Then noted on your dexter side Some moneyed mourner's "love or pride," And so, beyond a hawthorn-tree, Showering its rain of rosy bloom Alike on low and lofty tomb,- How strange! The very grasses' growth Askance that wreathed the neighbour urn. |