H THE CHILD-MUSICIAN E had played for his lordship's levee, 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 THE CRADLE OW steadfastly she'd worked at it! 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. 1 BEFORE SEDAN 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. 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,— You came upon it-suddenly. How strange! The very grasses' growth Around it seemed forlorn and loath; The very ivy seemed to turn Askance that wreathed the neighbour urn. |