SELECTIONS FROM THE POETS.                        293

Perhaps for her 'twould better be,"
I said to John. Quite silently
He lifted up a curl that lay
Across her cheek, in willful way,
And shook his head, "Nay, love, not thee,"
The while my heart beat audibly.
Only one more, our oldest lad,
Trusty and thoughtful, good and glad -
So like his father. "No, John, no -
I cannot, will not, let him go."
And so we wrote, in courteous way,
We could not give one child away;
And after that, toil lighter seemed,
Thinking of that of which we dreamed,
Happy, in truth, that not one face
Was missed from its accustomed place;
Thankful to work for all the seven,
Trusting the rest to One in Heaven.
THE LITTLE BOY THAT DIED.
BY JOSHUA D. ROBINSON.
AM all alone in my chamber now
And the midnight hour is near,
And the faggot's crack, and the clock's dull tick,
Are all the sounds I hear ;
And over my soul in its solitude
Sweet feelings of sadness glide;
And my heart and my eyes are full when I think,
Of the little boy that died.
I went one night to rW father's house -
Went home to the dear ones all,
And softly I opened the garden gate,
And softly the door of the hall;
My mother came out to meet her son,
She kissed me, and then she sighed.
And her head fell on my neck, and she wept
For the little boy that died.
And when I gazed on his innocent face,
As still and cold he lay,
And thought what a lovely child he had been,
And how soon he must decay ;
"0 Death, thou lovest the beautiful!"
In the woe of my spirit I cried,
For sparkled the eyes, and the forehead ws
Of the little boy that died.

Again I will go to my father's house-
Go home to the dear ones all,
And sadly I'll open the garden gate,
And sadly the door of the hall ;

I shall meet my mother, but, nevermore,
With her darling by her side ;
And she'll kiss me and sigh, and weep again
For the little boy that died.
I    lmiss him, when the flowers come,
In the garden where he played;
I shall miss him more by the fireside,
When the flowers have all decayed;
I shall see his toys and his empty chair,
And the horse he used to ride;
And they will speak, with silent speech,
Of the little boy that died.
I shall see his little sister again,
With her playmates about the door,
And I'll watch the children at their sports,
As I never did before ;
And if, in the group, I see a child
That's dimpled and laughing-eyed,
I'll look to see if it may not be
The little boy that died.
We shall all go home to our Father's house
To our Father's house in the skies,
Where the hope of our souls shall have no blight,
And our love no broken ties;
We shall roam on the banks of the River of Peace,
And bathe in its blissful tide ;
And one of the joys of our Heaven will be
The little boy that died.
And therefore, when I'm sitting alone,
And the midnight hour is near,
And the faggot's crack and the clock's dull tick
Are the only sounds I hear,
0! sweet o'er my soul in its solitude
Are the feelings of sadness that glide,
Though my heart and my es are full when I think
Of the little boy that died.

HEAVEN B'
EAVEN is not reached I
But we build the ladd
From the lowly earth
.k, And we mount to its su
I count these things to b-

To a purer air a
We rise by the t
By what we h,
By the pridec
And the vanquu