€41 
 
 
 'ASTER, 
 
 MAS, 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 MARY BISSELL ^YATERMAN. 
 AUTHOR OF "HELLO! SANTA CLAUS," 
 
 "LIFE FROM A WHEELED CHAIR." Ac. 
 
?^: 
 
 
Copyright 1889, 
 By Daniel Waterman 
 
 PUBLISHED AND FOR SALE BY 
 
 Daniel Waterman 
 
 UTICA. 
 Oneida Co., N. Y. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This collection of verses is literally what its name implies 
 — " Gathered Fragments " — of the work of one, all of whose 
 work was wrought out of suffering, and yet whose pen, now 
 laid aside, contributed with humour, tenderness and pathos to 
 what Ruskin calls " the greatest of sciences, Humanity." Most 
 of the poems have never been in print. Many, especially 
 those of a serious character, were suggested by the individual 
 experiences of her friends. All of them will have for those 
 who knew her the charm of her own personality ; but, above 
 all, they bear the impress of a character purified, strengthened 
 and exalted by crucial discipline ; of a faith brave and 
 unshaken, " Though He slay me." 
 
 A. W. S. 
 March 17, 1889. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 "Gather up ihe Fragments," - - - - 7 
 
 Easter Flowers, ----- 9 
 
 Easter Song, ------ 13 
 
 Passion Flowers and Easter Lilies. - - 15 
 
 The King's Garden, - - - - - 16 
 
 " A Prisoner of the Lord," - - - 18 
 
 The Midnight Sea, - - - - 20 
 
 The Two Voices, - - - 22 
 
 The Little Branch, ----- 24 
 
 Star Flower Song, - - - - 27 
 
 Cradle Song, ------ 29 
 
 Lullaby Land, - . - - - 30 
 Wide-Awake Land, - - - - -33 
 
 Pictures From Wide-Awake Land, - - - 35 
 
 The Touching Tale of the Pampered Pug. - - 39 
 
 A Waste of Words, ----- 42 
 
 " And There Were Shepherds," - - - 43 
 
 Christmas Morning, . - . - 46 
 
 Why Santa Claus Sneezed on Xmas, - - - 47 
 
 Mater Jubilata! ----- 48 
 
 Mater Desolata, - - - - 50 
 
 Mater Consolata, - - - - 51 
 
 Jesus and the Children, - - - -52 
 
®^\\lQ^ Up il^G pra|mGnis." 
 
 SuB-iresied by the following extract from a sermon preached in Westminster Church, 
 ^^ Utica, by Rev. Dr. Brown: 
 
 " Gather up the fragments of our broken hearts and hopes. 
 
 How many lives are, so to speak, mere relics of an ended feast ; frag- 
 ments which may be either left to waste, or taken up and made the most of. 
 Loss, bereavements, pain, suffering come to us, but we are in the midst of 
 life's battle. We cannot stop. One ardent embrace, one loving kiss, one 
 tearful farewell, and then, gathering up the fragments of our disappointed 
 hopes and broken joys, on we must go to where other heights are to be 
 captured and other foes conquered, and other crowns to be won." 
 
 
 WILL gather up the fragments ; 
 
 It is my Lord's command ; 
 All broken, trampled under foot. 
 
 But He will understand 
 What it costs to take up broken lives 
 
 And lay them in his hand. 
 
 A year of bitter memories. 
 
 Of buried loves, of pain, 
 Of doubts and fears and wilful prayers, 
 
 Which rose to God in vain. 
 A desert meal was mine, and these. 
 
 The fragments that remain. 
 
Some wet with mould of bitter tears, 
 Some dry with passion's heat, 
 
 And many black with dust and grime 
 Of careless tramplmg feet. 
 
 Such crumbs the very birds would spurn, 
 That flutter in the street. 
 
 The scanty fare was coarse and hard, 
 
 The table rudely spread, 
 The grassy mound I sat upon 
 
 Rose fresh above my dead. 
 My blinded eyes refused to see 
 
 That Jesus broke the bread. 
 
 The battle will not stop, ah no ! 
 
 But the wounded cannot fight. 
 In the broad, bright sun are victories won, 
 
 But in the dark of night, 
 The weary lay their armor down 
 
 And wait for morning light. 
 
 The battle for the strong — but I 
 
 Am very tired, and weak ; 
 And the quiet spot at the hillside feast 
 
 Is the only place I seek ; 
 Where the din of conflict will not drown 
 
 The words that He will speak. 
 
His voice may feill upon my soul, 
 
 Divinely sweet and low, 
 Then at the future looming up, 
 
 I shall not tremble so, 
 But this strange, restless heart of mine 
 
 Will brave and quiet grow. 
 
 Easier pioWers. 
 
 Reprinted /rovt '■'Harper's Young People,'^ by permission. 
 
 'Q^) E are going to church," smiled the lily ; 
 
 '^ "We are going to church," blushed the rose 
 " Then I certainly think," said the pert little pink, 
 
 " We should wear our prettiest clothes. 
 
 ^' So, heliotrope, put on your lilac ; 
 
 And, crocus, your bright yellow vest ; 
 Sweet violets, you must wear bonnets of blue, 
 
 While the rose shall in crimson be dressed. 
 
 " Our lily shall don her white satin, 
 
 " And in white, too, the calla be seen. 
 While the hyacinth fair shall shall wear pink in her hair, 
 
 And the smilax have ribbons of screen. " 
 
The passion-flower tremblingly whispered, 
 
 With eyes looking tearful and sad, 
 " For me there's no room ; I speak only of gloom ; 
 
 In garments of grief I am clad." 
 
 Then the bright Easter lily looked upward, 
 While her sinile the whole garden illumed. 
 
 " Oh, dear little sister, there ne'er had been Easter 
 If passion-flowers never had bloomed." 
 
 The church bells were joyfully ringing 
 
 When out of the garden they passed, 
 And down through the porch and into the church. 
 
 Till they came to the altar at last. 
 
 They climbed over archway and pillar, 
 
 They nestled in baskets of moss ; 
 The rose found a place in a beautiful vase. 
 
 And the passion-Hower clung to a cross. 
 
 And they swayed to the breeze of the organ, 
 That sent its great throb through the air, 
 
 When " Laudamus " was sung all their censers they swung 
 And they nodded " Amen " to each prayer. 
 
 They smiled in response to the children. 
 
 So like them in innocent grace. 
 When the sermon was reached and the minister preached 
 
 They all looked him straight in the face. 
 
" Oh, my people," he said speaking softly. 
 Looking down on the listening throng, 
 
 " On this day of all days it is meet we give praise, 
 With offerings of flowers and glad song. 
 
 " But desolate homes are around us. 
 Where dwell the distressed and forlorn. 
 
 Their carol a strain full of discord and pain, 
 Their lily of Easter a thorn. 
 
 " Go forth, O beloved, and find them. 
 Your hearts with pure love all aglow ; 
 
 E'en the lowliest flower that fades in an hour 
 The Lord's resurrection may show." 
 
 The great congregation departed ; 
 
 The flowers looked around in surprise. 
 " And must we stay here " said the rose, while a teai 
 
 Bedimmed yellow daffodil's eyes. 
 
 *' I think we've a message to carry," 
 
 Was the heliotrope's gentle reply, 
 " But how can we know to what places to go ?'" 
 
 Said the gay little pink, with a sigh, 
 
 A flutter, a rustle, a whisper, 
 
 A step light and fleet as a fawn, 
 And, behold ! standing close by the royal red rose 
 
 Was a child with a face like the dawn. 
 
The flowers are first cousins to children, 
 
 The angels to both are akin, 
 And without spoken word all the bright blossoms heard 
 
 Where the dear little maiden had been. 
 
 She told them a wonderful secret, 
 
 They blushed with exquisite delight ; 
 With tremulous haste down the long aisle they passed, 
 
 Until they were lost to the sight. 
 
 The heliotrope found a dark cellar, 
 
 A home of grim want and despair ; 
 The white pink was led to a hospital bed. 
 
 And a rose climbed a rickety stair. 
 
 The daffodil followed a beggar ; 
 
 By its side the hyacinth pressed ; 
 The violets crept where a dear baby slept, 
 
 And laid themselves down on its breast. 
 
 The passion-flower caught in its purple 
 The tears which an erring one shed ; 
 
 In a dark, shrouded room Easter lilies in bloom 
 Waved their banner of hope o'er the dead. 
 
 A dream of the fancy you call it ? 
 
 Some dreams have a touch that's divine ; 
 And a child's simple act may turn fancy to fact 
 
 In fulfilling this vision of mine. 
 
KKOM 
 
 "TANGLETOP 
 
 OR 
 A YEAR WITH THE GIRLS OF LOCUST HILL, 
 
 CP^HAT evening, before the lamps were lighted, the circle gathered 
 \D around the bright wood-fire in the library : Mr. Sherwood in the 
 midst, Mrs. Sherwood near him with Fay in her lap. They were 
 talking of the events and impressions of the day. 
 There was a moment's hush. 
 "Sing, Daisy!" pleaded Fay. 
 
 Marguerite rose and went to the piano. A tender, minor prelude 
 ushered in the Resurrection Song. 
 
 " She came into the garden at the dawning of the day : 
 In her hands were fragrant spices, rich and rare. 
 
 She saw with weeping wonder, that the stone was rolled away! 
 But she dreamed not of the vision waiting there. 
 
 " Oh! never Easter lily, wore a beauty .so divine, 
 As the face that looked upon her in the gloom: 
 
 And, oh! the voice that called her, by that name once linked 
 to sin. 
 As she stood with breaking heart, by Joseph's tomb. 
 
" We have stood beside the Hlies in the garden of the Lord: 
 We have seen the empty grave, where Jesus lay. 
 
 And he calls us each by name, and will speak the blessed word, 
 Which shall banish all our doubt and fear away. 
 
 " We have wept around his cross, 7i>e will sing beside his tomb: 
 And obey the gracious call, and follow on: 
 
 Through life, through death itself, till that Easter morn 
 shall come 
 Which shall never know the setting of the sun," 
 
 As she left the piano and resumed her place by Kitty's side, Fay broke 
 
 the silence. 
 
 " Papa, does the angels sing such booful Easter songs as Marget?" 
 ■' The angels' songs are sweet, my little girl, but they sing no Easter 
 
 carols — 
 
 "The angels sing His glory, /wt His redeeming grace, 
 In the sinless Heavens where He among them stands: 
 
 For them,l\\Q matchless beauty of His radiant, unveiled face: 
 For us, the nail-prints in His outstretc/ied /tain/s." 
 
 Kitty looked up with wondering eyes : 
 
 "I have always wished I had been created an angel, but now — why, 
 Mr. Sherwood, does He love us the best ? '" 
 
 " He died for us! Greater love hath no man than this, that He laid 
 down His life for its, sinners I " 
 
passior\ pioW^rs ar\d Easier Is 
 
 ihes. 
 
 N this brief clianging life of ours, 
 Mingling with sweet and fragrant flowers, 
 
 The Passion Flowers entwine; 
 They speak of pain and bitter tears, 
 Of buried hopes, and fruitless years. 
 
 Of sweat of Blood Divine. 
 
 But when the purple clusters droop, 
 Behold the flowers that whisper Hope, 
 
 E'en by the stone sealed tomb; 
 For what in Life can bring despair 
 If close beside each grief and care 
 
 The Easter Lilies bloom ? 
 
"fpf^e Kin|'s (Sarden; 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 R. C. 
 
 Easter, 1885. 
 
 <^^HE king came into his garden fair, 
 ^-^At the dawn of a summer's day. 
 The sun was shining on leaf and flower 
 Like diamonds melting away. 
 
 The flowers all lifted their pretty heads, 
 
 And greeted the blushing sky, 
 And the buds looked out from their hiding place, 
 
 To see who was passing by. 
 
 In a sheltered nook was a tiny plant 
 
 Just peeping out from the earth. 
 Said the king to his servants standing near, 
 
 "This plant is of rarest worth. 
 
 " You must take it out, with a tender hand, 
 
 Out from this garden bright. 
 And my precious treasure you must hide, 
 
 Away from the dazzling light. 
 
"And then, when the first faint buds appear, 
 Your loving care you must show, 
 
 By the pruning knife, with its blade so keen. 
 Till / give it leave to grow. 
 
 " All the buds and blossoms are dear to me,' 
 That bask in the sun's bright smile, 
 
 If I seem severe to this little plant, 
 'Tis but for a little while." 
 
 He smiled on all the beautiful flowers. 
 And the flowers smiled back on him. 
 
 But the look he gave to that little one 
 Made the servants' eyes grow dim. 
 
 The king passed out from the garden fair, 
 
 And his servants, hour by hour, 
 And day by day, and week by week, 
 
 Tended the precious flower. 
 
 And through the darkness and through the light, 
 
 They sought to obey his Wurd, 
 And oh, how they loved the tender plant 
 
 Thev were trainina: for their Lord. 
 
 The summer glory had passed away, 
 
 The winter was drawing near. 
 When they heard the steps of the coming King, 
 
 And their hearts grew still with fear. 
 
 17 
 
" I have come for my choicest flower," He said 
 
 '' For the one I love the best, 
 In my heavenly garden it now shall grow, 
 
 I will bear it away on my breast." 
 
 vAnd the servants fell at their master's feet, 
 
 With a bitter cry of pain, 
 " Oh, ye faithful ones, be comforted, 
 
 Ye shall see your flower again. 
 
 Thro' the clouds that veiled my purposes. 
 
 The light breaks out at last. 
 And oh, its beauty and loveliness, 
 
 And its glory unsurpassed." 
 
 Dear friends the Easter tide is near. 
 
 May the comfort it imparts. 
 Descend like the very peace of Heaven, 
 
 Into your longing hearts. 
 
 <sA prisoner of \\}q bord. 
 
 OmY Y prison house of pain, 
 
 "^ ^ Its walls enclose me round. 
 
 With furnace welded chain. 
 
 My helpless limbs are bound. 
 The marks are in my shrinking flesh, 
 And oft when touched, they bleed afresh. 
 
 18 
 
^, 
 
 No tyrant's stern decree, 
 
 Nor crime, nor sin's disgrace 
 
 Hath brought this woe on me 
 ()r doomed me to this place. 
 
 Ah, no ! It was a loving word 
 
 That said, " A prisoner of the Lord." 
 
 And he my jailer is, 
 
 The word sounds harsh and stern; 
 And yet, the thought is bli.ss: 
 
 For when sometimes, I turn. 
 At sudden sound, with panting fear, 
 I know that he is watching near. 
 
 And when through silence deep, 
 
 I hear him passing by, 
 My heart with sudden leap. 
 
 Breaks out with longing cry : 
 And then he turns the noiseless key, 
 A.id comes, and smiles, and speaks to me. 
 
 And oh ! One glimpse of him 
 Doth lighten all the gloom ; 
 
 Dispelling shadows dim, 
 Which gather in my room. 
 
 And through my narrow prison bars. 
 
 He shows me heaven, beyond the stars. 
 
fpl7G Midni^l7f Sea. 
 
 /T FRAIL, dismantled bark, on a starless, shoreless sea, 
 "^2) Where the angry, clutching waves reach out so eagerly; 
 Where the tossing breakers clash on the hidden rocks that lie 
 So deep, we only know of the danger lurking nigh 
 
 By the maddened whirl and rush that drown 
 The cry of the lost as the ship goes down. 
 
 No polar star above to guide with blessed ray. 
 No anchor in the ship ; the storm swept that away ; 
 And the bark drifts on and on. " Lord, is no harbor nigh. 
 Where the helmless, helpless wreck may wait till the night 
 goes by? 
 Must it drift on to its seeming grave. 
 The toy of the mocking wind and wave ? " 
 
 'Twas thus my soul cried out, in its agony and strife, 
 
 As the darkenmg, blinding storm swept o'er my broken life. 
 
 For I found myself alone on the raging billows tossed. 
 
 My star of faith was gone, and my anchor, Hope, was lost ; 
 And my heart cried out to the moaning sea, 
 " Will the morning never dawn for me ? " 
 
I knew of a harbor safe, and I watched in my despair 
 
 To catch some far, faint gleam of the beacon shining there; 
 
 But my eyes were blind with tears and my heart was faint and 
 chill— 
 
 I had no power to pray, to struggle or to will. 
 So I laid me down, with only a cry, 
 " Lord, thou art in heaven, and here am I." 
 
 And, lo! all dim and faint, a vision comes to me: 
 A rugged fisher-bark on the sea of Galilee, 
 An anxious, huddled crew bend o'er a sleeper's face, 
 They, weary, pallid-eyed ; he, with no touch or trace 
 Of the fear within, or the storm without. 
 That is tossing their frightened souls about. 
 
 They touch, and, behold, he wakes ! They cry, and, behold, 
 
 he stands ! 
 And the crouching billows creep, like slaves at a king's 
 
 commands. 
 The light of love in his eyes, while reproof is on his lip, 
 " Did ye not know, beloved, that your Lord was in the ship ? " 
 And the humble waves, like a rippling tide. 
 Bear the little boat on to the other side. 
 
 Shall I not find my Lord on this shuddering midnight sea? 
 
 Will he sleep while I, awake, struggle on in misery ? 
 
 I will touch, and he may arise; I will call, and he may hear; 
 
 If he still remain asleep I will wait till he appear, 
 Though I may not know or understand 
 How it is he is bringing me safe to land. 
 
 21 
 
^t^G ^Wo Voices. 
 
 IVritten, by request, for the Utica Brai.ch of the IVon/an's Missionary Society. 
 
 /r IITTLE band of travelers, once started on their way, 
 "^^^^o seek the palace of their king, that far above them lay,- 
 With its gleaming, pearly gateway bathed in such transcendent 
 
 light, 
 That never mortal eyes had borne, unveiled, the glorious sight. 
 
 The soft white clouds encircled it and shut its glories in, 
 That it should never be revealed to eyes bedimmed with sin, 
 For burdened hearts, and homesick, bowed down with pain 
 
 and care, 
 Would break with very longing could they see that home so 
 
 fair. 
 
 Still from the fleecy, snowy heights, came glimpses now and 
 
 then, 
 To cheer the fainting spirits of those weary, toil-stained men;. 
 And oft such heavenly harmonies came floating all around. 
 That every heart stood breathless to catch the slightest sound. 
 
 But now it was the noontide, the sultry sun did beat 
 Upon their desert pathway, till blind and faint with heat. 
 Their strength had well nigh failed them, and with drooping,. 
 
 downcast head. 
 They staggered on unheeding, until a sweet voice said : 
 
"The way is long and toilsome, we will not falter now ; 
 It must be that we soon shall reach the cloud-capped moun- 
 tain's brow, 
 Whereon doth stand the city, the New Jerusalem, 
 Where the King sits in his palace, with his royal diadem, 
 
 And outstretched golden sceptre, while the white-robed spirits 
 
 stand. 
 All eager but to catch the faintest word of his command ; 
 And there they all await us ; how can we tarry here? 
 When the gladness and the beauty, and the welcome are so 
 
 near." 
 
 Each faltering footstep cjuickened ; each heart grew brave 
 
 and strong. 
 From quivering, smiling lips there burst a cheering pilgrim 
 
 song ; 
 When suddenly, from far off heights, a silver clarion rang, 
 So clear, so pure, so heavenly sweet, as if an angel sang. 
 
 It struck upon each listening ear, like soldier's bugle call ; 
 " My children, it is time for rest when evening shadows fall ; 
 The way is long and toilsome, and the journey must be made, 
 But your King is watching o'er you, so be not ye dismayed. 
 
 I have left you in the desert, not\.o hasten quickly through, 
 But that each one on his journey, should find earnest work to do; 
 To fight and toil unceasing, from dawn till evening's close, 
 And make this very desert to blossom like the rose." 
 
Oh, brave and valiant soldiers, your captain still points on, 
 To where the battle rages with the victory not yet won, 
 The enemies around you must be conquered, then set free, 
 To join your blessed Master, in glorious liberty. 
 
 Then when you reach the river, upon whose farther shore, 
 The royal red cross banner floats in triumph evermore ; 
 You shall look back o'er the desert your weary feet have trod, 
 You shall know that every labor brought you one step nearer 
 God. 
 
 fpi7G bittle ISrancb- 
 
 Written for the Utica Branch of the Women's Board of Foreign Missions. 
 
 /T LITLE branch once grew upon a vine, 
 ^^ At first, a few faint leaves, of fair design, 
 Then, drooping tendrils, floating on the air, 
 To catch the sunbeams, glancing every where. 
 A fair young maiden passed the garden through, 
 She saw the budding grace, then quickly drew 
 With skillful hand, upon her tablets white, 
 The graceful spray that had so charmed her sight. 
 Clear days and dewy nights, with rain or shme. 
 Each one did add some beauty to the vine. 
 The gardener built a trellis strong and high. 
 Uplifting all its foliage to the sky. 
 
A sculptor wandered by, whose soul was fraught 
 With visions of rare beauty. He but caught 
 One gleam of waving branch with fruitage hung, 
 And quick within his inmost soul there sprung 
 A dream fulfilled,— and ere that month had gone 
 He wrought its beauty into arch of stone. 
 
 A woman's watchful eyes with glances keen 
 
 Saw the broad lattice, garlanded with green 
 
 And burdened with its purple-blooded freight 
 
 Of swelling, luscious grapes ; a precious weight 
 
 Of garnered strength and sweetness full, complete, 
 
 Dropping its richest treasures at her feet. 
 
 With dainty care she gathers the rich fruit, 
 
 Thanks filled her heart although her lips were mute, 
 
 Her hands had planted this out-spreading vine. 
 
 The one who gave it was her Lord divine. 
 
 The Clusters ripened with each morning sun. 
 She plucked unceasingly, and one by one 
 Laid them in dainty dishes ; this, to send 
 To quench the fever thirst of a sick friend ; 
 That, to some sad-eyed child, whose eager clasp 
 Clutched at the grapes she held out to its grasp. 
 And some she coined for gold, a treasured hoard, 
 But only held in trust for her dear Lord 
 And His loved followers, whensoe'er the call, 
 Upon her listening heart and ear should fall. 
 To Persian vales, where drooping children lay 
 Wasting in pain and sickness day by day. 
 
 25 
 
To China and Japan, where asking hearts 
 Were waiting for the knowledge Christ imparts. 
 To far Alaska, where the savage horde 
 Of dark-browed heathen thirsted for the Word, 
 This little vine through woman's helpful hands. 
 Was preaching Jesus to those distant lands. 
 
 Oh, little Branch ! Thou surely didst not know 
 
 When first thy tiny leaves began to grow. 
 
 All thou should'st do for Jesus and his love. 
 
 On tinted window lifted far above 
 
 The temple throng, the airy traceries showed, 
 
 The maiden's fair design. Beneath them stood 
 
 Two pillars, with an arch of sculptured stone 
 
 Whereon was carved, with beauty all their own 
 
 A bended Branch, bearing its priceless load 
 
 An Eschol cluster for the House of God, 
 
 And oh, a sweeter ministry was thine, 
 
 Behold ! A table spread with bread and wine. 
 
 For all thy garnered sweetness thou did'st bring 
 
 A pure libation to thy Saviour King. 
 
 What couldst thou ask for more ? To be the sign 
 
 The seal, the symbol of the Love divine. 
 
S-tar-pioW^i' Son^. 
 
 " /^ITTLE stars, why do you shine 
 
 '^^'^^ So very bright ? 
 
 Do the pretty angels light you, 
 Every night ? 
 
 When the morning sky is red. 
 
 And the sun gets out of bed, 
 Does he look up cross and say, 
 'Little stars, go right away,' 
 
 And do angels put you out. 
 In the day ? " 
 
 " Little flowers, why do you bloom 
 
 All around ? 
 Lifting up your dainty heads 
 From the ground ; 
 Do the angels come and say, 
 ' Wake up little flowers, 'tis day.' 
 Do your mammas care for you, 
 Wash your faces with the dew. 
 Dress you up all nice and new, 
 Do your little sisters plague you 
 
 Every hour ? 
 Oh! I wish I were a star 
 Or a flower." 
 
Then a star looked down and smiled, 
 
 "What a funny little child! 
 
 Angels flying through the sky, 
 Pass us quite unheeded by, 
 
 They will neither stop nor speak, 
 
 'Tis the children that they seek." 
 
 And a flower looked up and said, 
 Tossing back her lovely head ; 
 "What a silly thing is she, 
 Wishing what she cannot be." 
 " Little girl," she whispered low, 
 " Mamma's love we never know ! " 
 
 Then the child laughed loud in glee, 
 " Mamma dear! come quick to me ; 
 
 Oh ! how sweet and good you are ; 
 
 Better than a flower or star. 
 Kiss me now, and hold me tight. 
 Pretty stars and flowers, good night.' 
 
^radle §)on^. 
 
 (y^iE will go sailing, my girlie and 1, 
 ^^ To the summer land, 
 To the summer land. 
 Where are roses and robins, and butterflies gay, 
 And the little brooks that do nothing but play, 
 And sugar and honey, and cinnamon spice, 
 And candy and almonds and everything nice. 
 We would like to anchor awhile and stay 
 But we must go sailing, away, away, 
 While the> waters are smooth and the sky is bright 
 For baby and I must be home to-night. 
 
 So on we go sailing, my girlie and I, 
 
 To the winter land. 
 
 To the winter land. 
 Where the snow is as white as white can be. 
 And diamonds and pearls hang from every tree, 
 Where the wood-fires blaze up. clear and bright. 
 And Santa Glaus comes, every Christmas night. 
 But we must go sailing, away, away, 
 There's a storm coming on, and the wind is high. 
 'And we must get home, my girlie and I. 
 
So now we sail homeward, my girlie and 1, 
 
 To the land of Nod, 
 
 To the land of Nod, 
 Roses and spices are very sweet, 
 And candy and honey are good to eat. 
 And diamonds and pearls are pretty to wear. 
 But what does a tired little girl care. 
 But to cuddle down on her mother's breast 
 And go to sleep like a bird in its nest. 
 For there's never a land beneath sun or star 
 That's so sweet as the land where the mammas are. 
 
 bullab^ band. 
 
 (T^HEN the golden sun is going to rest, 
 '^And the pretty pink clouds cuddle close to his breast. 
 And the evening wind stirs the flowers about 
 To see if they're getting their nightcaps out, 
 Then the angels peep from the stars on high, 
 And call to the clouds, that go sailing by, 
 " Come, bear us away on your fleecy car 
 To Lullaby Land, where the babies are ;" 
 So the angels come down in their snowy ships 
 And they press their fingers upon their lips. 
 And softly they enter, and quietly stand 
 At the gates that open to Lullaby Land. 
 
And what will they find in the Lullaby Land ? 
 
 Nothing that's gorgeous, or splendid, or grand, 
 
 But the sweetest things that ever were made. 
 
 For there, in rock-a-bye cradles laid, 
 
 Are the babies, all dimpled from kisses sweet. 
 
 On hands, and on arms, and on pinky white feet, 
 
 For wherever a dimple stops to play, 
 
 It has to be kissed forty times a day. 
 
 And oh ! the lovely things that are planned 
 
 For the sleepy eyes in the Lullaby Land ! 
 
 Prettiest pillows of softest lace, 
 
 And above the heaven of mamma's sweet face, 
 
 Cushions of satin, and ribbons of blue, 
 
 And soft white curtains for them to peek through, 
 
 And warm strong arms to hold them tight 
 
 If they should wake up and cry in the night, 
 
 For papas and mammas and angels stand 
 
 To wait on the kings of the Lullaby Land ! 
 
 And what do we hear in this land so sweet, 
 
 Where the heavens, and the earth, and the babies meet ? 
 
 Cooings soft as a mother dove. 
 
 Whose white wings nestle the brood of her love. 
 
 Murmurs and twitters like birds that call 
 
 From bough to bough in the treetops tall ; 
 
 And cradle songs rise on the evening air 
 
 And are winged to heaven on a mother's prayer. 
 
 Do you wonder the angels love to stand 
 
 At the gate of the beautiful Lullaby Land ? 
 
 31 
 
And whom do we find in that land so fair ? 
 " Pinkie," and " Posie," and " Golden hair," 
 " Toddle," and " Waddle," and " Poppet," and " Pet," 
 And "Dumpling," and " Lumpkin," and "Mignonette," 
 With "Midget," and "Fidget," and "Little Tom Thumb,' 
 And " Birdie," and "Blossom," and sweet " Sugar Plum,' 
 For of all the names to make people stare. 
 Are the names that the Lullaby children bear. 
 
 And now the sun is clear out of sight. 
 
 He has put on his cloud cap and said " good night," 
 
 And the angels softly enter the room 
 
 And touch the cheeks, in their peachy bloom, 
 
 And close the eyes, that will peer out, 
 
 To see if the mammas are still about. 
 
 And all the night long their watch they keep, 
 
 The beautiful angels of love and of sleep. 
 
 Their white wings folded, a heavenly band. 
 
 To guard the babies m Lullaby Land, 
 
 Till the morning comes and the dawn clouds break, 
 
 And the Lullabv Land fades to Wide Awake. 
 
e 
 
 sun. 
 
 (/9idG aAWal^G band. 
 
 H! the Wide Awake Land is the land of fun, 
 From the very first blink of the jolly old su: 
 To the very last gleam of his great yellow head, 
 As he draws the pink curtains that hang round his bed, 
 There is nothing but clatter and rumpus and noise, 
 For the Wide Awake Land is the land for the boys. 
 There's the beating of drums. 
 And the fire engines' clang, 
 And pistols that pop, 
 
 And cannons that bang; 
 There is tearing up stairs 
 And rushing out doors, 
 And shufflings and poundings 
 
 On carpets, and floors. 
 With the flying of kites 
 And tossing of balls, 
 And war whoops, and yells, 
 
 And whistles, and calls, 
 Then dives into cellars 
 
 Where apples abound, 
 And raids on the pantry. 
 Where cookies are found. 
 No wonder old bachelors can't understand, 
 How mammas exist, in the Wide Awake Land. 
 
But then, that's the boys. When you come to the girls. 
 With their ruffles, and ribbons, and dimples and curls, 
 To be sure they will turn topsy turvy the rooms. 
 With their dollies and dishes, and dust pans and brooms,. 
 
 And papers and pictures, 
 All lying round loose ; 
 
 And that sweetest of treasures. 
 Dear old Mother Goose. 
 Oh ! the sweet little girls that frolic and play, 
 And chatter, and patter, the whole of the day, 
 And never a single hour do they miss, 
 To pucker their lips for somebody's kiss. 
 The papas say often, that they would have planned. 
 To have no one but girls in the Wide Awake Land ; 
 But mammas, in spite of the hubbub and noise, 
 Would just open the door and let in the boys. 
 
pictures Pi'om (/9idG aAWake band. 
 
 "Y^ODDLE and Waddle," always wake 
 
 ^^ At five o'clock in the morning, 
 Poke their fingers in papa's eyes, 
 
 All his entreaties scorning. 
 " Toddle and Waddle," wait their time, 
 
 Then out of bed they tumble, 
 Catch their toes in their night gowns long, 
 
 Down on the floor they stumble. 
 " Toddle and Waddle " want their guns. 
 
 So they can go a-shooting. 
 They want their drums, and they want their horns^ 
 
 So they can make a " tooting." 
 " Toddle and Waddle " waste no time 
 
 On vain and false pretences, 
 They say they want to scare Aunt Kate 
 
 Out of her feven senses. 
 " Lullaby Land is the baby's land," 
 
 They say, with boyish scorning ; 
 "The Land for me," they shout with glee, 
 
 " Is Wide Awake Land in the morning." 
 
 Rosy Posy sits so straight 
 
 At the table in her chair ; 
 But her curly little head 
 
 Has a very saucy air. 
 
 Ho 
 
Rosy Posy will not wait 
 
 Till her milk and porridge come, 
 But in mamma's butter-plate 
 
 Pokes her naughty little thumb. 
 Then she purses up her mouth, 
 
 Gives her eyes a little roll, 
 And her hand, as quick as wink. 
 
 Plump goes in the sugar bowl. 
 Papa, trying not to smile, 
 
 Says it was a great mistake, 
 Bringing Rosy from the land 
 
 Of Lullaby, to Wide Awake. 
 
 Roly, Poly, Dumpling, 
 
 Fat as fat can be. 
 Rocking back and foward, 
 
 On his mamma's knee. 
 Crows, and jumps and giggles, 
 
 Dancing with delight. 
 As the pretty bath tub 
 
 Greets his baby sight. 
 In its depths he splashes. 
 
 Oh! how loud he squeals ! 
 Down bobs little brown head, 
 
 Up come little heels. 
 Fresh and sweet and rosy, 
 
 Like a puffy ball. 
 In his Land of Wide Awake, 
 
 This is best of all. 
 
Pinkie-Winkie, 
 
 Four months old, 
 Eyes of azure, 
 
 Hair of gold, 
 Lies all day, 
 
 So snug and warm, 
 Cuddled close 
 
 On mamma's arm. 
 Little mouth 
 
 All in a twist. 
 Chubby arms 
 
 And doubled fist. 
 Looks quite cross-eyed 
 
 At her nose. 
 Tries to catch 
 
 Her wriggling toes. 
 No one dares 
 
 To say, or think 
 She's a naughty 
 
 Little Pink ; 
 But when noon-day 
 
 Sun is high. 
 She will go 
 
 To Lullaby. 
 When the stars 
 
 Their night walks take, 
 Back she flies 
 
 To Wide Wake. 
 
And when Pinkie 
 
 Goes to sleep, 
 All the house 
 
 Must silence keep. 
 But when Pinkie 
 
 Wakes, and cries, 
 Everybody 
 
 Madly flies. 
 And you never. 
 
 Never know, 
 To which land 
 
 She means to go. 
 One thing sure 
 
 She understands. 
 Babies rule 
 
 In both the lands. 
 
^\}Q ^oucl7in^ fpG\lc of tl7e pampered pu^. 
 
 Re-firinted from '^Harper's Bazar" by permission. 
 
 Y^HE Lady Geraldine Montagu 
 ^-^ Sat by the shimmering sea, 
 And Lord Plantagenet Fortescue 
 Was reading aloud from '• She." 
 At her feet, in repose, 
 
 On a Persian rug. 
 With his snub of a nose, 
 Lay her precious pug. 
 
 In glimmer of gold and satin sheen. 
 
 Was the little darling dressed ; 
 A point lace ruff around his neck, 
 And a diamond on his breast. 
 And seraphic sweet. 
 
 As the moonlight pale, 
 Was the bangle's gleam 
 Round the puggy's tail. 
 
 Lord Plantagenet closed his book, 
 Down on his knees he dropped; 
 With a languishing look her hand he took, 
 And the fateful question popped. 
 Alas, for the lord ! 
 
 And alas for his suit! 
 He had knelt him down 
 On that sleeping brute. 
 
" Angel divine, wilt thou be mine ? 
 
 He stopped quite sudden-lee, 
 He felt a grip and a sudden nip. 
 As the teeth met in his knee. 
 But never a moan 
 
 Or sigh gave he ; 
 And his voice was as calm 
 As the shimmering sea. 
 
 " Oh! speak my love, and be as quick 
 
 As you conveniently can ; 
 Your precious pup is eating me up, 
 He has crunched my right knee pan. 
 l>et him gnaw away 
 
 In his pampered pride, 
 If \ ou'll only say 
 
 You will be my bride." 
 
 "Oh heaven!" she cried, " he will surely die. 
 
 And sprang to her fawn-like feet; 
 " He has lived upon prunes and macaroons. 
 With never a taste of meat. 
 And oh ! there's a piece 
 Of your trouser's leg 
 In his sweet little mouth ; 
 Fly, at once, I beg ! 
 
" My love has turned to bitterest hate," 
 
 Her tears were falling thick, 
 " I am sure," she said with drooping head, 
 " That you have made him sick." 
 '• I can never feel 
 
 The same for you — 
 It is best we part ; 
 Adieu ! Adieu ! " 
 
 He limped away, where the breakers play. 
 
 " My life is wrecked," he cried ; 
 Then gave a leap, down the rocky steep, 
 And sank in the tossing tide. 
 And the lady glanced 
 At the Persian rug, 
 " Life is very short," 
 She said to the pug. 
 
qA (/9asic of C/9ords. 
 
 Reprinteii from ^^ f-far/ier's i'oung People^^ by po-mission. 
 
 " (^RETTY Robin Redbreast ! Why, what are you doing > 
 
 "^ Hie thee back to South-land. 'Tis no time for wooing 
 Out among the snow-flakes in this wintry weather. 
 Love and roses, song and summer, always go together." 
 What do you think that saucy bird gave me for an answer ? 
 Balancing and swaying like an airy ballet-dancer, 
 He just cocked his head at me, with a nod provoking — 
 "Twee-wee-tweet," and -'chee-chee-cheep," and "quic-quit-quit 
 your croaking." 
 
 " Oh, you foolish birdie ! Such temerity is shocking. 
 Cupid will not wade through drifts without shoe or stocking — 
 Cannot shoot an arrow with his hands and wings frost-bitten. 
 Heed my warning, Robin dear, or you may get the mitten. 
 Not a nest to put her in, not a worm to give her ! 
 See ! she turns and looks at you in a fluff and shiver. 
 Can she feed on icicles that from the branches glitter ?" 
 " Tweet-tweet-tweet," and " cheep-cheep-cheep ! " came back 
 her answering twitter. 
 
 Down she hopped beside him. Then I heard them mocking : 
 " Love is sweet-sweet! worms are cheap-cheap! Quit-quit-quit 
 
 your talking." 
 So I left him to his fate and a frozen dinner. 
 That was all the thanks I got from that little sinner. 
 
"©And fphere (/9(rG §l]Gpl7crds." 
 
 COME ! dear little Esther ! come sit on my knee 
 And Levi and Ruth at my feet ; 
 And John and Sarah draw close to my side, 
 Thus making the circle complete. 
 
 For 1 have a wonderful story to tell. 
 
 Last night when you were asleep, 
 And I was out on the Bethlehem hills 
 
 Watching my flocks of sheep ; 
 
 I had just come in from a long, long search, 
 
 Far over the midnight plain ; 
 For one of my lambs had been lost from the fold ; 
 
 I was bringing it home again. 
 
 It lovingly lay upon my breast. 
 
 The poor little trembling thing ; 
 When suddenly burst upon my sight, 
 
 The gleam of an angel's wing. 
 
 " An angel !" Levi caught his breath ; 
 
 Dark flashed the eyes of Rutii ; 
 And Sarah smiled in her father's face. 
 
 With the innocent look of youth. 
 
And the baby Esther laughed aloud, 
 
 And put up her mouth to kiss. 
 Ah ! a baby's eyes may catch a glimpse 
 
 That the gray-haired father's miss. 
 
 And what said the angel, father dear?" 
 
 It was John that spoke the word : 
 " My son, he brought the strangest news 
 
 That my ears have ever heard : 
 
 " I bring good news of great joy,'" he said, 
 
 " For you and for all mankind ; 
 " Go leave your flocks, a royal babe 
 
 In Bethlehem you shall find." 
 
 " How can I tell you, children dear. 
 
 Of the joy, the fear, the awe ; 
 And the beautiful message the angel brought. 
 
 And the glory that I saw ; 
 
 " Of the snow white wings and the ringing harps, 
 And that marvellous star so bright ; 
 
 And I, but a lowly shepherd out 
 Watching my sheep at night." 
 
 " Did you leave your flocks," said gentle John, 
 
 " Out on the hills so wild ? " 
 The mother spoke with a kindling face, 
 
 " Did you find the little child ? 
 
 44 
 
" Was he born in the palace of the king ' 
 Did the courtiers round him stand ? 
 
 Was David's crown on his baby brow, 
 And his sceptre in his hand ?" 
 
 *' Ah no ! dear wife ; near a little inn, 
 
 With a manger for his bed. 
 And a humble Jewish maiden's breast. 
 
 To pillow his baby head. 
 
 "The lowing cattle blocked the way, 
 
 And the busy bustling tnrong ; 
 But on I pressed, with the lamb in my arms ; 
 
 I had carried it all night long. 
 
 "And I knelt and worshipped the lowly born ; 
 
 And the little lamb looked up ; 
 And I felt in my heart a new strange joy, 
 
 And a mingled fear and hope ; 
 
 " Then home I came through the morning gray, 
 
 Leaving my lamb in the fold ; 
 And I thought of the song King David sang. 
 
 As he watched his flocks of old. 
 
 " But not to the shepherd king was given. 
 
 The message that came to me ; 
 Nor to see the child that the angels brought, 
 
 Asleep on his mother's knee. 
 
" Oh ! that vision will never fade out of my heart 
 
 And the melody never will die ; 
 Let us sing, my children, the heavenly song. 
 
 ' Glory to God on high.' " 
 
 ''Glory to God," the father sang, 
 And the motlier caught the strain ; 
 
 " Peace on the earth, good will to men," 
 Was the children's glad refrain. 
 
 (;l7risfmas Morning. 
 
 (T^ViY. milk-white sheep looked up one night, 
 ^-^ And there stood an angel all in white. 
 But though he spoke no word to them, 
 They were there on the hills of Bethlehem, 
 That very first Christmas morning. 
 
 And the lowing cattle meekly stood. 
 Near to a manger, rough and rude ; 
 Their manger, where upon softest hay, 
 A wonderful, new born baby lay, 
 
 'I'hat beautiful Christmas morning. 
 
 Oh ! Christmas day is the day for all, 
 For the flocks in the field and the beasts in the stall; 
 And the time will come, so the wise men say, 
 When the wolf and the lamb together shall play, 
 And a little child shall lead the way. 
 
 The Child of the Christmas morning. 
 
0917^^ Santa (;laus Sn^^^ed on ^l7ristmas. 
 
 Reprinted from '■^Harper s Young People ''^ by permission. 
 
 /7"H-KETCH-U! ah-ketck-u!! ah-ketch-u!!! 
 ^2) Right out of the chimney he flew, 
 With the speed of a comet, the whiz of a rocket, 
 Coat up to his ears, hands stuffed in his pocket, 
 His nose in a pucker, his teeth in a chatter, 
 " Dear Santa," said I, " why what is the matter? 
 You look very much as if you were freezing ; 
 And, of all things, what under the sun set you sneezing? 
 Is it possible _)'^«, the dear old Saint Nicholas, 
 Have been catching cold ? How supremely ridiculous !" 
 
 He stopped when he heard me, this jolly old fellow. 
 With his heart like, a peach, so tender and mellow. 
 " I am chilled to the marrow," he cried, with a shiver, 
 His eyes growing misty, his chin in a quiver. 
 " Did you see the tall chimney from which I came flying ? 
 In the room right below it a small boy sat crying 
 And sobbing and scolding because —oh how shocking! — 
 He found only ten presents crammed in his stocking, 
 While his wee baby sister had eleven. Why, his weeping 
 Made the chimney so damp, the cold chills kept creeping 
 From my neck to my toe-tips. So then, with a whew! 
 I shot out of that chimney — ah-ketch-u! ah-ketch-u!! 
 
 "I have travelled all over the far arctic regions. 
 
 Have been among Esquimaux. Danes and Norwegians ; 
 
 But that's the first child, on mainland or isthmus. 
 
 That has made me, old Santa Claus, sneeze on a Christmas.' 
 
MatGf ^ubilata 
 
 <y^ H E bells are all ringing their merriest chime, 
 ^-^ Ringing for baby and me ; 
 
 Swing high, swing low, with a musical rhyme, 
 To which baby and I, as we rock, keep time, 
 As happy as happy can be. 
 So hush, my little one ; 
 Hush, my sweet ; 
 The bells are all ringing for thee. 
 
 The angels are singing a new, glad song. 
 
 Singing to baby and me ; 
 Do you see them coming, a white winged throng 
 Do you hear their chorus, so sweet, so strong. 
 In its wonderful melody ? 
 Oh hush, my little one; 
 Hush, my sweet ; 
 The angels are singing to thee. 
 
And a star looks in, through my window, to-night, 
 
 Looks in on my baby and me; 
 And it says, " I have seen the loveliest sight, 
 A dimpled baby, all rosy and white. 
 Asleep on its mother's knee." 
 Oh hush, my little one; 
 Hush, my sweet ; 
 The stars are all shining for thee. 
 
 A new light dawns in the heavens above. 
 
 Dawns upon baby and me; 
 And it says, " Till the heavens and earth remove,. 
 A baby's cradle, the throne of love, 
 Forever and ever shall be." 
 So hush, my litttle one; 
 Hush, my sweet ; 
 Thy mother is watching o'er thee. 
 
 Oh bells ring out ! Oh bright stars shine ! 
 
 Shine on my baby and me ; 
 
 In the manger afar lies the Child Divine, 
 
 Sweet Son of Mary, I bow at Thy shrine, 
 
 I, with my child on my knee. 
 
 Oh hush, my little one ; 
 
 Hush, my sweet ; 
 
 The Christ-child is smiling on thee. 
 
tAdi\Q^ Desolai-Gi. 
 
 (^O you ask me if I 
 '^*~^ calling, 
 
 hear them? Hear the bells of Christmas, 
 
 Through the quiet of the midnight to the sleeping world 
 below ? 
 I, who sit here in the darkness, and in silence so appalling, 
 That whether I am living or am dead, I scarcely know ! 
 
 Is it true my child has left me ? Left the bosom of her 
 mother ? 
 I, that nourished her and held her > Oh, the heart throb 
 and the ache ! 
 And you say, she smiling, left me, at the bidding of another ; 
 Oh, who in all this universe had right my child to take ? 
 
 Do you tell me God has taken her, my child, into his keeping? 
 Would he take her when he gave her to me ; laid her on my 
 breast ? 
 Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh ! Oh my heart will break 
 with weeping ; 
 Could he mock me with such seeming, that were worse than 
 all the rest. 
 
 Was she His, or mine ? Give answer, oh ye stars that shine 
 above me ; 
 Christmas bells ! bring me one message, from your watch- 
 towers in the sky : 
 /s she near me ? Does she /lear me ? Has my darling ceased 
 to love me ? 
 Break this maddening, stifling silence, or my very soul will 
 die ! 
 
 50 
 
Ma+^r (^o^solaia. 
 
 /^ MOTHERHOOD divine! God set His seal 
 ^ Upon thee, from that hour, the Jewish maid. 
 
 Chosen of Him, in meek obedience said, 
 " Lord, as thou wilt. Thy purposes reveal." 
 And awed to meekness hid within her breast 
 Pure prayers, and hopes, and longings unconfessed. 
 
 And when within her arms the Child was laid, 
 And distant Magi, bent the adoring knee. 
 Bringing rich gifts, and asking but to see 
 
 The wondrous Babe, in swaddling bands arrayed, 
 Her heart o'erflowed with joy and glad surprise; 
 The piercing sword was hidden from her eyes. 
 
 And yet would she not choose the travail sore ? 
 The bitter cup placed in her trembling hands 
 Would she not quaff ? To-day she, royal stands 
 
 Arnid the heavenly throng. The Child she bore 
 Reigns King of Glory, in that world of light. 
 And near her are the virgins, clothed in white. 
 
 O mother dear ! A daughter of the Kmg, 
 To-day is by His side. His, yet thine own. 
 And though the breaking heart makes restless moan, 
 Because the Christmas angels cannot bring 
 Sweet tidings of our darling passed away; 
 We smile through tears; '• God willeth it," we say. 
 Christmas, 1886. 
 
^esus at\d % (;l7ildren. 
 
 Written for "' Childretis Day." 
 
 "/'N a city far away, many, many years ago, 
 / The Syrian sun was shining bright and fair, 
 'q2) And crowds of busy men went hurrying to and fro. 
 And children's laughter floated on the air. 
 
 But a sound of angry words was heard upon the street. 
 Mingled with the voice of childhood, fresh and gay, 
 
 As a little band of men, with loosely sandalled feet, 
 Walked wearily, disputing by the way. 
 
 And one was in their midst, with sad, reproachful eyes. 
 
 Noting every frowning look and angry word, 
 When suddenly He called, to their wonder and surprise. 
 
 With the sweetest voice that mortals ever heard. 
 
 " Come to me, my little child," then beside the dusty road 
 
 He sat Him down to rest a little while ; 
 To the stern men at his side He a grave displeasure showed, 
 
 But the little one He greeted with a smile. 
 
 "Come to me, my little child," then the baby's step drew near, 
 
 And slyly glancing up, with joyful start 
 Hastened by the frowning men with their looks and words severe,. 
 
 And was folded close to Jesus' loving heart. 
 
 Oh, golden sun that gleams with' radiance ever bright. 
 As you journey on your way from East to West, 
 
 Through all the wide, wide world was there e'er so fair a sight,. 
 As Jesus with the child upon his breast. 
 
Little children, do you know why we gather here to-day, 
 
 In the dear, familiar church that we love ; 
 With the roses in the bloom, and the birds with carols gay, 
 
 And the fair June sunshine falling from above. 
 
 'Tis to listen to the voice whose every cadence charms. 
 
 " Come to me, my little child ! " Oh, blessed words ! 
 'Tis to lie in glad content, within the loving arms, 
 
 Of Him who made the flowers and the birds. 
 
 " Come to me, my little child! " what shall your answer be? 
 
 Let these fragrant flowers your sweet responses bring, 
 And he who loved the children in distant Galilee, 
 
 Will listen to your voices as you sing. 
 
 Singing— 
 
 We are coming, gentle Jesus, gentle Jesus meek and mild, 
 May Thy hands in soft caressing rest upon each little child. 
 We shall meet with no reproving, but a welcome we shall find; 
 Mother's words were ne'er so loving, Father's care was ne'er so kind. 
 
 Ij: So we follow, follow, follow, singing all the way, :|| 
 
 All the flowers smile to greet us, 
 
 All the birds with carols greet us, 
 On this happy day — this happy Children's Day. 
 
 (The classes then present their floral offerings, reciting the 
 following verses in their order :) 
 
 Lilies ! oh, how beautiful 
 
 Is each pearly chalice ; 
 
 Solomon in all the wealth 
 
 Of his royal palace. 
 
 Never wore so rich a dress 
 
 As thy waxen loveliness. 
 Thou hast caught the very gleam of the heavenly portal, 
 And the fragrance thou dost bring floats from fields immortal ; 
 Innocence and purity are the lessons taught by thee ; 
 Dearest Lord, Thy blessing give, may these graces in me live. 
 
 Blushing Rose, how fair thou art. 
 Let me clasp thee to my heart. 
 And thy paler sister bring, 
 White as dove with snowy wing. 
 There's a secret, hidden close. 
 In the hear: of every Rose. 
 
Rose of Sharon! Fount of Love, 
 Thine the name all names above, 
 Give to us its fullest measure, 
 This thy greatest gift and treasure 
 Known in earth or heaven above — 
 Pure, unchanging, ardent Love. 
 
 Fair Carnation, pure and white. 
 Through the day and through the night 
 Thou dost raise thy fearless head 
 From each lovely garden bed. 
 Chilling winds do not affright thee. 
 Noonday sunshine does not blight thee, 
 Courage, Strength and Constancy 
 Are the lessons taught by thee. 
 Dearest Lord ! Thy blessing give, 
 Let these graces in me live. 
 
 Violets ! dwelling in the shade, 
 In such loveliness arrayed. 
 Hiding from the sun's broad blaze. 
 Shunning even the passer's gaze. 
 This the lesson taught by thee : 
 Meekness and Humility, 
 Dearest Lord! thy blessing give, 
 Let these graces in me live. 
 
 Song of the little children : 
 
 We are Httle Birds that nestle. 
 
 Safe beneath the mother's wing; 
 We are little Buds that open 
 
 At the coming of the spring. 
 We are little Lambs ; oh, lead us 
 
 Where the greenest pastures grow 
 With the angels for our keepers. 
 
 We no want nor care can know. 
 
 Cho. |: So we follow, follow, etc. 
 54 
 
Recited — 
 
 1 am so young I cannot stand 
 With the lilies tall and grand. 
 Roses might not wish me nigh, 
 Such a little thing am I ; 
 Violets from the shady nook 
 Might not give me pleasant look 
 So I'll just lift up my eyes, 
 Catch the azure of the skies, 
 Whispering from this lowly spot, 
 Dearest Lord, Forget-me-not. 
 
 All ye flowers of every hue. 
 Lilies white and Violets blue, 
 Roses and Carnations too, 
 
 This the lesson ye have taught, 
 This the message ye have brought : 
 He who clothes the blossoms fair 
 With a glory rich and rare, 
 Bringing to our earthly eyes 
 Glimpses of His Paradise, 
 He will every grace bestow, 
 On our waiting souls below. 
 And will clothe us in the dress 
 Of his spotless righteousness. 
 
 II : So we follow, follow, follow, singing all the way 
 
 All the flowers smile to meet us, 
 
 All the birds with carols greet us. 
 On this happy day— this happy Children's Day. 
 
BY THE BRKK AUTHOR. 
 
 HELLO! 
 Telepho 
 Square, 
 edition. 
 
 Santa Claus, or how a 
 
 le Upset Christmas. i6 mo. 
 24 pages. Paper covers. Fifth 
 Price, 25 cents. 
 
 A Christmas Whiff from PoUy's 
 
 Smelling Bottle. Same style and price. 
 
 Mixed Pickles, Assorted and Put Up 
 for Our Best Society." 16 mo. Square. 
 32 pages. Price, 25 cents. 
 
 'Life From A Wheeled Chair." 
 
 28 pages. Price, 10 cents. 
 Published and for sale by 
 
 DANIEL WATERMAN, 
 69 Genesee Street, 
 
 Utica, N. Y. 
 
LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
 MHHil 
 
 016 165 991 5 ^