3 1822 01052 8321 3 1822 01052 8321 T HE LITTLE SHOE. ,ITTLE J*EET. ,ITTLE rOOTSTEPS. "Thy days, my little one, were few; An angel'l morning vliit ; They came and raniihcd with the dew; Twai here 'tla gone where U it ? Tet diJit thoa leave behind the* A clue for lor* to find the*." *r BOSTON: Q-OTJLD 59, WASHINGTON STREET. 1867. Entered, according to Act of Congreu, in the year 1866, by GOULD AND LINCOLN, In the Clerk's Office of the DUtrict Court for the District of M.uischmetti. Printer* and Stereotype, liontou, Hau. PBBFA.e <& OST of the following pieces belong to the fractional currency of literature, yet they have a golden basis. No apology can be required for bringing them together, any more than for treasuring up the mementos of our little one. Henry Clay, after losing a young child, carried one of its worsted shoes for a long time in his bosom. Did it detract from his manliness or his eloquence ? The little shoe is peculiarly a representative article of dress. It has more expression than any other, is more nearly a part vn VIII PREFACE. of the dear child's own self. It brings to mind all the joyous flutter of parental hearts when the little one's first step was taken, and all the keen solicitude about a fall when the first short journey was adventured. What music in those foot- falls on the stairs, and behind grandpapa's chair ! But when ; the young pilgrim's feet have been withdrawn from earth for a walk in Paradise, what tenderness gathers around 1 these precious relics ! The more worn they are, the dearer every mark is a line of beauty. Little shoes, suggesting the little feet that wore them, anc the little footsteps taken, illustrate what Dr. Chalmers would Call "THE POWER OF LITTLES." I. THE FIBST LITTLE PAIR, 15 Two PLUMP, STUBBED SHOES, 17 SHOES HID A WAT, 19 NAE SHOOK, 21 SLIPPER-TIPS, 22 UP THE STEEP WAT, 84 LITTLE SHOES REFORMERS, 25 LITTLE SHOES AND STOCKINGS, .27 Two LITILI PAIRS OF Boon, 29 X CONTENTS. P^. TINT BLUE SHOES, 31 Two LITTLE TRODDEN SHOES, 33 A HALF-WORN PAIR, 35 THE HALF-WORN SHOE, 37 THE SHOE SOILED AND TORN, 38 THE WORN-OUT SHOE, 41 WITH KNOTTED STRINGS, 43 LITTLE SHOES EMPTT, 44 LITTLE GAITERS IDLE, ......... 45 LITTLE PILGRIMS' SANDALS, 47 His SANDALS UNSOILED, 48 HEAVENLY SANDALS, 50 LITTLE BABY SHOES, 51 II. fitth Jut. LITTLE DANCING FEET, . . . 55 DIMPLED FEET, . . ...... . . . 57 Two MORE LITTLE FEET, 58 Two TINY FEET, . 59 MISSION OF LITTLE FEET, . 60 CONTENTS. XI F* FRISKING FEET, 62 RESTLESS FEET, 64 OH, LITTLE FEET, .65 DEAR LITTLE FEET, 66 UNPRACTICED FEET, 67 A Row OF LITTLE FEET, 69 GUIDING WAYWABD FEET, 70 WATCH THE LITTLE FEET, 71 PERT BY THE SEA-SIDE, 72 LITTLE FEET STILL, . 73 PATTER, PATTEB, LITTLE FEET, 74 LITTLE WANDERER'S FEET, 75 POOR LITTLE FEET, 77 WITH NIMBLE FEET, 78 THREE PAIRS OF FEET, 79 Music OF LITTLE FEET, 81 PATTER OF LITTLE FEET, 82 PATTERING FEET Now STILL, 84 VIOLETS AT HER FEET, 86 FEET UPON MY KNEE, 88 Fxrr ON THE FENDER 89 LITTLE PILGRIMS' FEET, .... ... 91 XII CONTENTS. III. FIRST FOOTSTEPS, 95 GOING ALONE, 96 ON HER TOES, 98 LEARNING TO WALK, 100 DEAR FOOTSTEPS, 101 FAIRY FOOTSTEPS, 102 FOOTSTEPS ON THE STAIRS, 104 LITTLE SHORT STEPS, 105 SILTERY FOOTFALLS, 106 THE FOOTFALL NOT THERE, 109 TREADING THE GOLDEN STREETS, ....... 112 ^ THE FIRST LITTLE very daintj- little things, With bow and buckle bright ; And fitted to dear little feet So soft and smooth and white ; And all the children eager rush To tell the wondrous news That our baby has short clothes And pretty little shoes. Why is it that my timid heart Is full of anxious fears, And all unconsciously my eyes Glisten with blinding tears? 16 16 OUR LITTLE ONE. It is that up to this, my babe Lay on a loving breast, To which he ever eager turned For nourishment and rest. But, little shoes, ye bid me think That from this very day I send another pilgrim forth Upon life's weary way : Into the world of care and sin, Its struggling and its strife, Until his soul with Job may wish It never had known life. 'Twas just two years ago I put On Mary's little feet Such shoes as these, with fond caress, And kisses warm and sweet ; Things just as fragile as these are, And not a bit more stout ; Yet she had joined the angel band Ere they were quite worn out. Ah ! many a mother's bitter tears On little shoes are shed, Relics of household treasures gone, Idols among the dead ; THE LITTLE SHOE. 17 Whether this babe reach man's estate, Or soon his course be run, I only ask for grace to say, " Father, thy will be done." Two PLUMP, STUBBED SHOES. WO little rough-worn, stubbed shoes, A plump, well-trodden pair ; With striped stockings thrust within, Lie just beside my chair. Of very homely fabric they, A hole is in each toe ; They might have cost, when they were new, Some fifty cents, or so. Anil yet, this little worn-out pair Is richer far to me, Tlian .-ill the jr-wclled sandals are Of Eastern luxury. I 18 OUn LITTLE ONE. This mottled leather, cracked with use, Is satin in my sight ; These little tarnished buttons shine With all a diamond's light. Search through the wardrobe of the world,- You shall not find me there So rarely made, so richly wrought, So glorious a pair. And why ? Because they tell of her, Now sound asleep above, Whose form is morning beauty, Whose heai-t is beating love. They tell me of her merry laugh, Her rich, whole-hearted glee ; Her gentleness, her innocence, And infant purity. They tell me that her wavering steps Will long demand my aid ; For the old road of human life Is very roughly laid. THE LITTLE SHOE. 19 High hills and swift descents abound ; And on so rude a way, Feet that can wear these coverings "Would surely go astray. Sweet little girl ! be mine the task Thy feeble steps to tend ! To be thy guide, thy counsellor, Thy playmate and thy friend ! And when my steps shall faltering grow, And thine be firm and strong, Thy strength shall lead my tottering age In cheerful peace along. SHOES ffio AWAY. MRS. JULIA BKAKCII. Y little boy lies sleeping. Stirlcss now Are the bare feet, so quick and restless lately ; And the blue eyes bcm-atli his thoughtful brow Arc closed sedately. 20 OUR LITTLE OXE. One hand lies hid among the locks that float In careless grace upon the yielding pillows ; The other on his breast rides like a boat On summer billows. About the couch where they his waking bide His whilom playthings lie in rare confusion ; And underneath the shoes he thought to hide In safe seclusion. He calmly sleeps. The wind moans at the door, And in the room the firelight's fitful gleaming Makes pleasant shadows on the crimson floor : I sit a-dreaming. I see afar the vail'd uncertain land, That in the future waits his manhood's coming ; And strive to dissipate, with love's strong hand, Its mists benumbing. And is he of that race of laurel'd kings, The wearers of the purple of the poet? Or like the heroes whom the poet sings ? His life will show it. THE LITTLE SHOE. 21 And if he be a soul from falsehood free, Though he should wear no laurel, sing no story, To bear his part with honest men shall be Enough of glory. NAE SHOON. AE shoon to hide her tiny tae, Nae stocking on her feet, Her supple ankles white as snaw, Like early blossoms sweet. Her simple dress of sprinkled pink, Her double, dimpled chin, Her puckered lips and balmy mou', "With nae one tooth between. Her een sac like her mither's een, Twa gentle liquid things ; Her face is like an angel's face, We're glad she has no wings. 22 OUn LITTLE ONE. She is the budding of our love, A giftie God hae gie'd us ; We munna love the gift oVr weel, 'Twad be nae blessing thus. OLIPPER- I IPS. MES. H. C. GARDNER. O, my lips can never tell Half the comfort, half the joy, Half the beauty that doth dwell In our darling, Baby Floy. Such a tiny, helpless mite, Busy only with her play : Yet her presence, like the light, Chases all our clouds away. When the closing summer day Lingers with its growing gloom, Peopling with its shadows gray Every corner of the room, THE LITTLE SHOE. 23 Calling from the misty past Buried hopes and joy und love, Till the soft sky, overcast, Frowns upon us from above Then she comes, the roguish sprite, Full of tricks and laughing glee ; Vanish all the clouds from sight, And the heart again is free. Cunning witch ! Look where she stands, Balanced on her slipper-tips, Clasping close her little hand, Shutting tight her rose-leaf lips. There is mischief in her eyes, Mischief, but she charms us so ; Music in the strange replies Made of words she doth not know ; Grace in every motion sweet, Poetry in every curl, Beauty in the dancing feet Of our happy little girl. Oft I marvel whence this child Iluth such sweet and holy power To subdue our sorrows wild, To light up the darksome hour; 24 OUR LITTLE ONE. How so weak and frail a thing Can renew the fount of joy ; "Why our hopes so closely cling To our darling, Baby Floy. UP THE STEEP WAY. H ! little feet that out from these Shall step up life's steep way, The Lord uphold thy going forth, And " strength give as thy day." Lead this young soul up steadily The strait and narrow road ; Then shall his earthly lot be peace, His heavenly portion God. And when the journey ends at length Before the great white throne, He shall the Saviour's plaudit hear, " Oh, child beloved, well done ! " THE LITTLE SHOE. ITTLE-DHOES KEFORMERS. r OME months ago, I need not mention where, There was a meeting in a Temperance Hall, And many working men assembled there. Among them sat a man -well-dressed and tall, "Who listened anxiously to every word, Until one near spoke to him, saying thus : " Come, "William Turner, I have never heard How that you changed so much ; so tell to us Why you gave up the public house ? Ah ! few, I'm sure, can tell so strange a tale as you." Up rose "William at the summons, Glanced, confusedly, round the hall, Cried, with voice of deep emotion, " The little shoes they did it all ! "One night, on the verge of ruin, As I hurried from the tap, I beheld the landlord's baby Sitting in it's mother's lap. 26 OUR LITTLE ONE. " ' Look here, dear father,' said the mother, Holding forth the little feet, ' Look, we've got new shoes for darling ! Don't you think them nice and neat?' "Ye may judge the thing was simple Disbelieve me if you choose But, my friends, no fist e'er struck me Such a blow as those small shoes. " And they forced my brain to reason. ' What right,' said I, standing there, * Have I to clothe another's children, And to let my own go bare ? ' " It was in the depth of winter ; Bitter was the night and wild ; And outside the flaring gin-shop Stood my starving wife and child. "Out I went and clutched my baby, Saw its feet so cold and blue : Fathers ! if the small shoes smote me, What did those poor bare feet do ? THE LITTLE SJIOE. Quick I thrust them in my bosom : Oh, the} T were so icy chill ! And their coldness like a dagger Pierced me I can feel it still. " Of money I had but a trifle, Just enough to serve my stead : It bought shoes for little baby, And a single loaf of bread. " That loaf served us all the Sunday, And I went to work next day ; Since that time I've been teetotal : That is all I've got to say." 27 LITTLE OHOES AND STOCKINGS. ITTLE shoes and stockings ! "What a tale ye speak, Of the swollen eyelid, And the tear-wet cheek ; OUR LITTLE ONE. Of the nightly vigil, And the daily prayer ; Of the buried darling, Present everywhere ! Brightly plaided stockings Of the finest wool ; Rounded feet and dainty, Each a stocking full ; Tiny shoes of crimson, Shoes that nevermore Will awaken echoes From the toy-strewn floor, Not the wealth of Indies, Could your worth eclipse, Priceless little treasures, Pressed to whitened lips As the mother muses, From the world apart, Leaning on the arrow That has pierced her heart. Head of flaxen ringlets, Eyes of heavenly blue, Parted mouth a rosebud Pearls first peeping through ; THE LITTLE SHOE. Soft arms, softly twining Round her neck at eve : Little shoes and stockings, These the dreams ye weave. "Weave her yet another Of the world of bliss ; Let the stricken mother Turn away from this. Bid her dream, believing Little feet await, "Watching for her passing Through the pearly gate. 29 Two LITTLE PAIRS OF BOOTS. WO little pairs of boots, to-night, Before the fire are drying ; Two little pairs of tired feet In a truncllc-bcd arc lying : The tracks they left upon the floor Make me feel like sighing ! 80 OUR LITTLE ONE. Those little boots with copper toes ! They run the livelong day ; And oftentimes I almost wish That they were miles away, So tired am I to hear so oft Their heavy tramp at play. They walk about the new-plowed ground, "Where mud in plenty lies ; They roll it up in marbles round ; They bake it into pies ; And then, at night, upon the floor In every shape it dries ! To-day I was disposed to scold ; But when I look, to-night, At those little boots before the fire, With copper toes so bright, I think how sad my heart would be To put them out of sight ; For in a trunk up-stairs I've laid Two socks of white and blue : If called to put those boots away, Oh God ! what should I do? I mourn that there are not, to-night, Three pairs instead of two. THE LITTLE SHOE. 31 I mourn because I thought how nice My neighbor 'cross the way Could keep her carpets all the year From getting worn or gray ; Yet well I know she'd smile to own Some little boots to-day ! "We mothers weary get and worn Under our load of care ; Yet how we view our little ones Let each of us beware ; What would our firesides be to-night, Were little boots not there ? INY BLUE SHOES. II, those little, those little blue shoes ; Those shoes that no little feet use ! Oh, the price were high That those would buy, Those little blue unused shoes ! 32 OUR LITTLE ONE. For they hold the small shape of feet That no more their mother's eyes meet, That, by God's good will, Years since grew still, And ceased from their totter so sweet. And oh, since that baby slept, So hushed, how the mother has kept, "With a tearful pleasure, That dear little treasure, And o'er them thought and wept ! For they 'mind her for evermore Of a patter along the floor, And blue eyes she sees Look up from her knees, With that look that in life they wore. As they lie before her there, There babbles from chair to chair A sweet little f;ioe That's a gleam in the place, With its little golden curls of hair. THE LITTLE SHOE. 33 Then, oh wonder not that her heart From all else would rather part Than those tiny blue shoes That no little feet use, And whose sight makes the fond tears start. Two LITTLE TRODDEN SHOES. E. LYNN. little busy hands patting on the window ; Two laughing, bright eyes looking out at me ; Two rosy cheeks dented with a dimple : Mother-bird is coming ; baby, do you sec ? Down by the lilac-bush, something white and azure Saw I in the window as I passed the tree ; Well I knew the apron and shoulder-knots of ribbon All belonged to baby, looking out for me. Talking low and tenderly To myself, as mothers will, Spoke I softly, " God in heaven, Keep my darling free from ill : 34 OUR LITTLE ONE. "Worldly gain and worldly honors Ask I not for her from thec ; But from want and sin and sorrow Keep her ever pure and free." Two little waxen hands Folded soft and silently ; Two little curtained eyes Looking out no more for me ; Two little snowy cheeks, Dimple-dented nevermore ; Two little trodden shoes That will never touch the floor. Shoulder-ribbon, softly twisted ; Apron, folded clean and white ; These are left me, and these only, Of the childish presence bright. Thus he sent an answer to my earnest praying, Thus he keeps my darling free from earthly stain, Thus he folds the pet lamb safe from earthly straying ; But I miss her sadly from the window pane Till I look above it ; then, with purer vision, Sad, I weep no more the lilac-bush to pass ; For I see her, angel, pure and white and sinless, "Walking with the harper;; by the sea of glass. THE LITTLE SHOE. Two little snowy wings Softly flutter to and fro ; Two tiny, childish hands Beckon still to me below ; Two tender, angel eyes Watch me ever earnestly : Through the loopholes of the stars Baby's looking out for me. NLY four just four short years Since she came to me, Nestling in my heart and arms, Oh, so tenderly ! Now the rain falls ou her grave, Sighing wearily. Only four how I listened For her busy feet, Pattering softly down the stair, "Papa home" to meet : Never to a mother's heart Wr.s a sound more sweet. 36 OUR LITTLE ONE. Only four my precious girl, With her honest eyes Always looking into mine With a sweet surprise ; Now with faded autumn leaves Little Bessie lies. Little Bessie, just beginning, In a winsome way, To repeat her " Now I lay me," At the close of day : Tears come faster than the words When I kneel to pray. Only these, an empty crib, And a vacant chair, With a half-worn pair of shoes, And a curl of hair Golden with the sunshine falling On her head so fair. Only these are left me now, And the house is still ; Everything seems asking for her ; And my heart so chill Asks for Bessie, never thinking Of our Father's will ; THE LITTLE SHOE. 37 Quite forgetting that the angefo Took her home to God, Only Bessie's body resting Under the brown sod. Help me now in my great sorrow, Christ, to kiss thy rod ! THE WALF-WORN SHOE. HO says it is all valueless, A little half- worn shoe ? Or some torn garment, just replaced By something bright or new ? There is a secret, sacred place, Baptizod by tears and sighs, Where little half-worn clothes are kept From cold, unfeeling eyes. The impress of a little foot, How can it be so dear ? How can a little half-worn shoe Call forth a sigh or tear ? 38 OUR LITTLK ONE. 'Tis more than dear 'tis eloquent Of grace and beauty fled ; It wakes the sound of little feet, Sweet sound forever fled. It whispers to the mother's ear A tale of fondest love ; It tells her that the little feet Now tread the fields above. Oft has she bathed it with her tears, Oft kissed it o'er and o'er ; If it were filled with costly gerns, She could not prize it more. T HE SHOE SOILED AND TORN. NLY a picture and is that all? Only a picture upon the wall ? The smile so beaming, the cheek so bright, The eye so dancing with sunny light, THE LITTLK SHOE. 39 I almost fancy my baby boy Is springing to me in his pride and joy ; But 'tis only a picture upon the wall, A silent picture and that is all. Only a lock of silken hair Lying alone in its casket there ! "Where is the head that, in sportive glee, Was wont to toss it so careless and free ? The baby head that upon my breast So lovingly nestled each night to rest ? Only a lock of its silken hair Is lying alone in its casket there. Only a shoe that is soiled and 'torn ! But where is the foot that that shoe has worn, The darling foot, so dimpled and small, That made music so merry in. chamber and hall? Oh ! to catch of that little step one sound, How wildly now would my pulses bound ! But there's only a shoe that is soiled and torn ; The foot comes no more that that shoe has worn. Only these relics and nothing more ? Can naught to our arms the lost restore ? Must we hopeless yearn as the years go by, For the bounding step and the beaming eye? 40 OUR LITTLE ONE. And for all that beauty, life, and grace, So fondly cherished, retain no trace Save these silent relics? Oh, nevermore "Will the grave to our arms the lost restore ! Oh, woe for love, when, from all its store, It points to these tokens, and nothing more ! "When the vacant hall and silent stair But echo the groans of its wild despair ; And from all the voices in earth and sky Comes back no word to its wailing cry Save the mournful echo, "Oh, nevermore "Will the grave to our arms the lost restore ! " Oh, joy for love, when it yearns no more For that which the grave cannot restore ! When it upward stretches its drooping wings, And, in darkness and sorrow, still sweetly sings Of the brightness and bliss of that better home Where the lost are found, and no partings come. Oh, joy for love, when its priceless store There safely is garnered for evermore. I THE LITTLE SHOE. 41 HE WORN-OUT SHOE. FOUND it here, a worn-out shoe, All mildewed with time, and wet with dew. 'Tis a little thing ; ye would pass it by "With never a thought or a word or a sigh ; Yet it stirs in my spirit a hidden well, And, in eloquent tones, of the past doth tell. It tells of a little fairy child That bound my heart with a magic wild ; Of bright blue eyes, and golden hair, That ever shed joy and sunlight there ; Of a prattling voice so sweet and clear, And the tiny feet that were ever near. It tells us of hopes that with her had birth, Deep buried now in the silent earth ; Of the heart that had met an answering tone, That again is left alone alone ! Of days of watching and anxious prayer ; Of a night of sorrow and dark despair. 42 OUR LITTLE OXE. It tells of a forfn that is cold and still ; Of a little mound upon yonder hill, That is dearer far to a mother's heart Than the classic statues of Grecian art ; Ah ! strangers may pass with a careless air, Nor dream of the hopes that are buried there. Oh, ye who have never o'er loved ones wept, Whose brightest hopes have never been swept Like the pure white cloud from the summer sky, Like the wreath of mist from the mountain high, Like the rainbow beaming a moment here, Then melting away to its native sphere, Like rose-leaves, loosed by the zephyr's sigh, Like the zephyr wafting its perfume by, Like the wave that kisses, some graceful spot, Then passes away, yet is ne'er forgot ! If, like these, your life-hopes have never fled, Ye cannot know of the tears I shed. Ye cannot know what a little thing From memory's silent fount can bring The voice and form that were once so dear ; Yet there are hearts, were they only here, That could feel with me, when, all wet with dew, I found it this morning this little shoe. .THE LITTLE SHOE. 43 WITH KNOTTED STRINGS. 1IKLKX MAU. WO little shoes with knotted strings With tears aside were laid, And for the form they used to bear A little grave was made Made for our baby-love, our pride : We murmured at its fate, And could not think it best it died, And left us desolate ; Grieving because small feet no more Would patter soft about the floor. Two little shoes, tear-gemmed, the first In which my precious trod ; For the small feet soon tired of play, And wandered back to God. But in her pure, clear-sighted eyes Heaven was not very far ; So short her stay from Paradise, The gate was still ajar : So we the quiet feet undressed, And laid them side by side to rest. 44 OUR LITTLE O.V/f. SHOES bless the little feet that never go astray, r For the little shoes are, empty, in in}- closet laid away. Sometimes I take one in my hand, forgetting, 'till I see, It is a little half-worn shoe, not large enough for me ; And all at once I feel a sense of bitter loss and pain, As sharp as when, two years ago, it cut my heart in twain. Oh, little feet that wearied not ! I wait for them no more, For I am drifting on the tide, while they have reached the shore ; And while the blinding tear-drops wet these little shoes so old, I try to think my darlings' feet are treading streets of gold ; And so I lay them down again, but always turn to say, God bless the little feet that now, so surely, cannot stray ! And while I thus am standing, I almost seem to see Two little forms beside me, just as they used to be ; THE LITTLE SHOE. 45 Two little faces lifted, with their sweet and tender eyes, Ah me ! I might have known that look was born of Para- dise ! I reach my arms out fondly, but they clasp the empty air : There is nothing of my darlings but the shoes they used to wear. Oh ! the bitterness of parting cannot be done away, Till I meet my darlings walking where their feet can never stray ; "When I no more am drifted upon the surging tide, But with them safely landed upon the river-side. Be patient, heart, while waiting to see their shining way ! For the little feet in the golden street can never go astray. LITTLE GAITERS IDLE. J. H. MACNAUGHTON. , the wear}*, solemn silence Of a house without the children ! Oh, the strange, oppressive stillness Where the children come no more ! 46 OUR LITTLE O X E . Ah ! the longing of the sleepless For the soft arms of the children ; Ah ! the longing for their faces Peeping through the opening door, Faces gone for evermore ! Strange it is to wake at midnight And not hear the children breathing : Nothing but the old clock ticking, Ticking, ticking by the door. Strange to see the little dresses Hanging up there all the morning ; And the gaiters ah ! their patter, "\Ve will hear it nevermore On our mirth-forsaken floor ! What is home without the children ? 'Tis the earth without the verdure, And the sky without the sunshine : Life is withered to the core ! So we'll leave this dreary desert, And we'll follow the Good Shepherd To the greener pastures vernal, Where the lambs have " gone before,' Y/ith the Shepherd evermore ! THE LITTLE SHOE. 47 Oh, the weary, solemn silence Of a house without the children ! Oh, the strange oppressive stillness Where the children come no more ! Ah ! the longing of the sleepless For the soft arms of the children ; Ah ! the longing for their faces Peeping through the opening door, Faces gone for evermore ! ITTLE PILGRIMS- SANDALS. HE way to heaven is narrow, And its blessed entrance strait ; But how safe the little pilgrims Who got within the gate ! The sunbeams of the morning Make the narrow path so fair ; An 1 these earl}' little pilgrims Find dewy blessings there. 48 OUn LITTLE OXE. They pass o'er rugged mountains, But they climb them with a song ; For these early little pilgrims Have sandals new and strong. They do not greatly tremble When the shadows night foretell ; For these early little pilgrims Have tried the path so well. They know it leads to heaven, "With its bright and open gates, Where for happy little pilgrims A Saviour's welcome waits. is SANDALS UNSOILED. J. K. LOWELL. E did but float a little way Adown the stream of time, With dream}' eyes watching the ripples play, Or listening to their fairy chime ; His slender sail Ne'er felt the gale. THE LITTLE SHOE. 49 He did but float a little way, And, putting to the shore, "While yet 'twas early day, Went calmly on his way, To dwell with us no more ; No jarring did he feel, No grating on his vessel's keel ; A strip of silver sand Mingled the waters with the land Where he was seen no more : Oh, stern word Nevermore ! Full short his journey was ; no dust Of earth unto Ms sandals clave ; The weary weight that old men must, He bore not \o the grave. He seemed a cherub who had lost his way And wandered hither, so his stay With us was short, and 'twas most meet That he should be no delver in earth's clod, Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet To stand before his God : Oh, blest word Evermore ! OUR LITTLE ONE. HEAVENLY SANDALS. FRANK. W. BALLARI1. HE is not dead, But sleeps ; Beside her cradle-bed My memory keeps The vigil sad. Awake, my child, Awake ! 'Tis long since thoti hast smiled My heart will break, Unless beguiled ! No voice replies ; Those lips Naught echo to my cries : In life's eclipse She silent lies. That brow so cold, Those e} 7 es No more my face behold : Alas ! she lies Within Death's fold. THE LITTLE SHOE. 51 She dwells with God : Her feet, With heavenly sandals shod, Traverse the street By angels trod. Then let her sleep ; Her dreams Are bliss. Dear Saviour, keep Near Eden's streams The lamb we weep. ITTLE BABY SHOES. NOTHER little form asleep, And a spirit gone ; Another little voice is hushed, And a little angel born. Two little feet are on the way To the home beyond the skies, And our hearts are like the void that comes When a strain of music dies. 52 OUR LITTLE ONE. A pair of little baby shoes, And a lock of golden hair ; The toy our little darling loved, And the dress she used to wear ; The little grave in the shady nook, "Where the flowers love to grow ; And these are all of the hope That came three years ago. The birds will sit on the branch above, And sing a requiem To the beautiful little sleeping form That used to sing to them ; But never again will the little lips To their song of love reply ; For that silvery voice is blended with The minstrelsy on high. LITTLE DANCING FEET. MRS. F. I). OAOE. ID you ever see our baby, Little Tot, "With her eyes so sparkling bright, And her skin so lily white, Lips and cheeks of rosy light? Tell you what, She is just the sweetest bab} r In the lot. Ah ! she is our only darling ; And, to me, All her little ways are witty ; And when she sings her little ditty, 56 OUR LITTLE ONE. Every word is just as pretty As can be : Not another in the city Sweet as she. You don't think so ? never saw her ! Wish you could See her with her playthings clattering, Hear her little tongue a-chattering, Little dancing feet come pattering : Think you would Love her just as well as I do If you could ! Every grandma's only darling, I suppose, Is as sweet and bright a blossom, Is a treasure to her bosom, Is as cheering and endearing As my rose. Heavenly Father, spare them to us Till life's close. LITTLE FEET. 57 DIMPLED FEET. INSOME Baby Bunn ! * Not the sea-shell's palest tinge, Not the daisy's rose-white fringe, Not the softest, faintest glow Of the sunset on the snow, Is more beautiful and sweet Than the wee pink hands and feet Of the little Baby Bunn, Winsome Baby Bunn ! , Feet like these may lose the way, Wandering blindly from the right. Pray, and sometimes will your prayers Be to him like golden stairs Built through darkness into light. Oh, the dimpled feet of Bunn, In her silken stockings dressed ! Oh, the dainty hands of Bunn, Hid like rose-leaves in your breast ! These will grasp at jewels rare But to find the empty air ; 58 OUR LITTLE ONE. Those shall falter many a day, Bruised and bleeding by the way, Ere they reach the land of rest ! Praj', mother, pray ! Two MORE LITTLE FEET. NOTHER little wave Upon the sea of life ; Another soul to save ; Ainicl the toil and strife. Two more little feet To walk the dusty road, To choose where two paths meet, The narrow and the broad. Two more little hands To work for good or ill ; Two more little eyes ; Another little will. LITTLE FEET, 59 Another heart to love, Receiving love again : And so the baby came, A thing of joy and pain. Two TINY FEET. C. K. SARGENT. i WO little bright blue eyes Looking into mine ; Two little dimpled arms Round my neck do twine ; Two little ruby lips Close to mine are pressed ; Dear little baby form Clasped unto my breast ! Two little tiny feet, Now away they run ; Curls of little golden thread Glisten in the sun ; 60 OUR LITTLE ONE. Happy days of childhood, Free from care or strife : May God's brightest sunlight Shine through baby's life ! Precious tiny fairy, Sent me from above ; Queen within the castle Of mother's heart of love ! Oh, my little treasure ! Of myself a part : Baby's throne, and what she rules, Is her mother's heart. MISSION OF LITTLE FEET. r DREARY place would be this earth "Were there no little people in it ; The song of life would lose its mirth < "Were there no children to begin it: No little forms like buds to grow, And make the admiring heart surrender ; No little hands on breast and brow To keep the thrilling love-cords tender ; LITTLE FEET. 61 No babe within our arms to leap ; No little feet towards slumber tending ; No little knee in prayer to bend, Our lips to theirs the sweet words lending. What would the ladies do for work "Were there no pants or jackets tearing ; No tiny dresses to embroider ; No cradle for their watchful caring ; No rosy boys, at wintry morn, With satchel to the school-house hasting ; No merry shouts as home they rush ; No precious morsel for their tasting ? Tall, grave, grown people at the door ; Tall, grave, grown people at the table ; The men on business all intent, The dames lugubrious as they're able. The sterner souls would get more stern, Unfeeling natures more inhuman ; And men to stoic coldness turn, And woman would be less than woman. C2 OUR LITTLE ONE. Life's song indeed would lose its cnarm Were there no babies to begin it ; A doleful place this world would be Were there no little people in it. FRISKING JOANNA BAILLIE. HOSE imp art thou, with dimpled check, And curly pate, and merry eye, And arm and shoulder round and sleek And soft and fair, thou urchin sly ? What boots it who, with sweet caresses, First called thee his, or squire or hind,- Since thouin every wight that passes Dost now a friendly playmate find ? Thy downcast glances, grave but cunning, As fringed eyelids rise and fall ; Thy shyness, swiftly from me running, Is infantine coquetry all. LITTLE FEET. 63 But far afield thou hast not flown ; With mocks and threats, half lisped, half spoken, I feel thee pulling at my gown, Of right good-will thy simple token. And thou^must laugh and wrestle too, A mimic warfare with me waging, To make, as wily lovers do, Thy after-kindness more engaging. The wilding rose, sweet as thyself, And new-cropt daisies are thy treasure ; I'd gladly part with worldly pelf To taste again thy youthful pleasure. But yet, for all thy merry look, Thy frisks and wiles, the time is coming When thou shalt sit in cheerless nook, The weary spell or horn-book thumbing. Well, let it be ; through weal and woe Thou know'st not now thy future range ; Life is a motley, shifting show, And thou a thing of hope and change 64 OUR LITTLE ONE. RESTLESS FEET. MRS. FAXNIE POWER. LEESOME, blithesome, bonnie boy ! Precious household treasure ! Lightly trip thy restless feet To a joyful measure ; Thrills thy happy little heart With exultant pleasure. All day long thy silvery voice Like a streamlet flows ; Through the hours, at twilight dim, Cradled for repose, The blue-veiled, drooping eyelids, Sealed with kisses, close. Sheltered in the fond embrace Of a mother's arms, Naught cares he for night or shadow ; Storms bring no alarms : Well he knoweth who will keep him Safe from ills or harms. LITTLE FEET. 65 "Would I had thy faith, my darliiig, When, with care oppressed, Weary, faint, to lay my head On His loving breast ; To seek my refuge in the arms Of everlasting Ilest. Oh ! to cling, as thou art clinging, When the shadows deep Silently around my pathway, Like weird phantoms, creep, Closer to the Heart which " giveth His beloved sleep." t ITTLE h EET H, little feet, that such long years Must wander on through doubts and fears, Must ache and bleed beneath your load ! I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am wear}', thinking of your road. GG OUR LITTLJS ONE. Oh, little hands, that, weak or strong, Have still to serve or rule so long, Have still so long to give or ask ! I, who so much, with book and pen, Have toiled among my fellow-men, Am weary, thinking of your task. Oh, little hearts, that throb and beat With such impatient, feverish heat, Such limitless and strong desires ! Mine, that so long has glowed and burned With passions into ashes turned, Now covers and conceals its fires. EAR LITTLE FEET. EMILY HUNTIJfGTON MILLEK. HAT are you good for, my brave little man ? Answer that question for me, if you can, You, with your fingers as white as a nun, You, with your ringlets as bright as the sun. LITTLK FKKT. All the day long, with your busy contriving, Into all mischief and fun you are driving ; See if your wise little noddle can tell, What are you good for ? now ponder it well." Over the carpet, the dear little feet Came with a patter to climb on my seat ; Two merry eyes, full of frolic and glee, Under their lashes looked up unto me ; Two little hands, pressing sort on my face, Drew mo down close in a loving embrace ; Two rosy lips gave the answer so true, "Good to love you, mamma good to love you." NPRACTICED -pEET. S. T. COLBBinOK, cease thy tears and sobs, my little life ! did but snatch away the unclasped knife >mc safer toy will soon arrest thine eye, And to quick laughter change this peevish cry. C8 ou R LIT !' L :: o ,v K. Poor stumbler on the rocky coast of woe, Tutor'd by pain each source of pain to know ! Alike the foodful fruit and scorching fire Awake thy eager grasp and young desire ; Alike the good, the ill, offend thy sight, And rouse the stormy sense of shrill affright : Untaught, yet wise ! 'mid all thy brief alarms Thou closely clingest to thy mother's arms, Nestling thy little face in that fond breast "WTiose anxious hearings lull thee to thy rest. Man's breathing miniature ! thou mak'st me sigh ; A babe art thou, and such a thing am I : To anger rapid, and as soon appeased ; For trifles mourning and for trifles pleased ; Break Friendship's mirror with a techy blow, Yet snatch what coals of fire on Pleasure's altar glow. Oh thou that rearest with celestial aim The future Seraph in my mortal frame, Thrice holy Faith ! whatever thorns I meet As on I totter with unpractised feet, Still let me stretch my arms and cling to thee, Meek nurse of souls through their long infancy ! LITTLE FKKT. Row OF LITTLE FEET. V % I ROW of little faces by the bed, A row of little hands upon the spread, A row of little roguish C}'es all closed, A row of little naked feet exposed ! A gentle mother leads them in their praise, Teaching their feet to tread in heavenly ways ; And takes this lull in childhood's tiny tide The little errors of the day to chide". No lovelier sight this side of heaven is seen, And angels hover o'er the group serene ; * Instead of odor in a censer swung, There floats the fragrance of an infant's tongue. Then, tumbling headlong into waiting beds, Beneath the sheet they hide their timid heads, Till slumber steals away their idle fears, And like a peeping bud each face appears. 70 O L'Jl LITTLE O.V/:. All dressed like angels in their gowiw of white, They're wafted to the skies in dreams of night ; And heaven will sparkle i:i their eyes at inorn, And stolen graces all their ways adorn. GUIDING WAYWARD FEET. not for grand endeavor "Worthy a martyr's meed, "While in vain the Master proffers The trust, his lambs to feed. It ma}' be thy share of service His purpose to complete, If steadfastly thou guidest Those little wayward feet. * One little footstep passing The path that Jesus trod ; One little spirit resting In loving faith on God ; One little life more earnest, More hopeful, and more pure, And in an angel's record Thy lifework shall endure. LITTLE FEET. 71 WATCH THE LITTLE FEET. OTHER ! watch the little feet Climbing o'er the garden wall, Bounding through" the busy street, Ranging cellar, shed, and hall ; Never count the moments lost, Never mind the time it cost : Little feet will go astray ; Guide them, mother, while you may. Mother ! watch the little hand Picking berries by the way, Making houses in the sand, Tossing up the fragrant hay ; Never dare the question ask, 'TVhy to me this weary task?" These same messengers may prove Messengers of light and love. Mother ! watch the little tongue Prating, eloquent and wild, What is said and what is sung By the happy, joyous child ; 72 OUR LITTLE OXE. Catch the wofd while yet unspoken, Stop the vow before 'tis broken : This same tongue may yet proclaim Blessings in the Saviour's name. Mother ! watch the little heart Beating soft and warm for you ; Wholesome lessons now impart ; Keep, oh keep that young heart true, Extricating every weed, Sowing good and precious seed : Harvest rich you thus may see Eipening for eternity. FEET BY THE SEA-SIDE. GEORGK CKABBE. ND now the}* walk upon the sea-side sand, Counting the number, and what kind they be, Ships softly sinking in the sleepy sea. Now arm-in-arm, now parted, they behold The glittering waters on the shingles rolled. LITTLE FKKT. 73 The timid girls, half-dreading their design, Dip the small foot in the retarded brine And search for crimson weeds, which, spreading, flow, Or lie like pictures on the sand below, With all those bright red pebbles, that the sun Through the small waves so softly shines upon ; And those live-lucid jellies which the eye Delights to trace as they swim glittering by : Pearl-shells and rubied star-fish they admire, And will arrange above the parlor fire, Tokens of bliss ! ITTLE FEET STILL. JULIK LEONARD. ITTLE stars are shining In 'the evening sky ; Little hearts are praying To the God on high ; Little tongues are saying Holy songs of praise, Seeking to be strengthened In all holy ways. 74 OUR LITTLE OXE. Little hands are folded Meekly on each breast, Asking for a blessing Ere they go to rest. Little eyes are sleeping, Little feet are still ; But God's angels watch o'er all "Who have done his will. PATTER, PATTER, LITTLE FEET. ITTLE feet, so glad and gay, Making music all the day ; Tripping merrily along, Filling all my heart with song ; Well I love 3 r our music sweet : Patter, patter, little feet. Sometimes anxious, I would know Just what way these feet must go ; LITTLE FEET. Praying oft that all be fair, No thorns, no roughness anywhere ; That flowers may spring their steps to greet Patter, patter, little feet. But then I think that some have trod Through thorns and briers the nearer God ; Though weak in faith, still I would dare To offer up the earnest prayer That Christ would choose whate'er is meet : Patter, patter, little feet. I press them in my hands to-night, And kiss them with a new delight, Believing that, where'er they go, My tender Lord will lead them so They'll walk, at length, the golden street : Patter, patter, little feet. ITTLE WANDERER'S FEET. weary, restless feet Pattering through the dusty street, Wandering daily up and down Through the wide and desert town ; 76 oujtLirr L i: o .v /:. All the long, slow-dropping hours, Never once have tro;l oa (lowers ; Never daisy in the grass Smiles to greet you as you pass ! Little fingers, blue and cold, Peeping from j'our mantle old ! What ! never picked a buttercup, Nor held a dewy rose-bud up, Nor plucked wild flowers, 'mid summer air, To twine amid the curling hair That hangs with tangled, careless grace Around that wild and elfin face ! Eyes too large and deep and wild For a happy, careless child : Oft 3 T our lids with tears are wet ; Strange, sad sights your gaze have met ; Want and woe and pain and sin, All, to you, familiar been ; But ne'er yet, in grove or bower, Dawned on your sight a little flower ! Little heart, so wild and shy, Trembling, beating fast and high, Thou, too, doubtless, hast a part Little wild-flower that thou art LITTLE FEET. 77 In the tender Gardener's care, Whose sweet buds the children are ; Who his sweetness garners up In the child's heart and lily's cup. POOR LITTLE FEET. OOR little feet on the pavement bare ; Sad little face grown hardened with care ; Scanty the clothing around the wee form Searching for bread in this pitiless storm ! Coldly we speak to the wandering thing, Scarring the tender young heart by our sting, Poor little heart that is yearning to be Caressed like the darling clinging to me. Think ye, when Jesus was here among men, And he took up the little ones brought to him then, And blessed them with love far better than gold, The poor nnd the homeless did he not enfold? 78 OUR LITTLK ONE. Ah, poor little child ! unloved but by him, Good angels defend thee, Christ shrive us our sin,- Far better for us, than add sorrow to thee, To be helplessly cast in the niidst of the sea. ITH NIMBLE FEET. EARKEN, little one ! ? Lo ! a voice is calling thee From the blue of morning skies ; Hear it, and the glory see Beaming for thy lifted eyes. Courage, little one ! Not a tear thine eyes should dim, Not a fear give wild alarms ; Jesus bids you come to him ; Now he waits with open arms. Hasten, little one ! Run to him with nimble feet, Go, and fsel his soft caress ; Warm the welcome thou shalt meet ; See ! he lifts his hands to bless. LITTLK FEET. 79 Trust him, little one ! lie will never leave his own, Never let them suffer harm ; All the way to him is known ; Strong is his encircling arm ! Love him, little one ! lie will fold thee to his breast, Love thee with a tender love ; He will give thee blissful rest In his shiuincj homo above. I HREE PAIRS OF -FEET. HREE little forms, in the twilight gray, Scanning the shadows across the way ; Six little eyes, four black and two blue, Brimful of love and happiness too, Watching for 'pa. May, with her placid and thoughtful brow, Gentle face beaming with smiles just now ; Willie, the rogue, so loving and gay, Stealing sly kisses from sister May, Watching for 'pa. 80 OUR LITTLE OXE. Nelly, M r ith ringlets of sunny hue, Cosily nestled between the two, Pressing her eheek to the window-pane, Wishing the absent-one home again, Watching for 'pa. Oh, how they gaze at the passers-by ! " He's coming at last ! " they gayly cry ; " Try again, my pets ! " exclaims mamma ; And Nellie adds, " There's the twilight star Watching for 'pa." Jack nods and smiles, as, with bus} r feet, He lights the lamps of their quiet street ; That sweet little group he knows full well, May and Willie, with golden-haired Nell, Watching for 'pa. Soon joyous shouts from the window-seat, And eager patter of childish feet, Gay musical chimes ring through the hall ! A manly voice responds to the call, " WELCOME, PAPA." LITTLE FEET. 81 Music OF LITTLE FEET. ASHTON CURRIER. HERE'S a musical sound, gj^ I hear it oft, Low and soft, Following me around. Is't the rain On the pane, Or dropping on the ground, That I hear Low and near ? Ah, no far, far more sweet ! Here and there, On the stair, Comes the sound of little feet ; 'Mid the gloom Of my room, Cheerily my ear they greet. Bonnie Annie ! Sweet and canny ! Pooping in with sunny face, Opes the door, Walks the floor, 82 OUR LITTLE ON E. In her most unconscious grace ; "While her feet Music sweet Echoing send throughout the place. So her footsteps once did fall, Patter, patter, "With sweet clatter, Through the house and through the hall ; Till, one day, She went away To be laid beneath the sod ; But her feet Made music sweet Up the shining way to God. PATTER OF LITTLE FEET. MRS. GEN. LEWIS WALLACE. P with the sun at morning, Away to the garden he hies, To see if the sleepy blossoms Have begun to open their eyes. LITTLE FEET. 83 Running a race with the wind, With a &tcp as light and fleet, Under my window I hear The patter of little feet. This child is our speaking picture ; A birdling that chatters and sings ; Sometimes a sleeping cherub, Our other one had wings. His heart is a charmed casket, Full of all that is cunning and sweet ; And no harp-strings hold such music As follow his twinkling feet. When the glory of sunset opens The highway by angels trod, And seems to unbar the city Whose builder and maker is God, Close to the crystal portal I see the gates of pearl, The eyes of our other angel, A twin-born little girl. And I a.sk to IK? taught and directed To guide his footsteps aright, So that I be accounted worthy To walk in sandals of l ; -;!it, 84 OUR LITTLE ONE. And hear, amid songs of welcome From messengers trusty and fleet, On the starry floor of heaven, The patter of little feet. PATTERING FEET Now STILL. ID you ever see her, The little fairy sprite Who came glancing through our household Like a ray of golden light ? "Whose little feet kept dancing, Never weary, until eve Threw its purple shadows o'er us, And her good-night kiss she gave ? Did you ever see her, With her floating curls of brown, As she gladly ran to meet ns Coming from the distant down ? LITTLE FEET. 85 As she greeted us with kisses, 'Twas the sweetest welcome home To hear her bird-voice lisping, " Oh, I'm so glad you've come ! " Did you ever see her, With her eyes of azure blue? They were sometimes filled with tear-drops, Like a violet with dew ; Oftencr they were laughing, dancing, Shining, twinkling, bright with joy, As she told some pretty story Of her kitten or a toy. And you did not see her When her pattering feet were still ; When the little hands were folded, Not by their sweet owner's will ; When the eyes were closed so gently, And the curls of soft brown hair By the hands of friends were parted From her forehead pure and fair? And you did not see her When they shut the coffin-lid, And our little fairy darling From our sight forever hid ? 86 OUR LITTLE OXE. With her going went our sunlight, From our home 'tis ever gone : May we sa}-, with truth and calmness, " Not my will, but thine, bo done ! " VIOLETS AT HER FEET. R. H. STODDARD. V'E lost my little May at last ! She perished in the spring, When earliest flowers began to bud, And earliest birds to sing : I laid her in a country grave, A rural, soft retreat ; A marble tablet at her head, And violets at her feet. I would that she were back again, In all her childish bloom : My joy and hope have followed her, My heart is in the tomb ! LITTLE FEET. 87 I know that she is gone away, I know that she is fled ; I miss her everywhere, and yet I cannot make her dead ! I wake the children up at dawn, And say a simple prayer, And draw them round the morning meal ; But one is wanting there ! I see a little chair apart, A little pinafore, And memory fills the vacancy, As time will never more ! I sit within my room and write, The lone and weary hours, And miss the little maid again Among the window flowers ; And miss her with the toys beside My desk, in silent play ; And then I turn and look for her, But she has flown away. I drop my idle pen and hark, Aud catch the faintest sound ; Sim must be playing hidc-and-sock I;i shad}' nooks around : 88 OUR LITTLE ONE. She'll come and climb my chair again, And peep my shoulder o'er ; I hear a stifled laugh, but no, She cometh never more ! I waited only yesternight, The evening service read, And lingered for my idol's kiss, Before she went to bed ; Forgetting she had gone before, In slumbers soft and sweet ; A monument above her head, And violets at her feet ! FEET UPON MY. KNEE. HEAR a shout of merriment, A laughing boy I see ; Two little feet the carpet press, And bring the child to me ; LITTLE FEET. 89 Two little arms are round ray neck, Two feet upon my knee : How fall the kisses on my cheek ! How sweet they are to me ! That merry shout no more I hear ; No laughing child I see ; No little arms are round my neck, Nor feet upon my knee ! No kisses drop upon my cheek ; Those lips are sealed to me. Dear Lord, how could I give him up To any but to thee ! r> EET ON THE ENDEF^ my heart there liveth a picture Of a kitchen rude and old, Where the firelight tripped on the rafters, And reddened the roof's brown mould ; OUR LITTLE O N E. Gilding the steam from the kettle That hummed on the foot-worn hearth Throughout all the livelong evening, In measure of drowsy mirth. Because of the three slight shadows That frescoed that rude old room ; Because of the voices echoed Up 'mid the rafter's gloom ; Because of the feet on the fender, Six restless, white little feet, Tho thoughts of that dear old kitchen Are to me so fresh and sweet. "\Vhcn the first dash on the window Told of the coming rain, Oh ! where are the fair young faces That crowded against the pane ? While bits of firelight, stealing Their dimpled cheeks between, ~VTent struggling out in the darkness In threads of silver sheen. Two of the feet grew weary, One dreary, dismal day ; And we tied them with snow-white ribbons, Leaving them there by the way. LITTLE FEKT. 91 There was fresh clay on the fender, That weary, wintry night, For the four little feet had tracked it From his grave on the brown hill's height. Oh ! why on this darksome evening, This evening of rain and sleet, Rest my feet all alone on the hearthstone ? Oh ! where are those other feet ? Are they treading the pathway of virtue, That will bring us together above ? Or have they made steps that would dampen A sister's tireless love ? ITTLE PILGRIMS' FEET. tSBcJTTLE travellers Zionward, Each one entering into rest the kingdom of your Lord, In the mansions of the blest ; 92 OUR LITTLE O X E. There, to welcome, Jesus waits ; Gives the crowns his followers win : Lift your heads, ye golden gates ! Let the little travellers in ! AVho are they whose little feet, Pacing life's dark journey through, Now have reached the heavenly seat They had ever kept in view ? " I from Greenland's frozen land ; " " I from India's sultry plain ; " " I from Afric's burning sand ; " " I from islands of the main." All our earthly journeys past, Every tear and pain gone by, Here together met at last, At the portals of the sky, Each the welcome " come" awaits, Conquerors over death and sin : Lift your heads, ye golden gates ! Let the little travellers in I t FIRST OOTSTEPS. WONDROUS venture it must be, My trembling little one, for thee To trust thy feeble feet Upon this hard old earth of ours ; And thou hast summoned all thy powers The mighty task to meet. There's caution in that look of thine, And in the hand that clings to mine With clasp so keen and small ; Yet thou wilt learn to jump and run Through the green meadows in the sun, And ncVer fear u fall. 96 * OUR LITTLE OA r . These are thy first faint steps in life, And though they seem with danger rife, The peril is not there, But in thy after-goings, child ; For, oh, this world is wide and wild, And much more false and fair ! I cannot tell what stranger shore These timid feet may journey o'er, What desert bleak and broad ; But I can truly hope and pray That thou may'st walk in wisdom's way, And humbly with thy God. POING ALONE. T* * " |ITH curls in the sunny air tossing ; With light in the merry blue eyes ; With laughter so clearly outringing, A laugh of delight and surprise ; All friendly assistance disdaining, And trusting no strength but its own ; The past fears and trials forgotten, ^ The baby is going alone. LITTLE FOOTSTEPS. 97 "What woful mishaps have preceded This day of rejoicing and pride ! How often the help that he needed Has carelessly gone from his side ! He has fallen while reaching for sunbeams, "Which, just as he grasped them, have flown ; And the tears of vexation have followed ; But now he is going alone. And all through his life he will study This lesson again and again : He will carelessly lean upon shadows ; He will fall and weep over the pain. The hand whose fond clasp was the surest Will coldly withdraw from his own ; The sunniest eye will be clouded, And he will be walking alone. He will learn what a stern world we live in ; And he may grow cold like the rest, Just keeping a warm sunny welcome For those who seem truest and best ; Yet, chastened and taugiit by past sorrow, And stronger and manlier grown, Nor trusting his all in their keeping, Me learns to walk bravely alone. ~ 7 98 OUR LITTLE OJV.E. And yet not alone, for our Father The faltering footsteps will guide Through all the dark mazes of earth-life, And over the river's deep tide. Oh ! here is a Helper unfailing, A strength \ve can perfectly trust, When, all human aid unavailing, ' The dust shall return unto dust." ON HER TOES. MKS. H. C. GARDKKK. 'D better believe she is pretty, Our baby, our beautiful girl ! "With her eyes full of innocent mischief ; "With her hair just beginning to curl ; "With her tiny feet constantly tripping, For she is just learning to walk ; "With her lips full of musical prattle, For she is just learning to talk. ^ LITTLE FOOTSTEPS. I watch her sometimes at the window ; She stands on the tips of her toes ; Outside you can see her eyes sparkle, And the end of her little pug nose. She mimics the dog's solemn bow-wow ; She catches up every light word ; She mews, and she crows, and she whistles As shrill as a wild forest-bird. Only just a year old is our baby ; So pure and so happy is she, That we long to enchant her and keep her Forever as young and as free. But we might as well prison the sunshine, Or stay the sweet growth of the flowers, Or bind up the spray of the fountain, Or fetter the swift-flying hours. God gave her, our beautiful baby ! He made her so sweet and so pure ; He gave her the undying spirit That will to all ages endure. God keep her ! May Israel's Shepherd, Who carries the lambs in his breast, Be near her in joy and in sorrow, y And guide her safe home to his rest. 100 OUR LITTLE ONE. LEARNING TO WALK. NLY beginning the journey ; Many a mile to go : Little feet, how they patter, "Wandering to and fro. Trying again so bravely ; Laughing in baby glee ; Hiding its face in mother's lap : Proud as a baby can be. Talking the oddest language Ever before was heard ; But mother you'll hardly think so Understands every word. Tottering now and falling ; Eyes that are going to cry : Kisses and plenty of love-words ; Willing again to try. Father of all, oh guide them, The pattering little feet, "While they are treading the up-hill road, Braving the dust and heat ! LITTLE FOOTSTEPS, 101 Aid them when they grow weary, Keep them in pathways blest ; And when the journey's ended, Saviour, oh give them rest ! EAR FOOTSTEPS. KOWAKU P. hOWKLL. '> IIERUBS of this world of changes, Sweetly budding charms of time ; Love's true alchemists of gladness, Turning tasks to golden rhyme ! Music like the brooklet's babble Round the shining stepping-stones, Your dear footsteps' soothing patter Mingles with your gleeful tones. Rays of brighter realms beam ever In the homes where children dwell, Lighting up the genial ho.irth-stoncs \Vil!i A joy no heart can tell ! 102 OUR LITTLE O X E. Oh ! these babes of blessing lead us By the hand to hallowed scenes, Even as our Saviour taught them ; And we're blest by these mild means. Heavenly Father, teach our conscience Well to weigh thy gifts of grace, That our feet may falter never, While we haste to seek thy face : With these dear and guileless children, Walking trustful at our side, Lead us, Lord, the way of wisdom, Up to where thou dost abide. FAIRY FOOTSTEPS. %& HE comes with fairy footsteps ; . - Softly the echoes fall ; And her shadow plays like a summer shade Across the garden wall. The golden light is dancing bright 'Mid the mazes of her hair, And her fair } r oung locks are waving free To the wooing of the air. LITTLK FOOTSTEPS. 103 Like a sportive fawn she boundeth So gleefully along ; As the wild young bird she carolleth The burden of her song. The summer flowers are clustering thick Around her dancing feet, And on her cheek the summer breeze Is breathing soft and sweet. She comes, the spirit of our childhood, A thing of mortal birth, Yet breathing still a breath of heaven, To redeem her from the earth ; She comes in bright-robed innocence, Unsoiled by blot or blight, And passeth by our wayward path, A gleam of angel light. Oh, blessed things are children ! The gift of heavenly love ! They stand betwixt our worldly hearts And better things above ; They link us with the spirit-world By purity and truth, And keep our hearts still fresh and young With the presence of their youth. 104 OUR LITTLE OXE. rOOTSTEPS ON THE OTAIRS. MISS them now those little feet That used to coiue so oft ; The little voice that used to speak So sweet, so silvery soft. And now, when I am all alone, Engrossed in daily cares, I listen but it's all in vain For the " footsteps on the stairs." For when I read or sing or play, Or join in pleasures sweet, I seem to see her glad and gay, And I miss those little feet. Oh, it is hard to think she's gone, With all her winning airs ! To think I never more shall hear Her " footsteps on the stairs." The golden curls still cluster round That b:-ow so white and clenr ; And on her face so pale and cold, I've shed full many a tear. LITTLE FOOTSTEPS. The lids have drooped o'er those blue eyes ; Death's icy seal is theirs : 'Tis he that hath forever hushed Those " footsteps on the stairs." I know her feet are walking now The shining streets of heaven ; I know that to that dear one's brow A golden crown is given : I'm thankful that she is at rest, Safe from earth's sinful snares ; Yet still I weep, ami pause to lu\;r The " footsteps on the stairs." 1C5 LITTLE SHORT STEPS. T. 1!. AI.OKH II. H, where is our dainty, our darling, The daintiest darling of all ? Where is the voice on the stairway? Where is the voice in the hall ? '06 OUR LITTLE ONE. The little short steps in the entry, The silvery laugh in the hall ? Where is our dainty, our darling, The daintiest darling of all, Little Maud? The peaches are ripe in the orchard, The apricots ready to fall ; And the grapes reach up to the sunshine t Over the garden-wall. Oh, rose-bud of women ! where are you ? (She never replies to our call !) Where is our dainty, our darling, The daintiest darling of all, Little Maud ? pILYERY r OOTFALLS. ROM the group of little faces One is gone : In the old familiar places, Sad and lone, Father, mother, meek-eyed brother, Sit and moan ; LITTLE FOOTSTEPS. 107 Sit and moan for one departed, Pure and mild, Little Mary, gentle-hearted, Sinless child ; And, as nestling memories thicken, Griefs grow wild. Home once bright, how cold and dreary ! Shadows deep Fall on forms and hearts a-wcary, Eyes that weep ; Thought is in the church-yard, seeking One asleep. Still the merry laugh, deceiving, Fills the ear ; Tiny arms, yet fondly cleaving, Dry the tear ; Footfalls, silvery footfalls patter Far and near. Ears instinctive pause to hearken, All in vain ; Days drag on, and skies shall darken O'er with pain ; But the heart will find its lost one nain. 108 OUR LITTLE ONE. From the treasured fire-side faces Here to-day, From the tender, warm embraces Dropped away, Sleeps she midst forgotten sleepers In the clay. Ah ! what weary numbers sighing To be free, Little Mary ; would be lying Low with thee, Where no care nor eating sorrow Ere shall be. Weep not when ye tell the story Of the dead ; 'Tis a sunbeam joined the glory Overhead, "For of such sweet babes is heaven/' Jesus said. LTTTLE FOOTSTEPS. 109 T HE OOTFALL NOT HERE. JOHN PIKRPONT. CANNOT make him dead ! Ills fair, sunshiny head Is ever bounding round my study chair ; Yet, when my eyes, now dim "With tears, I turn to him, The vision vanishes ; he is not there ! I walk my parlor floor, And, through the open floor, I hear a footfall on the chamber stair ; I'm stepping toward the hall To give the boy. a call ; And then bethink me that he is not there ! I thread the crowded street ; A satchelled lad I meet, With the same beaming eyes and colored hair ; And, as he's running by, Follow him with my eye, Scarcely bt-lieving that he i* not there ! 110 OUR LITTLE ONE. I know his face is hid Under the coffin-lid ; " Closed are his eyes ; cold is his forehead ; My hand that marble felt ; O'er it in prayer I knelt ; Yet my heart whispers that he is not there ! I cannot make him dead ! When passing by the bed So long watched over with parental care, My spirit and my eye Seek it inquiringly, Before the thought conies that he is not there ! W.hen, at the cool, gray break Of day, from sleep I wake, "With my first breathing of the morning air, My soul goes up with joy To him who gave my boy ; Then comes the sad thought that he is not there ! "When, at the day's calm close, Before we seek repose, I'm with his mother, offering up our prayer, Whate'er I may be saying, I am, in spirit, praying j For our boy's spirit, though he is not there ! LITTLE FOOTSTEPS. Ill Not there ! "Where, then, is he? The form I used to sec "Was but the raiment that he used to wear ; The grave, that now doth press Upon that cast-off dress, Is but his wardrobe locked ; he is not there ! He lives ! In all the past He lives ; nor, to the last, Of seeing him again will I despair ; In dreams I see him now, And, on his angel brow, I see it written, " Thou shalt see me there ! " Yes, we all live to God I Father, thy chastening rod So help us, thine afflicted ones, to bear, That, in the spirit land, Meeting at thy right hand, 'Twill be our heaven to find that he is there I OUR LITTLE ONE. j READING THE GoLDEN STREETS. BERTHA CARROL. 1 'NE vacant chair beside the hearth, One happy circle riven, One angel more in Paradise, One other voice in heaven. Two little feet along our street Are missing morn and even ; But happily they tread to-day The -golden streets of heaven. The childish hand has slipped from thine, So closely clasped in praying ; God's holy fingers now entwine And keep thy loved from straying. Her simple heart shall know no sin, Her eyes behold no sorrow ; God keepeth her, thy innocent, To meet thee on the morrow. \ * a. fr.J UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LBflARY FACILITY A 001 113 308 9