And bluer waves danced on the sea
When baby Zulma came to be!

The day before, a bird had sung
Strange greetings on the roof and flown ;
And Night's immaculate priestess flung
A diamond from her parted zone
Upon the crib beside the bed,
Whereunto, as the doctor said,
A king or queen would soon be led
By some sweet Ariel overhead.

Ere yet the sun had crossed the line
When we, at Aries' double bars,
Behold him, tempest-beaten, shine

In stormy Libra's triple stars:
What time the hillsides shake with corn
And boughs of fruitage laugh unshorn
And cheery echoes wake the morn
To gales of fragrance harvest-born.

In storied spots of vernal flame

And breezy realms of tossing shade, The tripping elves tumultuous came

To join the fairy cavalcade : From blushing chambers of the rose, And bowers the lily's buds enclose, And nooks and dells of deep repose, Where human sandal never goes,

The rabble poured its motley tide :
Some upon airy chariots rode,
By cupids showered from side to side,
And some the dragon-fly bestrode ;
While troops of virgins, left and right,
Like microscopic trails of light,
The sweeping pageant made as bright
As beams a rainbow in its flight!

It passed the bloom of purple plums Was rippled by trumpets rallying long O'er beds of pinks; and dwarfish drums

Struck all the insect world to song: The milkmaid caught the low refrain, The ploughman answered to her strain, And every warbler of the plain The ringing chorus chirped again!

Beneath the sunset's faded arch,

It formed and filed within our porch, With not a ray to guide its march Except the twilight's silver torch : And thus she came from clouds above, With spirits of the glen and grove, A flower of grace, a cooing dove, A shrine of prayer and star of love!

A queen of hearts! - her mighty chains Are beads of coral round her strung,

And, ribbon-diademed, she reigns,
Commanding in an unknown tongue :
The kitten spies her cunning ways,
The patient cur romps in her plays,
And glimpses of her earlier days
Are seen in picture-books of fays.

To fondle all things doth she choose,
And when she gets, what some one sends,
A trifling gift of tiny shoes,

She kisses both as loving friends;
For in her eyes this orb of care,
Whose hopes are heaps of frosted hair,
Is but a garland, trim and fair,
Of cherubs twining in the air.

But evermore the halo

Of angel-light increased,

Like the mystery of moonlight

That folds some fairy feast.

Snow-white, snow-soft, snow-silently

Our darling bud upcurled,

And dropt i' the grave― God's lap - our wee White Rose of all the world.

Our Rose was but in blossom,

Our life was but in spring,
When down the solemn midnight
We heard the spirits sing,
"Another bud of infancy

With holy dews impearled!"
And in their hands they bore our wee
White Rose of all the world.

You scarce could think so small a thing
Could leave a loss so large;
Her little light such shadow fling
From dawn to sunset's marge.

WILLIE WINKIE.

WEE Willie Winkie rins through the town, Up stairs and doon stairs, in his nicht-gown, Tirlin' at the window, cryin' at the lock, "Are the weans in their bed?- for it's now ten o'clock."

Hey, Willie Winkie! are ye comin' ben?
The cat's singin' gay thrums to the sleepin' hen,
The doug's speldered on the floor, and disna gie
a cheep;

But here's a waukrife laddie, that winna fa' asleep.

Ony thing but sleep, ye rogue: - glow'rin' like the moon,

Rattlin' in an airn jug wi' an airn spoon, Rumblin', tumblin' roun' about, crawin' like a

cock,

Skirlin' like a kenna-what

folk!

wauknin' sleepin'

Hey, Willie Winkie! the wean's in a creel !
Waumblin' aff a bodie's knee like a vera eel,
Ruggin' at the cat's lug, and ravellin' a' her
thrums:
Hey, Willie Winkie!

See, there he comes!

Wearie is the mither that has a storie wean,
A wee stumpie stoussie, that canna rin his lane,
That has a battle aye wi' sleep, before he'll close

an ee;

But a kiss frae aff his rosy lips gies strength

anew to me.

WILLIAM MILLER.

THE MOTHER'S HEART.

WHEN first thou camest, gentle, shy, and fond, My eldest born, first hope, and dearest treasure, My heart received thee with a joy beyond

All that it yet had felt of earthly pleasure; Nor thought that any love again might be So deep and strong as that I felt for thee. Faithful and true, with sense beyond thy years, And natural piety that leaned to heaven; Wrung by a harsh word suddenly to tears,

Yet patient to rebuke when justly given; Obedient, easy to be reconciled, And meekly cheerful; such wert thou, my child!

Not willing to be left Haunting my walks, dying;

still by my side,

Nor leaving in thy turn, but pleased to glide Through the dark room where I was sadly lying;

Or by the couch of pain, a sitter meek,
Watch the dim eye, and kiss the fevered cheek.

O boy! of such as thou are oftenest made

Earth's fragile idols; like a tender flower, No strength in all thy freshness, prone to fade, And bending weakly to the thunder-shower; Still, round the loved, thy heart found force to bind,

And clung, like woodbine shaken in the wind!

Then THOU, my merry love, bold in thy glee, Under the bough, or by the firelight dancing, With thy sweet temper, and thy spirit free,

Didst come, as restless as a bird's wing glancing,

Full of a wild and irrepressible mirth,

Like a young sunbeam to the gladdened earth!

Thine was the shout, the song, the burst of joy, Which sweet from childhood's rosy lip resoundeth;

Thine was the eager spirit naught could cloy, And the glad heart from which all grief reboundeth;

And many a mirthful jest and mock reply
Lurked in the laughter of thy dark-blue eye.

And thine was many an art to win and bless, The cold and stern to joy and fondness warming;

The coaxing smile, the frequent soft caress, The earnest, tearful prayer all wrath disarming!

Again my heart a new affection found,

But thought that love with thee had reached its bound.

At length THOU camest, thou, the last and least,

Nicknamed "the Emperor" by thy laughing brothers,

Because a haughty spirit swelled thy breast,
And thou didst seek to rule and sway the
others,

Mingling with every playful infant wile
A mimic majesty that made us smile.

And O, most like a regal child wert thou!

An eye of resolute and successful scheming! Fair shoulders, curling lips, and dauntless brow, Fit for the world's strife, not for poet's dream

ing;

Organ finer, deeper, clearer,

Though it be a stranger's tone, Than the winds or waters dearer, More enchanting to the hearer,

For it answereth to his own. But, of all its witching words, Sweeter than the song of birds, Those are sweetest, bubbling wild Through the laughter of a child. Harmonies from time-touched towers, Haunted strains from rivulets, Hum of bees among the flowers, Rustling leaves, and silver showers,

These, erelong, the ear forgets; But in mine there is a sound Ringing on the whole year round, Heart-deep laughter that I heard Ere my child could speak a word.

Ah! 't was heard by ear far purer,

Fondlier formed to catch the strain, Ear of one whose love is surer, Hers, the mother, the endurer Of the deepest share of pain;

Pipe a song about a lamb:"
So I piped with merry cheer.
“Piper, pipe that song again :”
So I piped; he wept to hear.

"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe,
Sing thy songs of happy cheer: '
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.

"Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book that all may read
So he vanished from my sight;
And I plucked a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.

WILLIAM BLAKE.

LITTLE GOLDENHAIR.

GOLDENHAIR climbed up on grandpapa's knee ;
Dear little Goldenhair! tired was she,
All the day busy as busy could be.

Up in the morning as soon as 't was light,
Out with the birds and butterflies bright,
Skipping about till the coming of night.

Grandpapa toyed with the curls on her head.
"What has my baby been doing," he said,
"Since she arose, with the sun, from her bed?”