THE FIRST VIOLET. THE FIRST VIOLET. Spring has come, dear mother! I've a violet found, Growing in its beauty From the cold, dark ground. You are sad, dear mother, Tears are in your eye; You're not glad to see it; Mother, tell me why? I remember.—Last year, Where our Willie lies, Grew the earliest violet, Blue as were his eyes. Then you told me, mother, That the flowers would fade, And their withered blossoms On the earth be laid. But you said, as springtime Would their buds restore, Willie would in heaven Be forevermore. Weep no more, dear mother! Violets are in bloom; And your darling Willie Lives beyond the tomb. CHRISTMAS. "Little children, when rejoicing In the merry Christmas morn, 'Mid your sports remember ever 'Tis the day that Christ was born. "When on earth, the blessed Saviour Said, 'Let children come to me,' And the little ones he folded In his arms, how tenderly!" "But the Saviour is in heaven, And we cannot see him now; We cannot receive his blessing, In his presence cannot bow." "Listen. In the holy Bible, Jesus Christ tells every child That the way to gain his blessing Is by being good and mild." "Here on earth you may not see him; But when this short life is done, You shall live with him forever Where there is no setting sun." "So remember, Christmas morning, That on earth the Saviour came; And that still he guards and blesses Every child who loves his name." NEW YEAR. If I resolve, with the new year, A better child to be, 'Twill do no good at all, I fear, But rather harm to me, Unless I try, with every day, No angry word to speak; Unless, each morn, to God I pray To keep me mild and meek. Then let me try with all my might, And may God help me too, Always to choose the way that's right, Whatever act I do. EVENING HYMN. God has kept me, dearest mother. Kindly, safely, through the day: Let me thank Him for His goodness, Ere the twilight fades away. For my home and friends I thank Him, For my father, mother dear; For the hills, the trees, the flowers, And the sky so bright and clear. If I have been kind and gentle, If I've spoken what was true, Or if I've been cross and selfish, He has seen and known it, too. Those I love He will watch over, Though they may be far away, For he loves good little children, And will hear the words they say. SOAP-BUBBLES. "O George! how large your bubble is! Its colors, too, how bright! Just like the rainbow that we saw On high, the other night. "Now throw it off, and let it float Like fairies in the air! It's broken, Georgie; never mind, But blow another there." Their mother, just within the door, Smiled at their childish play,— A smile, but yet a thoughtful one, That seemed these words to say: "My little Georgie, bubbles burst, And are but empty air; I would that you might love the things That last forever fair. "And ever may my darling Kate A trusting spirit bear, And, when one cherished hope has fled, Yet find another there." SPRING. I am coming, I am coming, With my carpet soft and green; I have spread it o'er the common, And a prettier ne'er was seen. Soon I'll spangle it with clover, And the dandelions bright; You shall pick them in your aprons, Yellow, red, and snowy white. I am coming, and the tree-tops, That all winter were so bare, You shall see, with small leaves covered, Wave their branches in the air. I am coming! Little children, Can you tell me who am I? If not, you will soon remember, For I'm just now passing by. SUMMER. Tis Summer, I know by the blue of the sky; By the trees' deeper green, as beneath them I lie; And more than all these, by the lovely wild rose That now in the woodland its pink blossom shows. Now ring the sharp scythes of the mowers all day, And they spread to the air the sweet-scented hay; They pile up the wagon ere daylight is done, And singing come home with the set of the sun. I feel the warm west wind fan gently my cheek As I sit on the grass, far too happy to speak; And then in the twilight I see the faint spark Of the fire-fly, flitting alone in the dark. Oh! long happy days, when 'tis full of delight To roam in the meadows from morning till night! Oh! summer, sweet summer! glide slowly away, For I love in your warmth and your fragrance to stay. AUTUMN. Here's the purple aster, And the golden-rod, And the blue fringed gentian, By the meadow sod. And the scarlet cardinal Grows beside the brook, And the yellow sunflower In some sheltered nook. Maple boughs are covered With their foliage red, And the withered elm leaves On the ground lie dead. And within the orchard, Heavy-laden trees Shower down the apples, With each passing breeze. So by these we know thee, Lovely autumn time, With thy deep blue heavens, And thy snowy rime. And we gladly greet thee, With thy colors gay, Though thou tell'st us summer Hence hath fled away. WINTER. With my breath so keen and chilling, I have stripped the branches bare; And my snow-flakes white are filling, Feather-like, the frosty air. Coming o'er the lofty mountains, There I left a robe of white; I have locked the sparkling fountains, I have chained the river bright. O'er the quiet valley winging, There I left my traces, too; Hark! the merry sleigh-bells ringing, With their music call on you. I have come! The school-boy shouting, Joyfully brings out his sled; He has seen me, nothing doubting, As across the fields he sped. I have come; but shall I find you Better than the former year? If you've cast your faults behind you, I shall gladly greet you here. "GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD." Give us this day our daily bread; Oh! children, when you pray, And morn and night repeat these words, Think what it is you say. You never asked a piece of bread, And had that wish denied; For food to eat, and some to spare, Has always been supplied. But o'er the ocean, many a cheek With want grows thin and pale; And many suffer like the boy Of whom I tell this tale. He lay upon some scattered straw,— His strength was almost gone,— And, in a feeble voice, he cried, "Give me three grains of corn!" Three grains from out his jacket torn, His trembling mother drew, 'Twas all she had—she gave them him, Though she was starving too! Be very grateful, children, then, For all that you enjoy; Remembering, as you say those words, The little Irish boy. WILLIE IN HEAVEN: "They tell me in a sunny land Our Willie is at play; And with him is a happy band Of children, good and gay. "They say their shining robes of white Are free from spot or stain; That there, where it is never night, They feel no grief or pain. "But Willie shunned the stranger's face, When he was with us here; And in that new, though lovely place, He will be sad, I fear. "He'll miss me,—though the fields are fair, His bright eyes will grow dim; He has no little sister there; O let me go to him!" "Our Willie is not sad, my child; For in that heavenly home There dwells the blessed Saviour mild, Who bids the children come. "He loves them with a purer love, A holier, than ours; And leads them in the fields above, Where spring undying flowers. "If no ungentle words you speak, No wicked actions do, And if, with every day, you seek To be more kind and true, "Then, by our darling Willie's side, And joined in heart and hand, Forevermore shall you abide, Among the angel band." THE ANGELS. "Where are the angels, mother? Though you have often said They watched at night around me, And safely kept my bed; "Though every night I listen Their voices low to hear, Yet I have never heard them,— Where are they, mother dear? "And when the silver moonshine Fills all my room with light, And when the stars are shining, So countless and so bright. "I hope to see them coming, With their fair forms, to me; Yet I have never seen them,— Mother, where can they be? "I saw a cloud, this evening, Red with the setting sun; It was so very lovely, I thought it might be one. "But when it faded slowly, I knew it could not be, For they are always shining; Why come they not to me?" "My child, when through your window Shines down the moonlight clear,— When all is still and silent, And no kind friend is near,— "Are you not glad and happy, And full of thoughts of love? Do you not think of heaven. That brighter land above? "These thoughts the angels bring you; And though the gentle tone Of their sweet voices comes not When you are all alone; "Yet they are always leaving, For earth, their homes on high; And though you cannot see them, You feel that they are nigh." THE CHILDHOOD OF JESUS. Of the childhood of our Saviour Tells one simple verse alone; Yet from that his whole behavior When he was a child, is known. He was subject to his mother, So the holy Scriptures say; 'Tis enough, we need no other Record of him day by day. Thus we, his obedience knowing, Know how gentle and how mild,— How in truth and goodness growing Was our Saviour from a child. Little children, who endeavor Like the blessed One to be, As you try, remember ever How obedient was he. If, like Jesus pure and holy, You your parents' will obey, You will grow more meek and lowly, And more like him, every day. THE FISHERS. Silence! stir not! for a whisper Would affright thy pretty prey; Not a motion, little lisper, Else the fish will glide away. Hush! he's coming! he is swimming Slowly round and round the bait; Steady! though thine eye is brimming Full of mirth that will not wait. And thy brother near thee kneeling Fears to hear thy ringing shout; Gently! near and nearer stealing Comes the brightly spotted trout. There! thy hook has caught him surely; Firmly hold thy slender rod; Pull away! and then securely Place him on the grassy sod. 'Neath the green boughs rustling o'er you, Fish away the livelong day; And with evening's star before you, Wander home at twilight gray. THE RAINBOW. "What is the rainbow, mother dear, With many-colored light? Have the clouds parted just to show The floor of heaven so bright? "Or is it wings of angels pure That touch along the sky? And do they come that we may see How fair is all on high? "Or, mother, on that shining arch Do spirits rise above? And on that bended bow ascend Where all is light and love? "How beautiful must be that road! Why should we call those back, Who travel to the better land On such a sunny track? "Why did you weep when brother died? Did you not know that he On that delightful path must tread, Ere he in heaven could be?" "My dearest child, we cannot know, Or trace the spirit's flight, For sin and sorrow draw their veil Across our mortal sight. "If—as the rainbow takes its hues Of beauty from the sun— We strive to live like Christ our Lord, The meek and holy One,— "Then shall we dwell in Heaven's clear day, Which knows nor night nor moon, For, ever, from the Father's throne Beams high and cloudless noon." A SONG FOR MAY MORNING. Awake! awake! the dusky night Is fading from the sky; Awake! and with the early light To pleasant fields we'll hie. Come with me, and I will show Where the fragrant wild-flowers grow; We will weave a garland gay For our smiling Queen of May. The sun peeps up behind the hills, And hark! the morning song Of little birds the fresh air fills, As now we skip along. By the brook-side cold and wet, Blooms the pale, white violet; There's the purple blossom, too, Nodding with its weight of dew. The gentle wind just lifts the head Of many a columbine; And, taken from their rocky bed, They in our wreaths shall twine. Saxifrage, so small and sweet, Grows in plenty at our feet; From the grass we gather up, Golden bright, the buttercup. Now for the trailing evergreen, That in the woodland springs, And we will crown our May-day queen With buds this fair month brings. Merriest of all the year Is the day we welcome here; We will sing and dance away, In our glee, this long May-day. THE CHILD AND THE FLOWER-ELF. "I was walking, dearest mother, This morning, by the brook, And tired at last I rested me Within a shady nook. "There all was still and lonely, And suddenly I heard A little voice,—a sweeter one Than note of any bird. "I looked above, around me, I saw not whence it came; And yet that tone of music Was calling me by name. "The violet beside me Bloomed with its purple cup, And a tiny face, so lovely, Amidst its leaves peeped up. "Again the silver music,— The voice I loved to hear,— Upon its sweet breath floated, And bade me not to fear. "'I am the elf,' it whispered, 'Who in the violet dwells, And every blossom hides one Within its fragrant cells. "'If you will list our teaching, And catch our faintest tone, Your heart will be as spotless, As loving as our own.' "And then, as I was gazing, It vanished from my sight; Once more the violet nodded, And sought the sunshine bright." "My darling child, the elfins That live within the flowers Sweet sounds are ever breathing, To glad this world of ours. "Well may we weep and sorrow, If they are silent all; Then are our souls too sinful To heed their spirit call. "The pure in heart alone can hear Those precious words and low; And by their lessons purer yet Throughout their lives shall grow." THE FOUR GIFTS. A new-born babe was sleeping Within its cradle fair, And angel guards were keeping Its peaceful slumbers there. Gone was the age of fairies, And of the elfins wild, Who, hovering o'er the infant's couch, Were wont to bless the child. But in a distant city, Fays that still glad the earth, Four gentle little children, Hailed with delight his birth. Out spake the eldest sister, "O, let us fairies play, And give to our young brother Some precious gift to-day. "Sit down around the fireside, And I my gift will tell." And the little children sat them down The fancy pleased them well. Again thus spake the eldest, "I 'll give him beauty rare; His eyes shall be as diamonds bright, His brow like marble fair. "He shall have golden ringlets, His cheeks shall mock the rose; And he shall be the loveliest Where'er his light form goes." The next replied, "Oh! sister, Not such a gift is mine; For beauty's charms, though lovely, Must perish and decline. "I'll give him wit and talents ; In manhood he shall stand Among the gifted and the wise, That bless our native land." "I'll give him sweet good-temper," Said the third loving child; "He shall make glad our happy home By actions kind and mild." The youngest raised her wondering eyes, And said, in accents low, "I thought the gift I chose would be The first that you 'd bestow. "I'll give our little brother Obedience to-day, And he shall mind, with cheerfulness, All that our parents say." Oh! blessed is the childish heart, In life's first opening dawn, For all its high and holy thoughts From heavenly founts are drawn. May our most valued blessings be Obedience and love! Our hearts, like that sweet sister's, full Of teachings from above!