LITTLE PETSEY.

My little Petsey, darling child,
Thou angel of the home;
Thy merry prattle, graceful sports,
Life's sunny dew-drops, come,
And softly steal into the heart,
Perplexed enough elsewhere;
But, little golden-headed sprite,
With thee is banished care.

Thy presence is a gladness, felt
By all who gaze on thee;

But more than all, my blue-eyed pride,

Is it a joy to me.

No music like thy laughing voice,

No beauty like thy smile ;—

For thy sweet notes no discord know, Thy beauty has no guile.

There hangs around thee still, dear girl,
The glory, peace, and love,
Which thou receiv'dst but yesterday

From thy first home above:

And o'er this earthly home there rains A heaven from thy sweet eyes, Which sheds a radiance all its own

Round home's sweet paradise.

Thou blessed creature, full of light,
And hope, and trust, and mirth,
My joy in thee has grown, and grown,
Since thy bright hour of birth:
And now, as prattling strangest things
Thou sittest on my knee,

I feel indeed how poor were life,
My darling, without thee.

Whence come those wondrous questionings

Of things beyond thy mind?

For which in vain my love and thought
Would fitting answers find.
There is a daring boldness oft,
And often wisdom deep,

In thy surmises, queries, thoughts,
Might make the wisest weep.

And in thy games such freedom's thine,
As sinlessness bestows;

And that pure grace so many seek,

But only childhood knows.

I love thee in thy merry hours,

And in thy thoughtful moods;

Thy presence cheers me in the crowds,
And cheers in solitudes.

I teach thee much, dear child, but more
Thou teachest unto me;

A wisdom books may never teach,
Unconscious comes from thee.

THE WOOING AND WEDDING.

O JOHNNY comes whistling across the gay meadow,
As I gather the cowslips there,

And whistling, as he is whistling ever,

The tune I love best, sweet "Robin Adair."
I know he is standing and watching me now,
But still I pluck on, not seeming to see;
And sweeter and dearer that tune is agrowing,
For I know he is whistling it only for me.

O Johnny is bonny, and Johnny is free,
As honest a laddie as ever can be,

And I am the lassie he loves.

O Johnny is singing, "Come, Love, let's a-Maying,"
While I with my rake am turning the hay;
And though I say nothing, I long for the gloaming,
When down the green lanes we'll be wandering away.
Then words will be said more sweet than the singing,
And promises made so precious to hear;

For, O, when Love whispers i' the grey o' the evening,
The heart knows a bliss which it scarcely can bear.
O Johnny is bonny, and Johnny is free,

As honest a laddie as ever can be,

And I am the lassie he loves.

O Johnny is laughing while gaily he's reaping-
His laugh is the richest that ever you heard-
For the men they are joking, and merrily asking
"If yet he has built a nest for his bird ?"

And my heart with delight is rapidly beating,

For I know who the bird is that's meant for that nest; And Johnny looks up with a glance from his reaping, And singles me out with that glance from the rest. O Johnny is bonny, and Johnny is free,

As honest a laddie as ever can be,

And I am the lassie he loves.

O Johnny is smiling with joy as he's walking
Away from the church with me by his side;
And loudly and merrily th' old bells are ringing,

And friends too are blessing both bridegroom and bride.
But my heart to itself even scarcely dare whisper
How I above maidens supremely am blest;

Since Johnny has chosen me out from all others,
Has chosen me out the one bird for his nest !

O Johnny is bonny, and Johnny is free,
As honest a laddie as ever can be,

And I am the lassie he weds.

SUNNY DAYS.*

O SUNNY days! O sunny days!
We welcome you again;

For grace and beauty come with you
And follow in your train.

The glory of your presence thrills

With joy's divinest powers;

And all the earth to meet your smiles
Puts on her robe of flowers.

God's choicest treasure on the earth,
His richest gift art thou;

Thou saving angel of the home,

Heaven's seal is on thy brow!

THE WORLD IS VERY FAIR.*

LET gloomy hearts that never knew
One touch of laughing mirth—
Tear-loving eyes, unused to view
The beauties of the earth-
Proclaim this life a dreary vale,
The scene of dark despair:
My tongue shall tell another tale-
The world is very fair.

New glories all the year adorn,
And hers are sunny days;

Calm eve succeeds to stirring morn;

Flowers deck the common ways; Green fields are prankt in every dale,

And copses rich and rare ;

Now sings the lark-now nightingale

That all is very fair.

The brooklet murmurs to the stream

The stream the river tells

The river rolls the mighty theme

To where old ocean dwells;