As tears will be remembrance in her heart
If she recall her lamp's familiar light,
And as a sword vain pity in her heart

If she should hear her children's cry to-night.

Ah Mary, Mother, stand by Heaven's gate
And watch the road for one who comes to find

In loneliness and fear what Heaven holds

To comfort her who leaves the earth behind.
Ethel Clifford [18

OUT OF HEARING

No need to hush the children for her sake,
Or fear their play:

She will not wake, mavrone, she will not wake.
'Tis the long sleep, the deep long sleep she'll take,
Betide what may.

No need to hush the children for her sake;

Even if their glee could yet again outbreak

So loud and gay,

She will not wake, mavrone, she will not wake. But sorrow a thought have they of merry-make This many a day:

No need to hush the children. For her sake

So still they bide and sad, her heart would ache
At their dismay.

She will not wake, mavrone, she will not wake
To bid them laugh, and if some angel spake

Small heed they'd pay.

No need to hush the children for her sake:
She will not wake, mavrone, she will not wake.
Jane Barlow [18

"JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO"

"JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John,"
How cold you are, and still;
You hear me not, nor see me;
and never will.

Ah, no,

The same fond mother bent at night
O'er each fair sleeping brow;
She had each folded flower in sight-
Where are those dreamers now?

One 'mid the forests of the West,
By a dark stream is laid;

The Indian knows his place of rest,

Far in the cedar shade.

The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one—

He lies where pearls lie deep;

He was the loved of all, yet none

O'er his low bed may weep.

One sleeps where southern vines are dressed
Above the noble slain;

He wrapped his colors round his breast
On a blood-red field of Spain.

And one-o'er her the myrtle showers

Its leaves, by soft winds fanned; She faded 'mid Italian flowers,

The last of that bright band.

And, parted thus, they rest who played
Beneath the same green tree,
Whose voices mingled as they prayed

Around one parent-knee!

They that with smiles lit up the hall,
And cheered with song the hearth;

Alas for love, if thou wert all,

And naught beyond, O Earth!

Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1793-1835]

THE FAMILY MEETING

WE are all here,

Father, mother,

Sister, brother,

All who hold each other dear.

Each chair is filled, we are all at home!

To-night let no cold stranger come;