ing-brush,
To forbidden things and places
Always making a rush.
Over a chair, or table,
They'll fight, and kiss again
When told of slaughtered Abel,
Or cruel, wicked Cain.
All sorts of mischief trying,
On sunny days--in doors
And then perversely crying
To rush out when it pours.
A raid on grandma making,
--In spite her nice new cap--
Its strings for bridles taking,
While riding on her lap.
Three rose-bud mouths beguiling,
Prattling the live-long day,
Six sweet eyes on me smiling,
Hazel, and blue, and gray.--
Hazel--with heart-light sparkling,
Too happy, we trust, to fade--
Blue--'neath long lashes darkling,
Like violets in the shade.
Gray--full of earnest meaning,
A dawning light so fair,
Of woman's life beginning,
We dread the noon-tide glare
Of earthly strife, and passion,
May spoil its tender glow,
Change its celestial fashion,
As earth-stains change the snow!
Six little clasped hands lifted,
Three white brows upward turned,
One prayer--thrice heavenward drifted--
To Him who never spurned
The lisp of lips where laughter,
Fading away in prayer,
Leaves holy twilight after
A noon of gladness there.
Three little heads, all sunny,
To pillow and bless at night,--
Riotous Alick and Dunnie,
Jinnie, so bonnie and bright!
Three souls immortal slumber,
Crowned by that golden hair;
When Christ his flock shall number,
Will all _my_ lambs be there?
Now, with the stillness round me,
I bow my head and pray,
"Since this faint heart has found thee,
Suffer them not to stray."
Up to the shining portals,
Over life's stormy tide,
Treasures I bring--immortal;
Saviour be thou my guide.

[Illustration]

End of Project Gutenberg's Daisy Dare, and Baby Power, by Rosa Vertner Jeffrey

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