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."

[Illustration]

A SONG FOR MAY MORNING.

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]

THE CHILD AND THE FLOWER-ELF.

[Illustration: Letter I.]

"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,
A