meet him now!"_

_That is far to fare, mother,_
_Far and far to fare!_
_I come for thee to carry me_
_The way from here to there._

"Oh, hold thy peace, my little dead child.
My heart will break in me!
Thy way to God thou must go alone,
I may not carry thee!"

* * * * *

The cock crew out the early dawn
Ere she could stay her moan;
She heard the cry of a little child,
Upon his way alone.

THE CHILD ALONE: ROSAMUND MARRIOTT WATSON

They say the night has fallen chill--
But I know naught of mist or rain,
Only of two small hands that still
Beat on the darkness all in vain.

They say the wind blows high and wild
Down the long valleys to the sea;
But I can only hear the child,
Who weeps in darkness, wanting me.

Beyond the footfalls in the street,
Above the voices of the bay,
I hear the sound of little feet,
Two little stumbling feet astray.

Oh, loud the autumn wind makes moan,
The desolate wind about my door,
And a little child goes all alone
Who never was alone before.

THE CHILD: THEODOSIA GARRISON

I heard her crying in the night,--
So long, so long I lay awake,
Watching the moonlight ebb and break
Against the sill like waves of light.

I tried to close my eyes nor heed
And lie quite still--but oh, again
The little voice of fright and pain
Sobbed in the darkness of her need.

Strange shadows led me down the stair;
Creaked as I went the hollow floor;
I drew the bolt and flung the door
Wide, wide, and softly called her there.

_Ah me, as happy mothers call_
_Through the tender twilights to the gay,_
_Glad truant making holiday_
_Too long before the evenfall._

The garden odors drifted through,
The scent of earth and box and rose,
And then, as silently as those,
A little wistful child I knew.

So small, so frightened and so cold,
Ah, close, so close I gathered her
Within my arms, she might not stir,
And crooned and kissed her in their hold.

_As might a happy mother, when,_
_Aghast for some quaint, trifling thing,_
_One runs to her for comforting,_
_And smiles within her arms again._

All night upon my heart she lay,
All night I held her warm and close,
Until the morning wind arose
And called across the world for day.

The garden odors drifted through
The open door; as still as they
She passed into the awful day,
A little, wistful child I knew.

Think you for this God's smile