LITTLE ONES AT HOME.

Then let me seek the beauty
That God alone can give ;

For when this life is over,
That will for ever live.

 

WINTER MORNING.
Come, my little darling girls,
Brush the slumbers from your eyes,
For the day begins to dawn
Sweetly in the eastern skies.

Plentiful has been your sleep,
For the winter nights are long ;
Not a single bird will come,
Cheering you with merry song.

Fading are the garden flowers,
Fruit is gone, and trees are bare ;

Grassy banks are hid in snow,
Piercing is the morning air.

Many a tender mother now,

While her helpless infant brood
Hover round a scanty fire,

Weeps, to hear them ery for food.

You, my babes, are not exposed
To the rigors of the year ;

For you now the breakfast waits,
And a fire is blazing clear.

 

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