CHILD’S PLAY.

By the Author of ‘ Earth's Many Voices.’

OCG ITH care and cunning we shaped a boat,
G a My brother Robbie and I; .

We rigged it next with sail and mast,
We said it should be quite safe and fast,
My brother Robbie and I.

We made fast to it a slender rope,
My brother Robbie and I;
A rope by which we might guide its way,
When we launched our boat in our tiny bay,
My brother Robbie and I.

The bay was set with perils, we knew,

My brother Robbie and 1;
We knew them well—the thickets of reeds,
And water-lilies, and tangled weeds—

My brother Robbie and I.

The day when we launched our little boat,
My brether Robbie and I,

Our playmates watched on the other bank :

Oh! what if it sailed, and what if it sank !
‘Thought brother Robbie and I.

We sailed our boat right safely across,

My brother Robbie and I;
And when our boat to the shore drew near,
We heard our comrades raise a cheer,

My brother Robbie and 1.

Now we are old and grey with years,
My brother Robbie and I;
Many a venture we’ve sent afloat,
Many a one since our tiny boat,
My brother Robbie and L.

Many a time we have wrought with care,
My brother Robbie and I;

But never success has seemed more dear

Than the day when we heard our comrades cheer,
My brother Robbie and I.

Yes, we are old and grey with years,
My brother Robbie and I;

And we tell this story for those who say

Of some careless task, ‘ It is mere child’s play!’
My brother Robbie and I.

When folk say so, we shake our heads,
My brother Robbie and I.

And ‘Oh, not so! not so!’ cry we;

‘Tor child’s play, it is done earnestly,’
Say brother Robbie and I.

KE CRGOOIB

 

  

ANTICIPATION.
tea (so the bard has shown us)
}

Lends enchantment to the view;
And what seems a splendid bonus,
Somctimes is not worth a sou.

    
      
     

Sunny peaks prove drear and icy
When we’ve scaled the rocky stair;
Yonder isle, so green and spicy,
Ts as fatal as it’s fair.

       
       
   
 
 
  
   
   
  
   
 

In our thoughts we may be greeting
Friends we here shall see no more;

As we dream, their souls are fleeting
Upward, to a brighter shore.

While his body is abiding

In the prison-house of school,
In his spirit Jack is sliding

On the jolly Christmas pool.

Long before the half is over,
Long ere May has drest the land,
Ned is on the beach at Dover,
Digging sluices in the sand.

Ere the jam and flour are blended
By his mother’s loving art,

Jones has eaten, and commended
All his cake and currant tart!

Meanwhile father Jones is building
Airy castles and renown—

Laying on the paint and gilding—
How he will astonish Brown!

Mary, by the fireside stitching,
Walks the summer lanes with Phil;

Or at church, a bride bewitching,
Plights* her troth for good and ill.

Rover, like his lord is gifted—
He can eat his dinner twice ;
When it hangs on high uplifted,
Looking, oh, so very nice!

And when—mutton, beef, or bacon—
(As his doggish tastes may run,)

In his mouth capacious taken,
Proves a sorry scrap of bun.

As you eye old Rover dining
Off the little bits that fall,
Sweetly-tempered, unrepining, \

Be contented, one and all! G. 8. GC.

 

 

* Gives.