me TTT TA ITI TENIT TONER EN TERR TI TTP TORT

 

THE BABY’S REVERY.

AN exquisite little maiden,

With a head like a golden flower,
She soberly stood at the window

In the still, white twilight hour.

« And what are you thinking, sweetheart ?”
She was such a little einld

She could not answer the question ;
She only dimpled and smiled.

But I wondered, as she frolicked,
Her mystic revery o’er,

Was she a rose-shade less a child
Than she had been before ?

Was she pausing, as a rosebud
Seems pausing while it grows?
Had I caught the blooming minute
Of a little maiden rose? .
Mary E. WItxins.