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Show fiomc gircle, Motherhood. So little a soul; scarce a cry Or a name; Hedge it in lest it fly To the heaven whence it came, For the soul knows its wing, And earth's night, So bewild'ring, May fright the small thing! So little a soul, scarce a breath; Lost its way, drifted far. Like a rose petal whirled To the world From a star On the crest of a wave balancing . Between life and death, night and dawn (Heaven lingers so near) Lest it tremble with fear, Lest it open its wings : And be gone! Nelly H. Wordworth.' Mid-winter. All night I dreamed of roses Wild tangle by the sea. And shadowy garden-closes. Dream-led I came to thee. Around thee swayed the roses, Beyond thee sang, the sea; The shadowy garden-closes Were Paradise to me, O Love, 'mid the dream-roses Abide to heal, to save! The world that day discloses Narrows to one white grave. Sophie Jewett. A Feminine Mystery. Among, the minor mysteries of life is the bewildering fact that, as a rule, the tall woman is of melancholy disposition, disposi-tion, while her smaller sister is of a bright, brisk and cheerful temperament. tempera-ment. Science, so far as we know, has never addressed itself to the solution of this puzzle, and the amateur philosopher philos-opher is therefore left to cudgel his brain and marvel. Why length of limb should make for solemnity and melancholy, melan-choly, says a writer on this subject, is hard to determine. Length of limb seems to suggest to the mind the need ior a stateliness of deportment, which never troubles the consciousness of "the small and tubby." We are left to conclude con-clude that the feminine side of our nation, na-tion, which is rapidly becoming famous for its extreme height, will some day become as serious and gloomy as Quakers, Quak-ers, and then we shall take our pleasures pleas-ures more sadly than ever. After Awhile. Things will all be righted. After awhile; We'll be less and less benighted. After awhile; Youth will strive to render Due respect, and tender, To age, its best defender. After awhile. Love will come in gladness, After awhile, Dispelling all life's sadness, After awhile, 'Twill never more deceive us, Mortify and grieve us 'Twill yearn but to relieve us. After awhile. No heart-aches, no sorrows. After awhile, All joyful tomorrows, After awhile, The truant heart is learning The lesson of its spurning To end in its returning. After awhile. Then shroud, hearse and mourners,' After awhile; Another of life's sojourners, After awhile. Will sleep beneath the willows. With others on earth's nillows. No more to brave life's billows, After awhile, 'Twill come, that solemn hour, After awhile. The tribute-tear and flower. After awhile; But ere the casket closes, Fill it with red, red roses. Where this pulseless heart reposes, After awhile. M. M. Brannon. Not Understanding. I. How often where the heart craves most To find sweet sympathy, It finds the unresponsive soul That with it cannot see; And which with criticism oft So deeply wounds the heart, And breaks the ties that e'er should join It drives the hearts apart. II. 'Tis sad, alas! but it Is so That friends and kindred, too, Will doubt the motives of the heart-And heart-And will unjustly view ' The lives of those, M ho not as they Their own life's mission feel. They'll not believ, lest they agree The other's mission real. ' III. Oh! could all have sweet charity And mercy for their friends; The confidence in others views That such sweet comfort lends Let all believe the Father guides Each seeking soul aright, And that to teach its mission here He 11 send his guiding light. IV. I -AU were not meant to see alike. The same work find to do. Each sees his life with his own eyes And not as others view; ' The soul speaks to the inner heart And tells its longing there. So those not knowing others' lives Should crHicisn spare. Martha Shepard LippincotL I have heard or, dreamt, it may be What. Love is when true; How to test and how to try it Is the gift of few; These few say (or did I' dream it') That true Love abides , In these very things but always Has' a soul besides. Lives among the false loves, knowing Just their peace and strife-Bears strife-Bears the self-same look, but always Has an inner life. : Only a true heart can find it True as it is true, Only eyes as clear and tender Look it through and through. If it dies it will not perish By Time's slow decay; True Love only grows (they tell me) Stronger day by day. Pain has been its friend , and comrade, com-rade, Fate it can defy; Only by its own sword, sometimes Love can choose to die. Adelaide Proctor. The Home Makers. Woman may be, and often is, the living sunshine of God's heaven within with-in her own home an angel of light, of loveliness and love. Oh, Christian women! wives, .mothers, sisters and daughters look-up at that glorious ideal and try to make it true on earth. j Home -'should be a human heaven, and you are the angels who can make it so. -Dream your dream of happy home, dream till your very dream, ; borne within your fancy, shall yet grow ; into real fact. Think not that all influence in-fluence is lost because you see no sign of actual happiness, no proof of actual . holiness. Be still an angel of light, J of loveliness and of love. When you i are dead ond over your cold heart the green grass grows while above your pillow of dark earth even your name is beang washed away from the tombstone tomb-stone by the rain or the sleet or the snow, your voice will stil echo like music to a living ear, your face will be still present before living eyes; you will yourself be still living by your own living influence within, the living memory mem-ory of him who can never forget you, and though the soft tears are streaming stream-ing down his cheek and a sob is struggling strug-gling in his throat, you will be to him what you were in the old. old days his queen and his helpmate at home; and to husband, brother or son you will still be all the years of his life in his loving heart what you were to him once in the home "an angel of light, of loveliness and love." Rev. Robert Kane, S. J. Be a Good Boy! Good-By! How oft in my dreams I go back to : the day When I stood at our old wooden gate ! And started to school in full battle j array, Well armed with a primer and slate. And as the latch fell I thought myself my-self free And I gloried, I fear, on the sly, Till I heard a kind voice this whispered whis-pered to me: "Be a good boy! Good-bye!" "Be a good boy! Good-bye!" It seems They have followed me all these years; They have given a form to my youthful youth-ful dreams And scattered my foolish fears; They have stayed my feet on many a brink, Unesen by a blinded eye, For just in time I would pause and ininK: "Be a good boy! Good-bye!" Oh, brother of mine, in the battle of life, Just starting, or nearing its close, This motto aloft, in the midst of the strife, Will conquer wherever it goes! Mistakes you will make, for each one of us errs, But, brother, just honestly try To accomplish your best. ' In whatever occurs "Be a good boy! Good-bye!" John L. Shroy. A LITANY. "Good Lord Deliver Us." From teachers who teach not themselves. them-selves. From teachers who do not take several sev-eral educational journals. From teachers who have forgotten their youth. : From teachers who call curiosity cus-sedness. cus-sedness. ' ' I From teachers who have lost (or have ! never had) faith in God and little children. chil-dren. From teachers whose work is metely thought out, but never felt out. From teachers whose zeal is not above refrigerator temperature. From teachers who see anotherVs prosperity through green spectacles. From teachers who tell themselves that the needs of their pupils are proportional pro-portional to their own salaries. From teachers whose thunder is not preceded by lightning. From teachers whose voices have but one key and but one inflection. From teachers who take off their hats in their own presence. From teachers who are threshing last year's straw (and damning the harvest). . From teachers whose vocabulary does not contain "good will." "goo digestion," diges-tion," "system," "professional courtesy," cour-tesy," "My Country 'This of Thee" and "unification." From teachers "whose units of measure-are not authorized by reason nor common sense; From teachers who sit and shiver in their own shadow. From teachers who behold the stars and stripes without a quicker pulse and a more erect spinal column. Good Lord, deliver us. Prof. Amos W. Farnham, in New York Education. |