Oh! these are recollections

Round mothers' hearts that cling,—

That mingle with the tears

And smiles of after years,

With oft awakening.

But thou wilt then, fond mother!

In after years look back,

(Time brings such wondrous easing,)

With sadness not unpleasing,

E'en on this gloomy track?

Thou❜lt say " My first-born blessing,

It almost broke my heart

When thou wert forced to go!

And yet for thee, I know,

'Twas better to depart.

"God took thee in His mercy,

A lamb, untask’d, untried!

He fought the fight for thee,

He won the victory,

And thou art sanctified!

"I look around, and see
The evil ways of men ;

And oh! beloved child!
I'm more than reconciled
To thy departure then.

"The little arms that clasp'd me,
The innocent lips that press'd,-
Would they have been as pure
'Till now, as when of yore
I lull'd thee on my breast?

"Now, like a dew-drop shrined,

Within a crystal stone,

Thou'rt safe in Heaven, my dove!

Safe with the Source of Love,

The Everlasting One!

"And when the hour arrives,

From flesh that sets me free,

Thy spirit may await,

The first at Heaven's gate,

To meet and welcome me!"

Caroline Southey.

WE ARE SEVEN.

SIMPLE child

That lightly draws its breath,

And feels its life in every limb,

What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl;

She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl

That cluster'd round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;

Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little maid,

How many may you be?"

"How many? Seven in all," she said,

And wondering look'd at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell."

She answer'd,

"Seven are we;

And two of us at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea.

"Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,

Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be?"

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we:
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath the churchyard tree."

"You run about, my little maid, Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the churchyard laid, ye are only five."

Then

"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"

The little maid replied,

"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.

My stockings there I often knit,

My kerchief there I hem;

And there upon the ground I sit,

I sit and sing to them.

“And often after sunset, sir, When it is light and fair,

I take my little porringer,

And eat my supper there.

"The first that died was little Jane; In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain,

And then she went away.

"So in the churchyard she was laid;
And all the summer dry,
Together round her grave we play'd,
My brother John and I.