The dawn of the morning

Saw Dermot returning,

And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see, And closely caressing

Her child, with a blessing,

Said, "I knew that the angels were whispering with

thee."

Samuel Lover.

THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER.

And

HEN my mother died I was very young, my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry, "Weep! weep! weep!

weep!"

So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head, That curl'd like a lamb's back, was shaved; so I said, "Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare,

You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."

And so he was quiet, and that very night,

As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight;

That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and

Jack,

Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black.

And by came an angel, who had a bright key,
And he open'd the coffins, and set them all free;
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing they run,
And wash in a river and shine in the sun.

Then naked and white, all their bags left behind, They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind; And the angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy, He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.

And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags and our brushes to work;
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and

warm:

So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

William Blake.