ON A MOTHER AND CHILD SLEEPING.

BARRY CORNWALL.

NIGHT, gaze, but send no sound!
Fond heart, thy fondness keep!
Nurse, silence wrap them round!
Breathe low;-they sleep, they sleep!

No wind! no murmuring showers!
No music soft and deep!

No thoughts nor dreams of flowers!
All hence; they sleep, they sleep!

Time's step is all unheard:

Heaven's stars bright silence keep:
No breath, no sigh, no word!

All's still;-they sleep, they sleep!

O Life! O Night! O Time!

Thus ever round them creep!

From pain, from hate, from crime,
E'er guard them, gentle sleep!

SONNET.

H. M. R.

WOULD thy young soul, my child! could speak to

me;

Say, camest thou forth at the supreme command
From the bright glories of that unknown land,
Where is unveiled our spirits' mystery-
And though all earthly now thy vesture be,
Still holdest thou communion with that band,
Who ever in the Father's presence stand,
His winged messengers of love to thee!
Into the depths of thy blue eyes I gaze,
Until arises in my soul a sense

Of thy divine and pure intelligence,
That in my fond enraptured heart doth raise
A holier love of thy sweet innocence,
And to my God, a richer hymn of praise!

SONNET.

TO MY LITTLE EMILY.

H. M. R.

SWEET the last cuckoo's note on summer night
As with slow wing she takes her homeward way,
And on our ear the short and well-known lay
Falls unexpected and with new delight;—
And sweet to find, where hid from casual sight
Its dewy head, one little bud of may,

The last-born violet, peeps forth to day,

'Mid moss and leaves, with scattered raindrops bright.

But who the thrilling sense of joy can speak,
When first beneath the cradle-folds I gazed
Upon thy tiny face and velvet cheek ;-
Or when once more within our silent hall
The shout and laugh of infant play was raised,
And my heart leapt to hear thy lisping call!

TO A LITTLE BOY ASLEEP.

R. R.

How beautiful, my sleeping child,

Art thou, and all that breathes around thee, When slumber such as now is thine

Hath, with its silken fetters bound thee.

The atmosphere of peace is here,
Its gentle influence revealing,
With all its soft surrounding balm
Upon thy yielding senses stealing.

No throb of woe, no pang
of care,
No sudden start of strong emotion;
Thy little barque, with sails all furled,

Rests undisturbed on life's calm ocean.

SONG OVER A CHILD.

BARRY CORNWALL.

DREAM, baby, dream!

The stars are glowing.

Hear'st thou the stream?
'Tis softly flowing.
All gently glide the hours;
Above no tempest lowers:
Below are fragrant flowers
In silence growing.

Sleep, baby, sleep,

Till dawn to-morrow!

Why shouldst thou weep,

Who know'st not sorrow?

Too soon come pains and fears; Too soon a cause for tears:

So from thy future years

No sadness borrow!