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called the poetry of earth as “stars the poetry of heaven”-cannot fail to meet with the sympathy of all who are intimately associated with them, or whose minds are accustomed to view with a poetic eye the events and circumstances of life.

To the Authors and Publishers who have given me permission to make extracts from their works, I beg to offer my sincere thanks. I must ever remain deeply obliged to the friends who have assisted me by original contributions, and by the kind interest which they have shown in the success of my little volume;—that it should not be graced by the exquisite poem of Mr. Milnes, “ The Christmas Story,” I much regret, but the poem is of too recent publication to admit with propriety of a request being made to adopt it in this selection.


Woodcroft, December 14, 1840.



SPORTING through the forest wide;
Playing by the waterside ;
Wandering o'er the heathy fells,
Down within the woodland dells;

the mountains wild
Dwelleth many a little child !
In the baron's hall of pride,
By the poor man's dull fireside ;
'Mid the mighty, 'mid the mean,
Little children



seen, Like the flowers that spring up fair, Bright and countless, everywhere !

In the far isles of the main ;
In the desert's lone domain ;
In the savage mountain glen,
’Mong the tribes of swarthy men;

Wheresoe'er a foot hath gone,
Wheresoe'er the sun hath shone
On a league of peopled ground,
Little children may be found !
Blessings on them ! they in me
Move a kindly sympathy,
With their wishes hopes and fears ;
With their laughter and their tears ;
With their wonder so intense,
And their small experience!

Little children, not alone
On the wide earth are ye known,
'Mid its labours and its cares,
'Mid its sufferings and its snares ;-
Free from sorrow, free from strife,
In the world of love and life,
Where no sinful thing hath trod,
In the presence of your God,
Spotless, blameless, glorified,
Little children, ye abide!

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