"RORES, FLORES." WHEN April showers Wake up the flowers, From their long winter's sleep, The crocus starts, The rose-bud parts, The fragrant violets peep. When tear-drops fall, On penitential heart, The perfect peace, Like flowers in Spring, will start. TO ONE OF RAPHAEL'S ANGELS.* "Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, that in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my FATHER which is in heaven." SWEET angel, while I gaze on thee, So mute, so meek, so mild, I deem that thou must surely be The angel of some child; To whom the SAVIOUR said, such grace, Sweet angel, I would be like thee, * That one of the two at the foot of the Madonna di S. Sisto, which is leaning on both arms. My thoughts, turned off from earth, like thine, Till all the Majesty Divine Grow radiant, to mine eyes. Sweet angel, I will ever pray, So, through the Cross, such grace to me, That thou for me, may'st always see MY FATHER'S face, in Heaven. THE BREAKERS, June, 1853. THE CHRISTIAN PILGRIM-BY CRAWFORD. TO S. P. O. SWEET maiden, I would be like thee, As heavenward, eye, and thought, and heart; And foot, as lightly, to the earth, Like greyhound, straining on the start; As closely to the Cross, I'd cling, And lean as simply on its stay; The things of earth, all thistle down, As hindrances, along my way. Sweet maiden, by that scollop shell, Thy thoughts are, where the Saviour lay; And towards His tomb, thy steps are bent, To wait, and watch, and weep, and pray; And I, my heart, would bury, there, As dead to self, as dead to sin; With thee, His Cross, on earth, to bear, 1853. H TO MY SWEET GRAND-DAUGHTER, ELIZA GREENE DOANE, ON HER BAPTISMAL BIRTH-DAY. SWEET baby, when thy father We hailed him, as a blessed streak Now, two and twenty winters Have heaped on us their snows: Thou meek and gentle Jesus, And humbly, we implore Thy grace, To keep her for Thine own; Before Thy glorious throne. RIVERSIDE, ST. ANDREW'S DAY, 1854. THE NEW CRADLE. A very little boy, whose infant brother had died the day before, being asked where he was, sweetly replied, " Asleep, up stairs, in his new cradle." "ASLEEP, in his new cradle "___ And one, whose truthful tenderness "Asleep, in his new cradle Sad mother, dry your tears; From death, could not be free; "Asleep, in his new cradle ". He wakes in Paradise; The lullabies of nature, "Asleep, in his new cradle " He waits for you to come, To his bright and happy home; God's loved ones, all, shall bring, Reign with their Saviour-King. RIVERSIDE, SEPTUAGESIMA, 1855. FANNY'S GRAVE. "There's pansies, that's for thoughts."-Ophelia, in Hamlet. UPON our darling Fanny's grave, The Pansies are in bloom: What sweetest thoughts, unbidden, spring, Upon that peaceful spot : The lilies of the valley wave, While she, on flowers immortal, treads, A thousand times more sweet. Still may her loveliness attract Our thoughts, and hearts above; Till, through the Cross she clasped, we join WHITSUNDAY, 1855. THE EYES OF THE ANGELS. A little child was disappointed, when her mother told her what the stars were She said, “I thought they were the eyes of angels." "MOTHER, what are those little things, "The Stars, my child!" "I thought, Mother, "They look down on me, so like yours, As beautiful, and mild; When, by my crib, you used to sit, And watch your feverish child. |