Hast thou witnessed the angels' bright employ --
Then mayst thou speak of a mother's joy.

Evening and morn hast thou watched the bee
Go forth on his errands of industry?

The bee for himself hath gathered and toiled,
But the mother's cares are all for her child.

There is not a grand inspiring thought,
There is not a truth by wisdom taught,

There is not a feeling pure and high,

That may not be read in a mother's eye.

There are teachings in earth, and sky, and air

The heavens the glory of God declare;

But louder than voice beneath, above,

He is heard to speak through a mother's love.

EMILY TAYLOR.

STANZAS.

JHOUGHT is deeper than all speech ;
Feeling deeper than all thought;

Souls to souls can never teach

What unto themselves was taught.

We are spirits clad in veils ;

Man by man was never seen ;

All our deep communing fails

To remove the shadowy screen.

76

MY WOODLAND LOVE.

MY WOODLAND LOVE.

WELCOME, bat and owlet grey,
Thus winging low your airy way;
And welcome moth and drowsy fly,

That to mine ear come humming by;
And welcome shadows long and deep,
And stars that from the pale sky peep!
O welcome all! to me you say,

My woodland love is on her way.

Upon the soft wind floats her hair;
Her breath is on the dewy air ;
Her steps are in the whispered sound
That steals along the stilly ground
O dawn of day! in rosy bower,
What art thou to this witching hour?
O noon of day! in sunshine bright,
What art thou to this fall of night?

JOANNA BAILLIE,