Ringing sounds of boyish mirth Never round my childless hearth In the morning light are heard, Welcoming the early bird; In the evening, drear and long, Never maiden’s vesper song Bids discordant voices cease, Fills the slumberous hush with peace; Yet when bowed in tearful prayer, Lo! they mount the silent stair! Whispering, fluttering, to and fro— Lovely spirits, white as snow! Heavenly wisdom in their eyes, Downward from the starlit skies, On the moonbeams pale they glide, Smiling angels side by side! Folded in their loving arms, Swiftly fade life’s vague alarms. When I feel their flowery breath Fan my cheek, I long for death. How my heart in rapture sings, Listening to their rustling wings, Making music sweet and low— Lovely spirits, white as snow! When the faint, uncertain glow Of my taper burning low, Dimly shows each vacant place, Treasured curl and pictured face, With a world of longing pain, Empty hands are clasped in vain! Then lie patient on my knee, Till they come, my darlings three! Bidding earthly sounds grow dumb, In their shimmering robes they come, Wondering at their mother’s woe— Lovely spirits, white as snow! When I slumber, they are near, Whispering in my dreaming ear, Shedding beams of heavenly light From their pinions silvery bright! Ah! such holy truths they speak, Kissing lip, and brow, and cheek! ‘Peace!’ they murmur o’er and o’er; ‘We are with you evermore! Angels count the mourner’s hours; Every cross is crowned with flowers.’ God has taught them this, I know— Lovely spirits, white as snow! FANNY FORRESTER. * * * * * Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH. * * * * * _All Rights Reserved._