Thou placid moon, and you, ye stars, That nightly deck the sky, Ye must not look in envy on The brightness of her eye; And you, ye babbling waters near, That make my soul rejoice, Ye must be silent when ye hear The music of her voice! Ye moon and stars and babbling fount, Your choicest blessings throw Across the pathway of my fair, Wherever she may go! And if I soothe her cares the while, With fine poetic talk, Perhaps on me she'll deign to smile, In some sweet evening walk! THE CHILDREN-ANGELS. BY JAMES A. BARTLEY. Seven bright ones in the angel-land, With stars to crown each brow; The mother spied them hand in hand, Around the Saviour bow; And oh! that whiteness, heavenly bland, That clothed their bodies now! Seven bright ones in that sunny clime, Hope would her tears condemn, She blessed the eagle wings of Time Which bore her nearer them, Where she would join the seraph chime, And wear a diadem. Seven dear ones born of her heart's love, Now safely housed in heaven, She humbly sought that test to prove, To every mortal given, To labor for her King above, Who keepeth these her seven. And ofttimes, at her daily toil, Seven bright ones would alight, And each with sweet and holy smile, Fill her with deep delight, Until the very earthly wild, To her, looked strangely bright. And oft, when stars gleamed forth on high, And silence reigned around, She heard their pinions sweeping by, A far, unearthly sound; And then her spirit reached the sky, At one ecstatic bound. Seven bright ones in the land called Light, And oft with her below! Far fled the frighted shades of Night From Faith's celestial glow, Wherein she walked with humble might, Till she lay humbly low. Then her free spirit walked in Light, And smiled, but wept no more, And with her, seven, all dazzling bright, Beheld all perils o'er; The goal of which mysterious flight, None living may explore. WORKING AND DREAMING. BY MRS. A. L. LAWRIE. All the while my needle traces Stitches in a prosy seam, Flit before me little faces, And for them the while I dream. Building castle, light and airy, For my merry little Kate, Wond'ring if the wayward fairy Will unlock its golden gate. Scaling Fame's proud height for Willie, Just as all fond mothers do, And for her, my thoughtful Lily, Twining laurel leaflets too. In the far-off future roving, Where the skies are bright and fair; Hearing voices charmed and loving, Calling all my darlings there. Through the distant years I'm tracing Dewy pathways bright with flowers, And along their borders placing Here and there these pets of ours.