Part 5 (1/2)

A DAY IN JUNE.

(To Mercy.)

This is the month of roses, dear, The sweetest time of all the year.

Field, woodland, roadside,--everywhere, Is clad in crimson beauty rare.

The very earth beneath our feet Is covered with their petals sweet; Where'er we go the balmy air Is laden with sweet fragrance rare.

And now and then, dear, we may see The cheerful, busy little bee From out this dainty, crimson flow'r, Sip nectar for his winter store.

The sky is blue, and there and here We see a fleecy cloud appear; Nor tongue nor pen can e'er portray The beauties of this sweet June day.

In mem'ry, dear, it takes me back Along life's sunny backward track Just thirteen years, to a sweet June day And a little cot, not far away, Where roses bloomed, and song of bird Throughout the livelong day was heard; But never was this song so gay As on that blissful, bright June day.

Within that little nut-brown cot, On earth the dearest, sweetest spot, A wee pink flower, both sweet and gay, First opened to the light of day.

As time flew by on fairy wing, This wee pink flower, this dainty thing, Of all our love demanded part, And twined its tendrils 'round each heart.

Sometimes, without, 'twas dark and dreary, But all within this cot was cheery, Because this little floweret gay Chased gloom and shadows all away.

This dainty thing, so dear to me, This little flower I have in thee.

'Neath blue June sky and rainbow shower, Long live earth's purest, sweetest flower.

CHRISTMAS ON THE FARM.

Don't you remember, oh, brother mine!

What fun we had at Christmas-time, Out on the old farm, you and I-- That home we loved in days gone by?

How up in the loft we used to climb For nuts, stored there in autumn-time, To crack and eat by the dear old fire, While the cheerful blaze leaped high'r and high'r?

And when it was time to go to bed, How each tired, sleepy little head Was laid on a pillow, soft and white, To dream of Christmas the livelong night?

And how in the morn, before 'twas light, Our eyes were opened wide and bright, As we ran a race down the high old stair, To see if ”Santa” had been there,

And brought his bundle of toys with him, And filled our stockings up to the brim?

But dear old ”Santa” would always stop And fill them full to the very top.

Then we'd away to the old hillside, The country shoemaker's cot beside-- Just 'round the corner, near the wood, Where the tall old beech-tree grew and stood.

And the s...o...b..rds hopped on its boughs awry As our brand-new sled went whizzing by; And down to the foot of the hill we'd go, Over the crystal Christmas snow.

Oh, could life's downward journey be As free from care for you and me; Our hearts be filled with the same glad rays Of those olden, golden Christmas days!

When life was so sunny, bright, and new, Oh, brother mine! for me and you.

A happier home none ever had Than ours, holding hearts so light and glad.

But those happy Christmas days of yore To us will come again no more; For she who chased all our care away Sings a Christmas anthem in heaven to-day.