Dramas And Poems

e twittering birds teach their young how to fly, And on their light pinions, soar off to the sky. Then teach ye your young, by gladness and cheer, Their lot, if a sad one, with light heart to bear, That on virtue's wings they may safely fly, And reach, at the last, a haven on high. That as fall's piercing winds and winter's chill blasts Fall sharp on the ear, while we know they'll not last, And as spring-time will come and flowers will bloom, So pleasures and griefs are man's lot to the tomb. ON MOTHER'S DEATH. Septembeb, 1873. There's rare joy on high, aye, rich joy in Heaven, Bright angels have welcom'd, their sister was given, To cheer this dark earth, with its sino and its fears; Lo! she's wreathed in smiles, while we're bathed in tears. Mourn not, fond Sisters, Father, proud in love, kneel, And bowing thy head, in humility feel, Though 'reft from us here, the flower was given, Blooms with rare beauty in the bright courts of Heaven. So lovely by nature, so gentle to all, Why marvel, the angels our dear Mother call, Her voice of the spheres?ever gracious her ways; She shone, upon earth, oue of Heaven's bright rays. Weep not, fond Father, but on those she loved Lavish the tenderness you ever showed To our deal- mother, thy youth's chosen bride. The cherished of Heaven, thy jewel, thy pride. There's rare joy on high, aye, rich joy in Heaven, Bright angels have welcom'd, their sister was given To cheer this dar...