THE FIRST SMILE.

That smile to cheer the mourners round

With hope of human sins forgiven;
Token of earthly ties unbound,

Of heart intent on opening heaven.

THE FIRST-BORN.

Lyra Innocentium.

NEVER did music sink into my soul

So "silver-sweet," as when thy first weak wail
On my rapt ear in doubtful murmurs stole,
Thou child of love and promise!-What a tale
Of hopes and fears, of gladness and of gloom,
Hung on that slender filament of sound!
Life's guileless pleasures, and its griefs profound,
Seemed mingling in thy horoscope of doom.
Thy bark is launched, and lifted is thy sail
Upon the weltering billows of the world;
But oh! may winds far gentler than have hurled
My struggling vessel on, for thee prevail ;-

Or, if thy voyage must be rough, mayst thou

Soon 'scape the storm and be-as blest as I am now!

Alaric A. Watts.

THE MAYING.

FAIR May unveils her ruddy cheek,
And decks her brow with daisies,
And scatters blossoms as she goes
Through fields and forest mazes.

The fragrant hawthorn, white with bloom,
Fills all the uplands airy :

The grass is dry, the sky is clear

Let's go a-Maying, Mary!

I dearly love, in days like this,

When birds make music o'er us,

To roam with thee through wildwood paths,

And listen to the chorus;

To help thee over crags and stiles,

And take thy hand in leaping,

And out and in to see thy face
Through leaves and branches peeping.

Ten years have pass'd since first I saw
Thy fresh and budding beauty;
And love has ripen'd with the years,
And link'd itself with duty.

In life's young Spring I swore to thee

A truth that should not vary;

And now, in Summer of my days,

I love thee better, Mary!

Time lays his finger light on thee;

Thy cheeks are red as peaches;

Thine eyes are bright as first they glow'd

To hear my youthful speeches.

THE MAYING.

Bring all the four into the woods-
We'll set them gathering posies

Of harebells blue and pimpernels,

Instead of garden roses.

Beneath the trees we'll have one day

Of frolicsome employment;

And birds shall sing and winds shall blow,

To help us to enjoyment.

Leave house affairs to shift awhile

Leave work, and care, and sorrow;
We'll be the merrier to-day,

And happier to-morrow.

I would not greatly care for life,

If Fate and Toil contrary,

Could not afford me now and then

A holiday with Mary.

And Fate is kind to those who strive

To make existence pleasant,

With harmless joys and simple tastes,

And kindness ever present.

We'll not complain; so come away,
And when we want a treasure,
We'll use these May-day memories
To buy forgotten pleasure.

Charles Mackay.

I SADDEN when thou smilest to my smile, Child of my love! I tremble to believe That o'er the mirror of that eye of blue, The shadow of my heart will always pass;