If wc knew the woe mul heartacho Waitiug for hs down the rond, If our lips could taste the wormwood, If our backs couhl ftel the load, Wonlil we waste the day iu wishiug For a time that ue'er can be? Would we wait iu such irapatience For our ships to come from sea ? If we knew the baby flngers, Pfessed against the window pane, Would be cold and stifl" to-raorrow - Never trouble us again - Would the brlglit eyes of our darling Catcii the frown upon our brovv ? Would the print of rosy ilugers Yes us then as they do uow V Ah, Uieso little ice-cold fingen, Ëow they poiiit our memories back To tliu hasty words and acttODS Strewu aloDgour backward track ! How tlicse llttiu hands remiud us, As in snowy grnce they lie, JSÍot to scatter thorns - but roses - For our reaping by and Vy. Strange we never praise the music 'Till the sweet voiced blrd has flown ; Strane that we sliould slight the violeta Till the lovely flowera are sone; Strane that suinnier skies and sunshlue Never seem one half so fair As wlicii winter's snowy piuloim, Sliaku the white down in the air. Lips from which the seal of siL'ncc None bat Uod can roll iway, Xever biossomed In such beauty As adonis the month to-day ; And sweet words that frelfjht our memory, With tlieir btautiful perfume, Come to us In sweeter acceuts Tbrough the portals of the tomb. Let us gathcr up the sunbeams Lying all arouud our palh ; Let us keep the whout and roses, Casting out the thorns and chaff; Let us flud our sweetest comfort, In the blessing of to-day, Wlth a patiënt hand removing All the brlars from our way.