For The Children

With thn ülnry of winter flu:wh;n Over lii loe.ks of i.ray. Ia tbe oíd historio mansión Hesat on his last birthday. With hb book nnd his pleasant pictures And bis bousehold and his kin, While a eound as of myriade sinKing From far and near stole d. It came from his own fair city, From the prairie' boundless plaiD, Froui the Go d n Gate of sunset, And the cedar woods of Maine. And his heart grew warm within him, Aud his moiBtenins: eyes grow dim, For he knew that his country's childitn Were sioging the songs of him. The lays of bis lifb'ü glad inonung, Tha paalms of bis evening time, Whose f choff shall float forever Oa the winds of very clime. All tbeir beautiful oonsoiRtions, Sent fortb. like b'rda of oheer, Came floeking back to his Windows, And sang ia the poel's ear. Grateful, but solemn and tender, The mu?ic rose aud feil With a joy akin to ssdnsss And a greeting like farewell. With a 83CBO of awe lielistencd To the voiies e weet and young; The last of earth and firet of heaven Seemed in the 6Oi)gn they Bung. And waiting a ilttle onger. For the wondert al change to coine, He heard the summoping angel Who calis Gort's children bomt! And to him, in a holier welcom, Was the mystical meaning givan Of the words of tbs blesacd Master, "Ot Bueh ia the kingdom or heaveD!"