THE HUMAN ABSTRACT.

PITY would be no more

If we did not make somebody poor,
And Mercy no more could be
If all were as happy as we.

And mutual fear brings Peace,
Till the selfish loves increase;
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care.

He sits down with holy fears,
And waters the ground with tears;
Then Humility takes its root
Underneath his foot.

Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head,
And the caterpillar and fly
Feed on the Mystery.

And it bears the fruit of Deceit,

Ruddy and sweet to eat,

And the raven his nest has made

In its thickest shade.

The gods of the earth and sea

Sought through nature to find this tree,
But their search was all in vain:
There grows one in the human Brain.

A LITTLE BOY LOST.

'NOUGHT loves another as itself,

And, Father, how can I love you 'Or any of my brothers more?

'I love you like the little bird

That picks up crumbs around the door.'

And burned him in a holy place

Where many had been burned before;

The weeping parents wept in vain.

Are such things done on Albion's shore?

A LITTLE GIRL LOST.

CHILDREN of the future Age,
Reading this indignant page,
Know that, in a former time,

Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.

In the age of gold,

Free from winter's cold,

Youth and maiden bright,

To the holy light,

Naked in the sunny beams delight.

Once a youthful pair,
Fill'd with softest care,
Met in garden bright,
Where the holy light

Had just removed the curtains of the night.

Then, in rising day,

On the grass they play;

Parents were afar,

Strangers came not near,

And the maiden soon forgot her fear.

Tired with kisses sweet,

They agree to meet

When the silent sleep,

Waves o'er heaven's deep

And the weary tired wanderers weep.

To her father white

Came the maiden bright,

But his loving look,

Like the holy book,

All her tender limbs with terror shook.

Ona pale and weak,

To thy father speak;

Oh the trembling fear,

Oh the dismal care

That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!

A CRADLE SONG.

SLEEP, sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming in the joys of night;
Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.

Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.

As thy softest limbs I feel,
Smiles as of the morning steal
O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast
Where thy little heart doth rest.

Oh the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep!
When thy little heart doth wake,
Then the dreadful light shall break.