POHN ANDERSON, my jo,' John, Your locks were like the raven, John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither, And sleep thegither at the foot, 1 Sweetheart. Robert Burns. 2 Smooth. MY LOVE, ANNIE. OFT of voice and light of hand Simple in her thoughts and ways, 'Midst a naughty world, and rude, Hundreds of the wise and great Many or few the loves that may Mrs. D. Mulock Craik. FIRESIDE JOYS. ITTLE pink toes high in air, Playing with them joyously, In our hearts, sweet baby sounds Little terrors, through the day, Through our happy hearts may stray, Or the work and care of life Make us weary of its strife; Then our rosy, prattling boy Brings back our hearts to love and joy. FIRESIDE Jors. 105 Even comes, and all so weary, Draw we to the fireside cheery, And where its light most brightly glows, His face is full of love and glee, He ever fills our life with joy, Our home's a humble little cot, Such gifts the Lord doth make our own, To teach us of another home, Where parent love, and marriage bliss, Shall far exceed the joy of this; And happy, happier far shall be, That home to all eternity. Louise Reid Estes. Y place is in the quiet vale, I leave the world of noise and show, No treasure but my friend and book. These better suit the tranquil home, Fancy can charm and feeling bless With sweeter hours than Fashion knows; There is no calmer quietness Than Home around the bosom throws. James G. Percival. |