An Erring Womans Love

little feet must wander, It seems to me, in fear. What paths of Eden beauty What scenes of peace and rest Can bring content to one who went Forth from a mother's breast. 40 When Baby Souls Sail Out. In palace gardens, lonely, A little child will roam, And weep for pleasures only Found in its humble home? It is not won by splendor, Nor bought by costly toys, To hide from harm on mother's arm Makes all its sum of joys. It must be when the baby Goes journeying off alone, Some angel (Mary may be), Adopts it for her own. Yet when a child is taken Whose mother stays below With weeping eyes, through Paradises I seem to see it go. With troops of angels trying To drive away its fear, I seem to hear it crying When Baby Souls Sail Out. 41 " I want my mamma here." I do not court the fancy, It is not based on doubt, It is a thought that comes unsought When baby souls sail out. AN ODE TO TIME. Ho! sportsman 'lime, whose chargers fleet The moments, madly driven, Beat in the dust beneath their feet Sweet hopes that years have given ; Turn, turn aside those reckless steeds, Oh ! do not urge them my way; There's nothing that Time wants or needs In this contented by-way. You have down-trodden, in your race, So much that proves your power, Why not avoid my humble place, Why rob me of my dower ? With your vast cellars, cavern deep, Packed tier on tier with treasures, You would not miss ...