May never heartaches never pain,
Within your home a queen to reign,
With noble thoughts on your brow so fair,
We ask God’s blessings on this pair.
Two Little Red Birds.
There’s a birdie at our window,
Tapping just as if he knew
There were happy little children
Where the wind was blowing through;
And they tapped and kept on tapping.
Did they want to come inside?
Their little wings were flapping,
Open up your window wide.
And the children were so happy,
Just to see the birds fly in
Under shelter, under safety,
In the snow storm they had been;
And we fed these little birdies
With soft crumbs of whitest bread;
And they ate, these little sturdies,
Tempted them to go to bed.
In the morning, bright and early,
They were up before daylight;
And they said, peek-peek, to thank us
For the shelter of the night;
Then we tho’t how birds must suffer
In their nest of softest down;
And we looked in a small corner
Laid a little foot so brown.
And no wonder they were tapping
Tapping at our window pane;
For the cruel wind had frozen
Off its little foot—such pain.
Then we thought how birds must suffer
From the cold and from the snow;
And we built a little bird house
That would keep them warm, we know.
Coming Home.
George is coming home, this letter tells me so,
From the camp so far away—how glad and cold I grow.
I have sat at even’, when the sun was bending o’er
The west; I can see him, still, go through the open door.
With tears in his eyes, a brave smile upon his face,
I’ll be back to you shortly, by His will and His grace;
And today I’ll begin to look and to hear
If his wandering feet are coming near.
My heart beats fast, for I hear a sound,
The walk is like his, over the old ground,
And a sound like one whistling—Oh, is it he?
I falter; no, no; it cannot be.