The Little Feet.
Little feet that weary so
Down the dusty roads,
Pebbled are the paths you go
With your heavy loads,—
When the restless hours are o'er
And you cease to weep,
Little limbs shall ache no more
In the arms of sleep.
Little feet that weary so
On their journey long,
You shall lose the hurts you know
In the smiles of song!
All the lullabies of light,
All the smiles of play,
Romp across the darks of night
Into brighest day.
Little feet that weary so!
Come and let me take
All the heart-aches of your woe
For your baby's sake!
Cuddle on my lap, and flee
From the world's distress;
Let us run away and be
Where the fairies bless!
Caught on the Fly.
The fellow that "soldiers" too much in the hay-field generally soldiers too little in the battle-field of life.
The smile is a lightning-express train that carries you fast and far, while the frown is only a wheel-barrow that you have to push along.