When broken playthings, lying on the floor, And treasured toys have all been put aside, When baby wakes to play with them no more, And fondest hopes that brightened life have died;

When dimpled hands no longer seek the face, And baby lips no more shall feel the kiss; When tiny feet have found their resting-place, What shall be said in such an hour as this?

When baby’s crib is idly standing near, And cherished form is laid from human sight, When loved ones think they even now can hear The little cry that woke them in the night;

When mother puts the baby gowns away, And ’round her neck can almost seem to feel Those clinging arms, whose touch will with her stay, What helpful thoughts can Sympathy reveal?

A HALO.

No mortal can unhappy be Who lives for other’s good, And takes an interest in the lives Of happy brother-hood.

Depression that destroys the mind Will thereby disappear, And gloom will all be swept away In radiant atmosphere.

THE DESERTED FARM.