Ah! no; little Winnie is dying to-night.

The revel is over in parlor and park,

The bonfire vanished, the street is so dark;

The snow-flakes are falling in many a heap,

The city is quiet, at rest, and asleep;

But there in the shadows, scarce out of sight,

Little Winnie lies dead in a snow-drift to-night.


My Heart’s Little Room.
TO LIZZIE, DORA, AND GRACE.