And very soon it came, and March went from the storm, and the tempest, the longing and the pain, into light ineffable, and peace eternal.
PURE AS THE LILIES.
BY HENRIETTA E. PAGE.
She held out her hands for the lilies,
Her blue eyes so eager and bright,
And holding them close to her bosom,
She murmured her soft toned “Dood night.”
“Ah! baby, my own little darling,
Though the lilies be never so fair,
The gold at their hearts is no brighter