.T In the beautiful Pays de Vaud, A child in its cradle lay. And Nature, the old nurse, took Thy Father has written for thee." "Come, wander with me," she said, And he wandered away and away And whenever the way seemed long, She would sing a more wonderful song, So she keeps him still a child, And will not let him go, Though at times his heart beats wild Though at times he hears in his dreams And the mother at home says, "Hark! It is growing late and dark, And my boy does not return!" COME to me, O ye children! dad!! ΜΟΥ ΕΙ And the questions that perplexed me Ye open the eastern windows, teali That look towards the sun, Where thoughts are singing swallows In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine, But in mine is the wind of Autumn, Ah! what would the world be to us We should dread the desert behind us What the leaves are to the forest, Have been hardened into wood,— That to the world are children; Come to me, O ye children! What the birds and the winds are singing org boxalarga ta emoteno od: baA For what are all our contrivings, pl] And the wisdom of our books, When compared with your caresses, And the gladness of your looks?nd"! Ye are better than all the ballads That ever were sung or said For ye are living poems, And all the rest are dead. ; SANDALPHON. HAVE you read in the Talmud of old, In the Legends the Rabbins have told Of the limitless realms of the air, Have you read it, the marvellous story Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory, Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer? How, erect, at the outermost gates Def With his feet on the ladder of light, That, crowded with angels unnumbered, By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered Alone in the desert at night? The Angels of Wind and of Fire Chaunt only one hymn, and expiree རཱུ With the song's irresistible stress ; Expire in their rapture and wonder, By music they throb to express. 77 A |