hs o'er struggles so lone and long!
Croon of cradle and love-song! The ditty and dirge of strife,
All are daughters of duty and call to the golden life!

V.

See, the purples of even! Lo, Love has a rosy hand!
Hate fades dim in the distance and grief is a far-off land!
Sweet, 'tis time for the slumber!
With croon of the cradle-song,
Rest we there in the Father's arms where the little ones belong!

Dry your eyes, my love, and we
Both shall laugh with rhapsody,
Hand in hand through all the days
And the world's peculiar ways!
What to us unhappiness
Of the sad heart's storm and stress?
Joy shall hold our hands and twine
Heart to heart through storm and shine!

The Baby's Hand.

In these days of loot and lucre
When no chap can get enough,
And the man that wins the praises
Is the one that gets the stuff;
When the fellow with a plenty
Of the "long green" at command
Is the one that knocks persimmons
From the tall trees of the land,--
What for me shall such things matter? There's a glory more divine
Than the jingle of the guinea with the baby's hand in mine!

O, it's nice enough,--the money,--
When the weather's fierce and blue
And the blankets of its comfort
Come and warm the heart of you!
But it soon demands the minutes
Every hour and day and week,
With the gall of angry despot
And a most unmeasured cheek;
So I'm reconciled to leave it and its tyrannies resign
For the ways of love and laughter with the baby's hand in mine!

For the jingle of the dollars
Soon disturbs the dearest dreams
With the thunders of their madness
And the rumble of their schemes,
Till the heart and brain are weary
And the revel of their roar
Drive away the mirth and music
From the longings evermore!
But the skies above are bluest and the heavens all a-shine
With the faces of the angels when the baby's hand in mine!

Mister Midas, take your millions
And the glitter of your gold!
Life has treasures where the heart is
That have never yet been told!
There are sweeter things to cherish,
There's song of earth and sky,
That are only faintest whispers
Of the raptures bye and bye!
You have little that I value! Let for me the roses twine
With the laughter of the