One bright curl from its fair mates take, They were somebody's pride, you know: Somebody's hand had rested there,-

Was it a mother's soft and white? And have the lips of a sister fair

Been baptized in those waves of light?

God knows best; he has somebody's love?
Somebody's heart enshrined him there;
Somebody wafted his name above

Night and morn on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away, Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay,

Somebody clung to his parting hand. Somebody's waiting and watching for him Yearning to hold him again to the heart And there he lies with his blue eyes dim, And the smiling childlike lips apart. Tenderly bury the fair young dead,

Pausing to drop on his grave a tear; Carve on the wooden slab at his head,-"Somebody's Darling slumbers here." MARIE R. LACOSTE.

THE CHILDREN.

WHEN the lessons and tasks are all ended, And the school for the day is dismissed. The little ones gather around me,

To bid me good-night and be kissed;
Oh, the little white arms that encircle
My neck in their tender embrace'
Oh, the smiles that are halos of heaven,
Shedding sunshine of love on my face!
And when they are gone I sit dreaming
Of my childhood too lovely to last;
Of joy that my heart will remember,
While it wakes to the pulse of the past,
Ere the world and its wickedness made me
A partner of sorrow and sin

When the glory of God was about me,
And the glory of gladness within.

All my heart grows as weak as a woman's,
And the fountains of feeling will flow,
When I think of the paths steep and stony,
Where the feet of the dear ones must go;
Of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them,
Of the tempest of Fate blowing wild;
Oh! there's nothing on earth half so holy
As the innocent heart of a child!

They are idols of hearts and of households;
They are angels of God in disguise;