Select Poetry.

Thames Star, Volume XI, Issue 3564, 29 May 1880, Page 1

Select Poetry.

THE CHILDREN.

(Poem said to have been found i» ths detk of Charles Dickens aftsr his death.) . When the leaaons and tasks are amended, > And the school for the day is dismissed, And the little ones gather around me , To bid mo " good night" and be kissed, Oh the little white arms that encircle i My neck in a tender embrace! Oh the smiles that are halos of hearen, Shedding sunshine and lore on my face! And when they are gone I sit dreaming Of my childhood, too lovely to last; Of lore that my heart will remember When it wakes to a pulao-of-th© past; — — ' Ere the work! 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. - Oh my heart grows weak as a woman's, And the fountain of feelings.will flow, When I think of paths, steep, and stony, Where the feet of the dear ones m«st go— Of the mountains of Bin hanging o'er them, Of the tempest of fate blowing wild— Oh, there's nothing on earth so holy As the innocent earth of a child. They are the idols of hearths and of households, They are angela of God in disguise ; His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses, His glory still beams in their eyes. Oh those truants from earth and from, heaven, . . . They have made me more manly and mild, And I know now how Jesus could liken The kingdom of God to a child. Seek not a life for the dear ones AH radiant as others hare done But that life may have just enough shadow To temper the glare of the sun; - I woald pray God to guard them from evil,: But my prayer would bound back to myself.' Ah, a seraph may pray for a sinner, But a sinner must pray for.himself. The twig is so easily bended, I have banished the rule and the rod; < ; I hare taught them the goodness of know* lodge— They have taught me the goodness of God. My heart is a dungeon of darkness " Where I shut them from breaking a rule; My frown is sufficient correction, My lore is the law of the school. I shall leave the old house in autumn, To traverse its threshold no more. Ah, how shall I sigh for the dear ones That meet me each morn at the door! I shall miss the " good nights " and the kisfM, And the gush of their innocent glee, The group on the green and the flowers That are brought every morning to me. I shall miss them at morn and at eve, Their song in the school and the street; '| I shall miss the low hum of the voices, ; : ; ! And the tramp of their delicate feet. '.'. When the lessons and tasks are all ended, And death says thesohool is dismissed, May the little onos gather around me. And bid me " good night" and be kissed.