And again. to the Child I whisperd, "The Snow that husheth all Darling, the merciful Euther That And the, Kitting back, conto not know 66 THE FIRST SNOW-FALL. Every pine and fir and hemlock From sheds new-roofed with carrara The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down; I stood and watched from my window And the sudden flurries of snow birds, I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn How the flakes were folding it gently, Up spoke our own little Mabel, Saying "Father, who makes it snow?" And I told of the good All-father Who cares for us here below. Again I looked at the snow-fall, And thought of the leaden sky That arched o'er our first great sorrow When that mound was heaped so high. THE FIRST SNOW-FALL. I remembered the gradual patience The scar of our buried woe. And again to the child I whispered “The snow that husheth all, Darling, the merciful Father Alone can bid it fall!" Then with eyes that saw not I kissed her, JAMES RUSSELL Lowell. 67 LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT. I'm sitting on the stile, Mary, On a bright May morning long ago, The place is little changed, Mary; 'Tis but a step down yonder lane, But the graveyard lies between, Mary, |