Sometimes in the dusk of evening,
1 only shut my eyes.
And the children are all about me,
A vision from the skies ;
The babes whose dimpled fingers
Lost the way to my breast.
And the beautiful ones the angels,
Passed to the world of the blest.
With never a cloud upon them,
I see their radiant brows;
My boys that I gave to freedom
The red sword sealed their vows !
In a tangled Southern lorest,
Twain brothers, bold and brave,
They fell ; and the liag they died for,
Thank God ! floats over tneir grave.
A breath, and the vision is lifted
Away on the wings of light,
And again we two are together,
All alone in the silent night.
They tell me his mind is failing,
But I smile at the idle fears ;
lie Is only back with the children,
In tiie (fear and peaceful years.
And still the summer sunset
Fades away in the west.
And the wee ones, tired of playing,
Go trooping home to rest.
My husband ealls from his corner,
"Say, love! have the children come?"
And 1 answer, with eyes uplifted,
''Yes, dear! they ar? all at home!"
THE POSTAL LAWS KESPECTINGr
NEWSPAPERS.
