THE FIRESIDE.

��" SAY, what have you brought to our own fireside ?

'Twas a mother's voice that spake ; " The wintry teinpest doth loudly chide. But peace and joy shall with us abide ;

O cherish them for my sake.

" A common stock is our happiness here, Each heart must contribute its mite,

The bliss to swell, or the pain to cheer ;

Husband and son, and daughter, dear, What have you brought to-night ? "

Then the studious boy, from his storied page,

Look'd up with a thoughtful eye : That knowledge gleam 'd there which doth charm

the sage, And shine like a flame thro' the frost of age

With warmth and majesty.

A girl was there, like a rose on its stem, And her sacred song she pour'd.

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