The angel of my infant life--
From the sick child, now well and old,
Take, nurse, the little book you hold! 

And grant it, Heaven, that all who read
May find as dear a nurse at need,
And every child who lists my rhyme,
In the bright, fireside, nursery clime,
May hear it in as kind a voice
As made my childish days rejoice! 

R.  L.  S. 

Contents 

To Alison Cunningham 

I Bed in Summer
II A Thought
III At the Sea-side