Is there, when the winds are singing
In the happy summer time--
When the raptured air is ringing
With earth's music heavenward springing,
Forest chirp and village chime--
Is there, of the sounds that float
Unsighingly, a single note
Half so sweet, and clear, and wild,
As the laughter of a child?
--_Laman Blanchard._
1416
_A True Estimate of a Mother._--To a child, there is no velvet so soft
as a mother's lap, no rose so lovely as her smile, no path so flowery as
that imprinted with her footsteps.
1417