WILLIE’S PRAYER.

ONE sweet morning little Willie, Springing from his trundle-bed, Bounded to the vine-wreathed window And put out his sunny head. It was in the joyous spring-time, When the sky was soft and fair, And the blue-bird and the robin Warbled sweetly everywhere. In the field the lambs were playing, Where the babbling brook ran clear; To and fro, in leafy tree-tops, Squirrels frisked without a fear. In his ear his baby-brother Baby-wonders tried to speak, And the kiss of a fond mother Rested on his dimpled cheek. Zephyrs from the fragrant lilacs Fanned his little rosy face, And the heart’s-ease, gemmed with dewdrops, Smiled at him with gentle grace. Gliding back with fairy footsteps, Willie, dropping on his knees, Softly prayed, “Dear God, I love you! Make it always happy, please!”