THE NEW MOON.

Dear mother, how pretty The moon looks to-night! She was never so pretty before. Her two little horns Are so sharp and so bright— I hope she’ll not grow any more. If I were up there, With you and my friends, I’d rock in it nicely, you see; I’d sit in the middle, And hold by both ends. Oh, what a bright cradle ’t would be! And there we would stay In the beautiful skies, And through the bright clouds we would roam. We would see the sun set And see the sun rise, And, on the next rainbow, come home. Eliza Lee Follen.