A REGRET.

Close on my heart was resting

A sunny golden head,

As the dim gray of the twilight

Crept round with noiseless tread.

“Tell me a‘ tory, mamma,”

The blue-eyed baby said,

“About some itty birdie

In za itty birdie bed.

“‘ Bout fen oo was itty

An'ze mens was walkin’ hay

An’ found free ittie birdies

Wiz za muzzer don away.”

“Some other time, my darling;

Mamma's tired now.”

A shade of disappointment

Swept over the baby's brow.

The dear blue eyes grew misty;

O, lips that lived to blame,

That kissed and whispered “sometime” —

That “sometime” never came.

Again, the dim, gray twilight

Creeps round with noiseless tread,

But on my heart is resting

No sunny golden head.

No sweet voice pleads with mamma

“Tell me a‘ tory” now,

And only death can take away

The shadow on my brow.