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Ages ago it seems to us,
O April, ere our birth,—
Ages ago it must have been,
Upon some other earth
We knew Thee, when without regret
Those happier hills we trod
When by a star or two thy feet
And ours walked nearer God.
NOT IN UTTER NAKEDNESS
IT was a warm, showery April day, with little patches of sunlight every now and then.
The Home faced the Square, and in the Square were many trees, and in the trees were many sparrows—thousands of them, it seemed, and all of them trying to say that Spring had come. There was also a robin or two fluting away in their mellower contralto among the tall elms.
The air was so soft, and it smelt so much like Spring, that the Doctor, as he turned to go out, told the Nurse that there was no reason why the windows might not be opened and the boy let sit up for a while.
So the Nurse wheeled the little white bed over beside the window and opened the sash. Then she made a sort of nest of the pillows and blanket, and lifted the boy up into it. This she did with a quiet alacrity, for she was used to such things.
"I tell you, young man, those are pretty thin legs of yours!" she said, not unkindly, as she tucked him in for she liked t
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