THE IRRIGATION AGR. 



213 



And there in happy motherhood 



She watched her boys at play, 

 A-sailing tiny warships 



O'er wind-tossed waves, away! 

 What if the sea were but a tub 



The ships but withered leaves 

 Tis thus that Fame in childhood's 

 play, 



Her first bright picture weaves. 



In homely rooms she labored, 



Her task a work of love, 

 For the ties of human kindred 



Were ne'er so closely wove ; 

 Nor .with such shining luster 



As in that happy place. 

 When sorrow knocked upon that door 



He wore God's shining- face. 



