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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11432-0.txt b/11432-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e1becef --- /dev/null +++ b/11432-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4459 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11432 *** + +Note: Images of the original pages are available through the Florida + Board of Education, Division of Colleges and Universities, + PALMM Project, 2001. (Preservation and Access for American and + British Children's Literature, 1850-1869.) See + http://purl.fcla.edu/fcla/dl/UF00001878.jpg + or + http://purl.fcla.edu/fcla/dl/UF00001878.pdf + + + + + +THE YOUTH'S CORONAL + +BY HANNAH FLAGG GOULD + +Author of "Poems," etc., etc. + +1851 + + + + + + + Whate'er the good instruction may reveal, +The head must _take_, before the heart can _feel_. +THE MORALIZER. + + + + + +ADDRESS + +TO THE YOUTH OF MY COUNTRY. + + +In preparing the following pages, my aim has been, to produce a book +alike entertaining and instructive;--one which, in the reading, should +afford an amusement to the mind, pleasant as the spring-blossoms on the +tree; and, in its influences on the heart in after life, be like the +good fruits that succeed and ripen, to refresh and nourish us, when the +vernal season is over and gone, and the voices of the singing-birds are +lost in the distance. + +Choosing an appropriate title for such a presentation, I have borrowed +my idea from the words of the wise king of Israel:--"Hear the +instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother; for +they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head," &c., and other +Scripture passages of similar figurative meaning; for, though often +given in a sportive way, it is my design that no moral shall be +conveyed in the volume, but such as a good and judicious parent would +wish a child to imbibe. + +Accept, then, my young Friends, this new CORONAL of the little flowers +of poesy which I have woven for you. When you shall have examined and +scented it, and found no thorn to pierce--no juice or odor to poison you +in its whole circle, wear it for the giver's sake; and enjoy it and +profit by its healthful influences, for your own. + +Gladly would I feel assured that, in some future years,--when I shall +have done with earthly flowers, and you will be engaged in the busy +scenes and arduous duties of mature life,--the import of these leaves +may from time to time arise to your memory, in all its dewy freshness, +like the fragrance which the summer-breeze wafts after us, from the +lilies and violets we have passed and left far behind us, in our morning +rambles. Then, if not to-day, you will be convinced that I was--as now I +am, + +Your true Friend, + +H. F. GOULD. + +Newburyport, Mass., August, 1850. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +The Sale of the Water-Lily + +The Humming-Bird's Anger + +The Butterfly's Dream + +The Boy and the Cricket + +Fanny Spy + +Sudden Elevation + +The Stricken Bird + +The Young Sportsman + +The Pebble and the Acorn + +The Grasshopper and the Ant + +The Rose-Bud of Autumn + +Frost, the Winter-Sprite + +Vivy Vain + +The Lost Kite + +The Summer-Morning Ramble + +The Shoemaker + +The Snow-Storm + +The Whirlwind + +The Disobedient Skater Boys + +Winter and Spring + +Tom Tar + +The Envious Lobster + +The Crocus' Soliloquy + +The Bee, Clover, and Thistle + +Poor Old Paul + +The Sea-Eagle's Fall + +The Two Thieves + +Jemmy String + +The Caterpillar + +The Mocking Bird + +The Silk-Worm's Will + +Dame Biddy + +Kit with the Rose + +The Captive Butterfly + +The Dissatisfied Angler Boy + +The Stove and Grate-Setter + +Song of the Bees + +Summer is Come + +The Morning-Glory + +The Old Cotter and his Cow + +The Speckled One + +The Blind Musician + +The Lame Horse + +The Mushroom's Soliloquy + +The Lost Nestlings + +The Bat's Flight by Daylight + +Idle Jack + +David and Goliath + +Escape of the Doves + +Edward and Charles + +The Mountain Minstrel + +The Veteran and the Child + +Captain Kidd + +The Dying Storm + +The Little Traveller + + + + +=The Sale of the Water-Lily= + +And these would sometimes come, and cheer + The widow with a song, +To let her feel a neighbor near, + And wing an hour along. + +A pond, supplied by hidden springs, + With lilies bordered round, +Was found among the richest things, + That blessed the widow's ground. + +She had, besides, a gentle brook, + That wound the meadow through, +Which from the pond its being took, + And had its treasures too. + +Her eldest orphan was a son; + For, children she had three; +She called him, though a little one, + Her hope for days to be. + +And well he might be reckoned so; + If, from the tender shoot, +We know the way the branch will grow; + Or, by the flower, the fruit. + +His tongue was true, his mind was bright; + His temper smooth and mild: +He was--the parent's chief delight-- + A good and pleasant child. + +He'd gather chips and sticks of wood + The winter fire to make; +And help his mother dress their food, + Or tend the baking cake. + +In summer time he'd kindly lead + His little sisters out, +To pick wild berries on the mead, + And fish the brook for trout. + +He stirred his thoughts for ways to earn + Some little gain; and hence, +Contrived the silver pond to turn. + In part, to silver pence. + +He found the lilies blooming there + So spicy sweet to smell, +And to the eye so pure and fair, + He plucked them up to sell. + +He could not to the market go: + He had too young a head, +The distant city's ways to know; + The route he could not tread. + +But, when the coming coach-wheels rolled + To pass his humble cot, +His bunch of lilies to be sold + Was ready on the spot. + +He'd stand beside the way, and hold + His treasures up to show, +That looked like yellow stars of gold + Just set in leaves of snow. + +"O buy my lilies!" he would say; + "You'll find them new and sweet: +So fresh from out the pond are they, + I haven't dried my feet!" + +And then he showed the dust that clung + Upon his garment's hem, +Where late the water-drops had hung, + When he had gathered them. + +And while the carriage checked its pace, + To take the lilies in, +His artless orphan tongue and face + Some bright return would win. + +For many a noble stranger's hand, + With open purse, was seen, +To cast a coin upon the sand, + Or on the sloping green. + +And many a smiling lady threw + The child a silver piece; +And thus, as fast as lilies grew, + He saw his wealth increase. + +While little more--and little more, + Was gathered by their sale, +His widowed mother's frugal store + Would never wholly fail. + +For He, who made, and feeds the bird, + Her little children fed. +He knew her trust: her cry he heard; + And answered it with bread. + +And thus, protected by the Power, + Who made the lily fair, +Her orphans, like the meadow flower, + Grew up in beauty there. + +Her son, the good and prudent boy, + Who wisely thus began, +Was long the aged widow's joy; + And lived an honored man. + +He had a ship, for which he chose + "The LILY" as a name, +To keep in memory whence he rose, + And how his fortune came.' + +He had a lily carved, and set, + Her emblem, on her stem; +And she was called, by all she met, + A beauteous ocean gem. + +She bore sweet spices, treasures bright; + And, on the waters wide, +Her sails as lily-leaves were white: + Her name was well applied. + +Her feeling owner never spurned + The presence of the poor; +And found that all he gave returned + In blessings rich and sure. + +The God who by the lily-pond + Had drawn his heart above, +In after life preserved the bond + Of grateful, holy love. + + + + +=The Humming-Bird's Anger= + +"Small as the humming-bird is, it has great courage and violent +passions. If it find a flower that has been deprived of its honey, it +will pluck it off, throw it on the ground, and sometimes tear it to +pieces." BUFFON. + +On light little wings as the humming-birds fly, +With plumes many-hued as the bow of the sky, +Suspended in ether, they shine to the light +As jewels of nature high-finished and bright. + +Their vision-like forms are so buoyant and small +They hang o'er the flowers, as too airy to fall, +Up-borne by their beautiful pinions, that seem +Like glittering vapor, or parts of a dream. + +The humming-bird feeds upon honey; and so, +Of course, 'tis a sweet little creature, you know. +But sweet little creatures have sometimes, they say, +A great deal that's bitter, or sour, to betray! + +And often the humming-bird's delicate breast +Is found of a very high temper possessed. +Such essence of anger within it is pent, +'Twould burst did no safety-valve give it a vent. + +Displeased, it will seem a bright vial of wrath, +Uncorked by its heat, the offender to scath; +And, taking occasion to let off its ire, +'Tis startling to witness how high it will fire. + +A humming-bird once o'er a trumpet-flower hung, +And darted that sharp little member, the tongue, +At once to the nectarine cell, for the sweet +She felt at the bottom most certain to meet. + +But, finding some other light child of the air +To rifle its store, had already been there; +And no drop of honey for her to draw up, +Her vengeance broke forth on the destitute cup. + +She flew in a passion, that heightened her power; +And cuffing, and shaking the innocent flower, +Its tender corolla in shred after shred +She hastily stripped; then she snapped off its head. + +A delicate ruin, on earth as it lay, +That bright little fury went, humming, away, +With gossamer softness, and fair to the eye, +Like some living brilliant, just dropped from the sky. + +And since, when that curious bird I behold +Arrayed in rich colors, and dusted with gold, +I cannot but think of the wrath and the spite +She has in reserve, though they're now out of sight. + +Ye two-footed, beautiful, passionate things, +If plumy or plumeless--without, or with wings, +Beware, lest ye break, in some hazardous hour, +Your vials of wrath, hot, or bitter, or sour! + +And would ye but know how at times ye do seem +Transformed to bright furies, or frights in a dream, +Go, stand at the glass--to the painter go sit, +When anger is just at the height of its fit! + + + + +=The Butterfly's Dream= + +A tulip, just opened, had offered to hold + A butterfly gaudy and gay; +And rocked in his cradle of crimson and gold, + The careless young slumberer lay. + +For the butterfly slept;--as such thoughtless ones will, + At ease, and reclining on flowers;-- +If ever they study, 'tis how they may kill + The best of their mid-summer hours! + +And the butterfly dreamed, as is often the case + With _indolent_ lovers of change, +Who, keeping the body at ease in its place, + Give fancy permission to range. + +He dreamed that he saw, what he could but despise, + The swarm from a neighboring hive; +Which, having come out for their winter supplies, + Had made the whole garden alive. + +He looked with disgust, as the proud often do, + On the diligent movements of those, +Who, keeping both present and future in view, + Improve every hour as it goes. + +As the brisk little alchymists passed to and fro, + With anger the butterfly swelled; +And called them mechanics--a rabble too low + To come near the station he held. + +"Away from my presence!" said he, in his sleep, + "Ye humble plebeians! nor dare +Come here with your colorless winglets to sweep + The king of this brilliant parterre!" + +He thought, at these words, that together they flew, + And, facing about, made a stand; +And then, to a terrible army they grew, + And fenced him on every hand. + +Like hosts of huge giants, his numberless foes + Seemed spreading to measureless size: +Their wings with a mighty expansion arose, + And stretched like a veil o'er the skies. + +Their eyes seemed like little volcanoes, for fire,-- + Their hum, to a cannon-peal grown,-- +Farina to bullets was rolled in their ire, + And, he thought, hurled at him and his throne. + +He tried to cry quarter! his voice would not sound, + His head ached--his throne reeled and fell; +His enemy cheered, as he came to the ground, + And cried, "King Papilio, farewell!" + +His fall chased the vision--the sleeper awoke, + The wonderful dream to expound; +The lightning's bright flash from the thunder-cloud broke, + And hail-stones were rattling around. + +He'd slumbered so long, that now, over his head, + The tempest's artillery rolled; +The tulip was shattered--the whirl-blast had fled, + And borne off its crimson and gold. + +'Tis said, for the fall and the pelting, combined + With suppressed ebullitions of pride. +This vain son of summer no balsam could find, + But he crept under covert and died! + + + + +=The Boy and the Cricket= + +At length I have thee! my brisk new-comer, +Sounding thy lay to departing summer; +And I'll take thee up from thy bed of grass, +And carry thee home to a house of glass; +Where thy slender limbs, and the faded green +Of thy close-made coat, can all be seen. +For I long to know if the cricket _sings_, +Or _plays_ the tune with his gauzy wings;-- +To bring that shrill-toned pipe to light +Which kept me awake so long last night, +That I told the hours by the lazy clock, +Till I heard the crow of the noisy cock; +When, tossing and turning, at length I fell +In a sleep so strange, that the dream I'll tell. + +Methought, on a flowery bank I lay, +By a beautiful stream; and watched the play +Of the sparkling wavelets, that fled so fast, +I could not number them as they passed. +But I marked the things which they carried by; +And a neat little skiff first caught my eye. +'Twas woven of reeds, and its sides were bound +By a tender vine, that had clasped it round; +And spreading within, had made it seem +A basket of leaves, borne down the stream. +And the skiff had neither a sail nor oar; +But a bright little boy stood up, and bore, +On his outstretched hands, a wreath so gay, +It looked like a crown for the Queen of May. +And while he was going, I heard him sing, +"O seize the garland of passing _Spring!_" +But I dared not reach, for the bank was steep; +And he bore it away, to the far off deep! + +There came, then, a lady;--her eye was bright-- +She was young and fair, and her bark was light; +Its mast was a living tree, that spread +Its boughs for a sail, o'er the lady's head. +And some of its fruits had just begun +To flush, on the side that was next the sun; +And some with the crimson streak were stained; +While others their size had not yet gained. +In passing she cried, "Oh! who can insure +The fruits of _Summer_ to get mature? +For, fast as the waters beneath me flowing, +Beyond recall, I'm going! I'm going!" + +I turned my eye, and beheld another, +That seemed as she might be Summer's mother. +She looked more grave; while her cheek was tinged +With a deeper brown; and her bark was fringed +With the tasselled heads of the wheaten sheaves +Along its sides; and the yellow leaves, +That had covered the deck concealed a throng +Of _Crickets!_--I knew by their choral song. +And at _Autumn's_ feet lay the golden corn, +While her hands were raised, to invert a horn +That was filled with a sweet and mellow store, +And the purple clusters were hanging o'er. +She bade me seize on the fruit that should last +When the harvest was gone, and Autumn had past. +But, when I had paused to make the choice, +I saw no bark! and I heard no voice! + +Then I looked on a sight that chilled my blood! +'Twas a mass of ice, where an old man stood +On his frozen float; while his shrivelled hand +Had clenched, as a staff by which to stand, +A whitened branch that the blast had broke +From the lifeless trunk of an aged oak. +The icicles hung from the naked limb, +And the old man's eye was sunken and dim. +But his scattering locks were silver bright, +His beard with gathering frost was white; +The tears congealed on his furrowed cheek, +His garb was thin, and the winds were bleak. +He faintly uttered, while drawing near, +"_Winter_, the death of the short-lived year, +Can yield thee nought, as I downward tend +To the boundless sea, where the Seasons end! +But I trust from others, who've gone before, +Thou'st clothed thy form, and supplied thy store +And now, what tidings am I to bear +Of thee--for I shall be questioned there?" + +I asked my mother, who o'er me bent, +What all this show of the Seasons meant? +She said 'twas a picture of Life, I saw; +And the useful moral myself must draw! + +I woke, and found that thy song was stilled, +And the sun's bright beams my room had filled! +But I think, my Cricket, I long shall keep +In mind the dream of my morning sleep! + + + + +=Fanny Spy= + +Lucy, Lucy, come away! + Never climb for things so high. +Don't you know, the other day, + What fell out with Fanny Spy? + +Fanny spied, a loaf of cake, + Wisely set above her reach; +Yet did Fanny think to make + In its tempting side a breach. + +When she thought the family + Out of sight and hearing too, +Forth a polished table she + Quickly to the closet drew. + +First, she stepped upon a chair; + Then the table--then a shelf; +Thinking she securely there + Might, unnoticed, help herself. + +Then she seized a heavy slice, + Leaving in the loaf a cleft +Wider than a dozen mice, + Feasted there all night, had left. + +Stepping backward, Fanny slid + On the table's polished face:-- +Down she came, with dish and lid, + Silver--glass--and china vase! + +In, from every room they rushed, + Father--mother--servants--all, +Thinking all the closet crushed, + By the racket and the fall. + +'Mid the uproar of the house, + Fanny, in her shame and fright, +Wished herself indeed a mouse, + But to run and hide from sight. + +Yet was she to learn how vain, + Poor and worthless, is a wish. +Wishing could not lull her pain, + Hide her shame, nor mend a dish. + +There she lay, but could not speak; + For a tooth had made a pass +Through her lip; and to her cheek + Clung a piece of shivered glass. + +From her altered features gushed + Rolling tears, and streaming gore; +While, untasted still, and crushed, + Lay her cake upon the floor. + +Then the doctor hurried in: + Fanny at his needle swooned, +As he held her crimson chin, + And together stitched the wound. + +Now her face a scar must wear, + Ever till her dying day! +Questioned how it happened there, + What can blushing Fanny say? + + + + +=Sudden Elevation; or The Empaled Butterfly= + +"Ho!" said the Butterfly, "here am I, + Up in the air, who used to lie + Flat on the ground, for the passers by + To treat with utter neglect! + But none will suspect that I am the same; + With a bright, new coat, and a different name; +The piece of nothingness whence I came + In me they'll never detect. + +"That horrible night in the chrysalis, + Which brought me at length to a day like this, + In a form of beauty--a state of bliss, + Was little enough to give + For freedom to range from bower to bower, + To flirt with the buds, and flatter the flower, + And bask in the sunbeams hour by hour, + The envy of all that live. + +"Why, this is a world of curious things, + Where those who crawl, and those that have wings, + Are ranked in the classes of beggars, and kings, + No matter how much the worth + May be on the side of those who creep, + Where the vain, the light, and the bold will sweep, + Others from notice, and proudly keep + Uppermost on the earth! + +"Many a one that has loathed the sight + Of the piteous worm, will take delight + In welcoming me, as I look so bright + In my new and beautiful dress. + But some I shall pass with a scornful glance, + Some, with an elegant _nonchalance_; + And others will woo me, till I advance + To give them a slight caress." + +"Ha, ha!" said the Pin, "you are just the one +Through which I'm commissioned, at once, to run +From back to breast, till, your fluttering done, + Your form may be fairly shown. +And when my point shall have reached your heart, +'T will be as a balm to the wounded part, +To think how you're to be copied by art, + And your beauty will all be known!" + + + + +=The Stricken Bird= + +Here's the last food your poor mother can bring! + Take it, my suffering brood. +Oh! they have stricken me under the wing; + See, it is dripping with blood! + +Fair was the morn, and I wished them to rise, + Enjoying its beauties with me. +The air was all fragrance--all splendor the skies, + While bright shone the earth and the sea. + +Little I thought, when so freely I went, + Employing my earliest breath, +To wake them with song, it could be their intent + To pay me with arrows and death! + +Fear that my nestlings would feel them forgot, + Helped me a moment to fly; +Else I had given up life on the spot, + Under my murderer's eye. + +Yet, I can never brood o'er you again, + Closing you under my breast! +Its coldness would chill you; my blood would but stain + And spoil the warm down of your nest. + +Ere the night-coming, your mother will lie, + All motionless, under the tree; +Where, deafened, and silent, I still shall be nigh, + While you will be moaning for me! + + + + +=The Young Sportsman= + +Harry had a dog and gun; +And he loved to set the one, +Barking, out upon the run, + While he held the other, +Often charged so heavily, +'Twas a dangerous thing to be +With so young a wight as he + Mindless of his mother. + +Earnestly she warned her child +To forego a sport so wild; +While he, turning, frowned or smiled, + And away would sidle. +For, to give him short and long, +Harry had a head so strong, +In the right or in the wrong, + It was hard to bridle. + +On his gunning madly bent, +Often in his clothes a rent +Told the reckless way he went, + Over hedge and brambles. +Homeward then would Harry slouch, +With his gun and empty pouch, +Looking like a scaramouch + Coming from his rambles. + +Sometimes when he scaled a wall, +Headlong there to pitch and fall, +Ratling stones, and gun and all. + Down together tumbled. +Tray would bark to tell the news +Of his master with a bruise, +Hatless, and with grated shoes, + Lying flat and humbled! + +Where he saw the bushes stirred, +Harry, sure of hare or bird, +Drew,--and at a flash was heard + Noise like little thunder. +When he ran his game to find, +Disappointment 'mazed his mind;-- +Finding he'd but shot the wind, + Dumb he stood with wonder! + +Over muddy pool or bog, +Not so nimble as his dog, +When he walked the plank or log, + There his balance losing, +Splash! he went--a rueful plight! +If his face before was white, +'Twas like morning turned to night, + Much against his choosing. + +Now, like many a hasty one, +Whether quadruped or gun, +Or a mother's wayward son + Given to disaster, +Harry's gun was rather quick; +And it had a naughty trick,-- +It would snap itself, and kick + Fiercely at its master. + +So, this snappish habit grew +With a power for him to rue; +Just as all bad habits do + Grow, as age increases. +When, one day, with noise and smoke, +Over-charged, the barrel broke, +Harry's hand the mischief spoke-- + It was blown to pieces! + +Tray came crouching round, and growled,-- +Saw the gore, and whined, and howled, +While his owner groaned and scowled, + And the blood was running. +With the horrors of his state, +And with anguish desperate, +Then poor Harry owned too late, + He was _sick of gunning_! + +While his mother bent to mourn +As her froward son was borne, +With his hand all burnt and torn, + Faint and pale, before her, +Harry's pain must be endured,-- +And the wound--it might be cured; +But, for fingers uninsured, + There was no restorer! + + + + +=The Pebble and the Acorn= + +"I am a Pebble! I yield to none!" +Were the swelling words of a tiny stone, +"Nor time nor season can alter me; +I am abiding, while ages flee. +The pelting hail and the drizzling rain +Have tried to soften me, long, in vain; +And the dew has tenderly sought to melt, +Or touch my heart; but it was not felt. +There's none to tell you about my birth, +For I am as old as the big, round earth. +The children of men arise, and pass +Out of the world, like blades of grass; +And many foot that on me has trod +Is gone from sight, and under the sod! +I am a Pebble! but who art _thou_, +Rattling along from the restless bough?" + +The Acorn was shocked at this rude salute, +And lay for a moment abashed and mute: +She never before had been so near +This gravelly ball, the mundane sphere; +And she felt for a time at loss to know +How to answer a thing so coarse and low. +But to give reproof of a nobler sort +Than the angry look, or the keen retort, +At length she said, in a gentle tone, +"Since it has happened that I am thrown, +From the lighter element where I grew, +Down to another, so hard and new, +And beside a personage so august, +Abased, I'll cover my head with dust, +And quick retire from the sight of one +Whom time, nor season, nor storm, nor sun, +Nor the gentle dew, nor the grinding heel +Has ever subdued, or made to feel!" +And soon in the earth she sank away +From the cheerless spot where the Pebble lay. + +But 'twas not long ere the soil was broke +By the jeering head of an infant oak! +As it arose, and its branches spread, +The Pebble looked up, and, wondering, said, +"Ah, modest Acorn! never to tell +What was enclosed in its simple shell;-- +That the pride of the forest was folded up +In the narrow space of its little cup!-- +And meekly to sink in the darksome earth, +Which proves that nothing could hide her worth! +And O, how many will tread on me, +To come and admire the beautiful tree, +Whose head is towering towards the sky, +Above such a worthless thing as I! +Useless and vain, a cumberer here, +Have I been idling from year to year. +But never, from this, shall a vaunting word +From the humbled Pebble again be heard, +Till something without me or within +Shall show the purpose for which I've been!" +The Pebble could ne'er its vow forget, +And it lies there wrapt in silence yet. + + + + +=The Grasshopper and the Ant= + +"Ant, look at me!" a young grasshopper said, +As nimbly he sprang from his green, summer-bed, +"See how I'm going to skip over your head, + And could o'er a thousand like you! +Ant, by your motion alone, I should judge +That Nature ordained you a slave and a drudge, +For ever and ever to keep on the trudge, + And always find something to do. + +"Oh! there is nothing like having our day-- +Taking our pleasure and ease while we may-- +Bathing ourselves in the bright, mellow ray + That comes from the warm, golden sun! +Whilst I am up in the light and the air, +You, a sad picture of labor and care, +Still have some hard, heavy burden to bear, + And work that you never get done. + +"I have an exercise healthful and good, +For tuning the nerves and digesting the food-- +Graceful gymnastics for stirring the blood + Without the _gross purpose of use_ +Ant, let me tell you 'tis not _a la mode_ +To plod like a pilgrim, and carry a load, +Perverting the limbs that for grace were bestowed, + By such a plebeian abuse! + +"While the whole world with provisions is filled, +Who would keep toiling and toiling, to build +And lay in a store for himself, till he's killed + With work that another might do? +Come! drop your budget, and just give a spring; +Jump on a grass-blade, and balance and swing; +Soon you'll be light as a gnat on the wing, + Gay as a grasshopper, too!" + +Ant trudged along, while the grasshopper sung, +Minding her business and holding her tongue, +Until she got home her own people among; + But these were her thoughts on the road. +"What will become of that poor, idle one +When the light sports of the summer are done? +And, where is the covert to which he may run + To find a safe winter abode? + +"Oh! if I only could tell him how sweet +Toil makes my rest and the morsel I eat, +While hope gives a spur to my little black feet, + He'd never pity my lot! +He'd never ask me my burden to drop, +To join in his folly--to spring, and to hop; +And thus make the ant and her labor to stop, + When time, I am certain, would not. + +"When the cold frost all the herbage has nipped, +When the bare branches with ice-drops are tipped, +Where will the grasshopper then be, that skipped + So careless and lightly to-day? +Frozen to death! '_a sad picture_,' indeed, +Of reckless indulgence and what must succeed, +That all his gymnastics can't shelter or feed, + Or quicken his pulse into play! + +"I must prepare for a winter to come, +I shall be glad of a home and a crumb, +When my frail form out of doors would be numb, + And I in the snow-storm should die. +Summer is lovely, but soon will be past. +Summer has plenty not always to last. +Summer's the time for the ant to make fast + Her stores for a future supply!" + + + + +=The Rose-Bud of Autumn= + +Come out--pretty Rose-Bud,--my lone, timid one! +Come forth from thy green leaves, and peep at the sun! +For little he does, in these dull autumn hours, +At height'ning of beauty, or laughing with flowers. + +His beams, on thy tender young cheek as he plays, +Will give it a blush that no other could raise: +Thy fine silken petals they'll softly unfold, +Thy pure bosom filling with spices and gold! + +I would not instruct thee in coveting wealth; +Yet beauty, we know, is the offspring of health; +And health, the fair daughter of freedom! is bright +From drinking the breezes, and feasting on light. + +Then, come, little gem, from thy covert look out; +And see what the glad, golden sun is about! +His shafts, do they strike thee, new charms will impart, +Thy form making fairer, and richer, thy heart. + +Occasion, sweet Bud, is for thee and for me: +This hour it may give what again ne'er shall be. +O, let not the sunshine of life pass away, +Nor touch both our eye and our heart with its ray! + + + + +=Frost, the Winter-Sprite= + +The Frost looked forth on a still, clear night, +And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight; +So through the valley, and over the height + I'll silently take my way. +I will not go on like that blustering train, +The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain, +That make so much bustle and noise in vain. + But I'll be as busy as they!" + +He flew up, and powdered the mountain's crest; +He lit on the trees, and their boughs he drest +With diamonds and pearls;--and over the breast + Of the quivering Lake he spread +A bright coat of mail that it need not fear +The glittering point of many a spear +That he hung on its margin, far and near, + Where a rock was rearing its head. + +He went to the windows of those who slept, +And over each pane, like a fairy crept; +Wherever he breathed--wherever he stepped-- + Most beautiful things were seen +By morning's first light!--there flowers and trees, +With bevies of birds, and swarms of bright bees;-- +There were cities--temples, and towers; and these, + All pictured in silvery sheen! + +But one thing he did that was hardly fair-- +He peeped in the cupboard, and, finding there +That none had remembered for him to prepare, + "Now, just to set them a-thinking, +I'll bite their rich basket of fruit," said he, +"This burly old pitcher--I'll burst it in three! +And the glass with the water they've left for me + Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking!" + + + + +=Vivy Vain= + +Miss Vain was all given to dress-- +Too fond of gay clothing; and so, + She'd gad about town + Just to show a new gown, +As a train-band their color to show. + +Her head being empty and light, +Whene'er she obtained a new hat, + With pride in her air, + She'd go round, here and there, +For all whom she knew to see that. + +Her folly was chiefly in this: +More highly she valued fine looks, + Than virtue or truth, + Or devoting her youth +To usefulness, friendship, or books. + +Her passion for show was unchecked; +And therefore, it happened one day, + Arrayed in bright hues, + And with new hat and shoes, +Miss Vain walked abroad for display. + +She took the most populous streets. +To cause but aversion in those, + Who saw how she prinked, + And the bystanders winked. +While the boys cried, "Halloo! there she goes!" + +It chanced, that, in passing on way, +She came near a pool, and a green + With fence close and high; + And, as Vivy drew nigh, +A donkey stood near it unseen. + +He put his mouth over its top, +The moment she came by his place; + And gave a loud bray + In her ear, when, away +She sprang, shrieked, and fell on her face. + +She thought she was swallowed alive, +Awhile upon earth lying flat; + And the terrible sound + Seemed to furrow the ground +She embraced in her fine gown and hat. + +She gathered herself up, and ran, +Yet heeded not whither or whence, + To flee from the roar, + That continued to pour +Behind her, from over the fence. + +In passing a slope near the pool, +She slipped and rolled down to its brim; + The geese gave a shout, + And at length hissed her out +Of the bounds, where they'd gathered to swim. + +In turning a corner, she met +Abruptly, the horns of a cow + That mooed, while the cur, + At her heels, turned from her, +And aimed at Miss Vain his "bow-wow." + +Then Vivy's bright ribbons and skirt, +As she flew, flirted high on the wind; + The children at play, + Paused to see one so gay, +And all in a flutter behind. + +A group of glad schoolboys came by: +Said they, "So it seems, that to-day, + Miss Vain carries marks + At which the dog barks, +And that make sober Long-Ears to bray." + +And when, all bedraggled and pale, +Poor Vivy approached her own door, + She went, swift and straight + As a dart, through the gate, +Abhorring the gay gear she wore. + +She sat down, and thought of the scene +With humiliation and tears: + The words, and the noise + Of the brutes and the boys +Were echoing still in her ears. + +She reasoned, and came at the cause, +Resolving that cause to remove; + And thence, her desire + Was for modest attire, +And her heart and her mind to improve. + +And soon, all who knew her before +Remarked on the change and the gain + In mind, and in mien, + And in dress, that were seen +In the once flashy Miss Vivy Vain. + + + + +=The Lost Kite= + +"My kite! my kite! I've lost my kite! +Oh! when I saw the steady flight, +With which she gained her lofty height, +How could I know, that letting go +That naughty string, would bring so low +My pretty, buoyant, darling kite, +To pass for ever out of sight? + +"A purple cloud was sailing by, +With silver fringes, o'er the sky; +And then I thought, it seemed so nigh, +I'd make my kite go up and light +Upon its edge, so soft and bright; +To see how noble, high and proud +She'd look, while riding on a cloud! + +"As near her shining mark she drew +I clapped my hands; the line slipped through +My silly fingers; and she flew, +Away! away! in airy play, +Right over where the water lay! +She veered and fluttered, swung and gave +A plunge, then vanished with the wave! + +"I never more shall want to look +On that false cloud, or babbling brook; +Nor e'er to feel the breeze that took +My dearest joy, to thus destroy +The pastime of your happy boy. +My kite! my kite! how sad to think +She flew so high, so soon to sink!" + +"Be this," the mother said, and smiled, +"A lesson to thee, simple child! +And when by fancies vain and wild, +As that which cost the kite that's lost, +The busy brain again is crossed, +Of shining vapor then beware, +Nor trust thy joys to fickle air. + +"I have a darling treasure, too, +That sometimes would, by slipping through +My guardian hands, the way pursue, +From which, more tight than thou thy kite, +I hold my jewel, new and bright, +Lest he should stray without a guide, +To drown my hopes in sorrow's tide!" + + + + +=A Summer-Morning Rumble= + +Oh! the happy Summer hours. +With their butterflies and flowers, +And the birds among the bowers + Sweetly singing;-- +With the spices from the trees, +Vines, and lilies, while the bees +Come floating on the breeze, + Honey bringing! + +All the East was rosy red, +When we woke and left our bed; +And to gather flowers we sped, + Gay and early. +Every clover-top was wet, +And the spider's silken net +With a thousand dew-drops set, + Pure and pearly. + +With their modest eyes of blue +Were the violets peeping through +Tufts of grasses, where they grew, + Full of beauty, +At the lamb in snowy white, +O'er the meadow bounding light, +And the crow just taking flight, + Grave and sooty. + +On our floral search intent, +Still away, away we went,-- +Up and down the rugged bent,-- + Through the wicket,-- +Where the rock with water drops,-- +Through the bushes and the copse,-- +Where the greenwood pathway stops + In the thicket. + +We heard the fountain gush, +And the singing of the thrush; +And we saw the squirrel's brush + In the hedges, +As along his back 't was thrown, +Like a glory of his own. +While the sun behind it, shone + Through its edges. + +All the world appeared so fair, +And so fresh and free the air,-- +Oh! it seemed that all the care + In creation +Belonged to God alone; +And that none beneath his throne, +Need to murmur or to groan + At his station. + +Dear little brother Will! +He has leaped the hedge and rill,-- +He has clambered up the hill, + Ere the beaming +Of the rising sun, to sweep +With its golden rays the steep, +Till he's tired, and dropped asleep, + Sweetly dreaming. + +See, he threw aside his cap, +And the roses from his lap, +When his eyes were, for the nap, + Slowly closing: +Wit his sunny curls outspread, +On its fragrant mossy bed, +Now his precious infant head + Is reposing. + +He is dreaming of his play-- +How he rose at break of day, +And he frolicked all the way + On his ramble. +And before his fancy's eye, +He has still the butterfly +Mocking him, where not so high + He could scramble. + +In his cheek the dimples dip, +And a smile is on his lip, +While his tender finger-tip + Seems as aiming +At some wild and lovely thing +That is out upon the wing, +Which he longs to catch and bring + Home for taming. + +While he thus at rest is laid +In the old oak's quiet shade, +Let's cull our flowers to braid, + Or unite them +In bunches trim and neat, +That for every friend we meet, +We may have a token sweet + To delight them. + +'Tis the very crowning art +Of a happy, grateful heart +To others to impart + Of its pleasure. +Thus its joys can never cease, +For it brings an inward peace, +Like an every day increase + Of a treasure. + + + + +=The Shoemaker= + +"Honor and shame from no condition rise. + Act well your part:--there all the honor lies." + +The shoemaker sat amid wax and leather, + With lapstone over his knee; +Where, snug in his shop, he defied all weather, +A-drawing his quarters and sole together: + A happy old man was he! + +This happy old man was so wise and knowing, + The worth of his time he knew. +He bristled his ends, and he kept them going; +And felt to each moment a stitch was owing, + Until he got round the shoe. + +Of every deed that his wax was sealing, + The closing was firm and fast. +The prick of his steel never caused a feeling +Of pain to the toe, and his skill in heeling + Was perfect, and true to the last! + +Whenever you gave him a foot to measure. + With gentle and skilful hand, +He took its proportions, with looks of pleasure, +As if you were giving the costliest treasure, + Or dubbing him lord of the land. + +And many a one did he save from getting + A fever, or cold or cough: +For many a sole did he save from wetting, +When, whether in water or snow 'twas setting, + His shoeing would keep them off + +And when he had done with his making and mending, + With hope and a peaceful breast, +Resigning his awl, as his thread was ending, +He slid from his bench, to the grave descending, + As high as a king to rest! + + + + +=The Snow-Storm= + +It snows! it snows! from out the sky +The feathered flakes, how fast they fly, +Like little birds, that don't know why +They're on the chase, from place to place, +While neither can the other trace! +It snows, it snows! a merry play +Is o'er us, on this sombre day. + +As dancers in time's airy hall, +That not a moment holds them all, +While some keep up, and others fall, +The atoms shift; then, thick and swift, +They drive along to form the drift, +That weaving up, so dazzling white, +Is rising like a wall of light. + +But now the wind comes, whistling loud, +To snatch and waft it, as a cloud, +Or giant phantom in a shroud. +It spreads,--it curls,--it mounts and whirls; +At length a mighty wing unfurls; +And then, away!--but where, none knows, +Or ever will.--It snows! it snows! + +To-morrow will the storm be done; +Then out will come the golden sun! +And we shall, we shall see, upon the run +Before his beams, in sparkling streams, +What now a curtain o'er him seems. +And thus, with life it ever goes;-- +'Tis shade and shine! It snows, it snows! + + + + +=The Whirlwind= + +Whirlwind, Whirlwind, whither art thou hieing, + Snapping off the flowers young and fair;-- +Setting all the chaff and the withered leaves a-flying,-- + Tossing up the dust in the air? + +"I," said the Whirlwind, "cannot stop for talking! + Give me up your cap, my little man; +And the polished stick, that you will not need for walking. + While you run to catch them, if you can! + +"You, pretty maiden--none has time to tell her + I am coming, ere I shall be there. +I will twirl her zephyr--snatch her light umbrella, + Seize her hat, and snarl her glossy hair!" + +On went the Whirlwind, showing many capers + One would hardly deem it meet to tell;-- +Dusting Judge and Parson--flirting gown and papers,-- + Discomposing matron, beau and belle. + +"Whisk!" from behind came the long and sweeping feather, + Round the head of old Chanticleer:-- +Plumed and plumeless biped felt gust together, + In a way they wouldn't like to hear. + +Snug in his arbor sat a scholar, musing + Calmly o'er the philosophic page: +"Flap!" went the leaves of the volume he was using, + Cutting short the lecture of the sage. + +"Hey!" said the bookworm, "this I think is taking + Rather too much liberty with me! +Yet I'll not resent it; being bent on making + Use of every thing I hear and see. + +"Many, I know, will not their anger stifle, + When as little cause as this, they find +To let it kindle up; but minding every trifle + Is profitless as quarrels with the wind. + +"Forth to his business when the Whirlwind sallies, + He is all alive to get it done;-- +He on his pathway never lags nor dallies; + But is ever up, and on the run. + +"Though ever whirling, never growing dizzy; + Motion gives him buoyancy and power. +All who have known him own that he is busy, + Doing much in half a fleeting hour. + +"Oh! there is nothing--when our work's before us,-- + Like _despatch;_ for, while our time is brief, +Some sweeping blast may suddenly come o'er us, + Lose our place, and turn another leaf! + +"Whirlwind, Whirlwind, though you're but a flurry, + And so odd the business you pursue;-- +Though you come on, and are off, in such a hurry, + I have caught a hint; and now adieu!" + + + + +=The Disobedient Skater Boys= + +Said William to George, "It is New-Year's day! +And now for the pond and the merriest play! +So, on with your cap; and away, away, + We'll off for a frolic and slide, +Be quick--be quick, if you would not be chid +For doing what father and mother forbid; +And under your coat let the skates be hid; + Then over the ice we'll glide." + +They're up, and they're off; on their run-away feet +They fasten the skates, when, away they fleet, +Far over the pond, and beyond retreat, + Unconscious of danger near. +But lo! the ice is beginning to bend-- +It cracks--it cracks--and their feet descend! +To whom can they look as a helper--a friend? + Their faces are pale with fear. + +In their flight to the pond, they had caught the eye +Of a neighboring peasant, who, lingering nigh, +Aware of their danger, and hearing their cry, + Now hastens to give them aid. +As home they are brought, all dripping and cold, +To all who their piteous plight behold, +The worst of the story is plainly told-- + Their parents were disobeyed! + + + + +=Winter and Spring= + +"Adieu!" Father Winter sadly said + To the world, when about withdrawing, +With his old white wig half off his head, + And his icicle fingers thawing;-- + +"Adieu! I'm going to the rocks and caves, + And must leave all here behind me; +Or perhaps I shall sink in the Northern waves, + So deep that none can find me." + +"Good luck! good luck, to your hoary locks!" + Said the gay young Spring, advancing; +"You may take your rest 'mid the caves and rocks, + While I o'er the earth am dancing. + +"But there is not a spot where you have trod. + You hard, old clumsy fellow,-- +Not a hill, nor a field, nor a single sod, + But I must make haste to mellow. + +"I then shall carpet them o'er with grass, + To look so bright and cheering, +That none will regret having let you pass + Far out of sight and hearing. + +"The fountains that you locked up so tight, + When I shall give them a sunning, +Will sparkle and play in my warmth and light, + And the streams set off to running. + +"I'll speak in the earth to the palsied root, + That under your reign was sleeping; +I'll teach it the way in the dark to shoot, + And draw out the vine to creeping. + +"The boughs that you cased so close in ice, + It was chilling e'en to behold them, +I'll deck all over with buds so nice; + My breath can alone unfold them. + +"And when all the trees are with blossoms drest, + The bird, with her song so merry, +Will come to the branches to build her nest, + With a view to the future cherry. + +"The earth will show by her loveliness, + The wonders that I am doing; +While the skies look down with a smile, to bless + The way that I'm pursuing!" + +Said Winter, "Then I would have you learn, + By me, my gay new-comer, +To push off too, when it comes your turn, + And yield your place to Summer!" + + + + +=Tom Tar= + +I'll tell you now about Tom Tar, + The sailor stout and bold, +Who o'er the ocean roamed so far, + To countries new and old. + +Tom was a man of thousands! he + Would ne'er complain nor frown, +Though high and low the wind and sea + Might toss him up and down. + +Amid the waters dark and deep, + He had the happy art, +When all around was storm, to keep + Fair weather in his heart. + +Though winds were wild, and waves were rough, + He'd always cast about, +And find within he'd calm enough + To stand the storms without. + +"For nought," said Tom, "is ever gained + By sighs for what we lack; +Nor can it mend a vessel strained, + To let our temper crack. + +"And sure I am, the worst of storms, + That any man should dread, +Is that which in the bosom forms, + And musters to the head." + +Serene, and ever self-possessed, + His mess-mates he would cheer, +And often put their fears to rest, + When dangers gathered near. + +If on the rocks the ship was cast, + And surges swept the deck, +Tom Tar was ever found the last + Who would forsake the wreck. + +And when his only hat and shoes + The waters plucked from him, +Why, these, he felt, were small to lose, + Could he keep up and swim! + +Then through the billows, foam, and spray, + That rose on every hand, +He'd, somehow, always find a way + Of getting safe to land. + +The secret was, the fear and love + Of Heaven had filled his soul: +His trust was firm in One above, + Howe'er the seas might roll. + +And Tom had sailed to many a shore, + And many a wonder seen: +The stories he could tell would more + Than fill a magazine. + +He'd seen mankind in every state, + Almost, that man can know; +But envied not the rich and great, + Nor scorned the poor and low. + +The monarch in his sight had stood, + Superb, in glittering vest; +The savage, too, that roams the wood, + In skins and feathers dressed. + +The tribes of many an isle he knew; + And beasts, and birds, and flowers, +And fruits, of many a shape and hue, + In lands remote from ours. + +He'd seen the wide-winged albatros + Her breast in ocean lave; +And bold sea-lions, playing, toss + Their heads above the wave. + +He'd seen the dolphin, while his back + Went flashing to the sun, +A swarm of flying fish attack, + And swallow every one! + +The porpoise and the spouting whale + Had sported in his view; +And hungry sharks pursued his sail, + As if they'd eat the crew. + +And ever, when Tom Tar got home, + The children, at their play, +Were glad to have the Sailor come, + And greet them by the way. + +Then, oft, some curious stone, or shell, + The laughing girls and boys +Would find, upon their aprons fell, + To put among their toys. + +"These pearly shells," said he, "I found + Where gloomy waters roar: +These polished stones, so smooth and round, + Rough surges washed ashore. + +"Though small to us a pebble seems, + 'Tis made and marked by One, +Who gave the warmth, and lit the beams + Of yon great shining sun. + +"And when these pretty shells I find, + Along the ocean strand, +Their beauteous finish brings to mind + Their Maker's perfect hand. + +"When on the wildest shore I'm thrown + And far from human eye, +I think of him who made the stone, + And shell, and sea, and sky. + +"For he's my Friend and I am his! + Though strong and cold the blast, +My safest guide I know he is + Where'er my lot is cast." + +When Tom passed on, the children said, + "These treasures from afar +He brought us! Blessings on his head! + For he's a good Tom Tar!" + + + + +=The Envious Lobster= + +A FABLE + +A Lobster from the water came, +And saw another, just the same +In form and size; but gayly clad +In scarlet clothing; while she had +No other clothing on her back +Than her old suit of greenish black. + +"So ho!" she cried, "'tis very fine! +Your dress was yesterday like mine; +And in the mud below the sea, +You lived, a crawling thing like me. +But now, because you've come ashore, +You've grown so proud, that what you wore-- +Your strong old suit of bottle-green, +You think improper to be seen. + +"To tell the truth, I don't see why +You should be better dressed than I. +And I should like a suit of red +As bright as yours, from feet to head. +I think I'm quite as good as you, +And might be clothed in scarlet too." + +"Will you be _boiled_" her owner said, +"To be arrayed in glowing red? +Come here, my discontented miss, +And hear the scalding kettle hiss! +Will you go in, and there be boiled, +To have your dress, so old and soiled, +Exchanged for one of scarlet hue?" +"Yes," cried the Lobster, "that I'll do, +And twice as much, if needs must be, +To be as gayly clad as she." +Then, in she made a fatal dive, +And never more was seen alive! + +Now, if you ever chance to know, +Of one as fond of dress and show +As that vain Lobster, and withal +As envious you'll perhaps recall +To mind her folly, and the plight +In which she reappeared to sight. + +She had obtained a bright array, +But for it, thrown her life away! +Her life and death were best untold, +But for the moral they unfold! + + + + +=The Crocus' Soliloquy= + +Down in my solitude, under the snow, + Where nothing cheering can reach me-- +Here, without light to see how I should grow, + I trust to nature to teach me. +I'll not despair, nor be idle, nor frown; + Though locked in so gloomy a dwelling! +My leaves shall shoot up, while my root's running down, + And the bud in my bosom is swelling. + +Soon as the frost will get off from my bed, + From this cold dungeon to free me, +I will peer up, with my bright little head; + All will be joyful to see me! +Then from my heart will young petals diverge, + Like rays of the sun from their focus; +When I from the darkness of earth shall emerge, + All complete, as a beautiful CROCUS! + +Gayly arrayed in gold, crimson, and green, + When to their view I have risen; +Will they not wonder how one so serene + Came from so dismal a prison? +Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower + A wise little lesson may borrow:-- +If patient to-day through the dreariest hour, + We shall come out the brighter to-morrow! + + + + +=The Bee, Clover, and Thistle= + +A bee from the hive one morning flew, + A tune to the daylight humming; +And away she went o'er the sparkling dew, +Where the grass was green, the violet blue, + And the gold of the sun was coming. + +And what first tempted the roving Bee, + Was a head of the crimson clover. +"I've found a treasure betimes!" said she, +"And perhaps a greater I might not see, + If I travelled the field all over. + +"My beautiful Clover, so round and red, + There is not a thing in twenty, +That lifts this morning so sweet a head +Above its leaves, and its earthy bed, + With so many horns of plenty!" + +The flow'rets were thick which the Clover crowned, + As the plumes in the helm of Hector; +And each had a cell that was deep and round, +Yet it would not impart, as the Bee soon found, + One drop of its precious nectar. + +She cast in her eye where the honey lay, + And her pipe she began to measure; +But she saw at once it was clear as day, +That it would not go down one half the way + To the place of the envied treasure.[1] + +Said she, in a pet, "One thing I know," + As she rose, and in haste departed, +"It is not those of the _greatest show,_ +To whom for a favor 'tis best to go, + Or that prove most generous-hearted!" + +A fleecy flock came into the field; + When one of its members followed +The scent of the clover, till between +Her nibbling teeth its head was seen, + And then in a moment swallowed. + +"Ha, ha!" said the Bee, as the Clover died, + "Her fortune's smile was fickle! +And now I can get my wants supplied +By a homely flower, with a rough outside. + And even with scale and prickle!" + +Then she flew to one, that, by man and beast + Was shunned for its stinging bristle; +But it injured not the Bee in the least; +And she filled her pocket, and had a feast, + From the bloom of the purple Thistle. + +The generous Thistle's life was spared + In the home where the Bee first found her, +Till she grew so old she was hoary-haired, +And her snow-white locks with the silk compared, + As they shone where the sun beamed round her. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: The clover-floret is so small and deep in its tube, +that the bee cannot reach the honey at the bottom.] + + + + +=Poor Old Paul= + +Poor old Paul! he has lost a foot; + And see him go hobbling along, +With the stump laced up in that clumsy boot, + Before the gathering throng! + +And now, as he has to pass so many, + And suffer the gaze of all, +If each would only bestow a penny, + 'Twere something for poor old Paul. + +His cheek is wan, and his garb is thin; + His eye is sunken and dim; +He looks as if the winter had been + Making sad work with him. + +While he is trying to hide the tatter, + Mark how his looks will fall! +Nobody needs to ask the matter + With poor, old, hungry Paul. + +All that he has in his dingy sack + Is morsels of bread and meat,-- +The leavings, to burden his aged back, + Which others refused to eat. + +So now I am sure, you will all be willing + To part with a sum so small +As each will spare, who makes up a shilling + To comfort him--Poor old Paul! + + + + +=The Sea-Eagle's Fall= + +An Eagle, on his towering wing, + Hung o'er the summer sea; +And ne'er did airy, feathered king + Look prouder there than he. + +He spied the finny tribes below, + Amid the limpid brine; +And felt it now was time to know + Whereon he was to dine. + +He saw a noble, shining fish + So near the surface swim, +He felt at once a hungry wish + To make a feast of him. + +Then straight he took his downward course; + A sudden plunge he gave; +And, pouncing, seized, with murderous force, + His tempter in the wave. + +He struck his talons firm and deep, + Within the slippery prize, +In hope his ruffian grasp to keep, + And high and dry to rise. + +But ah! it was a fatal stoop, + As ever monarch made; +And, for that rash--that cruel swoop, + He soon most dearly paid! + +The fish had too much gravity + To yield to this attack. +His feet the eagle could not free + From off the scaly back. + +He'd seized on one too strong and great; + His mastery now was gone! +And on, by that preponderant weight, + And downward, he was drawn. + +Nor found he here the element + Where he could move with grace; +And flap, and dash, his pinions went, + In ocean's wrinkled face. + +They could not bring his talons out, + His forfeit life to save; +And planted thus, he writhed about + Upon his gaping grave. + +He raised his head, and gave a shriek, + To bid adieu to light: +The water bubbled in his beak-- + He sank from human sight! + +The children of the sea came round, + The foreigner to view. +To see an airy monarch drowned, + To them was something new + +Some gave a quick, astonished look, + And darted swift away; +While some his parting plumage shook, + And nibbled him for prey. + +O! who that saw that bird at noon + So high and proudly soar, +Could think how awkwardly--how soon, + He'd fall to rise no more? + +Though glory, majesty, and pride + Were his an hour ago, +Deprived of all, that eagle died, + For stooping once too low! + +Now, have you ever known or heard + Of biped, from his sphere +Descending, like that silly bird + To buy a fish so dear? + + + + +=The Two Thieves= + +A lady, they called her Miss Mouse, + In a slate-colored dress, like a Quaker, +Once lived in a snug little house, + Of which she herself was the maker. + +There lived in another close by, + A dame, whom they called Lady Kitty; +But that she was stationed so nigh, + Miss Mouse often thought a great pity. + +For she, though so soberly clad, + And never inclined to ill-speaking, +Had often a fancy to gad, + Or more than her own might be seeking. + +She did not then like to be scanned, + Or questioned respecting her duty, +When some little theft she had planned, + Or seen coming home with her booty. + +So modest she was, and so shy, + Although an inveterate sinner, +She'd nip out her part of the pie + Before it was brought up to dinner. + +She held that 'twas folly to ask + For what her own wits would allow her; +And, making her way through the cask, + She helped herself well to the flour. + +The candles she scraped to their wicks; + And, mischievous in her invention, +Would do many more naughty tricks, + Which I, as her friend, cannot mention. + +Kit, too, had her living to make, + And yet, she was so above toiling, +She'd sooner attack the beef-steak, + When the cook had prepared it for broiling. + +And so, near a dish of warm toast, + She often most patiently lingered, +To seize her first chance; yet, could boast + That none ever called her _light-fingered_. + +But mending, or minding herself, + She thought would be quite too much labor, +And so peeped about on the shelf, + To spy out the faults of her neighbor. + +For Mouse loved to promenade there, + While Kit would watch close to waylay her; +And once, in the midst of her fare, + Up bounded Miss Kitty to slay her! + +But this was as luckless a jump + As ever Kit made, with the clatter +Of knife, skimmer, spoon, and a thump, + Which she got, as she threw down the platter. + +While Mouse glided under a dish. + Escaping the mortal disaster, +Miss Kitty turned off to a fish, + The breakfast elect for her master. + +Said she to herself, "Tis clear gain,-- + This rarity, fresh from the water, +Will save my white mittens the stain-- + And me from the trouble of slaughter!" + +But her racket, she found to her cost, + The plot had most fatally thickened; +And all hope of mercy was lost, + As Jack's coming footstep was quickened. + +He seized her, and binding her fast. + Declared he could never forgive her; +So Kitty was sentenced and cast, + With a stone at her neck, in the river! + +But Mouse still continued to thieve; + And often, alone in her dwelling, +Would silently laugh in her sleeve, + At the scene in the tale I've been telling-- + +Till once, by a fatal mishap, + The little unfortunate rover +Perceived herself close in a trap, + And felt that her race was now over. + +She knew she must leave all behind; + And thus, in the midst of her terrors, +As every thing rushed to her mind, + Began her confession of errors:-- + +"You'll find, on the word of a Mouse, + Whom hope has for ever forsaken, +The following things in my house, + Which I have unlawfully taken: + +"A cork, that was soaked in the beer, + Which I nibbled until I was merry; +Some kernels of corn from the ear, + The skin and the stone of a cherry:-- + +"Some hemp-seed I took from the bird, + And found most deliriously tasted, +While safe in my covert, I heard + Its owner complain that 'twas wasted:-- + +"You'll find a few cucumber seeds, + Which I thought, if they could but be hollowed, +Would answer to string out for beads; + So the inside of all I have swallowed:-- + +"A few crumbs of biscuit and cheese, + Which I thought might a long time supply me +With luncheon--some rice and split peas, + Which seemed well prepared to keep by me:-- + +"A cluster of curls which I stole + At night from a young lady's toilet, +And made me a bed of it whole, + As tearing it open would spoil it;-- + +"And as, in a long summer day + I'd time both or reading and spelling, +I gnawed up the whole of a play, + And carried it home to my dwelling. + +"I wish you'd set fire to my place; + And pray you at once to despatch me, +That none of my enemy's race, + In the form of Miss Kitty, may catch me!" + +Disgrace thus will follow on vice, + Although for a while it be hidden; +When children, or kittens, or mice, + Will do what they know is forbidden. + + + + +=Jemmy String= + +I knew a little heedless boy, + A child that seldom cared, +If he could get his cake and toy, + How other matters fared. + +He always bore upon his foot + A signal of the thing, +For which, on him his playmates put + The name of Jemmy String. + +No malice in his heart was there; + He had no fault beside, +So great as that of wanting care. + To keep his shoe-strings tied. + +You'd often see him on the run, + To chase the geese about, +While both his shoe-ties were undone, + With one end slipping out. + +He'd tread on one, then down he'd go, + And all around would ring +With bitter cries, and sounds of woe, + That came from Jemmy String. + +And oft, by such a sad mishap, + Would Jemmy catch a hurt; +The muddy pool would catch his cap, + His clothes would catch the dirt! + +Then home he'd hasten through the street, + To tell about his fall; +While, on his little sloven feet, + The cause was plain to all. + +For while he shook his aching hand, + Complaining of the bruise, +The strings were trailing through the sand + From both his loosened shoes. + +One day, his father thought a ride + Would do his children good; +But Jemmy's shoe-strings were untied, + And on the stairs he stood. + +In hastening down to take his place + Upon the carriage seat, +Poor Jemmy lost his joyous face; + Nor could he keep his feet. + +The dragging string had made him trip, + And bump! bump! went his head;-- +The teeth had struck and cut his lip, + And tears and blood were shed. + +His aching wounds he meekly bore; + But with a swelling heart +He heard the carriage from the door, + With all but him, depart. + +This grievous lesson taught him care, + And gave his mind a spring; +For he resolved no more to bear + The name of JEMMY STRING! + + + + +=The Caterpillar= + +"Don't kill me!" Caterpillar said, + As Charles had raised his heel +Upon the humble worm to tread, + As though it could not feel. + +"Don't kill me! and I'll crawl away + To hide awhile, and try +To come and look, another day, + More pleasing to your eye. + +"I know I'm now among the things + Uncomely to your sight; +But by and by on splendid wings + You'll see me high and light! + +"And then, perhaps, you may be glad + To watch me on the flower; +And that you spared the worm you had + To-day within your power!" + +Then Caterpillar went and hid + In some secreted place, +Where none could look on what he did + To change his form and face. + +And by and by, when Charles had quite + Forgotten what I've told, +A Butterfly appeared in sight, + Most beauteous to behold. + +His shining wings were trimmed with gold, + And many a brilliant dye +Was laid upon their velvet fold, + To charm the gazing eye! + +Then, near as prudence would allow, + To Charles's ear he drew +And said, "You may not know me, now + My form and name are new! + +"But I'm the worm that once you raised + Your ready foot to kill! +For sparing me, I long have praised, + And love and praise you still. + +"The lowest reptile at your feet, + When power is not abused, +May prove the fruit of mercy sweet, + By being kindly used!" + + + + +=The Mocking Bird= + + A Mocking Bird was he, + In a bushy, blooming tree, +Imbosomed by the foliage and flower. + And there he sat and sang, + Till all around him rang, +With sounds, from out the merry mimic's bower. + + The little satirist + Piped, chattered, shrieked, and hissed; +He then would moan, and whistle, quack, and caw; + Then, carol, drawl, and croak, + As if he'd pass a joke +On every other winged one he saw. + + Together he would catch + A gay and plaintive snatch, +And mingle notes of half the feathered throng. + For well the mocker knew, + Of every thing that flew, +To imitate the manner and the song. + + The other birds drew near, + And paused awhile to hear +How well he gave their voices and their airs. + And some became amused; + While some, disturbed, refused +To own the sounds that others said were theirs. + + The sensitive were shocked, + To find their honors mocked +By one so pert and voluble as he; + They knew not if 't was done + In earnest or in fun; +And fluttered off in silence from the tree. + + The silliest grew vain, + To think a song or strain +Of theirs, however weak, or loud, or hoarse, + Was worthy to be heard + Repeated by the bird; +For of his wit they could not feel the force. + + The charitable said, + "Poor fellow! if his head +Is turned, or cracked, or has no talent left; + But feels the want of powers, + And plumes itself from ours, +Why, we shall not be losers by the theft." + + The haughty said, "He thus. + It seems, would mimic us, +And steal our songs, to pass them for his own! + But if he only quotes + In honor of our notes, +We then were quite as honored, let alone." + + The wisest said, "If foe + Or friend, we still may know +By him, wherein our greatest failing lies. + So, let us not be moved, + Since first to be improved +By every thing, becomes the truly wise." + + + + +=The Silk-Worm's Will= + +On a plain rush-hurdle a silk-worm lay, +When a proud young princess came that way. +The haughty child of a human king +Threw a sidelong glance at the humble thing, +That received with a silent gratitude +From the mulberry-leaf her simple food; +And shrunk, half scorn, and half disgust, +Away from her sister child of the dust; +Declaring she never yet could see +Why a reptile form like this should be;-- +And that she was not made with nerves so firm, +As calmly to stand by a _crawling worm_! + +With mute forbearance the silk-worm took +The taunting words and the spurning look. + +Alike a stranger to self and pride, +She'd no disquiet from aught beside; +And lived of a meekness and peace possest +Which these debar from the human breast. +She only wished, for the harsh abuse, +To find some way to become of use +To the haughty daughter of lordly man; +And thus did she lay her noble plan +To teach her wisdom, and make it plain +That the humble worm was not made in vain;-- +A plan so generous, deep and high, +That to carry it out, she must even die! + +"No more," said she, "will I drink or eat! +I'll spin and weave me a winding-sheet, +To wrap me up from the sun's clear light, +And hide my form from her wounded sight. +In secret then, till my end draws nigh, +I will toil for her; and when I die, +I'll leave behind, as a farewell boon +To the proud young princess, my whole cocoon, +To be reeled, and wove to a shining lace, +And hung in a veil o'er her scornful face! +And when she can calmly draw her breath +Through the very threads that have caused my death; +When she finds at length, she has nerves so firm, +As to wear the shroud of a _crawling worm_, +May she bear in mind that she walks with pride +In the winding-sheet where the silk-worm died!" + + + + +=Dame Biddy= + +Dame Biddy abode in a coop, + Because it so chanced that dame Biddy +Had round her a family group + Of chicks, young, and helpless, and giddy. + +And when she had freedom to roam, + She fancied the life of a ranger; +And led off her brood, far from home, + To fall into mischief or danger. + +She'd trail through the grass to be mown, + And call all her children to follow; +And scratch up the seeds that were sown, + Then, lie in their places and wallow. + +She'd go where the corn in the hill, + Its first little blade had been shooting, +And try, by the strength of her bill, + To learn if the kernel was rooting. + +And when she went out on a walk + Of pleasure, through thicket and brambles, +The covetous eye of a Hawk + Delighted in marking her rambles. + +"I spy," to himself he would say, + "A prize of which I'll be the winner!" +So down would he pounce on his prey, + And bear off a chicken for dinner. + +The poor frighted matron, that heard + The cry of her youngling in dying, +Would scream at the merciless bird, + That high with his booty was flying. + +But shrieks could not ease her distress, + Nor grief her lost darling recover. +She now had a chicken the less, + For acting the part of a rover. + +And there lay the feathers, all torn. + And flying one way and another, +That still her dear child might have worn, + Had she been more wise as a mother. + +Her owner then thought he must teach + Dame Biddy a little subjection; +And cooped her up, out of the reach + Of hawking, with time for reflection. + +And, throwing a net o'er a pile + Of brush-wood that near her was lying, +He hoped to its meshes to wile + The fowler, that o'er her was flying. + +For Hawk, not forgetting his fare, + And having a taste to renew it, +Sailed round near the coop, high in air, + With cruel intention, to view it. + +The owner then said, "Master Hawk, + If you love my chickens so dearly, +Come down to my yard for a walk, + That you may address them more nearly." + +But, "No," thought the sharp-taloned foe + Of Biddy, "my circuit is higher! +If I to his premises go. + 'Twill be when I see he's not nigh her." + +The Farmer strewd barley, and toled + The chickens the brush to run under, +And left them, while Hawk growing bold, + Thus tempted, came near for his plunder. + +As closer and closer he drew, + With appetite stronger and stronger, +He found he'd but one thing to do, + And plunged, to defer it no longer. + +But now he had come to a pause, + At once in the net-work entangled, +While through it his head and his claws + In hopeless vacuity dangled. + +The chicks saw him hang overhead, + Where they for their barley had huddled; +And all in a flutter they fled, + And soon through the coop holes had scuddled. + +The Farmer came out to his snare, + He saw the bold captive was in it; +And said, "If this play be unfair, + Remember, I did not begin it!" + +He then put a cork on his beak, + The airy assassin disarming, +Unspurred him, and rendered him weak, + By blunting each talent for harming. + +And into the coop he was thrown: + The chickens hid under their mother, +For he, by his feathers was known + As he, who had murdered their brother + +Dame Biddy, beholding his plight, + Determined to show him no quarter, +In action gave vent to her spite; + As motherly tenderness taught her. + +She shouted, and blustered; and then + Attacked the poor captive unfriended; +And you, (who have witnessed a hen + In anger,) may guess how it ended. + +She made him a touching address, + If pecking and scratching could do it; +Till sinking in silent distress, + He perished before she got through it. + +We would not, however, convey + A thought like approving the fury, +That gave, in this summary way, + Punition without judge or jury. + +Whenever 'tis given, it tends + To lessen the angry bestower. +The _fowl_ that inflicts it descends-- + But the _featherless biped_, still lower. + + + + +=Kit With the Rose= + +A Rose-tree stood in the parlor, + When Kit came frolicking by; +So, up went her feet on the window-seat, + To a rose that had caught her eye. + +She gave it a cuff, and it trembled + Beneath her ominous paw; +And while it shook, with a threatening look, + She coveted what she saw. + +Thought she, "What a beautiful toss-ball! + If I could but give it a snap, +Now all are out, nor thinking about + Their rose, or the least mishap!" + +She twisted the stem, and she twirled it; + And seizing the flower it bore, +With the timely aid of her teeth, she made + A leap to the parlor-floor. + +Then over the carpet she tossed it, + All fresh in its morning bloom, +Till, shattered and rent, its leaves were sent + To every side of the room. + +At length, with her sport grown weary, + She laid herself down to sun, +Inclining to doze, forgetting the rose, + And the mischief she'd slily done. + +By and by her young mistress entered, + And uttered a piteous cry, +When she saw the fate of what had so late + Delighted her watchful eye. + +But, where was the one who had spoiled it + Concealing his guilty face? +She had not a clue, whereby to pursue + The rogue to his lurking-place! + +Thought Kit, "I'll keep still till it's over; + And none will suspect it was I." +For the puss awoke, when her mistress spoke; + And she well understood the cry. + +But, mewing at length for her dinner, + Kit's mouth confessed the whole truth: +It opened so wide that her mistress espied + A rose-leaf pierced by her tooth! + +Then, banished was Kit from the parlor, + All covered with shame! And those +Inclined, like her, in secret to err, + Should remember Kit with the Rose. + + + + +=The Captive Butterfly= + +Good morning, pretty Butterfly! + How have you passed the night? +I hope you're gay and glad as I + To see the morning light. + +But, little silent one, methinks + You're in a sober mood. +I wonder if you'd like to drink, + And what you take for food. + +I shut you in my crystal cup, + To let your winglets rest. +And now I want to hold you up, + To see your velvet vest. + +I want to count your tiny toes. + To find your breathing-place, +And touch the downy horn that grows + Each side your pretty face. + +I'd like to see just how you're made, + With streaks and spots and rings; +And wish you'd show me how you played + Your shining, rainbow wings. + +"'T was not," the little prisoner said, + "For want of food or drink, +That, while you slumbered on your bed, + I could not sleep a wink. + +"My wings are pained for want of flight, + My lungs, for want of air. +In bitterness I've passed the night, + And meet the morning's glare. + +"When looking through my prison wall, + So close, and yet so clear, +I see there's freedom there for all, + While I'm a captive here. + +"I've stood upon my feeble feet + Until they're full of pain. +I know that liberty is sweet, + Which I cannot regain. + +"Do I deserve a fate like this, + Who've ever acted well, +Since first I left the chrysalis, + And fluttered from my shell? + +"I've never injured fruit, or flower, + Or man, or bird, or beast; +And such a one should have the power + Of going free, at least. + +"And now, if you will let me quit + My prison-house, the cup, +I'll show you how I sport and flit, + And make my wings go up!" + +The lid was raised; the prisoner said, + "Behold my airy play!" +Then quickly on the wing he fled + Away, away, away! + +From flower to flower he gayly flew, + To cool his aching feet, +And slake his thirst with morning dew, + Where liberty was sweet! + + + + +=The Dissatisfied Angler Boy= + +I'm sorry they let me go down to the brook; +I'm sorry they gave me the line and the hook; +And wish I had staid at home with my book! + I'm sure 'twas no pleasure to see +That poor little harmless, suffering thing +Silently writhe at the end of the string, +Or to hold the pole, while I felt him swing + In torture,--and all for me! + +'Twas a beautiful speckled and glossy trout; +And when from the water I drew him out, +On the grassy bank as he floundered about, + It made me shivering cold, +To think I had caused so much needless pain; +And I tried to relieve him, but all in vain: +O never, as long as I live, again + May I such a sight behold! + +But, what would I give, once more to see +The brisk little swimmer alive and free, +And darting about as he used to be, + Unhurt, in his native brook! +'Tis strange that people can love to play, +By taking innocent lives away! +I wish I had stayed at home to-day + With sister, and read my book. + + + + +=The Stove and the Grate-Setter= + +Old Winter is coming, to play off his tricks-- + To make your ears tingle--your fingers to numb! +So I, with my trowel, new mortar and bricks, + To guard you against him, already am come. + +An ounce of prevention in time, I have found, + Is worth pounds of remedy taken too late! +And proof that the sense of my maxim is sound, + Will shine where I fasten stove, furnace or grate. + +The Summer leaves now whirling fast from the trees, + By Autumn's chill blast are tossed yellow and sere; +And soon, with the breath of his nostrils to freeze + Each thing he can puff at, will Winter be here! + +But hardly he'll dare to steal in at the door, + Your elbows to bite with his keen cutting air, +And give you an ague, where I've been before, + To set the defence I to-day can prepare. + +And when he comes blustering on from the north, + To give you blue faces, and shakes by the chin, +You'll find what the craft of the mason was worth, + As you from abroad to your parlor step in! + +For all will around be so pleasant and warm,-- + Your hearth bright and cheering--your coal in a glow; +You'll not heed the winds whistling up the rough storm + To sift o'er your dwellings its clouds full of snow! + +You'll then think of me;--how I handled to-day + The cold stone and iron--the brick and the lime: +And all, but the surer foundation to lay + For comfort to give in the drear winter time. + +I lay you, against this old Winter, a charm. + To make him, at least, keep himself out of doors! +'Twould melt--should he enter--his hard hand and arm. + When loud for admission he threatens and roars. + +If gratitude then should come, warming your _heart_, + As peaceful you sit by your warm _fireside_; +Perhaps it may teach you some good to impart + To those, where the gifts you enjoy are denied. + +For He in whose favor all blessedness is; + And out of whose kingdom no treasure is sure, +Was poor when on earth;--and the poor still are his: + His charge to his friends is "_Remember the poor_." + +Nor would his disciple be higher than He, + Who once on the dwellings of men, for his bread, +In lowliness wrought! but contentedly, we + Will work by the light that our Master has shed. + + + + +=Song of the Bees= + +We watch for the light of the morn to break, + And color the eastern sky +With its blended hues of saffron and lake; +Then say to each other, "Awake! awake! +For our winter's honey is all to make, + And our bread for a long supply!" + +Then off we hie to the hill and the dell-- + To the field, the meadow, and bower: +In the columbine's horn we love to dwell,-- +To dip in the lily with snow-white bell,-- +To search the balm in its odorous cell, + The mint, and rosemary flower. + +We suck the bloom of the eglantine,-- + Of the pointed thistle and brier; +And follow the track of the wandering vine, +Whether it trail on the earth, supine, +Or round the aspiring tree-top twine, + And reach for a state still higher. + +As each, on the good of the others bent, + Is busy, and cares for all, +We hope for an evening with hearts content,-- +That Winter may find us without lament +For a Summer that's gone, with its hours misspent, + And a harvest that's past recall! + + + + +=The Summer is Come= + +CHILDHOOD'S RURAL SONG. + + The Summer is come + With the insect's hum, +And the birds that merrily sing. + And sweet are the hours, + And the fruits and flowers, +That Summer has come to bring. + + All nature is glad, + And the earth is clad +In her brightest and best array: + So, we with delight + Will our songs unite, +Our tribute of joy to pay. + + + The swallow is out, + And she sails about +In air, for the careless fly: + Then she takes a sip + With her horny lip +As she skims where the waters lie. + + And the lamb bounds light + In his fleece of white, +But he doesn't know what to think, + In the streamlet clear, + Where he sees appear +His face as he stoops to drink. + + For, never before + Has he gambolled o'er +The summer-dressed, flowery earth; + And he skips in play, + As he fain would say +"'Tis a season of feast and mirth." + + And we have to-day + Been rambling away +To gather the flowers most fair, + Which we sat beneath + An old oak to wreath +While fanned by the balmy air. + + Now the sun goes down + Like a golden crown +That's sliding behind a hill; + So we dance the while + To his farewell smile; +And well dance as the dews distil. + + Then, we'll dance to-night + While the fire-fly's light +Is sparkling among the grass; + And we'll step our tune + To the silver moon, +As over the green we pass. + + O, Summer is sweet! + But her joys are fleet; +We catch them but on the wing: + Yet never the less + Would our hearts confess +The blessings she comes to bring. + + + + +=The Morning-Glory= + +Come here and sit thee down by me! +I've read a tale, I'll tell to thee; +And precious will the moral be, + Though simple is the story. +It is about a brilliant flower, +With beauty scarce possessed of power +Its opening to survive an hour-- + An airy Morning-Glory. + +'Tis common parlance names it thus; +But 'twas a gay convolvulus: +Yet we'll not stop to here discuss + Its species or its genus. +We'll just suppose a blooming vine +With many leaf and bud to shine, +And curling tendrils thrown to twine + And form a bower, between us. + +And we'll suppose a happy boy, +With face lit up by hope and joy, +Who thinks that nothing shall destroy + His vine, his pride and pleasure, +Is standing near, with kindling eye, +As if its very look would pry +The cup apart, therein to spy + The growing floral treasure. + +And now the petal, twisted tight, +Above the calyx peers to sight +With apex tipped with purple, bright + As if the rainbow dyed it. +While on the air it vacillates, +Its owner's bosom palpitates +To see it open, as he waits + Impatient close beside it. + +Another rising sun has thrown +Its beams upon the vine, and shown +The splendid Morning-Glory blown, + As if some little fairy, +When early from his couch he went, +On some ethereal journey bent, +Had there inverted left his tent + Of purple, high and airy. + +And many a fair and shining flower +As bright as this adorned the bower, +Displayed like jewels in an hour, + Where'er the vine was clinging. +As each corolla lost its twist, +The zephyr fanned, the sunbeam kissed +The little vase of amethyst; + And round it birds were singing. + +And now the little boy comes out +To see his vine. He gives a shout, +And sings and laughs, and jumps about + Like one two-thirds demented. +His little playmates, one, two, three, +Come round the beauteous vine to see, +And each cries, "Give a flower to me, + And I'll go off contented." + +But "No," the selfish owner cried, +And pushed his comrades all aside, +While walking round his bower with pride, + "Not one of you shall sever +A floweret from the stem so gay; +I own them, not to give away! +I'll come to see them every day; + And keep them mine for ever!" + +So, when at noon from school he came, +To see his vine was first his aim: +But oh! his feelings who can name, + As mute he stood and eyed it? +For not a flower could he behold, +While each corolla, inward rolled, +Appeared as shrivelled, dead, and old + As if a fire had dried it. + +"Alas!" the selfish owner said, +"My Glories----oh! they all are dead! +And all my little friends have fled + Aggrieved! for I've abused them. +They'll keep away, and but deride +My sorrow, when they hear my pride +Is gone;--that quick the pleasures died + Which rudely I refused them!" + + + + +=The Old Cotter and his Cow= + + My good old Cow, + I scarce know how +Again we've wintered over; + With my scant fare, + And thine so spare-- +No dainty dish, nor clover! + + We both were old, + And keen the cold; +While poorly housed we found us; + And by the blast + That, whistling, passed, +The snows were sifted round us. + + While, many a day. + Few locks of hay +Were most thy crib presented, + A patient Cow, + And kind wast thou, +And with thy mite contented. + + But though the storms + Have chilled our forms, +And we've been pinched together, + The dark, blue day + Is passed away; +We've reached the warm spring weather! + + The bounteous earth + Is shooting forth +Her grass and flowers so gayly; + Thou now canst feed + Along the mead, +While food is growing daily. + + The soft, sweet breeze + Through budding trees +Now fans my brow so hoary: + And these old eyes + Find new supplies +Of light from nature's glory. + + Though poor my cot, + And low my lot, +With thee, my richest treasure, + I take my cup, + And looking up, +Bless Him who gives my measure. + + + + +=The Speckled One= + +Poor speckled one! none else will deign + To waft thy name around; +So, let me take it on my strain, + To give it air and sound. + +Yes--air and sound, low child of earth! + For these are oft the things +That give a name its greatest worth, + Its gorgeous plumes and wings. + +But do not shun me thus, and hop + Affrighted from my way! +Dismiss thy terrors--turn and stop; + And hear what I may say. + +Meek, harmless thing, afraid of man? + This truly should not be. +Then calmly pause, and let me scan + My Maker's work in thee. + +For both of us to Him belong; + We're fellow-creatures here; +And power should not be armed with wrong, + Nor weakness filled with fear. + +I know it is thy humble lot + To burrow in a hole-- +To have a form I envy not, + And that without a soul. + +In motion, attitude and limb + I see thee void of grace; +And that a look supremely grim, + Reigns o'er thy solemn face. + +But thou for this art not to blame; + Nor should it make us load +With obloquy, and scorn, and shame + The honest name of TOAD. + +For, though so low on nature's scale-- + In presence so uncouth, +Thou ne'er hast told an evil tale, + Of falsehood, or of truth. + +Thy thoughts are ne'er on malice bent-- + Nor hands to mischief prone; +Nor yet thy heart to discontent; + Though spurned, and poor and lone. + +No coveting nor envy burns + In thy bright golden eye, +That calm and innocently turns + On all below the sky. + +Thy cautious tongue and sober lip + No words of folly pass, +Nor, are they found to taste and sip + The madness of the glass. + +Thy frugal meal is often drawn + From earth, and wood, and stone; +And when thy means by these are gone, + Thou seem'st to live on none. + +I hear that in an earthen jar + Sealed close, shut up alive, +From food, drink, air, sun, moon and star, + Thou'lt live and even thrive:-- + +And that no moan, or murmuring sound + Will issue from the lid +Of thy dark dwelling under ground, + When it is deeply hid. + +Thou hast, as 'twere, a secret shelf, + Whereon is a supply +Of nourishment, within thyself, + Concealed from mortal eye. + +Methinks this self-sustaining art + 'Twere well for us to know, +To keep us up in flesh and heart, + When outer means grow low. + +Could we contain our riches thus, + On such mysterious shelves, +Why, none could rob or beggar us; + Unless we lost ourselves! + +But ah! my Toadie, there's the rub, + With every human breast-- +To live as in the cynic's tub, + And yet be self-possessed! + +For, how to let no boast get round + Beyond our tub, to show +That we in head and heart are sound, + Is one great thing to know. + +And yet, the prison-staves and hoop + To let no murmur through, +However hard we find the coop, + Is greater still to do. + +Then go, thou sage, resigned and calm, + Amid thy low estate; +And to thy burrow bear the palm + For victory over fate. + +We conquer, when we meekly bear + The lot we cannot shape; +And hug to death the ills and care + From which there's no escape. + + + + +=The Blind Musician= + +"Ah! who comes here?" old Raymond cried, +As lone he sat by the highway-side, +Where Frisk jumped up at his knee in play; +And his white locks went to the air astray;-- +While his worn-out hat lay on the ground, +And his light violin gave forth no sound-- +"Ah! who comes here with voice so kind +To the ear of a poor old man who's blind?" + +'Twas a gladsome troop of bright young boys, +With hearts all full of their play-day joys, +As their baskets were of nuts and cake, +And fruits, a pic-nic treat to make. +For they were out for the fields and flowers-- +For the grassy lane, and the woodland bowers; +And the course they took first led them by +Where the lone one sat with a sightless eye. + +They saw he'd a worn and hungry look; +And each from his basket promptly took +A part of its precious pic-nic store, +And tried the others to get before, +As on with their ready gifts they ran, +To reach them forth to the poor old man; +And said, "Good Sir, take this and eat +While resting thus on your mossy seat." + +"Heaven bless you, little children dear!" +Old Raymond cried, with a starting tear, +As they took their cup to the fountain's brink, +And brought him back some clear, cool drink. +And Frisk looked up with a grateful eye, +As to him they dropped some crust of pie: +For he, good dog, was his master's guide, +By a cord to the ring of his collar tied. + +"And now, would you like to hear me play," +Said the traveller, "ere you go your way? +O, I did not think that aught so soon +Could have put my poor old heart in tune. +But you have touched it at the spring, +And it seems as if it could dance and sing. +Your kindness makes my spirit light, +Till I hardly feel that I've lost my sight!" + +He took up his violin and bow, +And made his voice to their music flow; +And the children, listening sat around +As if by a spell to the circle bound. +While thus they were fastened to the spot, +And their first pursuit almost forgot, +They felt they could ask no pleasure more, +And their picnic frolic at once gave o'er. + +And there they staid till the sun went down, +When they led the old Raymond safe to town; +While Frisk went sporting all the way, +To speak his thanks by his joyous play. +They found him a room with a table spread, +And a pillow to rest his hoary head. +Then feeling their time and pence well-spent, +They all went back to their homes content. + + + + +=The Lame House= + +O, I cannot bring to mind +When I've had a look so kind, +Gentle lady, as thine eye +Gives me, while I'm limping by! +Then, thy little boy appears +To regard me but with tears. +Think'st thou he would like to know +What has brought my state so low? + +When not half so old as he, +I was bounding, light and free, +By my happy mother's side, +Ere my mouth the bit had tried, +Or my head had felt the rein +Drawn, my spirits to restrain. +But I'm now so worn and old, +Half my sorrows can't be told. + +When my services began, +How I loved my master, man! +I was pampered and caressed,-- +Housed, and fed upon the best. +Many looked with hearts elate +At my graceful form and gait,-- +At my smooth and glossy hair +Combed and brushed with daily care. + +Studded trappings then I wore, +And with pride my master bore,-- +Glad his kindness to repay +In my free, but silent way. +Then was found no nimble steed +That could equal me in speed, +So untiring, and so fleet +Were these now, old, aching feet. + +But my troubles soon drew nigh: +Less of kindness marked his eye, +When my strength began to fail; +And he put me off at sale. +Constant changes were my fate, +Far too grievous to relate. +Yet I've been, to say the least, +Through them all a patient beast. + +Older--weaker--still I grew: +Kind attentions all withdrew! +Little food, and less repose; +Harder burdens--heavier blows,-- +These became my hapless lot, +Till I sunk upon the spot! +This maimed limb beneath me bent +With the pain it underwent. + +Now I'm useless, old, and poor, +They have made my sentence sure; +And to-morrow is the day, +Set for me to limp away, +To some far, sequestered place, +There at once to end my race. +I stood by, and heard their plot-- +Soon my woes shall be forgot! + +Gentle lady, when I'm dead +By the blow upon my head, +Proving thus, the truest friend, +Him who brings me to my end; +Wilt thou bid them dig a grave +For their faithful, patient slave; +Then, my mournful story trace, +Asking mercy for my race? + + + + +=Humility; or, The Mushroom's Soliloquy.= + +O, what, and whence am I, 'mid damps and dust, +And darkness, into sudden being thrust? +What was I yesterday? and what will be, +Perchance, to-morrow, seen or heard of me? + +Poor--lone--unfriended--ignorant--forlorn, +To bear the new, full glory of the morn,-- +Beneath the garden wall I stand aside, +With all before me beauty, show, and pride. + +Ah! why did Nature shoot me thus to light, +A thing unfit for use--unfit for sight; +Less like her work than like a piece of Art, +Whirled out and trimmed--exact in every part? + +Unlike the graceful shrub, and flexible vine, +No fruit--no branch--nor leaf, nor bud, is mine. +No singing bird, nor butterfly, nor bee +Will come to cheer, caress, or flatter me. + +No beauteous flower adorns my humble head, +No spicy odors on the air I shed; +But here I'm stationed, in my sombre suit, +With only top and stem--I've scarce a root! + +Untaught of my beginning or my end, +I know not whence I sprung, or where I tend: +Yet I will wait, and trust; nor dare presume +To question Justice--I, a frail Mushroom! + + + + +=The Lost Nestlings.= + +"Have you seen my darling nestlings?" +A mother-robin cried, +"I cannot, cannot find them, +Though I've sought them far and wide. + +"I left them well this morning, +When I went to seek their food; +But I found, upon returning, +I'd a nest without a brood. + +"O have you nought to tell me, +That will ease my aching breast, +About my tender offspring +That I left within the nest? + +"I have called them in the bushes, + And the rolling stream beside; +Yet they come not at my bidding;-- + I'm afraid they all have died!" + +"I can tell you all about them;" + Said a little wanton boy +"For 'twas I that had the pleasure + Your nestlings to destroy. + +"But I didn't think their mother + Her little ones would miss; +Or ever come to hail me + With a wailing sound, like this. + +"I didn't know your bosom + Was formed to suffer woe, +And to mourn your murdered children, + Or I had not grieved you so. + +"I am sorry that I've taken + The lives I can't restore; +And this regret shall teach me + To do the like no more. + +"I ever shall remember +The wailing sound I've heard! +No more I'll kill a nestling, +To pain a mother-bird!" + + + + +=The Bat's Flight By Daylight An Allegory=. + +A Bat one morn from his covert flew, +To show the world what a Bat could do, +By soaring off on a lofty flight, +In the open day, by the sun's clear light! +He quite forgot that he had for wings +But a pair of monstrous, plumeless things; +That, more than half like a fish's fin, +With a warp of bone, and a woof of skin, +Were only fit in the dark to fly, +In view of a bat's or an owlet's eye. + +He sallied forth from his hidden hole, +And passed the door of his neighbor, Mole, +Who shrugged, and said, "Of the two so blind +The wisest, surely, stays behind!" +But he could not cope with the glare of day: +He lost his sight, and he missed his way;-- +He wheeled on his flapping wings, till, "bump!" +His head went, hard on the farm-yard pump. +Then, stunned and posed, as he met the ground, +A stir and a shout in the yard went round; +For its tenants thought they had one come there, +That seemed not of water, earth, or air. +The Hen, "Cut, cut, cut-dah-cut!" cried, +For all to cut at the thing she spied; +While the taunting Duck said, "Quack, quack, quack!" +As her muddy mouth to the pool went back, +For something denser than sound, to show +Her sage disgust, at the quack to throw. +The old Turk strutted, and gobbled aloud, +Till he gathered around him a babbling crowd; +When each proud neck in the whole doomed group +Was poked with a condescending stoop, +And a pointed beak, at the prostrate Bat, +Which they eyed askance, as to ask, "What's _that_?" +But none could tell; and the poults moved off, +In their _select circle_ to leer and scoff. + +The Goslings skulked; but their wise mamma, +She hissed, and screamed, till the Lambs cried, "Ba-a!" +When up from his straw sprang the gaping Calf, +With a gawky leap and a clammy laugh. +He stared--retreated--and off he went, +The wondrous news in his voice to vent,-- +That he had discovered a _monster_ there-- +A _bird four-footed, and clothed with hair_! +And had dashed his heel at the sight so odd, +It looked, he thought, like a _heathen god_! + +The scuddling Chicks cried, "Peep, peep, peep! +For Boss looks high, but not very deep! +It is not a fowl! 'tis the worst of things,-- +low, mean beast, with the use of wings, +So noiseless round on the air to skim, +You know not when you are safe from him." + +There stood by, some of the bristly tribe, +Who felt so touched by the peeper's gibe, +Their backs were up; for they thought, at least, +It aimed at them the _low, mean beast:_ +And they challenged Chick to her tiny face, +In their sharp, high notes, and their awful base. + +Then old Chanticleer to his mount withdrew, +And gave from his rostrum a loud halloo. +He blew his clarion strong and shrill, +Till he turned all eyes to his height, the hill; +When he noised it round with his loudest crow, +That 't was none of the _plumed_ ones brought so low. + +And, "Bow-wow-wow!" went the sentry Cur; +But he soon strolled off in a grave demur, +When he saw on the wonder, _hair_, like his, +_Two ears_, and a kind of _doubtful phiz;_ +And he deemed it prudent to pause, and hark +In silence, for fear that the sight might _bark_! + +At last came Puss, with a cautious pat +To feel the pulse of the quivering Bat, +That had not, under her tender paw, +A limb to move, nor a breath to draw! +Then she called her kit for a mother's gift, +And stilled its mew with the racy lift. + +When Mole of the awful death was told, +"Alas!" cried she, "he had grown too bold-- +Too vain and proud! Had he only kept, +Like the _prudent Mole_, in his nest, and slept. +Or worked underground, where none could see, +He might have still been alive, like me!" + +While thus, so early the poor Bat died, +A cry, that it was but the fall of pride, +And signs of mirth, or of scorn, were all +He had from those who beheld his fall. +They each could triumph, and each condemn; +But no kind pity was shown by them. + +And now, should we, as a mirror, place +This story out for the world to face, +How many, think you, would there perceive +Likeness to children of Adam and Eve? + + + + +=Idle Jack.= + +See mischievous and idle Jack! +How fast he flies, nor dares look back! +He seized Horatio's pretty cart, +And broke and threw it part from part; +The body here, and there the wheels; +And now, by taking to his heels, +He makes the Scripture proverb true,-- +_The wicked flee when none pursue._. + +Oh! Jack's a worthless, wicked boy, +Who seems but evil to enjoy. +He often racks his naughty brain +Inventing ways of giving pain. +He loves to torture butterflies-- +To dust the kitten's tender eyes-- +To break the cricket's slender limb; +And pain to them is sport to him. + +He sometimes to your garden comes, +To crush the flowers and steal the plums-- +The melons tries with thievish gripe, +To find the one that's nearest ripe-- +His pocket fills with grapes or pears, +No matter how their owner fares; +When, by its lawless, robber track, +You trace the foot of idle Jack. + +Whenever Jack is sent to school, +He, playing truant, plays the fool: +Or else he goes, with sloven looks +And hands unclean, to spoil the books-- +To spill the ink, or make a noise, +Disturbing good and studious boys; +Till all who find what Jack's about +Within the school, must wish him out. + +If ever Jack at church appears, +He knows not, cares not, what he hears. +While others to the word attend, +He has a pencil-point to mend-- +An apple, or his nails to pare, +Or cracks a nut in time of prayer, +Till many wish that Jack would come, +A better boy, or stay at home. + +In short, he shows, beyond a doubt, +That, if he does not turn about, +And mend his morals and his ways, +He yet must come to evil days; +And of a life of wasted time-- +Of idleness, and vice, and crime, +To meet, perhaps, a felon's end, +With neither man, nor God his friend. + + + + +=David and Goliath=. + +Young David was a ruddy lad + With silken, sunny locks, +The youngest son that Jesse had: + He kept his father's flocks. + +Goliath was a Philistine, + A giant, huge and high; +He lifted, like a towering pine, + His head towards the sky. + +He was the foe of Israel's race. + A mighty warrior, too; +And on he strode from place to place, + And many a man he slew. + +So Saul, the king of Israel then, + Proclaimed it to and fro, +That most he'd favor of his men + The one, who'd kill the foe. + +Yet all, who saw this foe draw near, + Would feel their courage fail; +For not an arrow, sword, or spear, + Could pierce the giant's mail. + +But Jesse's son conceived a way, + That would deliverance bring; +Whereby he might Goliath slay, + And thus relieve the king. + +Then quick he laid his shepherd's crook + Upon a grassy bank; +And off he waded in the brook + From which the lambkins drank. + +He culled and fitted to his sling + Five pebbles, smooth and round; +And one of these he meant should bring + The giant to the ground. + +"I've killed a lion and a bear," + Said he, "and now I'll slay +The Philistine, and by the hair + I'll bring his head away!" + +Then onward to the battle-field + The youthful hero sped; +He knew Goliath by his shield, + And by his towering head. + +But when, with only sling and staff, + The giant saw him come, +In triumph he began to laugh; + Yet David struck him dumb. + +He fell! 'twas David's puny hand + That caused his overthrow! +Though long the terror of the land, + A pebble laid him low. + +The blood from out his forehead gushed. + He rolled, and writhed, and roared: +The little hero on him rushed, + And drew his ponderous sword. + +Before its owner's dying eye + He held the gleaming point +Upon his throbbing neck to try; + Then severed cord and joint. + +He took the head, and carried it + And laid it down by Saul; +And showed him where the pebble hit + That caused the giant's fall. + +The lad, who had Goliath slain + With pebbles and a sling, +Was raised in after years to reign + As Israel's second king! + +'Twas not the courage, skill, or might + Which David had, alone, +That helped him Israel's foe to fight + And conquer, with a stone. + +But, when the shepherd stripling went + The giant thus to kill, +God used him as an instrument + His purpose to fulfil! + + + + +=Escape of the Doves=. + +Come back, pretty Doves! O, come back from the tree. + You bright little fugitive things! +We could not have thought you so ready and free + In using your beautiful wings. + +We didn't suppose, when we lifted the lid, + To see if you knew how to fly, +You'd all flutter off in a moment, and bid + The basket for ever good-by! + +Come down, and we'll feast you on insects and seeds;-- + You sha'nt have occasion to roam-- +We'll give you all things that a bird ever needs, + To make it contented at home. + +Then come, pretty Doves! O, return for our sakes, + And don't keep away from us thus; +Or, when your old slumbering master awakes, + 'Twill be a sad moment for us! + +"We can't!" said the birds, "and the basket may stand + A long time in waiting; for now +You find out too late, that a bird in the hand + Is worth, at least, two on the bough. + +"And we, from our height, looking down on you there, + By experience taught to be sage,-- +Find, one pair of wings that are free in the air + Are worth two or three in the cage! + +"But when our old master awakes, and shall find + The work you have just been about, +We hope, by the freedom we love, he'll be kind, + And spare you for letting us out. + +"We thank you for all the fine stories you tell, + And all the good things you would give; +But think, since we're out, we shall do very well + Where nature designed us to live. + +"Whene'er you may think of the swift little wings + On which from your reach we have flown, +No doubt, you'll beware, and not meddle with things, + In future, that are not your own." + + + + +=Edward and Charles=. + +The brothers went out with the father to ride, +Where they looked for the flowers, that, along the way-side, + So lately were blooming and fair; +But their delicate heads by the frost had been nipped; +Their stalks by the blast were all twisted and stripped; + And nothing but ruin was there. + +"Oh! how the rude autumn has spoiled the green hills!" +Exclaimed little Charles, "and has choked the bright rills + With leaves that are faded and dead! +The few on the trees are fast losing their hold. +And leaving the branches so naked and cold. + That the beautiful birds have all fled." + +"I know," replied Edward, "the country has lost +A great many charms by the touch of the frost, + Which used to appear to the eye; +But then, it has opened the chestnut-burr too, +The walnut released from the case where it grew; + And now our _Thanksgiving_ is nigh! + +"Oh! what do you think we shall do on that day?" +"I guess," answered Charles, "we shall all go away + To Grandpa's; and there find enough +Of turkeys, plum-puddings, and pies by the dozens, +For Grandpa' and Grandma', aunts, uncles and cousins; + And at night we'll all play blind-man's-buff. + +"Perhaps we'll get Grandpa' to tell us some stories +About the old times, with their _Whigs_ and their _Tories_; + And what sort of men they could be; +When some spread their tables without any cloth, +With basins and spoons, and the fuming bean-broth, + Which they took for their coffee and tea. + +"They'd queer kind of sights, I have heard Grandma' say, +About in their streets; for, if not every day, + At least it was nothing uncommon, +To see them pile on the poor back of one horse +A saddle and _pillion_; and what was still worse, + Up mounted a man and a woman! + +"The lady held on by the driver; and so, +Away about town at full trot would they go; + Or perhaps to a great country marriage,-- +To Thanksgiving-supper--to husking, or ball; +Or quilting; for thus did they take nearly all + Their rides, on an _animal_ carriage! + +"I know not what _huskings_ and _quiltings_ maybe; +But Grandma' will tell; and perhaps let us see + Some things she has long laid away:-- +That stiff damask gown, with its sharp-pointed waist, +The hoop, the craped, cushion, and buckles of paste, + Which they wore in her grandparent's day. + +"She says they had buttons as large as our dollars, +To wear on their coats with their square, standing collars; + And then, there's a droll sort of hat, +Which Mary once fixed me one like, out of paper, +And said she believed 'twas called _three-cornered scraper_; + Perhaps, too, she'll let us see that. + +"Oh! a glorious time we shall have! If they knew +At the south, what it is, I guess they'd have one too; + But I have heard somebody say, +That, there, they call all the New England folks _Bumpkins,_ +Because we eat puddings, and pies made of pumpkins, + And have our good Thanksgiving-day." + +"I think, brother Charles," returned Edward "at least, +That they might go to church, if they don't like the feast; + For to me it is much the best part, +To hear the sweet anthems of praise, that we give +To Him, on whose bounty we constantly live:-- + It is feasting the ear and the heart. + +"From Him, who has brought us another year round, +Who gives every blessing, wherewith we are crowned, + Their gratitude who can withhold? +And now how I wish I could know all the poor +Their Thanksgiving-stores had already secure, + Their fuel, and clothes for the cold!" + +"I'm glad," said their father, "to hear such a wish; +But wishes alone, can fill nobody's dish, + Or clothe them, or build them a fire. +And now I will give you the money, my sons, +Which I promised, you know, for your drum and your guns, + To spend in the way you desire." + +The brothers went home, thinking o'er by the way, +For how many comforts this money might pay, + In something for clothing or food: +At length they resolved, if their mother would spend it, +For what she thought best, they would get her to send it + Where she thought it would do the most good. + + + + +=The Mountain Minstrel=. + +On our mountain of Savoy, + In the shadow of a rock, +Once I sat, a shepherd-boy, + Watching o'er my father's flock. + +We'd a happy cottage-home, + Peaceful as the sparrow's nest, +Where, at evening, we could come + From our roamings to our rest. + +I'd a minstrel's voice and ear: + I could whistle, pipe and sing, +While I roving, seemed to hear + Music stir in every thing. + +But misfortune, like a blast. + Swift upon my father rushed; +From our dwelling we were cast-- + At a stroke our peace was crushed. + +All we had was seized for debt: + In the sudden overthrow, +Even my fond, fleecy pet, + My white cosset, too, must go. + +Then I wandered, sad and lone, + Where I'd once a flock to feed; +All the treasure now my own + Was my simple pipe of reed. + +But a noble, pitying friend, + Who had seen me sadly stray, +Made me to his lute attend; + And he taught me how to play. + +Then his lute to me he gave; + And abroad he bade me roam, +Till the earnings I could save + Would redeem our cottage-home. + +Glad, his counsel straight I took-- + I received his gift with joy; +All my former ways forsook, + And became a minstrel-boy. + +With my mountain airs to sing, + Forward then I roamed afar, +Sweeping still the tuneful string-- +Having hope my leading star. + +In the hamlets where I've gone, + Groups would gather--music-bound: +In the cities I have drawn + List'ners till my hopes were crowned. + +Ever saving as I earned, + I of one dear object dreamed; +To my mountain then returned, + And our cottage-home redeemed. + +Time has wiped away our tears; + Here we dwell together blest; +All our sorrows, doubts and fears + I have played and sung to rest. + +Here my aged parents live + Free from want, and toil, and cares; +All the bliss that earth can give + Deem they in this home of theirs. + +Life's night-shades fast o'er them creep; + All their wrongs have been forgiven-- +They have but to fall asleep + In their cot, to wake in heaven. + +Gentle friend, dost thou inquire + What's the lineage whence I came? +Jesse is my shepherd sire-- + David-Jesse is my name! + + + + +=The Veteran and the Child=. + +"Come, grandfather, show how you carried your gun +To the field, where America's freedom was won, +Or bore your old sword, which you say was new then, +When you rose to command, and led forward your men; +And tell how you felt with the balls whizzing by, +Where the wounded fell round you, to bleed and to die!" + +The prattler had stirred, in the veteran's breast, +The embers of fire that had long been at rest. +The blood of his youth rushed anew through his veins; +The soldier returned to his weary campaigns; +His perilous battles at once fighting o'er, +While the soul of nineteen lit the eye of four-score. + +"I carried my musket, as one that must be +But loosed from the hold of the dead, or the free! +And fearless I lifted my good, trusty sword, +In the hand of a mortal, the strength of the Lord! +In battle, my vital flame freely I felt +Should go, but the chains of my country to melt! + +"I sprinkled my blood upon Lexington's sod, +And Charlestown's green height to the war-drum I trod. +From the fort, on the Hudson, our guns I depressed, +The proud coming sail of the foe to arrest. +I stood at Stillwater, the Lakes and White Plains, +And offered for freedom to empty my veins! + +"Dost now ask me, child, since thou hear'st here I've been, +Why my brow is so furrowed, my locks white and thin-- +Why this faded eye cannot go by the line, +Trace out little beauties, and sparkle like thine; +Or why so unstable this tremulous knee, +Who bore 'sixty years since,' such perils for thee? + +"What! sobbing so quick? are the tears going to start? +Come! lean thy young head on thy grandfather's heart! +It has not much longer to glow with the joy +I feel thus to clasp thee, so noble a boy! +But when in earth's bosom it long has been cold, +A man, thou'lt recall, what, a babe, thou art told." + + + + +=Captain Kidd=. + +There's many a one who oft has heard + The name of Robert Kidd, +Who cannot tell, perhaps, a word + Of him, or what he did. + +So, though I never saw the man, + And lived not in his day; +I'll tell you how his guilt began-- + To what it paved the way. + +'Twas in New York Kidd had his home; + And there he left his wife +And children, when he went to roam, + And lead a seaman's life. + +Now Robert had as firm a hand, + A heart as stern and brave, +As ever met in one on land, + Or on the briny wave. + +'Twas in the third king William's time, + When many a pirate bold +Committed on the seas the crime + Of shedding blood for gold. + +So Captain Kidd was singled out + As one devoid of fears, +To take a ship and cruise about + Against the Bucaniers. + +The ship was armed with many a gun, + And manned with many a man, +Across the southern seas to run + To foil the pirate's plan. + +But when she long, from isle to isle, + Without success had sailed, +And made no capture all the while, + Her master's patience failed. + +The prizes he so oft had sought, + He found he sought in vain; +And soon a wicked, bloody thought, + Came into Robert's brain! + +His mind he opened to his men; + And found his guilty crew +Agreed with him, that they, from then, + Would all turn pirates too! + +He threw his Bible in the deep, + Defied its Author's will; +And, with his conscience put to sleep, + Began to rob and kill. + +And now the desperado reigned, + A tyrant on the waves; +While they whose blood his hands had stained, + Went down to watery graves. + +No merchant ship could near him go, + Which he would not annoy; +For Kidd was passing to and fro, + And seeking to destroy. + +He seized the vessel, plunged the knife + Within the seamen's breast: +And by a cruel waste of life, + His evil gains possessed. + +He then would make the nearest isle. + And go at night by stealth, +To hide within the earth awhile + His last ill-gotten wealth. + +Thus, many a shining wedge of gold + This modern Achan hid; +And many a frightful tale was told + About the pirate, Kidd. + +But Justice does not slumber long; + If slow, she's ever sure. +There's none too artful, quick, or strong + For her to make secure! + +To Boston, with a brazen face, + The pirate boldly went, +Where he was seized; and in disgrace + And chains, to England sent. + +The captain and his crew were there, + A solemn, fearful sight; +Resigning life high up in air, + E'en at the gibbet's height! + +For many a year their bodies hung + Along the river side; +As beacons, showing old and young + How they had lived and died. + +The wealth they hid was never found. + Though often sought of men. +'Tis where they placed it in the ground, + Till they should come again! + +The earth has seemed by Heaven constrained. + The treasures to withhold +That price of blood has none obtained, + Or used the pirate's gold! + + + + +=The Dying Storm=. + +I am feeble, pale and weary, + And my wings are nearly furled. +I have caused a scene so dreary, + I am glad to quit the world. +While with bitterness I'm thinking + On the evil I have done, +To my caverns deep I'm sinking + From the coming of the sun. + +Oh! the heart of man will sicken + In that pure and holy light, +When he feels the hopes I've stricken + With an everlasting blight! +For, so wildly in my madness + Have I poured abroad my wrath, +I've been changing joy to sadness; + And with ruins strewed my path. + +Earth has shuddered at my motion:-- + She my power in silence owns; +While the troubled, roaring ocean + O'er my deeds of horror moans. +I have sunk the dearest treasure-- + I've destroyed the fairest form: +Sadly have I filled my measure; + And I'm now a dying Storm! + +Yet, to man among the living, + With my final gasp and sigh, +I, a solemn caution giving, + Fain would serve him while I die. +Not like me, shall he, descending + Swift to death, from being cease. +He's a spirit!--fleetly tending + To eternal pain or peace! + + + + +=The Little Traveller=. + +I am the tiniest child of earth! + But still, I would like to be known to fame; +Though next to nothing I had my birth, + And lowest of all in my lowly name. + +Yet, if so humble my native place, + This I can say, in family pride-- +That I'm of the world's most numerous race, + And made by the Maker of all beside. + +Although I'm so poor, I naught to lose; + Still I'm so little I can't be lost! +I journey about, wherever I choose, + And those who carry me bear the cost. + +The most forgiving of earthly things, + I often cling to my deadly foe; +And, spite of the cruellest flirts and flings, + Arise by the force that has cast me low. + +When beauty has trodden me under foot, + I've quietly risen, her face to seek,-- +Embraced her forehead, and calmly put + Myself to rest in her dimpled cheek. + +I've ridden to war on the soldier's plume; + But startled and sprung, at the wild affray,-- +The sights of horror--of fire and fume; + And fled on the wings of the wind away. + +I've visited courts, and been ushered in + By the proudest guest of the stately scene; +I've touched his majesty's bosom-pin, + And the nuptial ring of his lofty queen. + +At the royal board, in the grand parade, + I've oft been one familiar and free: +The fairest lady has smiled, and laid + Her delicate, gloveless hand on me. + +Philosopher, poet, the learned, the sage, + Never declines a call from me; +And all, of every rank and age. + Admit me into their _coteri_. + +I visit the lions of every where, + If human, or brute, and can testify +To what they do, to what they wear, + To wonders none ever beheld but I! + +And now, reviewing the things I've done, + Forgetting my name, my rank and birth, +I begin to think I am number ONE, + Of the great and manifold things of earth. + +I've still much more, I yet might tell, + Which modesty bids me here withhold; +For fear with my travels I seem to swell, + Or grow, for an ATOM OF DUST, too bold! + +THE END. + + + + +BY SUSAN PINDAR. =Now ready, a New Edition=. + +=FIRESIDE FAIRIES; OR, CHRISTMAS AT AUNT ELSIE'S.= + +Beautifully illustrated, with Original Designs. 1 vol. 12mo. 75 cts., +gilt ed. $1. + +_Contents_. + +The Two Voices, or the Shadow and the Shadowless. The Minute Fairies. I +Have and O Had I. The Hump and Long Nose. The Lily Fairy and the Silver +Beam. The Wonderful Watch. The Red and White Rose Trees. The Diamond +Fountain. The Magical Key. + +Though this is a small book, it is, mechanically, exceedingly beautiful, +being illustrated with spirited woodcuts from Original Designs. But that +is its least merit. It is one of the most entertaining, and decidedly +one of the best juveniles that have issued from the prolific press of +this city. We speak advisedly. It is long since we found time to read +through a juvenile book, so near Christmas, when the name of this class +of volumes is legion; but this charmed us so much that we were unwilling +to lay it down after once commencing it. The first story,--"The Two +Voices, or the Shadow and the Shadowless,"--is a sweet thing, as is also +the one entitled, "The Diamond Fountain." Indeed, the whole number, and +there are ten, will be read with avidity. Their moral is as pure as +their style is enchanting.--_Com. Adv_. + + * * * * * + +D. Appleton & Co. have just ready, + +A NEW UNIFORM SERIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. BY AMEREL. + +COMPRISING + +I. CHRISTMAS STORIES, for Good Children. Illustrated. 16mo. II. WINTER +HOLIDAYS. A Story for Children. Illustrated. 16mo. III. THE SUMMER +HOLIDAYS. A Story for Children. Illus. 16mo. IV. GEORGE'S ADVENTURES IN +THE COUNTRY. Illus. 16mo. V. THE CHILD'S STORY BOOK. A Holiday Gift. +Illus. 16mo. VI. THE LITTLE GIFT-BOOK. For Good Boys and Girls. Illus. +16mo. + + + + +NEW ILLUSTRATED JUVENILES. + +AUNT FANNY'S STORY BOOK. Illustrated. 16mo. $ 50 + +THE CHILD'S PRESENT. Illustrated. 16mo. + +HOWITT'S PICTURE AND VERSE BOOK. Illustrated with 100 plates. 75 cts.; +gilt 1 00 + +HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. Illustrated. 4to., 25 cts.; cloth 50 + +STORY OF JOAN OF ARC. By R.M. Evans. With 23 illustrations. 16mo. 75 + +ROBINSON CRUSOE. 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When you shall have examined and +scented it, and found no thorn to pierce—no juice or odor to poison you +in its whole circle, wear it for the giver's sake; and enjoy it and +profit by its healthful influences, for your own.</p> + +<p>Gladly would I feel assured that, in some future years,—when I shall +have done with earthly flowers, and you will be engaged in the busy +scenes and arduous duties of mature life,—the import of these leaves +may from time to time arise to your memory, in all its dewy freshness, +like the fragrance which the summer-breeze wafts after us, from the +lilies and violets we have passed and left far behind us, in our morning +rambles. Then, if not to-day, you will be convinced that I was—as now I +am,</p> + +<p>Your true Friend,</p> + +<p>H. F. GOULD.</p> + +<p><i>Newburyport, Mass</i>., August, 1850.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CONTENTS"></a><h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<a href="#ADDRESS"><b>ADDRESS</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Sale_of_the_Water-Lily"><b>The Sale of the Water-Lily</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Humming-Bird's_Anger"><b>The Humming-Bird's Anger</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Butterfly's_Dream"><b>The Butterfly's Dream</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Boy_and_the_Cricket"><b>The Boy and the Cricket</b></a><br> + <a href="#Sudden_Elevation_or_The_Empaled_Butterfly"><b>Sudden Elevation; or The Empaled Butterfly</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Stricken_Bird"><b>The Stricken Bird</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Young_Sportsman"><b>The Young Sportsman</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Pebble_and_the_Acorn"><b>The Pebble and the Acorn</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Grasshopper_and_the_Ant"><b>The Grasshopper and the Ant</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Rose-Bud_of_Autumn"><b>The Rose-Bud of Autumn</b></a><br> + <a href="#Frost_the_Winter-Sprite"><b>Frost, the Winter-Sprite</b></a><br> + <a href="#Vivy_Vain"><b>Vivy Vain</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Lost_Kite"><b>The Lost Kite</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Summer-Morning_Rumble"><b>A Summer-Morning Rumble</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Shoemaker"><b>The Shoemaker</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Snow-Storm"><b>The Snow-Storm</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Whirlwind"><b>The Whirlwind</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Disobedient_Skater_Boys"><b>The Disobedient Skater Boys</b></a><br> + <a href="#Winter_and_Spring"><b>Winter and Spring</b></a><br> + <a href="#Tom_Tar"><b>Tom Tar</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Envious_Lobster"><b>The Envious Lobster</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Crocus_Soliloquy"><b>The Crocus' Soliloquy</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Bee_Clover_and_Thistle"><b>The Bee, Clover, and Thistle</b></a><br> + <a href="#Poor_Old_Paul"><b>Poor Old Paul</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Sea-Eagle's_Fall"><b>The Sea-Eagle's Fall</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Two_Thieves"><b>The Two Thieves</b></a><br> + <a href="#Jemmy_String"><b>Jemmy String</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Caterpillar"><b>The Caterpillar</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Mocking_Bird"><b>The Mocking Bird</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Silk-Worm's_Will"><b>The Silk-Worm's Will</b></a><br> + <a href="#Dame_Biddy"><b>Dame Biddy</b></a><br> + <a href="#Kit_With_the_Rose"><b>Kit With the Rose</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Captive_Butterfly"><b>The Captive Butterfly</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Dissatisfied_Angler_Boy"><b>The Dissatisfied Angler Boy</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Stove_and_the_Grate-Setter"><b>The Stove and the Grate-Setter</b></a><br> + <a href="#Song_of_the_Bees"><b>Song of the Bees</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Summer_is_Come"><b>The Summer is Come</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Morning-Glory"><b>The Morning-Glory</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Old_Cotter_and_his_Cow"><b>The Old Cotter and his Cow</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Speckled_One"><b>The Speckled One</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Blind_Musician"><b>The Blind Musician</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Lame_Horse"><b>The Lame Horse</b></a><br> + <a href="#Humility_or_The_Mushroom's_Soliloquy"><b>Humility; or, The Mushroom's Soliloquy</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Lost_Nestlings"><b>The Lost Nestlings</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Bat's_Flight_By_Daylight_An_Allegory"><b>The Bat's Flight By Daylight An Allegory</b></a><br> + <a href="#Idle_Jack"><b>Idle Jack</b></a><br> + <a href="#David_and_Goliath"><b>David and Goliath</b></a><br> + <a href="#Escape_of_the_Doves"><b>Escape of the Doves</b></a><br> + <a href="#Edward_and_Charles"><b>Edward and Charles</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Mountain_Minstrel"><b>The Mountain Minstrel</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Veteran_and_the_Child"><b>The Veteran and the Child</b></a><br> + <a href="#Captain_Kidd"><b>Captain Kidd</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Dying_Storm"><b>The Dying Storm</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Little_Traveller"><b>The Little Traveller</b></a><br> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Sale_of_the_Water-Lily"></a><h2><b>The Sale of the Water-Lily</b></h2> + +And these would sometimes come, and cheer<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The widow with a song,</span><br> +To let her feel a neighbor near,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wing an hour along.</span><br> +<br> +A pond, supplied by hidden springs,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With lilies bordered round,</span><br> +Was found among the richest things,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That blessed the widow's ground.</span><br> +<br> +She had, besides, a gentle brook,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That wound the meadow through,</span><br> +Which from the pond its being took,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And had its treasures too.</span><br> +<br> +Her eldest orphan was a son;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For, children she had three;</span><br> +She called him, though a little one,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her hope for days to be.</span><br> +<br> +And well he might be reckoned so;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If, from the tender shoot,</span><br> +We know the way the branch will grow;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or, by the flower, the fruit.</span><br> +<br> +His tongue was true, his mind was bright;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His temper smooth and mild:</span><br> +He was—the parent's chief delight—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A good and pleasant child.</span><br> +<br> +He'd gather chips and sticks of wood<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The winter fire to make;</span><br> +And help his mother dress their food,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or tend the baking cake.</span><br> +<br> +In summer time he'd kindly lead<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His little sisters out,</span><br> +To pick wild berries on the mead,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fish the brook for trout.</span><br> +<br> +He stirred his thoughts for ways to earn<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some little gain; and hence,</span><br> +Contrived the silver pond to turn.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In part, to silver pence.</span><br> +<br> +He found the lilies blooming there<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So spicy sweet to smell,</span><br> +And to the eye so pure and fair,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He plucked them up to sell.</span><br> +<br> +He could not to the market go:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He had too young a head,</span><br> +The distant city's ways to know;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The route he could not tread.</span><br> +<br> +But, when the coming coach-wheels rolled<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To pass his humble cot,</span><br> +His bunch of lilies to be sold<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was ready on the spot.</span><br> +<br> +He'd stand beside the way, and hold<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His treasures up to show,</span><br> +That looked like yellow stars of gold<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just set in leaves of snow.</span><br> +<br> +"O buy my lilies!" he would say;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"You'll find them new and sweet:</span><br> +So fresh from out the pond are they,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I haven't dried my feet!"</span><br> +<br> +And then he showed the dust that clung<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon his garment's hem,</span><br> +Where late the water-drops had hung,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he had gathered them.</span><br> +<br> +And while the carriage checked its pace,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To take the lilies in,</span><br> +His artless orphan tongue and face<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some bright return would win.</span><br> +<br> +For many a noble stranger's hand,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With open purse, was seen,</span><br> +To cast a coin upon the sand,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or on the sloping green.</span><br> +<br> +And many a smiling lady threw<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The child a silver piece;</span><br> +And thus, as fast as lilies grew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He saw his wealth increase.</span><br> +<br> +While little more—and little more,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was gathered by their sale,</span><br> +His widowed mother's frugal store<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would never wholly fail.</span><br> +<br> +For He, who made, and feeds the bird,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her little children fed.</span><br> +He knew her trust: her cry he heard;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And answered it with bread.</span><br> +<br> +And thus, protected by the Power,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who made the lily fair,</span><br> +Her orphans, like the meadow flower,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grew up in beauty there.</span><br> +<br> +Her son, the good and prudent boy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who wisely thus began,</span><br> +Was long the aged widow's joy;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lived an honored man.</span><br> +<br> +He had a ship, for which he chose<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The LILY" as a name,</span><br> +To keep in memory whence he rose,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And how his fortune came.'</span><br> +<br> +He had a lily carved, and set,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her emblem, on her stem;</span><br> +And she was called, by all she met,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A beauteous ocean gem.</span><br> +<br> +She bore sweet spices, treasures bright;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, on the waters wide,</span><br> +Her sails as lily-leaves were white:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her name was well applied.</span><br> +<br> +Her feeling owner never spurned<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The presence of the poor;</span><br> +And found that all he gave returned<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In blessings rich and sure.</span><br> +<br> +The God who by the lily-pond<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had drawn his heart above,</span><br> +In after life preserved the bond<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of grateful, holy love.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Humming-Bird's_Anger"></a><h2><b>The Humming-Bird's Anger</b></h2> + +<p>"Small as the humming-bird is, it has great courage and violent +passions. If it find a flower that has been deprived of its honey, it +will pluck it off, throw it on the ground, and sometimes tear it to +pieces." BUFFON.</p> + +On light little wings as the humming-birds fly,<br> +With plumes many-hued as the bow of the sky,<br> +Suspended in ether, they shine to the light<br> +As jewels of nature high-finished and bright.<br> +<br> +Their vision-like forms are so buoyant and small<br> +They hang o'er the flowers, as too airy to fall,<br> +Up-borne by their beautiful pinions, that seem<br> +Like glittering vapor, or parts of a dream.<br> +<br> +The humming-bird feeds upon honey; and so,<br> +Of course, 'tis a sweet little creature, you know.<br> +But sweet little creatures have sometimes, they say,<br> +A great deal that's bitter, or sour, to betray!<br> +<br> +And often the humming-bird's delicate breast<br> +Is found of a very high temper possessed.<br> +Such essence of anger within it is pent,<br> +'Twould burst did no safety-valve give it a vent.<br> +<br> +Displeased, it will seem a bright vial of wrath,<br> +Uncorked by its heat, the offender to scath;<br> +And, taking occasion to let off its ire,<br> +'Tis startling to witness how high it will fire.<br> +<br> +A humming-bird once o'er a trumpet-flower hung,<br> +And darted that sharp little member, the tongue,<br> +At once to the nectarine cell, for the sweet<br> +She felt at the bottom most certain to meet.<br> +<br> +But, finding some other light child of the air<br> +To rifle its store, had already been there;<br> +And no drop of honey for her to draw up,<br> +Her vengeance broke forth on the destitute cup.<br> +<br> +She flew in a passion, that heightened her power;<br> +And cuffing, and shaking the innocent flower,<br> +Its tender corolla in shred after shred<br> +She hastily stripped; then she snapped off its head.<br> +<br> +A delicate ruin, on earth as it lay,<br> +That bright little fury went, humming, away,<br> +With gossamer softness, and fair to the eye,<br> +Like some living brilliant, just dropped from the sky.<br> +<br> +And since, when that curious bird I behold<br> +Arrayed in rich colors, and dusted with gold,<br> +I cannot but think of the wrath and the spite<br> +She has in reserve, though they're now out of sight.<br> +<br> +Ye two-footed, beautiful, passionate things,<br> +If plumy or plumeless—without, or with wings,<br> +Beware, lest ye break, in some hazardous hour,<br> +Your vials of wrath, hot, or bitter, or sour!<br> +<br> +And would ye but know how at times ye do seem<br> +Transformed to bright furies, or frights in a dream,<br> +Go, stand at the glass—to the painter go sit,<br> +When anger is just at the height of its fit!<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Butterfly's_Dream"></a><h2><b>The Butterfly's Dream</b></h2> + +A tulip, just opened, had offered to hold<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A butterfly gaudy and gay;</span><br> +And rocked in his cradle of crimson and gold,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The careless young slumberer lay.</span><br> +<br> +For the butterfly slept;—as such thoughtless ones will,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At ease, and reclining on flowers;—</span><br> +If ever they study, 'tis how they may kill<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The best of their mid-summer hours!</span><br> +<br> +And the butterfly dreamed, as is often the case<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With <i>indolent</i> lovers of change,</span><br> +Who, keeping the body at ease in its place,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Give fancy permission to range.</span><br> +<br> +He dreamed that he saw, what he could but despise,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The swarm from a neighboring hive;</span><br> +Which, having come out for their winter supplies,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had made the whole garden alive.</span><br> +<br> +He looked with disgust, as the proud often do,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the diligent movements of those,</span><br> +Who, keeping both present and future in view,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Improve every hour as it goes.</span><br> +<br> +As the brisk little alchymists passed to and fro,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With anger the butterfly swelled;</span><br> +And called them mechanics—a rabble too low<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To come near the station he held.</span><br> +<br> +"Away from my presence!" said he, in his sleep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Ye humble plebeians! nor dare</span><br> +Come here with your colorless winglets to sweep<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The king of this brilliant parterre!"</span><br> +<br> +He thought, at these words, that together they flew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, facing about, made a stand;</span><br> +And then, to a terrible army they grew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fenced him on every hand.</span><br> +<br> +Like hosts of huge giants, his numberless foes<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seemed spreading to measureless size:</span><br> +Their wings with a mighty expansion arose,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And stretched like a veil o'er the skies.</span><br> +<br> +Their eyes seemed like little volcanoes, for fire,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their hum, to a cannon-peal grown,—</span><br> +Farina to bullets was rolled in their ire,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, he thought, hurled at him and his throne.</span><br> +<br> +He tried to cry quarter! his voice would not sound,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His head ached—his throne reeled and fell;</span><br> +His enemy cheered, as he came to the ground,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And cried, "King Papilio, farewell!"</span><br> +<br> +His fall chased the vision—the sleeper awoke,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wonderful dream to expound;</span><br> +The lightning's bright flash from the thunder-cloud broke,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And hail-stones were rattling around.</span><br> +<br> +He'd slumbered so long, that now, over his head,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tempest's artillery rolled;</span><br> +The tulip was shattered—the whirl-blast had fled,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And borne off its crimson and gold.</span><br> +<br> +'Tis said, for the fall and the pelting, combined<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With suppressed ebullitions of pride.</span><br> +This vain son of summer no balsam could find,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But he crept under covert and died!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Boy_and_the_Cricket"></a><h2><b>The Boy and the Cricket</b></h2> + +At length I have thee! my brisk new-comer,<br> +Sounding thy lay to departing summer;<br> +And I'll take thee up from thy bed of grass,<br> +And carry thee home to a house of glass;<br> +Where thy slender limbs, and the faded green<br> +Of thy close-made coat, can all be seen.<br> +For I long to know if the cricket <i>sings</i>,<br> +Or <i>plays</i> the tune with his gauzy wings;—<br> +To bring that shrill-toned pipe to light<br> +Which kept me awake so long last night,<br> +That I told the hours by the lazy clock,<br> +Till I heard the crow of the noisy cock;<br> +When, tossing and turning, at length I fell<br> +In a sleep so strange, that the dream I'll tell.<br> +<br> +Methought, on a flowery bank I lay,<br> +By a beautiful stream; and watched the play<br> +Of the sparkling wavelets, that fled so fast,<br> +I could not number them as they passed.<br> +But I marked the things which they carried by;<br> +And a neat little skiff first caught my eye.<br> +'Twas woven of reeds, and its sides were bound<br> +By a tender vine, that had clasped it round;<br> +And spreading within, had made it seem<br> +A basket of leaves, borne down the stream.<br> +And the skiff had neither a sail nor oar;<br> +But a bright little boy stood up, and bore,<br> +On his outstretched hands, a wreath so gay,<br> +It looked like a crown for the Queen of May.<br> +And while he was going, I heard him sing,<br> +"O seize the garland of passing <i>Spring!</i>"<br> +But I dared not reach, for the bank was steep;<br> +And he bore it away, to the far off deep!<br> +<br> +There came, then, a lady;—her eye was bright—<br> +She was young and fair, and her bark was light;<br> +Its mast was a living tree, that spread<br> +Its boughs for a sail, o'er the lady's head.<br> +And some of its fruits had just begun<br> +To flush, on the side that was next the sun;<br> +And some with the crimson streak were stained;<br> +While others their size had not yet gained.<br> +In passing she cried, "Oh! who can insure<br> +The fruits of <i>Summer</i> to get mature?<br> +For, fast as the waters beneath me flowing,<br> +Beyond recall, I'm going! I'm going!"<br> +<br> +I turned my eye, and beheld another,<br> +That seemed as she might be Summer's mother.<br> +She looked more grave; while her cheek was tinged<br> +With a deeper brown; and her bark was fringed<br> +With the tasselled heads of the wheaten sheaves<br> +Along its sides; and the yellow leaves,<br> +That had covered the deck concealed a throng<br> +Of <i>Crickets!</i>—I knew by their choral song.<br> +And at <i>Autumn's</i> feet lay the golden corn,<br> +While her hands were raised, to invert a horn<br> +That was filled with a sweet and mellow store,<br> +And the purple clusters were hanging o'er.<br> +She bade me seize on the fruit that should last<br> +When the harvest was gone, and Autumn had past.<br> +But, when I had paused to make the choice,<br> +I saw no bark! and I heard no voice!<br> +<br> +Then I looked on a sight that chilled my blood!<br> +'Twas a mass of ice, where an old man stood<br> +On his frozen float; while his shrivelled hand<br> +Had clenched, as a staff by which to stand,<br> +A whitened branch that the blast had broke<br> +From the lifeless trunk of an aged oak.<br> +The icicles hung from the naked limb,<br> +And the old man's eye was sunken and dim.<br> +But his scattering locks were silver bright,<br> +His beard with gathering frost was white;<br> +The tears congealed on his furrowed cheek,<br> +His garb was thin, and the winds were bleak.<br> +He faintly uttered, while drawing near,<br> +"<i>Winter</i>, the death of the short-lived year,<br> +Can yield thee nought, as I downward tend<br> +To the boundless sea, where the Seasons end!<br> +But I trust from others, who've gone before,<br> +Thou'st clothed thy form, and supplied thy store<br> +And now, what tidings am I to bear<br> +Of thee—for I shall be questioned there?"<br> +<br> +I asked my mother, who o'er me bent,<br> +What all this show of the Seasons meant?<br> +She said 'twas a picture of Life, I saw;<br> +And the useful moral myself must draw!<br> +<br> +I woke, and found that thy song was stilled,<br> +And the sun's bright beams my room had filled!<br> +But I think, my Cricket, I long shall keep<br> +In mind the dream of my morning sleep!<br> + +<br> + +<p><b>Fanny Spy</b></p> + +Lucy, Lucy, come away!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never climb for things so high.</span><br> +Don't you know, the other day,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What fell out with Fanny Spy?</span><br> +<br> +Fanny spied, a loaf of cake,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wisely set above her reach;</span><br> +Yet did Fanny think to make<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In its tempting side a breach.</span><br> +<br> +When she thought the family<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Out of sight and hearing too,</span><br> +Forth a polished table she<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quickly to the closet drew.</span><br> +<br> +First, she stepped upon a chair;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then the table—then a shelf;</span><br> +Thinking she securely there<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Might, unnoticed, help herself.</span><br> +<br> +Then she seized a heavy slice,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leaving in the loaf a cleft</span><br> +Wider than a dozen mice,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Feasted there all night, had left.</span><br> +<br> +Stepping backward, Fanny slid<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the table's polished face:—</span><br> +Down she came, with dish and lid,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Silver—glass—and china vase!</span><br> +<br> +In, from every room they rushed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Father—mother—servants—all,</span><br> +Thinking all the closet crushed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the racket and the fall.</span><br> +<br> +'Mid the uproar of the house,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fanny, in her shame and fright,</span><br> +Wished herself indeed a mouse,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But to run and hide from sight.</span><br> +<br> +Yet was she to learn how vain,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poor and worthless, is a wish.</span><br> +Wishing could not lull her pain,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hide her shame, nor mend a dish.</span><br> +<br> +There she lay, but could not speak;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For a tooth had made a pass</span><br> +Through her lip; and to her cheek<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clung a piece of shivered glass.</span><br> +<br> +From her altered features gushed<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rolling tears, and streaming gore;</span><br> +While, untasted still, and crushed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lay her cake upon the floor.</span><br> +<br> +Then the doctor hurried in:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fanny at his needle swooned,</span><br> +As he held her crimson chin,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And together stitched the wound.</span><br> +<br> +Now her face a scar must wear,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ever till her dying day!</span><br> +Questioned how it happened there,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What can blushing Fanny say?</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Sudden_Elevation_or_The_Empaled_Butterfly"></a><h2><b>Sudden Elevation; or The Empaled Butterfly</b></h2> + +"Ho!" said the Butterfly, "here am I,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Up in the air, who used to lie</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Flat on the ground, for the passers by</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To treat with utter neglect!</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But none will suspect that I am the same;</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">With a bright, new coat, and a different name;</span><br> +The piece of nothingness whence I came<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">In me they'll never detect.</span><br> +<br> +"That horrible night in the chrysalis,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Which brought me at length to a day like this,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">In a form of beauty—a state of bliss,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Was little enough to give</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For freedom to range from bower to bower,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">To flirt with the buds, and flatter the flower,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And bask in the sunbeams hour by hour,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">The envy of all that live.</span><br> +<br> +"Why, this is a world of curious things,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Where those who crawl, and those that have wings,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Are ranked in the classes of beggars, and kings,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">No matter how much the worth</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">May be on the side of those who creep,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Where the vain, the light, and the bold will sweep,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Others from notice, and proudly keep</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Uppermost on the earth!</span><br> +<br> +"Many a one that has loathed the sight<br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Of the piteous worm, will take delight</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">In welcoming me, as I look so bright</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">In my new and beautiful dress.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But some I shall pass with a scornful glance,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Some, with an elegant <i>nonchalance</i>;</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And others will woo me, till I advance</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To give them a slight caress."</span><br> +<br> +"Ha, ha!" said the Pin, "you are just the one<br> +Through which I'm commissioned, at once, to run<br> +From back to breast, till, your fluttering done,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your form may be fairly shown.</span><br> +And when my point shall have reached your heart,<br> +'T will be as a balm to the wounded part,<br> +To think how you're to be copied by art,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And your beauty will all be known!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Stricken_Bird"></a><h2><b>The Stricken Bird</b></h2> + +Here's the last food your poor mother can bring!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take it, my suffering brood.</span><br> +Oh! they have stricken me under the wing;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">See, it is dripping with blood!</span><br> +<br> +Fair was the morn, and I wished them to rise,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Enjoying its beauties with me.</span><br> +The air was all fragrance—all splendor the skies,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While bright shone the earth and the sea.</span><br> +<br> +Little I thought, when so freely I went,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Employing my earliest breath,</span><br> +To wake them with song, it could be their intent<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To pay me with arrows and death!</span><br> +<br> +Fear that my nestlings would feel them forgot,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Helped me a moment to fly;</span><br> +Else I had given up life on the spot,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under my murderer's eye.</span><br> +<br> +Yet, I can never brood o'er you again,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Closing you under my breast!</span><br> +Its coldness would chill you; my blood would but stain<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And spoil the warm down of your nest.</span><br> +<br> +Ere the night-coming, your mother will lie,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All motionless, under the tree;</span><br> +Where, deafened, and silent, I still shall be nigh,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While you will be moaning for me!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Young_Sportsman"></a><h2><b>The Young Sportsman</b></h2> + +Harry had a dog and gun;<br> +And he loved to set the one,<br> +Barking, out upon the run,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While he held the other,</span><br> +Often charged so heavily,<br> +'Twas a dangerous thing to be<br> +With so young a wight as he<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mindless of his mother.</span><br> +<br> +Earnestly she warned her child<br> +To forego a sport so wild;<br> +While he, turning, frowned or smiled,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And away would sidle.</span><br> +For, to give him short and long,<br> +Harry had a head so strong,<br> +In the right or in the wrong,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was hard to bridle.</span><br> +<br> +On his gunning madly bent,<br> +Often in his clothes a rent<br> +Told the reckless way he went,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Over hedge and brambles.</span><br> +Homeward then would Harry slouch,<br> +With his gun and empty pouch,<br> +Looking like a scaramouch<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Coming from his rambles.</span><br> +<br> +Sometimes when he scaled a wall,<br> +Headlong there to pitch and fall,<br> +Ratling stones, and gun and all.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Down together tumbled.</span><br> +Tray would bark to tell the news<br> +Of his master with a bruise,<br> +Hatless, and with grated shoes,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lying flat and humbled!</span><br> +<br> +Where he saw the bushes stirred,<br> +Harry, sure of hare or bird,<br> +Drew,—and at a flash was heard<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Noise like little thunder.</span><br> +When he ran his game to find,<br> +Disappointment 'mazed his mind;—<br> +Finding he'd but shot the wind,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dumb he stood with wonder!</span><br> +<br> +Over muddy pool or bog,<br> +Not so nimble as his dog,<br> +When he walked the plank or log,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There his balance losing,</span><br> +Splash! he went—a rueful plight!<br> +If his face before was white,<br> +'Twas like morning turned to night,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Much against his choosing.</span><br> +<br> +Now, like many a hasty one,<br> +Whether quadruped or gun,<br> +Or a mother's wayward son<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Given to disaster,</span><br> +Harry's gun was rather quick;<br> +And it had a naughty trick,—<br> +It would snap itself, and kick<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fiercely at its master.</span><br> +<br> +So, this snappish habit grew<br> +With a power for him to rue;<br> +Just as all bad habits do<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grow, as age increases.</span><br> +When, one day, with noise and smoke,<br> +Over-charged, the barrel broke,<br> +Harry's hand the mischief spoke—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was blown to pieces!</span><br> +<br> +Tray came crouching round, and growled,—<br> +Saw the gore, and whined, and howled,<br> +While his owner groaned and scowled,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the blood was running.</span><br> +With the horrors of his state,<br> +And with anguish desperate,<br> +Then poor Harry owned too late,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was <i>sick of gunning</i>!</span><br> +<br> +While his mother bent to mourn<br> +As her froward son was borne,<br> +With his hand all burnt and torn,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Faint and pale, before her,</span><br> +Harry's pain must be endured,—<br> +And the wound—it might be cured;<br> +But, for fingers uninsured,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There was no restorer!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Pebble_and_the_Acorn"></a><h2><b>The Pebble and the Acorn</b></h2> + +"I am a Pebble! I yield to none!"<br> +Were the swelling words of a tiny stone,<br> +"Nor time nor season can alter me;<br> +I am abiding, while ages flee.<br> +The pelting hail and the drizzling rain<br> +Have tried to soften me, long, in vain;<br> +And the dew has tenderly sought to melt,<br> +Or touch my heart; but it was not felt.<br> +There's none to tell you about my birth,<br> +For I am as old as the big, round earth.<br> +The children of men arise, and pass<br> +Out of the world, like blades of grass;<br> +And many foot that on me has trod<br> +Is gone from sight, and under the sod!<br> +I am a Pebble! but who art <i>thou</i>,<br> +Rattling along from the restless bough?"<br> +<br> +The Acorn was shocked at this rude salute,<br> +And lay for a moment abashed and mute:<br> +She never before had been so near<br> +This gravelly ball, the mundane sphere;<br> +And she felt for a time at loss to know<br> +How to answer a thing so coarse and low.<br> +But to give reproof of a nobler sort<br> +Than the angry look, or the keen retort,<br> +At length she said, in a gentle tone,<br> +"Since it has happened that I am thrown,<br> +From the lighter element where I grew,<br> +Down to another, so hard and new,<br> +And beside a personage so august,<br> +Abased, I'll cover my head with dust,<br> +And quick retire from the sight of one<br> +Whom time, nor season, nor storm, nor sun,<br> +Nor the gentle dew, nor the grinding heel<br> +Has ever subdued, or made to feel!"<br> +And soon in the earth she sank away<br> +From the cheerless spot where the Pebble lay.<br> +<br> +But 'twas not long ere the soil was broke<br> +By the jeering head of an infant oak!<br> +As it arose, and its branches spread,<br> +The Pebble looked up, and, wondering, said,<br> +"Ah, modest Acorn! never to tell<br> +What was enclosed in its simple shell;—<br> +That the pride of the forest was folded up<br> +In the narrow space of its little cup!—<br> +And meekly to sink in the darksome earth,<br> +Which proves that nothing could hide her worth!<br> +And O, how many will tread on me,<br> +To come and admire the beautiful tree,<br> +Whose head is towering towards the sky,<br> +Above such a worthless thing as I!<br> +Useless and vain, a cumberer here,<br> +Have I been idling from year to year.<br> +But never, from this, shall a vaunting word<br> +From the humbled Pebble again be heard,<br> +Till something without me or within<br> +Shall show the purpose for which I've been!"<br> +The Pebble could ne'er its vow forget,<br> +And it lies there wrapt in silence yet.<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Grasshopper_and_the_Ant"></a><h2><b>The Grasshopper and the Ant</b></h2> + +"Ant, look at me!" a young grasshopper said,<br> +As nimbly he sprang from his green, summer-bed,<br> +"See how I'm going to skip over your head,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And could o'er a thousand like you!</span><br> +Ant, by your motion alone, I should judge<br> +That Nature ordained you a slave and a drudge,<br> +For ever and ever to keep on the trudge,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And always find something to do.</span><br> +<br> +"Oh! there is nothing like having our day—<br> +Taking our pleasure and ease while we may—<br> +Bathing ourselves in the bright, mellow ray<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That comes from the warm, golden sun!</span><br> +Whilst I am up in the light and the air,<br> +You, a sad picture of labor and care,<br> +Still have some hard, heavy burden to bear,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And work that you never get done.</span><br> +<br> +"I have an exercise healthful and good,<br> +For tuning the nerves and digesting the food—<br> +Graceful gymnastics for stirring the blood<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without the <i>gross purpose of use</i></span><br> +Ant, let me tell you 'tis not <i>à la mode</i><br> +To plod like a pilgrim, and carry a load,<br> +Perverting the limbs that for grace were bestowed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By such a plebeian abuse!</span><br> +<br> +"While the whole world with provisions is filled,<br> +Who would keep toiling and toiling, to build<br> +And lay in a store for himself, till he's killed<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With work that another might do?</span><br> +Come! drop your budget, and just give a spring;<br> +Jump on a grass-blade, and balance and swing;<br> +Soon you'll be light as a gnat on the wing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gay as a grasshopper, too!"</span><br> +<br> +Ant trudged along, while the grasshopper sung,<br> +Minding her business and holding her tongue,<br> +Until she got home her own people among;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But these were her thoughts on the road.</span><br> +"What will become of that poor, idle one<br> +When the light sports of the summer are done?<br> +And, where is the covert to which he may run<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To find a safe winter abode?</span><br> +<br> +"Oh! if I only could tell him how sweet<br> +Toil makes my rest and the morsel I eat,<br> +While hope gives a spur to my little black feet,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He'd never pity my lot!</span><br> +He'd never ask me my burden to drop,<br> +To join in his folly—to spring, and to hop;<br> +And thus make the ant and her labor to stop,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When time, I am certain, would not.</span><br> +<br> +"When the cold frost all the herbage has nipped,<br> +When the bare branches with ice-drops are tipped,<br> +Where will the grasshopper then be, that skipped<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So careless and lightly to-day?</span><br> +Frozen to death! '<i>a sad picture</i>,' indeed,<br> +Of reckless indulgence and what must succeed,<br> +That all his gymnastics can't shelter or feed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or quicken his pulse into play!</span><br> +<br> +"I must prepare for a winter to come,<br> +I shall be glad of a home and a crumb,<br> +When my frail form out of doors would be numb,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I in the snow-storm should die.</span><br> +Summer is lovely, but soon will be past.<br> +Summer has plenty not always to last.<br> +Summer's the time for the ant to make fast<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her stores for a future supply!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Rose-Bud_of_Autumn"></a><h2><b>The Rose-Bud of Autumn</b></h2> + +Come out—pretty Rose-Bud,—my lone, timid one!<br> +Come forth from thy green leaves, and peep at the sun!<br> +For little he does, in these dull autumn hours,<br> +At height'ning of beauty, or laughing with flowers.<br> +<br> +His beams, on thy tender young cheek as he plays,<br> +Will give it a blush that no other could raise:<br> +Thy fine silken petals they'll softly unfold,<br> +Thy pure bosom filling with spices and gold!<br> +<br> +I would not instruct thee in coveting wealth;<br> +Yet beauty, we know, is the offspring of health;<br> +And health, the fair daughter of freedom! is bright<br> +From drinking the breezes, and feasting on light.<br> +<br> +Then, come, little gem, from thy covert look out;<br> +And see what the glad, golden sun is about!<br> +His shafts, do they strike thee, new charms will impart,<br> +Thy form making fairer, and richer, thy heart.<br> +<br> +Occasion, sweet Bud, is for thee and for me:<br> +This hour it may give what again ne'er shall be.<br> +O, let not the sunshine of life pass away,<br> +Nor touch both our eye and our heart with its ray!<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Frost_the_Winter-Sprite"></a><h2><b>Frost, the Winter-Sprite</b></h2> + +The Frost looked forth on a still, clear night,<br> +And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight;<br> +So through the valley, and over the height<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll silently take my way.</span><br> +I will not go on like that blustering train,<br> +The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,<br> +That make so much bustle and noise in vain.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I'll be as busy as they!"</span><br> +<br> +He flew up, and powdered the mountain's crest;<br> +He lit on the trees, and their boughs he drest<br> +With diamonds and pearls;—and over the breast<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the quivering Lake he spread</span><br> +A bright coat of mail that it need not fear<br> +The glittering point of many a spear<br> +That he hung on its margin, far and near,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where a rock was rearing its head.</span><br> +<br> +He went to the windows of those who slept,<br> +And over each pane, like a fairy crept;<br> +Wherever he breathed—wherever he stepped—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Most beautiful things were seen</span><br> +By morning's first light!--there flowers and trees,<br> +With bevies of birds, and swarms of bright bees;—<br> +There were cities—temples, and towers; and these,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All pictured in silvery sheen!</span><br> +<br> +But one thing he did that was hardly fair—<br> +He peeped in the cupboard, and, finding there<br> +That none had remembered for him to prepare,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Now, just to set them a-thinking,</span><br> +I'll bite their rich basket of fruit," said he,<br> +"This burly old pitcher—I'll burst it in three!<br> +And the glass with the water they've left for me<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Vivy_Vain"></a><h2><b>Vivy Vain</b></h2> + +Miss Vain was all given to dress—<br> +Too fond of gay clothing; and so,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She'd gad about town</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just to show a new gown,</span><br> +As a train-band their color to show.<br> +<br> +Her head being empty and light,<br> +Whene'er she obtained a new hat,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With pride in her air,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She'd go round, here and there,</span><br> +For all whom she knew to see that.<br> +<br> +Her folly was chiefly in this:<br> +More highly she valued fine looks,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than virtue or truth,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or devoting her youth</span><br> +To usefulness, friendship, or books.<br> +<br> +Her passion for show was unchecked;<br> +And therefore, it happened one day,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Arrayed in bright hues,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And with new hat and shoes,</span><br> +Miss Vain walked abroad for display.<br> +<br> +She took the most populous streets.<br> +To cause but aversion in those,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who saw how she prinked,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the bystanders winked.</span><br> +While the boys cried, "Halloo! there she goes!"<br> +<br> +It chanced, that, in passing on way,<br> +She came near a pool, and a green<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With fence close and high;</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, as Vivy drew nigh,</span><br> +A donkey stood near it unseen.<br> +<br> +He put his mouth over its top,<br> +The moment she came by his place;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gave a loud bray</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In her ear, when, away</span><br> +She sprang, shrieked, and fell on her face.<br> +<br> +She thought she was swallowed alive,<br> +Awhile upon earth lying flat;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the terrible sound</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seemed to furrow the ground</span><br> +She embraced in her fine gown and hat.<br> +<br> +She gathered herself up, and ran,<br> +Yet heeded not whither or whence,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To flee from the roar,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That continued to pour</span><br> +Behind her, from over the fence.<br> +<br> +In passing a slope near the pool,<br> +She slipped and rolled down to its brim;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The geese gave a shout,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And at length hissed her out</span><br> +Of the bounds, where they'd gathered to swim.<br> +<br> +In turning a corner, she met<br> +Abruptly, the horns of a cow<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That mooed, while the cur,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At her heels, turned from her,</span><br> +And aimed at Miss Vain his "bow-wow."<br> +<br> +Then Vivy's bright ribbons and skirt,<br> +As she flew, flirted high on the wind;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The children at play,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Paused to see one so gay,</span><br> +And all in a flutter behind.<br> +<br> +A group of glad schoolboys came by:<br> +Said they, "So it seems, that to-day,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Vain carries marks</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At which the dog barks,</span><br> +And that make sober Long-Ears to bray."<br> +<br> +And when, all bedraggled and pale,<br> +Poor Vivy approached her own door,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She went, swift and straight</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As a dart, through the gate,</span><br> +Abhorring the gay gear she wore.<br> +<br> +She sat down, and thought of the scene<br> +With humiliation and tears:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The words, and the noise</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the brutes and the boys</span><br> +Were echoing still in her ears.<br> +<br> +She reasoned, and came at the cause,<br> +Resolving that cause to remove;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thence, her desire</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was for modest attire,</span><br> +And her heart and her mind to improve.<br> +<br> +And soon, all who knew her before<br> +Remarked on the change and the gain<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In mind, and in mien,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in dress, that were seen</span><br> +In the once flashy Miss Vivy Vain.<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Lost_Kite"></a><h2><b>The Lost Kite</b></h2> + +"My kite! my kite! I've lost my kite!<br> +Oh! when I saw the steady flight,<br> +With which she gained her lofty height,<br> +How could I know, that letting go<br> +That naughty string, would bring so low<br> +My pretty, buoyant, darling kite,<br> +To pass for ever out of sight?<br> +<br> +"A purple cloud was sailing by,<br> +With silver fringes, o'er the sky;<br> +And then I thought, it seemed so nigh,<br> +I'd make my kite go up and light<br> +Upon its edge, so soft and bright;<br> +To see how noble, high and proud<br> +She'd look, while riding on a cloud!<br> +<br> +"As near her shining mark she drew<br> +I clapped my hands; the line slipped through<br> +My silly fingers; and she flew,<br> +Away! away! in airy play,<br> +Right over where the water lay!<br> +She veered and fluttered, swung and gave<br> +A plunge, then vanished with the wave!<br> +<br> +"I never more shall want to look<br> +On that false cloud, or babbling brook;<br> +Nor e'er to feel the breeze that took<br> +My dearest joy, to thus destroy<br> +The pastime of your happy boy.<br> +My kite! my kite! how sad to think<br> +She flew so high, so soon to sink!"<br> +<br> +"Be this," the mother said, and smiled,<br> +"A lesson to thee, simple child!<br> +And when by fancies vain and wild,<br> +As that which cost the kite that's lost,<br> +The busy brain again is crossed,<br> +Of shining vapor then beware,<br> +Nor trust thy joys to fickle air.<br> +<br> +"I have a darling treasure, too,<br> +That sometimes would, by slipping through<br> +My guardian hands, the way pursue,<br> +From which, more tight than thou thy kite,<br> +I hold my jewel, new and bright,<br> +Lest he should stray without a guide,<br> +To drown my hopes in sorrow's tide!"<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="A_Summer-Morning_Rumble"></a><h2><b>A Summer-Morning Rumble</b></h2> + +Oh! the happy Summer hours.<br> +With their butterflies and flowers,<br> +And the birds among the bowers<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sweetly singing;—</span><br> +With the spices from the trees,<br> +Vines, and lilies, while the bees<br> +Come floating on the breeze,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Honey bringing!</span><br> +<br> +All the East was rosy red,<br> +When we woke and left our bed;<br> +And to gather flowers we sped,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gay and early.</span><br> +Every clover-top was wet,<br> +And the spider's silken net<br> +With a thousand dew-drops set,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Pure and pearly.</span><br> +<br> +With their modest eyes of blue<br> +Were the violets peeping through<br> +Tufts of grasses, where they grew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Full of beauty,</span><br> +At the lamb in snowy white,<br> +O'er the meadow bounding light,<br> +And the crow just taking flight,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Grave and sooty.</span><br> +<br> +On our floral search intent,<br> +Still away, away we went,—<br> +Up and down the rugged bent,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Through the wicket,—</span><br> +Where the rock with water drops,—<br> +Through the bushes and the copse,—<br> +Where the greenwood pathway stops<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In the thicket.</span><br> +<br> +We heard the fountain gush,<br> +And the singing of the thrush;<br> +And we saw the squirrel's brush<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In the hedges,</span><br> +As along his back 't was thrown,<br> +Like a glory of his own.<br> +While the sun behind it, shone<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Through its edges.</span><br> +<br> +All the world appeared so fair,<br> +And so fresh and free the air,—<br> +Oh! it seemed that all the care<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In creation</span><br> +Belonged to God alone;<br> +And that none beneath his throne,<br> +Need to murmur or to groan<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">At his station.</span><br> +<br> +Dear little brother Will!<br> +He has leaped the hedge and rill,—<br> +He has clambered up the hill,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ere the beaming</span><br> +Of the rising sun, to sweep<br> +With its golden rays the steep,<br> +Till he's tired, and dropped asleep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sweetly dreaming.</span><br> +<br> +See, he threw aside his cap,<br> +And the roses from his lap,<br> +When his eyes were, for the nap,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Slowly closing:</span><br> +Wit his sunny curls outspread,<br> +On its fragrant mossy bed,<br> +Now his precious infant head<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Is reposing.</span><br> +<br> +He is dreaming of his play—<br> +How he rose at break of day,<br> +And he frolicked all the way<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On his ramble.</span><br> +And before his fancy's eye,<br> +He has still the butterfly<br> +Mocking him, where not so high<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He could scramble.</span><br> +<br> +In his cheek the dimples dip,<br> +And a smile is on his lip,<br> +While his tender finger-tip<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Seems as aiming</span><br> +At some wild and lovely thing<br> +That is out upon the wing,<br> +Which he longs to catch and bring<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Home for taming.</span><br> +<br> +While he thus at rest is laid<br> +In the old oak's quiet shade,<br> +Let's cull our flowers to braid,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or unite them</span><br> +In bunches trim and neat,<br> +That for every friend we meet,<br> +We may have a token sweet<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To delight them.</span><br> +<br> +'Tis the very crowning art<br> +Of a happy, grateful heart<br> +To others to impart<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of its pleasure.</span><br> +Thus its joys can never cease,<br> +For it brings an inward peace,<br> +Like an every day increase<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of a treasure.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Shoemaker"></a><h2><b>The Shoemaker</b></h2> + +"Honor and shame from no condition rise.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Act well your part:—there all the honor lies."</span><br> + +The shoemaker sat amid wax and leather,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With lapstone over his knee;</span><br> +Where, snug in his shop, he defied all weather,<br> +A-drawing his quarters and sole together:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A happy old man was he!</span><br> +<br> +This happy old man was so wise and knowing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The worth of his time he knew.</span><br> +He bristled his ends, and he kept them going;<br> +And felt to each moment a stitch was owing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Until he got round the shoe.</span><br> +<br> +Of every deed that his wax was sealing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The closing was firm and fast.</span><br> +The prick of his steel never caused a feeling<br> +Of pain to the toe, and his skill in heeling<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was perfect, and true to the last!</span><br> +<br> +Whenever you gave him a foot to measure.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With gentle and skilful hand,</span><br> +He took its proportions, with looks of pleasure,<br> +As if you were giving the costliest treasure,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or dubbing him lord of the land.</span><br> +<br> +And many a one did he save from getting<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A fever, or cold or cough:</span><br> +For many a sole did he save from wetting,<br> +When, whether in water or snow 'twas setting,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His shoeing would keep them off</span><br> +<br> +And when he had done with his making and mending,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With hope and a peaceful breast,</span><br> +Resigning his awl, as his thread was ending,<br> +He slid from his bench, to the grave descending,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As high as a king to rest!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Snow-Storm"></a><h2><b>The Snow-Storm</b></h2> + +It snows! it snows! from out the sky<br> +The feathered flakes, how fast they fly,<br> +Like little birds, that don't know why<br> +They're on the chase, from place to place,<br> +While neither can the other trace!<br> +It snows, it snows! a merry play<br> +Is o'er us, on this sombre day.<br> +<br> +As dancers in time's airy hall,<br> +That not a moment holds them all,<br> +While some keep up, and others fall,<br> +The atoms shift; then, thick and swift,<br> +They drive along to form the drift,<br> +That weaving up, so dazzling white,<br> +Is rising like a wall of light.<br> +<br> +But now the wind comes, whistling loud,<br> +To snatch and waft it, as a cloud,<br> +Or giant phantom in a shroud.<br> +It spreads,—it curls,—it mounts and whirls;<br> +At length a mighty wing unfurls;<br> +And then, away!--but where, none knows,<br> +Or ever will.—It snows! it snows!<br> +<br> +To-morrow will the storm be done;<br> +Then out will come the golden sun!<br> +And we shall, we shall see, upon the run<br> +Before his beams, in sparkling streams,<br> +What now a curtain o'er him seems.<br> +And thus, with life it ever goes;—<br> +'Tis shade and shine! It snows, it snows!<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Whirlwind"></a><h2><b>The Whirlwind</b></h2> + +Whirlwind, Whirlwind, whither art thou hieing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Snapping off the flowers young and fair;—</span><br> +Setting all the chaff and the withered leaves a-flying,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tossing up the dust in the air?</span><br> +<br> +"I," said the Whirlwind, "cannot stop for talking!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Give me up your cap, my little man;</span><br> +And the polished stick, that you will not need for walking.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While you run to catch them, if you can!</span><br> +<br> +"You, pretty maiden—none has time to tell her<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am coming, ere I shall be there.</span><br> +I will twirl her zephyr—snatch her light umbrella,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seize her hat, and snarl her glossy hair!"</span><br> +<br> +On went the Whirlwind, showing many capers<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One would hardly deem it meet to tell;—</span><br> +Dusting Judge and Parson—flirting gown and papers,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Discomposing matron, beau and belle.</span><br> +<br> +"Whisk!" from behind came the long and sweeping feather,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Round the head of old Chanticleer:—</span><br> +Plumed and plumeless biped felt gust together,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a way they wouldn't like to hear.</span><br> +<br> +Snug in his arbor sat a scholar, musing<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Calmly o'er the philosophic page:</span><br> +"Flap!" went the leaves of the volume he was using,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cutting short the lecture of the sage.</span><br> +<br> +"Hey!" said the bookworm, "this I think is taking<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rather too much liberty with me!</span><br> +Yet I'll not resent it; being bent on making<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Use of every thing I hear and see.</span><br> +<br> +"Many, I know, will not their anger stifle,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When as little cause as this, they find</span><br> +To let it kindle up; but minding every trifle<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is profitless as quarrels with the wind.</span><br> +<br> +"Forth to his business when the Whirlwind sallies,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He is all alive to get it done;—</span><br> +He on his pathway never lags nor dallies;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But is ever up, and on the run.</span><br> +<br> +"Though ever whirling, never growing dizzy;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Motion gives him buoyancy and power.</span><br> +All who have known him own that he is busy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doing much in half a fleeting hour.</span><br> +<br> +"Oh! there is nothing—when our work's before us,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like <i>despatch;</i> for, while our time is brief,</span><br> +Some sweeping blast may suddenly come o'er us,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lose our place, and turn another leaf!</span><br> +<br> +"Whirlwind, Whirlwind, though you're but a flurry,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so odd the business you pursue;—</span><br> +Though you come on, and are off, in such a hurry,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I have caught a hint; and now adieu!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Disobedient_Skater_Boys"></a><h2><b>The Disobedient Skater Boys</b></h2> + +Said William to George, "It is New-Year's day!<br> +And now for the pond and the merriest play!<br> +So, on with your cap; and away, away,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We'll off for a frolic and slide,</span><br> +Be quick—be quick, if you would not be chid<br> +For doing what father and mother forbid;<br> +And under your coat let the skates be hid;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then over the ice we'll glide."</span><br> +<br> +They're up, and they're off; on their run-away feet<br> +They fasten the skates, when, away they fleet,<br> +Far over the pond, and beyond retreat,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unconscious of danger near.</span><br> +But lo! the ice is beginning to bend—<br> +It cracks—it cracks—and their feet descend!<br> +To whom can they look as a helper—a friend?<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their faces are pale with fear.</span><br> +<br> +In their flight to the pond, they had caught the eye<br> +Of a neighboring peasant, who, lingering nigh,<br> +Aware of their danger, and hearing their cry,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now hastens to give them aid.</span><br> +As home they are brought, all dripping and cold,<br> +To all who their piteous plight behold,<br> +The worst of the story is plainly told—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their parents were disobeyed!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Winter_and_Spring"></a><h2><b>Winter and Spring</b></h2> + +"Adieu!" Father Winter sadly said<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the world, when about withdrawing,</span><br> +With his old white wig half off his head,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his icicle fingers thawing;—</span><br> +<br> +"Adieu! I'm going to the rocks and caves,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And must leave all here behind me;</span><br> +Or perhaps I shall sink in the Northern waves,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So deep that none can find me."</span><br> +<br> +"Good luck! good luck, to your hoary locks!"<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said the gay young Spring, advancing;</span><br> +"You may take your rest 'mid the caves and rocks,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While I o'er the earth am dancing.</span><br> +<br> +"But there is not a spot where you have trod.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You hard, old clumsy fellow,—</span><br> +Not a hill, nor a field, nor a single sod,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I must make haste to mellow.</span><br> +<br> +"I then shall carpet them o'er with grass,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To look so bright and cheering,</span><br> +That none will regret having let you pass<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Far out of sight and hearing.</span><br> +<br> +"The fountains that you locked up so tight,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When I shall give them a sunning,</span><br> +Will sparkle and play in my warmth and light,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the streams set off to running.</span><br> +<br> +"I'll speak in the earth to the palsied root,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That under your reign was sleeping;</span><br> +I'll teach it the way in the dark to shoot,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And draw out the vine to creeping.</span><br> +<br> +"The boughs that you cased so close in ice,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was chilling e'en to behold them,</span><br> +I'll deck all over with buds so nice;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My breath can alone unfold them.</span><br> +<br> +"And when all the trees are with blossoms drest,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The bird, with her song so merry,</span><br> +Will come to the branches to build her nest,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a view to the future cherry.</span><br> +<br> +"The earth will show by her loveliness,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wonders that I am doing;</span><br> +While the skies look down with a smile, to bless<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The way that I'm pursuing!"</span><br> +<br> +Said Winter, "Then I would have you learn,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By me, my gay new-comer,</span><br> +To push off too, when it comes your turn,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yield your place to Summer!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Tom_Tar"></a><h2><b>Tom Tar</b></h2> + +I'll tell you now about Tom Tar,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sailor stout and bold,</span><br> +Who o'er the ocean roamed so far,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To countries new and old.</span><br> +<br> +Tom was a man of thousands! he<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would ne'er complain nor frown,</span><br> +Though high and low the wind and sea<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Might toss him up and down.</span><br> +<br> +Amid the waters dark and deep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He had the happy art,</span><br> +When all around was storm, to keep<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fair weather in his heart.</span><br> +<br> +Though winds were wild, and waves were rough,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He'd always cast about,</span><br> +And find within he'd calm enough<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To stand the storms without.</span><br> +<br> +"For nought," said Tom, "is ever gained<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By sighs for what we lack;</span><br> +Nor can it mend a vessel strained,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To let our temper crack.</span><br> +<br> +"And sure I am, the worst of storms,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That any man should dread,</span><br> +Is that which in the bosom forms,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And musters to the head."</span><br> +<br> +Serene, and ever self-possessed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His mess-mates he would cheer,</span><br> +And often put their fears to rest,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When dangers gathered near.</span><br> +<br> +If on the rocks the ship was cast,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And surges swept the deck,</span><br> +Tom Tar was ever found the last<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who would forsake the wreck.</span><br> +<br> +And when his only hat and shoes<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The waters plucked from him,</span><br> +Why, these, he felt, were small to lose,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Could he keep up and swim!</span><br> +<br> +Then through the billows, foam, and spray,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That rose on every hand,</span><br> +He'd, somehow, always find a way<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of getting safe to land.</span><br> +<br> +The secret was, the fear and love<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Heaven had filled his soul:</span><br> +His trust was firm in One above,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Howe'er the seas might roll.</span><br> +<br> +And Tom had sailed to many a shore,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And many a wonder seen:</span><br> +The stories he could tell would more<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than fill a magazine.</span><br> +<br> +He'd seen mankind in every state,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Almost, that man can know;</span><br> +But envied not the rich and great,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor scorned the poor and low.</span><br> +<br> +The monarch in his sight had stood,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Superb, in glittering vest;</span><br> +The savage, too, that roams the wood,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In skins and feathers dressed.</span><br> +<br> +The tribes of many an isle he knew;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And beasts, and birds, and flowers,</span><br> +And fruits, of many a shape and hue,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In lands remote from ours.</span><br> +<br> +He'd seen the wide-winged albatros<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her breast in ocean lave;</span><br> +And bold sea-lions, playing, toss<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their heads above the wave.</span><br> +<br> +He'd seen the dolphin, while his back<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Went flashing to the sun,</span><br> +A swarm of flying fish attack,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And swallow every one!</span><br> +<br> +The porpoise and the spouting whale<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had sported in his view;</span><br> +And hungry sharks pursued his sail,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if they'd eat the crew.</span><br> +<br> +And ever, when Tom Tar got home,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The children, at their play,</span><br> +Were glad to have the Sailor come,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And greet them by the way.</span><br> +<br> +Then, oft, some curious stone, or shell,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The laughing girls and boys</span><br> +Would find, upon their aprons fell,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To put among their toys.</span><br> +<br> +"These pearly shells," said he, "I found<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where gloomy waters roar:</span><br> +These polished stones, so smooth and round,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rough surges washed ashore.</span><br> +<br> +"Though small to us a pebble seems,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis made and marked by One,</span><br> +Who gave the warmth, and lit the beams<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of yon great shining sun.</span><br> +<br> +"And when these pretty shells I find,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Along the ocean strand,</span><br> +Their beauteous finish brings to mind<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their Maker's perfect hand.</span><br> +<br> +"When on the wildest shore I'm thrown<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And far from human eye,</span><br> +I think of him who made the stone,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And shell, and sea, and sky.</span><br> +<br> +"For he's my Friend and I am his!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though strong and cold the blast,</span><br> +My safest guide I know he is<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where'er my lot is cast."</span><br> +<br> +When Tom passed on, the children said,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"These treasures from afar</span><br> +He brought us! Blessings on his head!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For he's a good Tom Tar!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Envious_Lobster"></a><h2><b>The Envious Lobster</b></h2> + +<p>A FABLE</p> + +A Lobster from the water came,<br> +And saw another, just the same<br> +In form and size; but gayly clad<br> +In scarlet clothing; while she had<br> +No other clothing on her back<br> +Than her old suit of greenish black.<br> +<br> +"So ho!" she cried, "'tis very fine!<br> +Your dress was yesterday like mine;<br> +And in the mud below the sea,<br> +You lived, a crawling thing like me.<br> +But now, because you've come ashore,<br> +You've grown so proud, that what you wore—<br> +Your strong old suit of bottle-green,<br> +You think improper to be seen.<br> +<br> +"To tell the truth, I don't see why<br> +You should be better dressed than I.<br> +And I should like a suit of red<br> +As bright as yours, from feet to head.<br> +I think I'm quite as good as you,<br> +And might be clothed in scarlet too."<br> +<br> +"Will you be <i>boiled</i>" her owner said,<br> +"To be arrayed in glowing red?<br> +Come here, my discontented miss,<br> +And hear the scalding kettle hiss!<br> +Will you go in, and there be boiled,<br> +To have your dress, so old and soiled,<br> +Exchanged for one of scarlet hue?"<br> +"Yes," cried the Lobster, "that I'll do,<br> +And twice as much, if needs must be,<br> +To be as gayly clad as she."<br> +Then, in she made a fatal dive,<br> +And never more was seen alive!<br> +<br> +Now, if you ever chance to know,<br> +Of one as fond of dress and show<br> +As that vain Lobster, and withal<br> +As envious you'll perhaps recall<br> +To mind her folly, and the plight<br> +In which she reappeared to sight.<br> +<br> +She had obtained a bright array,<br> +But for it, thrown her life away!<br> +Her life and death were best untold,<br> +But for the moral they unfold!<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Crocus_Soliloquy"></a><h2><b>The Crocus' Soliloquy</b></h2> + +Down in my solitude, under the snow,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where nothing cheering can reach me—</span><br> +Here, without light to see how I should grow,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I trust to nature to teach me.</span><br> +I'll not despair, nor be idle, nor frown;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though locked in so gloomy a dwelling!</span><br> +My leaves shall shoot up, while my root's running down,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the bud in my bosom is swelling.</span><br> +<br> +Soon as the frost will get off from my bed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From this cold dungeon to free me,</span><br> +I will peer up, with my bright little head;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All will be joyful to see me!</span><br> +Then from my heart will young petals diverge,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like rays of the sun from their focus;</span><br> +When I from the darkness of earth shall emerge,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All complete, as a beautiful CROCUS!</span><br> +<br> +Gayly arrayed in gold, crimson, and green,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When to their view I have risen;</span><br> +Will they not wonder how one so serene<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came from so dismal a prison?</span><br> +Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A wise little lesson may borrow:—</span><br> +If patient to-day through the dreariest hour,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We shall come out the brighter to-morrow!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Bee_Clover_and_Thistle"></a><h2><b>The Bee, Clover, and Thistle</b></h2> + +A bee from the hive one morning flew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A tune to the daylight humming;</span><br> +And away she went o'er the sparkling dew,<br> +Where the grass was green, the violet blue,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the gold of the sun was coming.</span><br> +<br> +And what first tempted the roving Bee,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was a head of the crimson clover.</span><br> +"I've found a treasure betimes!" said she,<br> +"And perhaps a greater I might not see,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If I travelled the field all over.</span><br> +<br> +"My beautiful Clover, so round and red,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There is not a thing in twenty,</span><br> +That lifts this morning so sweet a head<br> +Above its leaves, and its earthy bed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With so many horns of plenty!"</span><br> +<br> +The flow'rets were thick which the Clover crowned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the plumes in the helm of Hector;</span><br> +And each had a cell that was deep and round,<br> +Yet it would not impart, as the Bee soon found,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One drop of its precious nectar.</span><br> +<br> +She cast in her eye where the honey lay,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And her pipe she began to measure;</span><br> +But she saw at once it was clear as day,<br> +That it would not go down one half the way<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the place of the envied treasure.<a name="FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1"><sup>[1]</sup></a></span><br> +<br> +Said she, in a pet, "One thing I know,"<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As she rose, and in haste departed,</span><br> +"It is not those of the <i>greatest show,</i><br> +To whom for a favor 'tis best to go,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or that prove most generous-hearted!"</span><br> +<br> +A fleecy flock came into the field;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When one of its members followed</span><br> +The scent of the clover, till between<br> +Her nibbling teeth its head was seen,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And then in a moment swallowed.</span><br> +<br> +"Ha, ha!" said the Bee, as the Clover died,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Her fortune's smile was fickle!</span><br> +And now I can get my wants supplied<br> +By a homely flower, with a rough outside.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And even with scale and prickle!"</span><br> +<br> +Then she flew to one, that, by man and beast<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was shunned for its stinging bristle;</span><br> +But it injured not the Bee in the least;<br> +And she filled her pocket, and had a feast,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the bloom of the purple Thistle.</span><br> +<br> +The generous Thistle's life was spared<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the home where the Bee first found her,</span><br> +Till she grew so old she was hoary-haired,<br> +And her snow-white locks with the silk compared,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As they shone where the sun beamed round her.</span><br> +<br> +FOOTNOTES:<br> +<br> +<a name="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">[1]</a><div class=note> The clover-floret is so small and deep in its tube,<br> +that the bee cannot reach the honey at the bottom.</div><br> +<br> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Poor_Old_Paul"></a><h2><b>Poor Old Paul</b></h2> + +Poor old Paul! he has lost a foot;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And see him go hobbling along,</span><br> +With the stump laced up in that clumsy boot,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before the gathering throng!</span><br> +<br> +And now, as he has to pass so many,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And suffer the gaze of all,</span><br> +If each would only bestow a penny,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twere something for poor old Paul.</span><br> +<br> +His cheek is wan, and his garb is thin;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His eye is sunken and dim;</span><br> +He looks as if the winter had been<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Making sad work with him.</span><br> +<br> +While he is trying to hide the tatter,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mark how his looks will fall!</span><br> +Nobody needs to ask the matter<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With poor, old, hungry Paul.</span><br> +<br> +All that he has in his dingy sack<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is morsels of bread and meat,—</span><br> +The leavings, to burden his aged back,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which others refused to eat.</span><br> +<br> +So now I am sure, you will all be willing<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To part with a sum so small</span><br> +As each will spare, who makes up a shilling<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To comfort him—Poor old Paul!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Sea-Eagle's_Fall"></a><h2><b>The Sea-Eagle's Fall</b></h2> + +An Eagle, on his towering wing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hung o'er the summer sea;</span><br> +And ne'er did airy, feathered king<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Look prouder there than he.</span><br> +<br> +He spied the finny tribes below,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amid the limpid brine;</span><br> +And felt it now was time to know<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whereon he was to dine.</span><br> +<br> +He saw a noble, shining fish<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So near the surface swim,</span><br> +He felt at once a hungry wish<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make a feast of him.</span><br> +<br> +Then straight he took his downward course;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A sudden plunge he gave;</span><br> +And, pouncing, seized, with murderous force,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His tempter in the wave.</span><br> +<br> +He struck his talons firm and deep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within the slippery prize,</span><br> +In hope his ruffian grasp to keep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And high and dry to rise.</span><br> +<br> +But ah! it was a fatal stoop,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As ever monarch made;</span><br> +And, for that rash—that cruel swoop,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He soon most dearly paid!</span><br> +<br> +The fish had too much gravity<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To yield to this attack.</span><br> +His feet the eagle could not free<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From off the scaly back.</span><br> +<br> +He'd seized on one too strong and great;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His mastery now was gone!</span><br> +And on, by that preponderant weight,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And downward, he was drawn.</span><br> +<br> +Nor found he here the element<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where he could move with grace;</span><br> +And flap, and dash, his pinions went,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In ocean's wrinkled face.</span><br> +<br> +They could not bring his talons out,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His forfeit life to save;</span><br> +And planted thus, he writhed about<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon his gaping grave.</span><br> +<br> +He raised his head, and gave a shriek,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To bid adieu to light:</span><br> +The water bubbled in his beak—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He sank from human sight!</span><br> +<br> +The children of the sea came round,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The foreigner to view.</span><br> +To see an airy monarch drowned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To them was something new</span><br> +<br> +Some gave a quick, astonished look,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And darted swift away;</span><br> +While some his parting plumage shook,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And nibbled him for prey.</span><br> +<br> +O! who that saw that bird at noon<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So high and proudly soar,</span><br> +Could think how awkwardly—how soon,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He'd fall to rise no more?</span><br> +<br> +Though glory, majesty, and pride<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were his an hour ago,</span><br> +Deprived of all, that eagle died,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For stooping once too low!</span><br> +<br> +Now, have you ever known or heard<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of biped, from his sphere</span><br> +Descending, like that silly bird<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To buy a fish so dear?</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Two_Thieves"></a><h2><b>The Two Thieves</b></h2> + +A lady, they called her Miss Mouse,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a slate-colored dress, like a Quaker,</span><br> +Once lived in a snug little house,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of which she herself was the maker.</span><br> +<br> +There lived in another close by,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A dame, whom they called Lady Kitty;</span><br> +But that she was stationed so nigh,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Mouse often thought a great pity.</span><br> +<br> +For she, though so soberly clad,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never inclined to ill-speaking,</span><br> +Had often a fancy to gad,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or more than her own might be seeking.</span><br> +<br> +She did not then like to be scanned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or questioned respecting her duty,</span><br> +When some little theft she had planned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or seen coming home with her booty.</span><br> +<br> +So modest she was, and so shy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Although an inveterate sinner,</span><br> +She'd nip out her part of the pie<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before it was brought up to dinner.</span><br> +<br> +She held that 'twas folly to ask<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For what her own wits would allow her;</span><br> +And, making her way through the cask,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She helped herself well to the flour.</span><br> +<br> +The candles she scraped to their wicks;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, mischievous in her invention,</span><br> +Would do many more naughty tricks,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I, as her friend, cannot mention.</span><br> +<br> +Kit, too, had her living to make,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yet, she was so above toiling,</span><br> +She'd sooner attack the beef-steak,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the cook had prepared it for broiling.</span><br> +<br> +And so, near a dish of warm toast,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She often most patiently lingered,</span><br> +To seize her first chance; yet, could boast<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That none ever called her <i>light-fingered</i>.</span><br> +<br> +But mending, or minding herself,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She thought would be quite too much labor,</span><br> +And so peeped about on the shelf,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To spy out the faults of her neighbor.</span><br> +<br> +For Mouse loved to promenade there,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While Kit would watch close to waylay her;</span><br> +And once, in the midst of her fare,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Up bounded Miss Kitty to slay her!</span><br> +<br> +But this was as luckless a jump<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As ever Kit made, with the clatter</span><br> +Of knife, skimmer, spoon, and a thump,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which she got, as she threw down the platter.</span><br> +<br> +While Mouse glided under a dish.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Escaping the mortal disaster,</span><br> +Miss Kitty turned off to a fish,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The breakfast elect for her master.</span><br> +<br> +Said she to herself, "Tis clear gain,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This rarity, fresh from the water,</span><br> +Will save my white mittens the stain—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And me from the trouble of slaughter!"</span><br> +<br> +But her racket, she found to her cost,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The plot had most fatally thickened;</span><br> +And all hope of mercy was lost,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Jack's coming footstep was quickened.</span><br> +<br> +He seized her, and binding her fast.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Declared he could never forgive her;</span><br> +So Kitty was sentenced and cast,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a stone at her neck, in the river!</span><br> +<br> +But Mouse still continued to thieve;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And often, alone in her dwelling,</span><br> +Would silently laugh in her sleeve,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At the scene in the tale I've been telling—</span><br> +<br> +Till once, by a fatal mishap,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The little unfortunate rover</span><br> +Perceived herself close in a trap,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And felt that her race was now over.</span><br> +<br> +She knew she must leave all behind;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thus, in the midst of her terrors,</span><br> +As every thing rushed to her mind,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Began her confession of errors:—</span><br> +<br> +"You'll find, on the word of a Mouse,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whom hope has for ever forsaken,</span><br> +The following things in my house,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I have unlawfully taken:</span><br> +<br> +"A cork, that was soaked in the beer,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I nibbled until I was merry;</span><br> +Some kernels of corn from the ear,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The skin and the stone of a cherry:—</span><br> +<br> +"Some hemp-seed I took from the bird,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And found most deliriously tasted,</span><br> +While safe in my covert, I heard<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its owner complain that 'twas wasted:—</span><br> +<br> +"You'll find a few cucumber seeds,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I thought, if they could but be hollowed,</span><br> +Would answer to string out for beads;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So the inside of all I have swallowed:—</span><br> +<br> +"A few crumbs of biscuit and cheese,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I thought might a long time supply me</span><br> +With luncheon—some rice and split peas,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which seemed well prepared to keep by me:—</span><br> +<br> +"A cluster of curls which I stole<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At night from a young lady's toilet,</span><br> +And made me a bed of it whole,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As tearing it open would spoil it;—</span><br> +<br> +"And as, in a long summer day<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'd time both or reading and spelling,</span><br> +I gnawed up the whole of a play,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And carried it home to my dwelling.</span><br> +<br> +"I wish you'd set fire to my place;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And pray you at once to despatch me,</span><br> +That none of my enemy's race,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the form of Miss Kitty, may catch me!"</span><br> +<br> +Disgrace thus will follow on vice,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Although for a while it be hidden;</span><br> +When children, or kittens, or mice,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will do what they know is forbidden.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Jemmy_String"></a><h2><b>Jemmy String</b></h2> + +I knew a little heedless boy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A child that seldom cared,</span><br> +If he could get his cake and toy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How other matters fared.</span><br> +<br> +He always bore upon his foot<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A signal of the thing,</span><br> +For which, on him his playmates put<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The name of Jemmy String.</span><br> +<br> +No malice in his heart was there;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He had no fault beside,</span><br> +So great as that of wanting care.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To keep his shoe-strings tied.</span><br> +<br> +You'd often see him on the run,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To chase the geese about,</span><br> +While both his shoe-ties were undone,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With one end slipping out.</span><br> +<br> +He'd tread on one, then down he'd go,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all around would ring</span><br> +With bitter cries, and sounds of woe,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That came from Jemmy String.</span><br> +<br> +And oft, by such a sad mishap,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would Jemmy catch a hurt;</span><br> +The muddy pool would catch his cap,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His clothes would catch the dirt!</span><br> +<br> +Then home he'd hasten through the street,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To tell about his fall;</span><br> +While, on his little sloven feet,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cause was plain to all.</span><br> +<br> +For while he shook his aching hand,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Complaining of the bruise,</span><br> +The strings were trailing through the sand<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From both his loosened shoes.</span><br> +<br> +One day, his father thought a ride<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would do his children good;</span><br> +But Jemmy's shoe-strings were untied,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And on the stairs he stood.</span><br> +<br> +In hastening down to take his place<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the carriage seat,</span><br> +Poor Jemmy lost his joyous face;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor could he keep his feet.</span><br> +<br> +The dragging string had made him trip,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bump! bump! went his head;—</span><br> +The teeth had struck and cut his lip,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And tears and blood were shed.</span><br> +<br> +His aching wounds he meekly bore;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But with a swelling heart</span><br> +He heard the carriage from the door,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With all but him, depart.</span><br> +<br> +This grievous lesson taught him care,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gave his mind a spring;</span><br> +For he resolved no more to bear<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The name of JEMMY STRING!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Caterpillar"></a><h2><b>The Caterpillar</b></h2> + +"Don't kill me!" Caterpillar said,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Charles had raised his heel</span><br> +Upon the humble worm to tread,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As though it could not feel.</span><br> +<br> +"Don't kill me! and I'll crawl away<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hide awhile, and try</span><br> +To come and look, another day,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More pleasing to your eye.</span><br> +<br> +"I know I'm now among the things<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Uncomely to your sight;</span><br> +But by and by on splendid wings<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You'll see me high and light!</span><br> +<br> +"And then, perhaps, you may be glad<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To watch me on the flower;</span><br> +And that you spared the worm you had<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To-day within your power!"</span><br> +<br> +Then Caterpillar went and hid<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In some secreted place,</span><br> +Where none could look on what he did<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To change his form and face.</span><br> +<br> +And by and by, when Charles had quite<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forgotten what I've told,</span><br> +A Butterfly appeared in sight,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Most beauteous to behold.</span><br> +<br> +His shining wings were trimmed with gold,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And many a brilliant dye</span><br> +Was laid upon their velvet fold,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To charm the gazing eye!</span><br> +<br> +Then, near as prudence would allow,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Charles's ear he drew</span><br> +And said, "You may not know me, now<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My form and name are new!</span><br> +<br> +"But I'm the worm that once you raised<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your ready foot to kill!</span><br> +For sparing me, I long have praised,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And love and praise you still.</span><br> +<br> +"The lowest reptile at your feet,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When power is not abused,</span><br> +May prove the fruit of mercy sweet,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By being kindly used!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Mocking_Bird"></a><h2><b>The Mocking Bird</b></h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Mocking Bird was he,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a bushy, blooming tree,</span><br> +Imbosomed by the foliage and flower.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there he sat and sang,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till all around him rang,</span><br> +With sounds, from out the merry mimic's bower.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The little satirist</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Piped, chattered, shrieked, and hissed;</span><br> +He then would moan, and whistle, quack, and caw;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then, carol, drawl, and croak,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if he'd pass a joke</span><br> +On every other winged one he saw.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Together he would catch</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A gay and plaintive snatch,</span><br> +And mingle notes of half the feathered throng.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For well the mocker knew,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of every thing that flew,</span><br> +To imitate the manner and the song.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The other birds drew near,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And paused awhile to hear</span><br> +How well he gave their voices and their airs.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And some became amused;</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While some, disturbed, refused</span><br> +To own the sounds that others said were theirs.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sensitive were shocked,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To find their honors mocked</span><br> +By one so pert and voluble as he;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They knew not if 't was done</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In earnest or in fun;</span><br> +And fluttered off in silence from the tree.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The silliest grew vain,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To think a song or strain</span><br> +Of theirs, however weak, or loud, or hoarse,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Was worthy to be heard</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Repeated by the bird;</span><br> +For of his wit they could not feel the force.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The charitable said,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Poor fellow! if his head</span><br> +Is turned, or cracked, or has no talent left;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But feels the want of powers,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And plumes itself from ours,</span><br> +Why, we shall not be losers by the theft."<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The haughty said, "He thus.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">It seems, would mimic us,</span><br> +And steal our songs, to pass them for his own!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">But if he only quotes</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In honor of our notes,</span><br> +We then were quite as honored, let alone."<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The wisest said, "If foe</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Or friend, we still may know</span><br> +By him, wherein our greatest failing lies.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So, let us not be moved,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since first to be improved</span><br> +By every thing, becomes the truly wise."<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Silk-Worm's_Will"></a><h2><b>The Silk-Worm's Will</b></h2> + +On a plain rush-hurdle a silk-worm lay,<br> +When a proud young princess came that way.<br> +The haughty child of a human king<br> +Threw a sidelong glance at the humble thing,<br> +That received with a silent gratitude<br> +From the mulberry-leaf her simple food;<br> +And shrunk, half scorn, and half disgust,<br> +Away from her sister child of the dust;<br> +Declaring she never yet could see<br> +Why a reptile form like this should be;—<br> +And that she was not made with nerves so firm,<br> +As calmly to stand by a <i>crawling worm</i>!<br> +<br> +With mute forbearance the silk-worm took<br> +The taunting words and the spurning look.<br> +<br> +Alike a stranger to self and pride,<br> +She'd no disquiet from aught beside;<br> +And lived of a meekness and peace possest<br> +Which these debar from the human breast.<br> +She only wished, for the harsh abuse,<br> +To find some way to become of use<br> +To the haughty daughter of lordly man;<br> +And thus did she lay her noble plan<br> +To teach her wisdom, and make it plain<br> +That the humble worm was not made in vain;—<br> +A plan so generous, deep and high,<br> +That to carry it out, she must even die!<br> +<br> +"No more," said she, "will I drink or eat!<br> +I'll spin and weave me a winding-sheet,<br> +To wrap me up from the sun's clear light,<br> +And hide my form from her wounded sight.<br> +In secret then, till my end draws nigh,<br> +I will toil for her; and when I die,<br> +I'll leave behind, as a farewell boon<br> +To the proud young princess, my whole cocoon,<br> +To be reeled, and wove to a shining lace,<br> +And hung in a veil o'er her scornful face!<br> +And when she can calmly draw her breath<br> +Through the very threads that have caused my death;<br> +"When she finds at length, she has nerves so firm,<br> +As to wear the shroud of a <i>crawling worm</i>,<br> +May she bear in mind that she walks with pride<br> +In the winding-sheet where the silk-worm died!"<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Dame_Biddy"></a><h2><b>Dame Biddy</b></h2> + +Dame Biddy abode in a coop,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because it so chanced that dame Biddy</span><br> +Had round her a family group<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of chicks, young, and helpless, and giddy.</span><br> +<br> +And when she had freedom to roam,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She fancied the life of a ranger;</span><br> +And led off her brood, far from home,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To fall into mischief or danger.</span><br> +<br> +She'd trail through the grass to be mown,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And call all her children to follow;</span><br> +And scratch up the seeds that were sown,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then, lie in their places and wallow.</span><br> +<br> +She'd go where the corn in the hill,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its first little blade had been shooting,</span><br> +And try, by the strength of her bill,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To learn if the kernel was rooting.</span><br> +<br> +And when she went out on a walk<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of pleasure, through thicket and brambles,</span><br> +The covetous eye of a Hawk<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Delighted in marking her rambles.</span><br> +<br> +"I spy," to himself he would say,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"A prize of which I'll be the winner!"</span><br> +So down would he pounce on his prey,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bear off a chicken for dinner.</span><br> +<br> +The poor frighted matron, that heard<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cry of her youngling in dying,</span><br> +Would scream at the merciless bird,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That high with his booty was flying.</span><br> +<br> +But shrieks could not ease her distress,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor grief her lost darling recover.</span><br> +She now had a chicken the less,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For acting the part of a rover.</span><br> +<br> +And there lay the feathers, all torn.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And flying one way and another,</span><br> +That still her dear child might have worn,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had she been more wise as a mother.</span><br> +<br> +Her owner then thought he must teach<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dame Biddy a little subjection;</span><br> +And cooped her up, out of the reach<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of hawking, with time for reflection.</span><br> +<br> +And, throwing a net o'er a pile<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of brush-wood that near her was lying,</span><br> +He hoped to its meshes to wile<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fowler, that o'er her was flying.</span><br> +<br> +For Hawk, not forgetting his fare,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And having a taste to renew it,</span><br> +Sailed round near the coop, high in air,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With cruel intention, to view it.</span><br> +<br> +The owner then said, "Master Hawk,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you love my chickens so dearly,</span><br> +Come down to my yard for a walk,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you may address them more nearly."</span><br> +<br> +But, "No," thought the sharp-taloned foe<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Biddy, "my circuit is higher!</span><br> +If I to his premises go.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twill be when I see he's not nigh her."</span><br> +<br> +The Farmer strewd barley, and toled<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The chickens the brush to run under,</span><br> +And left them, while Hawk growing bold,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thus tempted, came near for his plunder.</span><br> +<br> +As closer and closer he drew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With appetite stronger and stronger,</span><br> +He found he'd but one thing to do,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And plunged, to defer it no longer.</span><br> +<br> +But now he had come to a pause,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At once in the net-work entangled,</span><br> +While through it his head and his claws<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In hopeless vacuity dangled.</span><br> +<br> +The chicks saw him hang overhead,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where they for their barley had huddled;</span><br> +And all in a flutter they fled,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And soon through the coop holes had scuddled.</span><br> +<br> +The Farmer came out to his snare,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He saw the bold captive was in it;</span><br> +And said, "If this play be unfair,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Remember, I did not begin it!"</span><br> +<br> +He then put a cork on his beak,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The airy assassin disarming,</span><br> +Unspurred him, and rendered him weak,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By blunting each talent for harming.</span><br> +<br> +And into the coop he was thrown:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The chickens hid under their mother,</span><br> +For he, by his feathers was known<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he, who had murdered their brother</span><br> +<br> +Dame Biddy, beholding his plight,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Determined to show him no quarter,</span><br> +In action gave vent to her spite;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As motherly tenderness taught her.</span><br> +<br> +She shouted, and blustered; and then<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Attacked the poor captive unfriended;</span><br> +And you, (who have witnessed a hen<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In anger,) may guess how it ended.</span><br> +<br> +She made him a touching address,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If pecking and scratching could do it;</span><br> +Till sinking in silent distress,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He perished before she got through it.</span><br> +<br> +We would not, however, convey<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A thought like approving the fury,</span><br> +That gave, in this summary way,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Punition without judge or jury.</span><br> +<br> +Whenever 'tis given, it tends<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To lessen the angry bestower.</span><br> +The <i>fowl</i> that inflicts it descends—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the <i>featherless biped</i>, still lower.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Kit_With_the_Rose"></a><h2><b>Kit With the Rose</b></h2> + +A Rose-tree stood in the parlor,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Kit came frolicking by;</span><br> +So, up went her feet on the window-seat,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To a rose that had caught her eye.</span><br> +<br> +She gave it a cuff, and it trembled<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beneath her ominous paw;</span><br> +And while it shook, with a threatening look,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She coveted what she saw.</span><br> +<br> +Thought she, "What a beautiful toss-ball!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If I could but give it a snap,</span><br> +Now all are out, nor thinking about<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their rose, or the least mishap!"</span><br> +<br> +She twisted the stem, and she twirled it;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And seizing the flower it bore,</span><br> +With the timely aid of her teeth, she made<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A leap to the parlor-floor.</span><br> +<br> +Then over the carpet she tossed it,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All fresh in its morning bloom,</span><br> +Till, shattered and rent, its leaves were sent<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To every side of the room.</span><br> +<br> +At length, with her sport grown weary,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She laid herself down to sun,</span><br> +Inclining to doze, forgetting the rose,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the mischief she'd slily done.</span><br> +<br> +By and by her young mistress entered,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And uttered a piteous cry,</span><br> +When she saw the fate of what had so late<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Delighted her watchful eye.</span><br> +<br> +But, where was the one who had spoiled it<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Concealing his guilty face?</span><br> +She had not a clue, whereby to pursue<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The rogue to his lurking-place!</span><br> +<br> +Thought Kit, "I'll keep still till it's over;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And none will suspect it was I."</span><br> +For the puss awoke, when her mistress spoke;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she well understood the cry.</span><br> +<br> +But, mewing at length for her dinner,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kit's mouth confessed the whole truth:</span><br> +It opened so wide that her mistress espied<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A rose-leaf pierced by her tooth!</span><br> +<br> +Then, banished was Kit from the parlor,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All covered with shame! And those</span><br> +Inclined, like her, in secret to err,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should remember Kit with the Rose.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Captive_Butterfly"></a><h2><b>The Captive Butterfly</b></h2> + +Good morning, pretty Butterfly!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How have you passed the night?</span><br> +I hope you're gay and glad as I<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see the morning light.</span><br> +<br> +But, little silent one, methinks<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You're in a sober mood.</span><br> +I wonder if you'd like to drink,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what you take for food.</span><br> +<br> +I shut you in my crystal cup,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To let your winglets rest.</span><br> +And now I want to hold you up,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see your velvet vest.</span><br> +<br> +I want to count your tiny toes.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To find your breathing-place,</span><br> +And touch the downy horn that grows<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each side your pretty face.</span><br> +<br> +I'd like to see just how you're made,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With streaks and spots and rings;</span><br> +And wish you'd show me how you played<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your shining, rainbow wings.</span><br> +<br> +"'T was not," the little prisoner said,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"For want of food or drink,</span><br> +That, while you slumbered on your bed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I could not sleep a wink.</span><br> +<br> +"My wings are pained for want of flight,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My lungs, for want of air.</span><br> +In bitterness I've passed the night,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And meet the morning's glare.</span><br> +<br> +"When looking through my prison wall,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So close, and yet so clear,</span><br> +I see there's freedom there for all,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While I'm a captive here.</span><br> +<br> +"I've stood upon my feeble feet<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Until they're full of pain.</span><br> +I know that liberty is sweet,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I cannot regain.</span><br> +<br> +"Do I deserve a fate like this,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who've ever acted well,</span><br> +Since first I left the chrysalis,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fluttered from my shell?</span><br> +<br> +"I've never injured fruit, or flower,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or man, or bird, or beast;</span><br> +And such a one should have the power<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of going free, at least.</span><br> +<br> +"And now, if you will let me quit<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My prison-house, the cup,</span><br> +I'll show you how I sport and flit,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And make my wings go up!"</span><br> +<br> +The lid was raised; the prisoner said,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Behold my airy play!"</span><br> +Then quickly on the wing he fled<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Away, away, away!</span><br> +<br> +From flower to flower he gayly flew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To cool his aching feet,</span><br> +And slake his thirst with morning dew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where liberty was sweet!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Dissatisfied_Angler_Boy"></a><h2><b>The Dissatisfied Angler Boy</b></h2> + +I'm sorry they let me go down to the brook;<br> +I'm sorry they gave me the line and the hook;<br> +And wish I had staid at home with my book!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm sure 'twas no pleasure to see</span><br> +That poor little harmless, suffering thing<br> +Silently writhe at the end of the string,<br> +Or to hold the pole, while I felt him swing<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In torture,—and all for me!</span><br> +<br> +'Twas a beautiful speckled and glossy trout;<br> +And when from the water I drew him out,<br> +On the grassy bank as he floundered about,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It made me shivering cold,</span><br> +To think I had caused so much needless pain;<br> +And I tried to relieve him, but all in vain:<br> +O never, as long as I live, again<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May I such a sight behold!</span><br> +<br> +But, what would I give, once more to see<br> +The brisk little swimmer alive and free,<br> +And darting about as he used to be,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unhurt, in his native brook!</span><br> +'Tis strange that people can love to play,<br> +By taking innocent lives away!<br> +I wish I had stayed at home to-day<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With sister, and read my book.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Stove_and_the_Grate-Setter"></a><h2><b>The Stove and the Grate-Setter</b></h2> + +Old Winter is coming, to play off his tricks—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make your ears tingle—your fingers to numb!</span><br> +So I, with my trowel, new mortar and bricks,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To guard you against him, already am come.</span><br> +<br> +An ounce of prevention in time, I have found,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is worth pounds of remedy taken too late!</span><br> +And proof that the sense of my maxim is sound,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will shine where I fasten stove, furnace or grate.</span><br> +<br> +The Summer leaves now whirling fast from the trees,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By Autumn's chill blast are tossed yellow and sere;</span><br> +And soon, with the breath of his nostrils to freeze<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each thing he can puff at, will Winter be here!</span><br> +<br> +But hardly he'll dare to steal in at the door,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your elbows to bite with his keen cutting air,</span><br> +And give you an ague, where I've been before,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To set the defence I to-day can prepare.</span><br> +<br> +And when he comes blustering on from the north,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To give you blue faces, and shakes by the chin,</span><br> +You'll find what the craft of the mason was worth,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As you from abroad to your parlor step in!</span><br> +<br> +For all will around be so pleasant and warm,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your hearth bright and cheering—your coal in a glow;</span><br> +You'll not heed the winds whistling up the rough storm<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To sift o'er your dwellings its clouds full of snow!</span><br> +<br> +You'll then think of me;—how I handled to-day<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cold stone and iron—the brick and the lime:</span><br> +And all, but the surer foundation to lay<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For comfort to give in the drear winter time.</span><br> +<br> +I lay you, against this old Winter, a charm.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make him, at least, keep himself out of doors!</span><br> +'Twould melt—should he enter—his hard hand and arm.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When loud for admission he threatens and roars.</span><br> +<br> +If gratitude then should come, warming your <i>heart</i>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As peaceful you sit by your warm <i>fireside</i>;</span><br> +Perhaps it may teach you some good to impart<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To those, where the gifts you enjoy are denied.</span><br> +<br> +For He in whose favor all blessedness is;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And out of whose kingdom no treasure is sure,</span><br> +Was poor when on earth;—and the poor still are his:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His charge to his friends is "<i>Remember the poor</i>."</span><br> +<br> +Nor would his disciple be higher than He,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who once on the dwellings of men, for his bread,</span><br> +In lowliness wrought! but contentedly, we<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will work by the light that our Master has shed.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Song_of_the_Bees"></a><h2><b>Song of the Bees</b></h2> + +We watch for the light of the morn to break,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And color the eastern sky</span><br> +With its blended hues of saffron and lake;<br> +Then say to each other, "Awake! awake!<br> +For our winter's honey is all to make,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And our bread for a long supply!"</span><br> +<br> +Then off we hie to the hill and the dell—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the field, the meadow, and bower:</span><br> +In the columbine's horn we love to dwell,—<br> +To dip in the lily with snow-white bell,—<br> +To search the balm in its odorous cell,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The mint, and rosemary flower.</span><br> +<br> +We suck the bloom of the eglantine,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the pointed thistle and brier;</span><br> +And follow the track of the wandering vine,<br> +Whether it trail on the earth, supine,<br> +Or round the aspiring tree-top twine,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And reach for a state still higher.</span><br> +<br> +As each, on the good of the others bent,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is busy, and cares for all,</span><br> +We hope for an evening with hearts content,—<br> +That Winter may find us without lament<br> +For a Summer that's gone, with its hours misspent,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a harvest that's past recall!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Summer_is_Come"></a><h2><b>The Summer is Come</b></h2> + +<p>CHILDHOOD'S RURAL SONG.</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Summer is come</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the insect's hum,</span><br> +And the birds that merrily sing.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sweet are the hours,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the fruits and flowers,</span><br> +That Summer has come to bring.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All nature is glad,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the earth is clad</span><br> +In her brightest and best array:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So, we with delight</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will our songs unite,</span><br> +Our tribute of joy to pay.<br> +<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The swallow is out,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she sails about</span><br> +In air, for the careless fly:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then she takes a sip</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With her horny lip</span><br> +As she skims where the waters lie.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the lamb bounds light</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In his fleece of white,</span><br> +But he doesn't know what to think,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the streamlet clear,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where he sees appear</span><br> +His face as he stoops to drink.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For, never before</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has he gambolled o'er</span><br> +The summer-dressed, flowery earth;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he skips in play,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he fain would say</span><br> +"'Tis a season of feast and mirth."<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we have to-day</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Been rambling away</span><br> +To gather the flowers most fair,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which we sat beneath</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An old oak to wreath</span><br> +While fanned by the balmy air.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now the sun goes down</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like a golden crown</span><br> +That's sliding behind a hill;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So we dance the while</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To his farewell smile;</span><br> +And well dance as the dews distil.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then, we'll dance to-night</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While the fire-fly's light</span><br> +Is sparkling among the grass;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we'll step our tune</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the silver moon,</span><br> +As over the green we pass.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O, Summer is sweet!</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But her joys are fleet;</span><br> +We catch them but on the wing:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet never the less</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would our hearts confess</span><br> +The blessings she comes to bring.<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Morning-Glory"></a><h2><b>The Morning-Glory</b></h2> + +Come here and sit thee down by me!<br> +I've read a tale, I'll tell to thee;<br> +And precious will the moral be,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though simple is the story.</span><br> +It is about a brilliant flower,<br> +With beauty scarce possessed of power<br> +Its opening to survive an hour—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An airy Morning-Glory.</span><br> +<br> +'Tis common parlance names it thus;<br> +But 'twas a gay convolvulus:<br> +Yet we'll not stop to here discuss<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its species or its genus.</span><br> +We'll just suppose a blooming vine<br> +With many leaf and bud to shine,<br> +And curling tendrils thrown to twine<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And form a bower, between us.</span><br> +<br> +And we'll suppose a happy boy,<br> +With face lit up by hope and joy,<br> +Who thinks that nothing shall destroy<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His vine, his pride and pleasure,</span><br> +Is standing near, with kindling eye,<br> +As if its very look would pry<br> +The cup apart, therein to spy<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The growing floral treasure.</span><br> +<br> +And now the petal, twisted tight,<br> +Above the calyx peers to sight<br> +With apex tipped with purple, bright<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if the rainbow dyed it.</span><br> +While on the air it vacillates,<br> +Its owner's bosom palpitates<br> +To see it open, as he waits<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Impatient close beside it.</span><br> +<br> +Another rising sun has thrown<br> +Its beams upon the vine, and shown<br> +The splendid Morning-Glory blown,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if some little fairy,</span><br> +When early from his couch he went,<br> +On some ethereal journey bent,<br> +Had there inverted left his tent<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of purple, high and airy.</span><br> +<br> +And many a fair and shining flower<br> +As bright as this adorned the bower,<br> +Displayed like jewels in an hour,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where'er the vine was clinging.</span><br> +As each corolla lost its twist,<br> +The zephyr fanned, the sunbeam kissed<br> +The little vase of amethyst;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And round it birds were singing.</span><br> +<br> +And now the little boy comes out<br> +To see his vine. He gives a shout,<br> +And sings and laughs, and jumps about<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like one two-thirds demented.</span><br> +His little playmates, one, two, three,<br> +Come round the beauteous vine to see,<br> +And each cries, "Give a flower to me,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I'll go off contented."</span><br> +<br> +But "No," the selfish owner cried,<br> +And pushed his comrades all aside,<br> +While walking round his bower with pride,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Not one of you shall sever</span><br> +A floweret from the stem so gay;<br> +I own them, not to give away!<br> +I'll come to see them every day;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And keep them mine for ever!"</span><br> +<br> +So, when at noon from school he came,<br> +To see his vine was first his aim:<br> +But oh! his feelings who can name,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As mute he stood and eyed it?</span><br> +For not a flower could he behold,<br> +While each corolla, inward rolled,<br> +Appeared as shrivelled, dead, and old<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if a fire had dried it.</span><br> +<br> +"Alas!" the selfish owner said,<br> +"My Glories----oh! they all are dead!<br> +And all my little friends have fled<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aggrieved! for I've abused them.</span><br> +They'll keep away, and but deride<br> +My sorrow, when they hear my pride<br> +Is gone;—that quick the pleasures died<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which rudely I refused them!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Old_Cotter_and_his_Cow"></a><h2><b>The Old Cotter and his Cow</b></h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My good old Cow,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I scarce know how</span><br> +Again we've wintered over;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With my scant fare,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thine so spare—</span><br> +No dainty dish, nor clover!<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We both were old,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And keen the cold;</span><br> +While poorly housed we found us;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by the blast</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That, whistling, passed,</span><br> +The snows were sifted round us.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While, many a day.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Few locks of hay</span><br> +Were most thy crib presented,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A patient Cow,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And kind wast thou,</span><br> +And with thy mite contented.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But though the storms</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have chilled our forms,</span><br> +And we've been pinched together,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The dark, blue day</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is passed away;</span><br> +We've reached the warm spring weather!<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The bounteous earth</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is shooting forth</span><br> +Her grass and flowers so gayly;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou now canst feed</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Along the mead,</span><br> +While food is growing daily.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The soft, sweet breeze</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through budding trees</span><br> +Now fans my brow so hoary:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And these old eyes</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Find new supplies</span><br> +Of light from nature's glory.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though poor my cot,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And low my lot,</span><br> +With thee, my richest treasure,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I take my cup,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And looking up,</span><br> +Bless Him who gives my measure.<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Speckled_One"></a><h2><b>The Speckled One</b></h2> + +Poor speckled one! none else will deign<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To waft thy name around;</span><br> +So, let me take it on my strain,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To give it air and sound.</span><br> +<br> +Yes—air and sound, low child of earth!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For these are oft the things</span><br> +That give a name its greatest worth,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its gorgeous plumes and wings.</span><br> +<br> +But do not shun me thus, and hop<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Affrighted from my way!</span><br> +Dismiss thy terrors—turn and stop;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And hear what I may say.</span><br> +<br> +Meek, harmless thing, afraid of man?<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This truly should not be.</span><br> +Then calmly pause, and let me scan<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Maker's work in thee.</span><br> +<br> +For both of us to Him belong;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We're fellow-creatures here;</span><br> +And power should not be armed with wrong,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor weakness filled with fear.</span><br> +<br> +I know it is thy humble lot<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To burrow in a hole—</span><br> +To have a form I envy not,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And that without a soul.</span><br> +<br> +In motion, attitude and limb<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I see thee void of grace;</span><br> +And that a look supremely grim,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reigns o'er thy solemn face.</span><br> +<br> +But thou for this art not to blame;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor should it make us load</span><br> +With obloquy, and scorn, and shame<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The honest name of TOAD.</span><br> +<br> +For, though so low on nature's scale—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In presence so uncouth,</span><br> +Thou ne'er hast told an evil tale,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of falsehood, or of truth.</span><br> +<br> +Thy thoughts are ne'er on malice bent—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor hands to mischief prone;</span><br> +Nor yet thy heart to discontent;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though spurned, and poor and lone.</span><br> +<br> +No coveting nor envy burns<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In thy bright golden eye,</span><br> +That calm and innocently turns<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On all below the sky.</span><br> +<br> +Thy cautious tongue and sober lip<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No words of folly pass,</span><br> +Nor, are they found to taste and sip<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The madness of the glass.</span><br> +<br> +Thy frugal meal is often drawn<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From earth, and wood, and stone;</span><br> +And when thy means by these are gone,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou seem'st to live on none.</span><br> +<br> +I hear that in an earthen jar<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sealed close, shut up alive,</span><br> +From food, drink, air, sun, moon and star,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou'lt live and even thrive:—</span><br> +<br> +And that no moan, or murmuring sound<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will issue from the lid</span><br> +Of thy dark dwelling under ground,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When it is deeply hid.</span><br> +<br> +Thou hast, as 'twere, a secret shelf,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whereon is a supply</span><br> +Of nourishment, within thyself,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Concealed from mortal eye.</span><br> +<br> +Methinks this self-sustaining art<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twere well for us to know,</span><br> +To keep us up in flesh and heart,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When outer means grow low.</span><br> +<br> +Could we contain our riches thus,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On such mysterious shelves,</span><br> +Why, none could rob or beggar us;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unless we lost ourselves!</span><br> +<br> +But ah! my Toadie, there's the rub,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With every human breast—</span><br> +To live as in the cynic's tub,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yet be self-possessed!</span><br> +<br> +For, how to let no boast get round<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beyond our tub, to show</span><br> +That we in head and heart are sound,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is one great thing to know.</span><br> +<br> +And yet, the prison-staves and hoop<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To let no murmur through,</span><br> +However hard we find the coop,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is greater still to do.</span><br> +<br> +Then go, thou sage, resigned and calm,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amid thy low estate;</span><br> +And to thy burrow bear the palm<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For victory over fate.</span><br> +<br> +We conquer, when we meekly bear<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The lot we cannot shape;</span><br> +And hug to death the ills and care<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From which there's no escape.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Blind_Musician"></a><h2><b>The Blind Musician</b></h2> + +"Ah! who comes here?" old Raymond cried,<br> +As lone he sat by the highway-side,<br> +Where Frisk jumped up at his knee in play;<br> +And his white locks went to the air astray;—<br> +While his worn-out hat lay on the ground,<br> +And his light violin gave forth no sound—<br> +"Ah! who comes here with voice so kind<br> +To the ear of a poor old man who's blind?"<br> +<br> +'Twas a gladsome troop of bright young boys,<br> +With hearts all full of their play-day joys,<br> +As their baskets were of nuts and cake,<br> +And fruits, a pic-nic treat to make.<br> +For they were out for the fields and flowers—<br> +For the grassy lane, and the woodland bowers;<br> +And the course they took first led them by<br> +Where the lone one sat with a sightless eye.<br> +<br> +They saw he'd a worn and hungry look;<br> +And each from his basket promptly took<br> +A part of its precious pic-nic store,<br> +And tried the others to get before,<br> +As on with their ready gifts they ran,<br> +To reach them forth to the poor old man;<br> +And said, "Good Sir, take this and eat<br> +While resting thus on your mossy seat."<br> +<br> +"Heaven bless you, little children dear!"<br> +Old Raymond cried, with a starting tear,<br> +As they took their cup to the fountain's brink,<br> +And brought him back some clear, cool drink.<br> +And Frisk looked up with a grateful eye,<br> +As to him they dropped some crust of pie:<br> +For he, good dog, was his master's guide,<br> +By a cord to the ring of his collar tied.<br> +<br> +"And now, would you like to hear me play,"<br> +Said the traveller, "ere you go your way?<br> +O, I did not think that aught so soon<br> +Could have put my poor old heart in tune.<br> +But you have touched it at the spring,<br> +And it seems as if it could dance and sing.<br> +Your kindness makes my spirit light,<br> +Till I hardly feel that I've lost my sight!"<br> +<br> +He took up his violin and bow,<br> +And made his voice to their music flow;<br> +And the children, listening sat around<br> +As if by a spell to the circle bound.<br> +While thus they were fastened to the spot,<br> +And their first pursuit almost forgot,<br> +They felt they could ask no pleasure more,<br> +And their picnic frolic at once gave o'er.<br> +<br> +And there they staid till the sun went down,<br> +When they led the old Raymond safe to town;<br> +While Frisk went sporting all the way,<br> +To speak his thanks by his joyous play.<br> +They found him a room with a table spread,<br> +And a pillow to rest his hoary head.<br> +Then feeling their time and pence well-spent,<br> +They all went back to their homes content.<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Lame_Horse"></a><h2><b>The Lame Horse</b></h2> + +O, I cannot bring to mind<br> +When I've had a look so kind,<br> +Gentle lady, as thine eye<br> +Gives me, while I'm limping by!<br> +Then, thy little boy appears<br> +To regard me but with tears.<br> +Think'st thou he would like to know<br> +What has brought my state so low?<br> +<br> +When not half so old as he,<br> +I was bounding, light and free,<br> +By my happy mother's side,<br> +Ere my mouth the bit had tried,<br> +Or my head had felt the rein<br> +Drawn, my spirits to restrain.<br> +But I'm now so worn and old,<br> +Half my sorrows can't be told.<br> +<br> +When my services began,<br> +How I loved my master, man!<br> +I was pampered and caressed,—<br> +Housed, and fed upon the best.<br> +Many looked with hearts elate<br> +At my graceful form and gait,—<br> +At my smooth and glossy hair<br> +Combed and brushed with daily care.<br> +<br> +Studded trappings then I wore,<br> +And with pride my master bore,—<br> +Glad his kindness to repay<br> +In my free, but silent way.<br> +Then was found no nimble steed<br> +That could equal me in speed,<br> +So untiring, and so fleet<br> +Were these now, old, aching feet.<br> +<br> +But my troubles soon drew nigh:<br> +Less of kindness marked his eye,<br> +When my strength began to fail;<br> +And he put me off at sale.<br> +Constant changes were my fate,<br> +Far too grievous to relate.<br> +Yet I've been, to say the least,<br> +Through them all a patient beast.<br> +<br> +Older—weaker—still I grew:<br> +Kind attentions all withdrew!<br> +Little food, and less repose;<br> +Harder burdens—heavier blows,—<br> +These became my hapless lot,<br> +Till I sunk upon the spot!<br> +This maimed limb beneath me bent<br> +With the pain it underwent.<br> +<br> +Now I'm useless, old, and poor,<br> +They have made my sentence sure;<br> +And to-morrow is the day,<br> +Set for me to limp away,<br> +To some far, sequestered place,<br> +There at once to end my race.<br> +I stood by, and heard their plot—<br> +Soon my woes shall be forgot!<br> +<br> +Gentle lady, when I'm dead<br> +By the blow upon my head,<br> +Proving thus, the truest friend,<br> +Him who brings me to my end;<br> +Wilt thou bid them dig a grave<br> +For their faithful, patient slave;<br> +Then, my mournful story trace,<br> +Asking mercy for my race?<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Humility_or_The_Mushroom's_Soliloquy"></a><h2><b>Humility; or, The Mushroom's Soliloquy</b></h2> + +O, what, and whence am I, 'mid damps and dust,<br> +And darkness, into sudden being thrust?<br> +What was I yesterday? and what will be,<br> +Perchance, to-morrow, seen or heard of me?<br> +<br> +Poor—lone—unfriended—ignorant—forlorn,<br> +To bear the new, full glory of the morn,—<br> +Beneath the garden wall I stand aside,<br> +With all before me beauty, show, and pride.<br> +<br> +Ah! why did Nature shoot me thus to light,<br> +A thing unfit for use—unfit for sight;<br> +Less like her work than like a piece of Art,<br> +Whirled out and trimmed—exact in every part?<br> +<br> +Unlike the graceful shrub, and flexible vine,<br> +No fruit—no branch—nor leaf, nor bud, is mine.<br> +No singing bird, nor butterfly, nor bee<br> +Will come to cheer, caress, or flatter me.<br> +<br> +No beauteous flower adorns my humble head,<br> +No spicy odors on the air I shed;<br> +But here I'm stationed, in my sombre suit,<br> +With only top and stem—I've scarce a root!<br> +<br> +Untaught of my beginning or my end,<br> +I know not whence I sprung, or where I tend:<br> +Yet I will wait, and trust; nor dare presume<br> +To question Justice—I, a frail Mushroom!<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Lost_Nestlings"></a><h2><b>The Lost Nestlings</b></h2> + +"Have you seen my darling nestlings?"<br> +A mother-robin cried,<br> +"I cannot, cannot find them,<br> +Though I've sought them far and wide.<br> +<br> +"I left them well this morning,<br> +When I went to seek their food;<br> +But I found, upon returning,<br> +I'd a nest without a brood.<br> +<br> +"O have you nought to tell me,<br> +That will ease my aching breast,<br> +About my tender offspring<br> +That I left within the nest?<br> +<br> +"I have called them in the bushes,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the rolling stream beside;</span><br> +Yet they come not at my bidding;—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm afraid they all have died!"</span><br> +<br> +"I can tell you all about them;"<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said a little wanton boy</span><br> +"For 'twas I that had the pleasure<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your nestlings to destroy.</span><br> +<br> +"But I didn't think their mother<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her little ones would miss;</span><br> +Or ever come to hail me<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a wailing sound, like this.</span><br> +<br> +"I didn't know your bosom<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was formed to suffer woe,</span><br> +And to mourn your murdered children,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or I had not grieved you so.</span><br> +<br> +"I am sorry that I've taken<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The lives I can't restore;</span><br> +And this regret shall teach me<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To do the like no more.</span><br> +<br> +"I ever shall remember<br> +The wailing sound I've heard!<br> +No more I'll kill a nestling,<br> +To pain a mother-bird!"<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Bat's_Flight_By_Daylight_An_Allegory"></a><h2><b>The Bat's Flight By Daylight An Allegory</b></h2> + +A Bat one morn from his covert flew,<br> +To show the world what a Bat could do,<br> +By soaring off on a lofty flight,<br> +In the open day, by the sun's clear light!<br> +He quite forgot that he had for wings<br> +But a pair of monstrous, plumeless things;<br> +That, more than half like a fish's fin,<br> +With a warp of bone, and a woof of skin,<br> +Were only fit in the dark to fly,<br> +In view of a bat's or an owlet's eye.<br> +<br> +He sallied forth from his hidden hole,<br> +And passed the door of his neighbor, Mole,<br> +Who shrugged, and said, "Of the two so blind<br> +The wisest, surely, stays behind!"<br> +But he could not cope with the glare of day:<br> +He lost his sight, and he missed his way;—<br> +He wheeled on his flapping wings, till, "bump!"<br> +His head went, hard on the farm-yard pump.<br> +Then, stunned and posed, as he met the ground,<br> +A stir and a shout in the yard went round;<br> +For its tenants thought they had one come there,<br> +That seemed not of water, earth, or air.<br> +The Hen, "Cut, cut, cut-dah-cut!" cried,<br> +For all to cut at the thing she spied;<br> +While the taunting Duck said, "Quack, quack, quack!"<br> +As her muddy mouth to the pool went back,<br> +For something denser than sound, to show<br> +Her sage disgust, at the quack to throw.<br> +The old Turk strutted, and gobbled aloud,<br> +Till he gathered around him a babbling crowd;<br> +When each proud neck in the whole doomed group<br> +Was poked with a condescending stoop,<br> +And a pointed beak, at the prostrate Bat,<br> +Which they eyed askance, as to ask, "What's <i>that</i>?"<br> +But none could tell; and the poults moved off,<br> +In their <i>select circle</i> to leer and scoff.<br> +<br> +The Goslings skulked; but their wise mamma,<br> +She hissed, and screamed, till the Lambs cried, "Ba-a!"<br> +When up from his straw sprang the gaping Calf,<br> +With a gawky leap and a clammy laugh.<br> +He stared—retreated—and off he went,<br> +The wondrous news in his voice to vent,—<br> +That he had discovered a <i>monster</i> there—<br> +A <i>bird four-footed, and clothed with hair</i>!<br> +And had dashed his heel at the sight so odd,<br> +It looked, he thought, like a <i>heathen god</i>!<br> +<br> +The scuddling Chicks cried, "Peep, peep, peep!<br> +For Boss looks high, but not very deep!<br> +It is not a fowl! 'tis the worst of things,—<br> +low, mean beast, with the use of wings,<br> +So noiseless round on the air to skim,<br> +You know not when you are safe from him."<br> +<br> +There stood by, some of the bristly tribe,<br> +Who felt so touched by the peeper's gibe,<br> +Their backs were up; for they thought, at least,<br> +It aimed at them the <i>low, mean beast:</i><br> +And they challenged Chick to her tiny face,<br> +In their sharp, high notes, and their awful base.<br> +<br> +Then old Chanticleer to his mount withdrew,<br> +And gave from his rostrum a loud halloo.<br> +He blew his clarion strong and shrill,<br> +Till he turned all eyes to his height, the hill;<br> +When he noised it round with his loudest crow,<br> +That 't was none of the <i>plumed</i> ones brought so low.<br> +<br> +And, "Bow-wow-wow!" went the sentry Cur;<br> +But he soon strolled off in a grave demur,<br> +When he saw on the wonder, <i>hair</i>, like his,<br> +<i>Two ears</i>, and a kind of <i>doubtful phiz;</i><br> +And he deemed it prudent to pause, and hark<br> +In silence, for fear that the sight might <i>bark</i>!<br> +<br> +At last came Puss, with a cautious pat<br> +To feel the pulse of the quivering Bat,<br> +That had not, under her tender paw,<br> +A limb to move, nor a breath to draw!<br> +Then she called her kit for a mother's gift,<br> +And stilled its mew with the racy lift.<br> +<br> +When Mole of the awful death was told,<br> +"Alas!" cried she, "he had grown too bold—<br> +Too vain and proud! Had he only kept,<br> +Like the <i>prudent Mole</i>, in his nest, and slept.<br> +Or worked underground, where none could see,<br> +He might have still been alive, like me!"<br> +<br> +While thus, so early the poor Bat died,<br> +A cry, that it was but the fall of pride,<br> +And signs of mirth, or of scorn, were all<br> +He had from those who beheld his fall.<br> +They each could triumph, and each condemn;<br> +But no kind pity was shown by them.<br> +<br> +And now, should we, as a mirror, place<br> +This story out for the world to face,<br> +How many, think you, would there perceive<br> +Likeness to children of Adam and Eve?<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Idle_Jack"></a><h2><b>Idle Jack</b></h2> + +See mischievous and idle Jack!<br> +How fast he flies, nor dares look back!<br> +He seized Horatio's pretty cart,<br> +And broke and threw it part from part;<br> +The body here, and there the wheels;<br> +And now, by taking to his heels,<br> +He makes the Scripture proverb true,—<br> +<i>The wicked flee when none pursue.</i>.<br> +<br> +Oh! Jack's a worthless, wicked boy,<br> +Who seems but evil to enjoy.<br> +He often racks his naughty brain<br> +Inventing ways of giving pain.<br> +He loves to torture butterflies—<br> +To dust the kitten's tender eyes—<br> +To break the cricket's slender limb;<br> +And pain to them is sport to him.<br> +<br> +He sometimes to your garden comes,<br> +To crush the flowers and steal the plums—<br> +The melons tries with thievish gripe,<br> +To find the one that's nearest ripe—<br> +His pocket fills with grapes or pears,<br> +No matter how their owner fares;<br> +When, by its lawless, robber track,<br> +You trace the foot of idle Jack.<br> +<br> +Whenever Jack is sent to school,<br> +He, playing truant, plays the fool:<br> +Or else he goes, with sloven looks<br> +And hands unclean, to spoil the books—<br> +To spill the ink, or make a noise,<br> +Disturbing good and studious boys;<br> +Till all who find what Jack's about<br> +Within the school, must wish him out.<br> +<br> +If ever Jack at church appears,<br> +He knows not, cares not, what he hears.<br> +While others to the word attend,<br> +He has a pencil-point to mend—<br> +An apple, or his nails to pare,<br> +Or cracks a nut in time of prayer,<br> +Till many wish that Jack would come,<br> +A better boy, or stay at home.<br> +<br> +In short, he shows, beyond a doubt,<br> +That, if he does not turn about,<br> +And mend his morals and his ways,<br> +He yet must come to evil days;<br> +And of a life of wasted time—<br> +Of idleness, and vice, and crime,<br> +To meet, perhaps, a felon's end,<br> +With neither man, nor God his friend.<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="David_and_Goliath"></a><h2><b>David and Goliath</b></h2> + +Young David was a ruddy lad<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With silken, sunny locks,</span><br> +The youngest son that Jesse had:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He kept his father's flocks.</span><br> +<br> +Goliath was a Philistine,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A giant, huge and high;</span><br> +He lifted, like a towering pine,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His head towards the sky.</span><br> +<br> +He was the foe of Israel's race.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A mighty warrior, too;</span><br> +And on he strode from place to place,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And many a man he slew.</span><br> +<br> +So Saul, the king of Israel then,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Proclaimed it to and fro,</span><br> +That most he'd favor of his men<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The one, who'd kill the foe.</span><br> +<br> +Yet all, who saw this foe draw near,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would feel their courage fail;</span><br> +For not an arrow, sword, or spear,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Could pierce the giant's mail.</span><br> +<br> +But Jesse's son conceived a way,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That would deliverance bring;</span><br> +Whereby he might Goliath slay,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thus relieve the king.</span><br> +<br> +Then quick he laid his shepherd's crook<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon a grassy bank;</span><br> +And off he waded in the brook<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From which the lambkins drank.</span><br> +<br> +He culled and fitted to his sling<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Five pebbles, smooth and round;</span><br> +And one of these he meant should bring<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The giant to the ground.</span><br> +<br> +"I've killed a lion and a bear,"<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said he, "and now I'll slay</span><br> +The Philistine, and by the hair<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll bring his head away!"</span><br> +<br> +Then onward to the battle-field<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The youthful hero sped;</span><br> +He knew Goliath by his shield,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by his towering head.</span><br> +<br> +But when, with only sling and staff,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The giant saw him come,</span><br> +In triumph he began to laugh;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet David struck him dumb.</span><br> +<br> +He fell! 'twas David's puny hand<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That caused his overthrow!</span><br> +Though long the terror of the land,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A pebble laid him low.</span><br> +<br> +The blood from out his forehead gushed.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He rolled, and writhed, and roared:</span><br> +The little hero on him rushed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And drew his ponderous sword.</span><br> +<br> +Before its owner's dying eye<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He held the gleaming point</span><br> +Upon his throbbing neck to try;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then severed cord and joint.</span><br> +<br> +He took the head, and carried it<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And laid it down by Saul;</span><br> +And showed him where the pebble hit<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That caused the giant's fall.</span><br> +<br> +The lad, who had Goliath slain<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With pebbles and a sling,</span><br> +Was raised in after years to reign<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Israel's second king!</span><br> +<br> +'Twas not the courage, skill, or might<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which David had, alone,</span><br> +That helped him Israel's foe to fight<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And conquer, with a stone.</span><br> +<br> +But, when the shepherd stripling went<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The giant thus to kill,</span><br> +God used him as an instrument<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His purpose to fulfil!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Escape_of_the_Doves"></a><h2><b>Escape of the Doves</b></h2> + +Come back, pretty Doves! O, come back from the tree.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You bright little fugitive things!</span><br> +We could not have thought you so ready and free<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In using your beautiful wings.</span><br> +<br> +We didn't suppose, when we lifted the lid,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see if you knew how to fly,</span><br> +You'd all flutter off in a moment, and bid<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The basket for ever good-by!</span><br> +<br> +Come down, and we'll feast you on insects and seeds;—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You sha'nt have occasion to roam—</span><br> +We'll give you all things that a bird ever needs,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make it contented at home.</span><br> +<br> +Then come, pretty Doves! O, return for our sakes,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And don't keep away from us thus;</span><br> +Or, when your old slumbering master awakes,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twill be a sad moment for us!</span><br> +<br> +"We can't!" said the birds, "and the basket may stand<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A long time in waiting; for now</span><br> +You find out too late, that a bird in the hand<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is worth, at least, two on the bough.</span><br> +<br> +"And we, from our height, looking down on you there,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By experience taught to be sage,—</span><br> +Find, one pair of wings that are free in the air<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are worth two or three in the cage!</span><br> +<br> +"But when our old master awakes, and shall find<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The work you have just been about,</span><br> +We hope, by the freedom we love, he'll be kind,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And spare you for letting us out.</span><br> +<br> +"We thank you for all the fine stories you tell,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all the good things you would give;</span><br> +But think, since we're out, we shall do very well<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where nature designed us to live.</span><br> +<br> +"Whene'er you may think of the swift little wings<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On which from your reach we have flown,</span><br> +No doubt, you'll beware, and not meddle with things,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In future, that are not your own."</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Edward_and_Charles"></a><h2><b>Edward and Charles</b></h2> + +The brothers went out with the father to ride,<br> +Where they looked for the flowers, that, along the way-side,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So lately were blooming and fair;</span><br> +But their delicate heads by the frost had been nipped;<br> +Their stalks by the blast were all twisted and stripped;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And nothing but ruin was there.</span><br> +<br> +"Oh! how the rude autumn has spoiled the green hills!"<br> +Exclaimed little Charles, "and has choked the bright rills<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With leaves that are faded and dead!</span><br> +The few on the trees are fast losing their hold.<br> +And leaving the branches so naked and cold.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That the beautiful birds have all fled."</span><br> +<br> +"I know," replied Edward, "the country has lost<br> +A great many charms by the touch of the frost,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which used to appear to the eye;</span><br> +But then, it has opened the chestnut-burr too,<br> +The walnut released from the case where it grew;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And now our <i>Thanksgiving</i> is nigh!</span><br> +<br> +"Oh! what do you think we shall do on that day?"<br> +"I guess," answered Charles, "we shall all go away<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Grandpa's; and there find enough</span><br> +Of turkeys, plum-puddings, and pies by the dozens,<br> +For Grandpa' and Grandma', aunts, uncles and cousins;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And at night we'll all play blind-man's-buff.</span><br> +<br> +"Perhaps we'll get Grandpa' to tell us some stories<br> +About the old times, with their <i>Whigs</i> and their <i>Tories</i>;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what sort of men they could be;</span><br> +When some spread their tables without any cloth,<br> +With basins and spoons, and the fuming bean-broth,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which they took for their coffee and tea.</span><br> +<br> +"They'd queer kind of sights, I have heard Grandma' say,<br> +About in their streets; for, if not every day,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At least it was nothing uncommon,</span><br> +To see them pile on the poor back of one horse<br> +A saddle and <i>pillion</i>; and what was still worse,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Up mounted a man and a woman!</span><br> +<br> +"The lady held on by the driver; and so,<br> +Away about town at full trot would they go;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or perhaps to a great country marriage,—</span><br> +To Thanksgiving-supper—to husking, or ball;<br> +Or quilting; for thus did they take nearly all<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their rides, on an <i>animal</i> carriage!</span><br> +<br> +"I know not what <i>huskings</i> and <i>quiltings</i> maybe;<br> +But Grandma' will tell; and perhaps let us see<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some things she has long laid away:—</span><br> +That stiff damask gown, with its sharp-pointed waist,<br> +The hoop, the craped, cushion, and buckles of paste,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which they wore in her grandparent's day.</span><br> +<br> +"She says they had buttons as large as our dollars,<br> +To wear on their coats with their square, standing collars;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And then, there's a droll sort of hat,</span><br> +Which Mary once fixed me one like, out of paper,<br> +And said she believed 'twas called <i>three-cornered scraper</i>;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Perhaps, too, she'll let us see that.</span><br> +<br> +"Oh! a glorious time we shall have! If they knew<br> +At the south, what it is, I guess they'd have one too;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I have heard somebody say,</span><br> +That, there, they call all the New England folks <i>Bumpkins,</i><br> +Because we eat puddings, and pies made of pumpkins,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And have our good Thanksgiving-day."</span><br> +<br> +"I think, brother Charles," returned Edward "at least,<br> +That they might go to church, if they don't like the feast;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For to me it is much the best part,</span><br> +To hear the sweet anthems of praise, that we give<br> +To Him, on whose bounty we constantly live:—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It is feasting the ear and the heart.</span><br> +<br> +"From Him, who has brought us another year round,<br> +Who gives every blessing, wherewith we are crowned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their gratitude who can withhold?</span><br> +And now how I wish I could know all the poor<br> +Their Thanksgiving-stores had already secure,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their fuel, and clothes for the cold!"</span><br> +<br> +"I'm glad," said their father, "to hear such a wish;<br> +But wishes alone, can fill nobody's dish,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or clothe them, or build them a fire.</span><br> +And now I will give you the money, my sons,<br> +Which I promised, you know, for your drum and your guns,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To spend in the way you desire."</span><br> +<br> +The brothers went home, thinking o'er by the way,<br> +For how many comforts this money might pay,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In something for clothing or food:</span><br> +At length they resolved, if their mother would spend it,<br> +For what she thought best, they would get her to send it<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where she thought it would do the most good.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Mountain_Minstrel"></a><h2><b>The Mountain Minstrel</b></h2> + +On our mountain of Savoy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the shadow of a rock,</span><br> +Once I sat, a shepherd-boy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Watching o'er my father's flock.</span><br> +<br> +We'd a happy cottage-home,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peaceful as the sparrow's nest,</span><br> +Where, at evening, we could come<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From our roamings to our rest.</span><br> +<br> +I'd a minstrel's voice and ear:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I could whistle, pipe and sing,</span><br> +While I roving, seemed to hear<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Music stir in every thing.</span><br> +<br> +But misfortune, like a blast.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swift upon my father rushed;</span><br> +From our dwelling we were cast—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At a stroke our peace was crushed.</span><br> +<br> +All we had was seized for debt:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the sudden overthrow,</span><br> +Even my fond, fleecy pet,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My white cosset, too, must go.</span><br> +<br> +Then I wandered, sad and lone,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where I'd once a flock to feed;</span><br> +All the treasure now my own<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was my simple pipe of reed.</span><br> +<br> +But a noble, pitying friend,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who had seen me sadly stray,</span><br> +Made me to his lute attend;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he taught me how to play.</span><br> +<br> +Then his lute to me he gave;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And abroad he bade me roam,</span><br> +Till the earnings I could save<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would redeem our cottage-home.</span><br> +<br> +Glad, his counsel straight I took—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I received his gift with joy;</span><br> +All my former ways forsook,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And became a minstrel-boy.</span><br> +<br> +With my mountain airs to sing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forward then I roamed afar,</span><br> +Sweeping still the tuneful string—<br> +Having hope my leading star.<br> +<br> +In the hamlets where I've gone,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Groups would gather—music-bound:</span><br> +In the cities I have drawn<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">List'ners till my hopes were crowned.</span><br> +<br> +Ever saving as I earned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I of one dear object dreamed;</span><br> +To my mountain then returned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And our cottage-home redeemed.</span><br> +<br> +Time has wiped away our tears;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Here we dwell together blest;</span><br> +All our sorrows, doubts and fears<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I have played and sung to rest.</span><br> +<br> +Here my aged parents live<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Free from want, and toil, and cares;</span><br> +All the bliss that earth can give<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Deem they in this home of theirs.</span><br> +<br> +Life's night-shades fast o'er them creep;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All their wrongs have been forgiven—</span><br> +They have but to fall asleep<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In their cot, to wake in heaven.</span><br> +<br> +Gentle friend, dost thou inquire<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What's the lineage whence I came?</span><br> +Jesse is my shepherd sire—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">David-Jesse is my name!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Veteran_and_the_Child"></a><h2><b>The Veteran and the Child</b></h2> + +"Come, grandfather, show how you carried your gun<br> +To the field, where America's freedom was won,<br> +Or bore your old sword, which you say was new then,<br> +When you rose to command, and led forward your men;<br> +And tell how you felt with the balls whizzing by,<br> +Where the wounded fell round you, to bleed and to die!"<br> +<br> +The prattler had stirred, in the veteran's breast,<br> +The embers of fire that had long been at rest.<br> +The blood of his youth rushed anew through his veins;<br> +The soldier returned to his weary campaigns;<br> +His perilous battles at once fighting o'er,<br> +While the soul of nineteen lit the eye of four-score.<br> +<br> +"I carried my musket, as one that must be<br> +But loosed from the hold of the dead, or the free!<br> +And fearless I lifted my good, trusty sword,<br> +In the hand of a mortal, the strength of the Lord!<br> +In battle, my vital flame freely I felt<br> +Should go, but the chains of my country to melt!<br> +<br> +"I sprinkled my blood upon Lexington's sod,<br> +And Charlestown's green height to the war-drum I trod.<br> +From the fort, on the Hudson, our guns I depressed,<br> +The proud coming sail of the foe to arrest.<br> +I stood at Stillwater, the Lakes and White Plains,<br> +And offered for freedom to empty my veins!<br> +<br> +"Dost now ask me, child, since thou hear'st here I've been,<br> +Why my brow is so furrowed, my locks white and thin—<br> +Why this faded eye cannot go by the line,<br> +Trace out little beauties, and sparkle like thine;<br> +Or why so unstable this tremulous knee,<br> +Who bore 'sixty years since,' such perils for thee?<br> +<br> +"What! sobbing so quick? are the tears going to start?<br> +Come! lean thy young head on thy grandfather's heart!<br> +It has not much longer to glow with the joy<br> +I feel thus to clasp thee, so noble a boy!<br> +But when in earth's bosom it long has been cold,<br> +A man, thou'lt recall, what, a babe, thou art told."<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Captain_Kidd"></a><h2><b>Captain Kidd</b></h2> + +There's many a one who oft has heard<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The name of Robert Kidd,</span><br> +Who cannot tell, perhaps, a word<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of him, or what he did.</span><br> +<br> +So, though I never saw the man,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lived not in his day;</span><br> +I'll tell you how his guilt began—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To what it paved the way.</span><br> +<br> +'Twas in New York Kidd had his home;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there he left his wife</span><br> +And children, when he went to roam,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lead a seaman's life.</span><br> +<br> +Now Robert had as firm a hand,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A heart as stern and brave,</span><br> +As ever met in one on land,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or on the briny wave.</span><br> +<br> +'Twas in the third king William's time,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When many a pirate bold</span><br> +Committed on the seas the crime<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of shedding blood for gold.</span><br> +<br> +So Captain Kidd was singled out<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As one devoid of fears,</span><br> +To take a ship and cruise about<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Against the Bucaniers.</span><br> +<br> +The ship was armed with many a gun,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And manned with many a man,</span><br> +Across the southern seas to run<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To foil the pirate's plan.</span><br> +<br> +But when she long, from isle to isle,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without success had sailed,</span><br> +And made no capture all the while,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her master's patience failed.</span><br> +<br> +The prizes he so oft had sought,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He found he sought in vain;</span><br> +And soon a wicked, bloody thought,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came into Robert's brain!</span><br> +<br> +His mind he opened to his men;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And found his guilty crew</span><br> +Agreed with him, that they, from then,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would all turn pirates too!</span><br> +<br> +He threw his Bible in the deep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Defied its Author's will;</span><br> +And, with his conscience put to sleep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Began to rob and kill.</span><br> +<br> +And now the desperado reigned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A tyrant on the waves;</span><br> +While they whose blood his hands had stained,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Went down to watery graves.</span><br> +<br> +No merchant ship could near him go,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which he would not annoy;</span><br> +For Kidd was passing to and fro,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And seeking to destroy.</span><br> +<br> +He seized the vessel, plunged the knife<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within the seamen's breast:</span><br> +And by a cruel waste of life,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His evil gains possessed.</span><br> +<br> +He then would make the nearest isle.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And go at night by stealth,</span><br> +To hide within the earth awhile<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His last ill-gotten wealth.</span><br> +<br> +Thus, many a shining wedge of gold<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This modern Achan hid;</span><br> +And many a frightful tale was told<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">About the pirate, Kidd.</span><br> +<br> +But Justice does not slumber long;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If slow, she's ever sure.</span><br> +There's none too artful, quick, or strong<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For her to make secure!</span><br> +<br> +To Boston, with a brazen face,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The pirate boldly went,</span><br> +Where he was seized; and in disgrace<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And chains, to England sent.</span><br> +<br> +The captain and his crew were there,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A solemn, fearful sight;</span><br> +Resigning life high up in air,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">E'en at the gibbet's height!</span><br> +<br> +For many a year their bodies hung<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Along the river side;</span><br> +As beacons, showing old and young<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How they had lived and died.</span><br> +<br> +The wealth they hid was never found.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though often sought of men.</span><br> +'Tis where they placed it in the ground,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till they should come again!</span><br> +<br> +The earth has seemed by Heaven constrained.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The treasures to withhold</span><br> +That price of blood has none obtained,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or used the pirate's gold!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Dying_Storm"></a><h2><b>The Dying Storm</b></h2> + +I am feeble, pale and weary,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And my wings are nearly furled.</span><br> +I have caused a scene so dreary,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am glad to quit the world.</span><br> +While with bitterness I'm thinking<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the evil I have done,</span><br> +To my caverns deep I'm sinking<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the coming of the sun.</span><br> +<br> +Oh! the heart of man will sicken<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In that pure and holy light,</span><br> +When he feels the hopes I've stricken<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With an everlasting blight!</span><br> +For, so wildly in my madness<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have I poured abroad my wrath,</span><br> +I've been changing joy to sadness;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And with ruins strewed my path.</span><br> +<br> +Earth has shuddered at my motion:—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She my power in silence owns;</span><br> +While the troubled, roaring ocean<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O'er my deeds of horror moans.</span><br> +I have sunk the dearest treasure—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I've destroyed the fairest form:</span><br> +Sadly have I filled my measure;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I'm now a dying Storm!</span><br> +<br> +Yet, to man among the living,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With my final gasp and sigh,</span><br> +I, a solemn caution giving,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fain would serve him while I die.</span><br> +Not like me, shall he, descending<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swift to death, from being cease.</span><br> +He's a spirit!--fleetly tending<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To eternal pain or peace!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Little_Traveller"></a><h2><b>The Little Traveller</b></h2> + +I am the tiniest child of earth!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But still, I would like to be known to fame;</span><br> +Though next to nothing I had my birth,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lowest of all in my lowly name.</span><br> +<br> +Yet, if so humble my native place,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This I can say, in family pride—</span><br> +That I'm of the world's most numerous race,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And made by the Maker of all beside.</span><br> +<br> +Although I'm so poor, I naught to lose;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still I'm so little I can't be lost!</span><br> +I journey about, wherever I choose,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And those who carry me bear the cost.</span><br> +<br> +The most forgiving of earthly things,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I often cling to my deadly foe;</span><br> +And, spite of the cruellest flirts and flings,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Arise by the force that has cast me low.</span><br> +<br> +When beauty has trodden me under foot,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I've quietly risen, her face to seek,—</span><br> +Embraced her forehead, and calmly put<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Myself to rest in her dimpled cheek.</span><br> +<br> +I've ridden to war on the soldier's plume;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But startled and sprung, at the wild affray,—</span><br> +The sights of horror—of fire and fume;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fled on the wings of the wind away.</span><br> +<br> +I've visited courts, and been ushered in<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the proudest guest of the stately scene;</span><br> +I've touched his majesty's bosom-pin,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the nuptial ring of his lofty queen.</span><br> +<br> +At the royal board, in the grand parade,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I've oft been one familiar and free:</span><br> +The fairest lady has smiled, and laid<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her delicate, gloveless hand on me.</span><br> +<br> +Philosopher, poet, the learned, the sage,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never declines a call from me;</span><br> +And all, of every rank and age.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Admit me into their <i>coteri</i>.</span><br> +<br> +I visit the lions of every where,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If human, or brute, and can testify</span><br> +To what they do, to what they wear,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To wonders none ever beheld but I!</span><br> +<br> +And now, reviewing the things I've done,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forgetting my name, my rank and birth,</span><br> +I begin to think I am number ONE,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the great and manifold things of earth.</span><br> +<br> +I've still much more, I yet might tell,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which modesty bids me here withhold;</span><br> +For fear with my travels I seem to swell,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or grow, for an ATOM OF DUST, too bold!</span><br> + +<p>THE END</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="BY_SUSAN_PINDAR_Now_ready_a_New_Edition"></a><h2>BY SUSAN PINDAR. <b>Now ready, a New Edition</b>.</h2> + +<p><b>FIRESIDE FAIRIES; OR, CHRISTMAS AT AUNT ELSIE'S.</b></p> + +<p>Beautifully illustrated, with Original Designs. 1 vol. 12mo. 75 cts., +gilt ed. $1.</p> + +<p><i>Contents</i>.</p> + +<p>The Two Voices, or the Shadow and the Shadowless. The Minute Fairies. I +Have and O Had I. The Hump and Long Nose. The Lily Fairy and the Silver +Beam. The Wonderful Watch. The Red and White Rose Trees. The Diamond +Fountain. The Magical Key.</p> + +<p>Though this is a small book, it is, mechanically, exceedingly beautiful, +being illustrated with spirited woodcuts from Original Designs. But that +is its least merit. It is one of the most entertaining, and decidedly +one of the best juveniles that have issued from the prolific press of +this city. We speak advisedly. It is long since we found time to read +through a juvenile book, so near Christmas, when the name of this class +of volumes is legion; but this charmed us so much that we were unwilling +to lay it down after once commencing it. The first story,—"The Two +Voices, or the Shadow and the Shadowless,"—is a sweet thing, as is also +the one entitled, "The Diamond Fountain." Indeed, the whole number, and +there are ten, will be read with avidity. Their moral is as pure as +their style is enchanting.—<i>Com. Adv</i>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p><i>D. Appleton & Co. have just ready</i>,</p> + +<p><b>A NEW UNIFORM SERIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS</b>. BY AMEREL.</p> + +<p>COMPRISING</p> + +I. CHRISTMAS STORIES, for Good Children. Illustrated. 16mo. <BR> +II. WINTER HOLIDAYS. A Story for Children. Illustrated. 16mo.<BR> +III. THE SUMMER HOLIDAYS. A Story for Children. Illus. 16mo. <BR> +IV. GEORGE'S ADVENTURES IN THE COUNTRY. Illus. 16mo.<BR> +V. THE CHILD'S STORY BOOK. A Holiday Gift. Illus. 16mo.<BR> +VI. THE LITTLE GIFT-BOOK. For Good Boys and Girls. Illus. 16mo. + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="NEW_ILLUSTRATED_JUVENILES"></a><h2><b>NEW ILLUSTRATED JUVENILES.</b></h2> + +<p>AUNT FANNY'S STORY BOOK. Illustrated. 16mo. $ 50</p> + +<p>THE CHILD'S PRESENT. Illustrated. 16mo.</p> + +<p>HOWITT'S PICTURE AND VERSE BOOK. Illustrated with 100 plates. 75 cts.; +gilt 1 00</p> + +<p>HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. Illustrated. 4to., 25 cts.; cloth 50</p> + +<p>STORY OF JOAN OF ARC. By R.M. Evans. With 23 illustrations. 16mo. 75</p> + +<p>ROBINSON CRUSOE. Pictorial Edition. 300 plates. 8vo. 1 50</p> + +<p>THE CARAVAN; A COLLECTION OF TALES AND STORIES FROM THE GERMAN. +Translated by G.P. Quackenboss. Illustrated by Orr. 16mo.</p> + +<p>INNOCENCE OF CHILDHOOD. By Mrs. Colman. Illustrated 50</p> + +<p>HOME RECREATIONS, comprising Travels and Adventures, &c. Colored +Illustrations. 16mo. 87</p> + +<p>FIRESIDE FAIRIES. A New Story Book. My Miss Susan Pindar. Finely +Illustrated. 16mo.</p> + +<p>STORY OF LITTLE JOHN. Trans, from the French. Illus. 62</p> + +<p>LIVES AND ANECDOTES OF ILLUSTRIOUS MEN. 16mo. 75</p> + +<p>UNCLE JOHN'S PANORAMIC PICTURE BOOKS. Six kinds, 25 cts. each; +half-cloth 50</p> + +<p>HOLIDAY HOUSE. Tales, by Catherine Sinclair. Illustrated 75</p> + +<p>PUSS IN BOOTS. Finely illus. by O. Speckter. 50c.; ex. glt. 75</p> + +<p>TALES AND STORIES for Boys and Girls. By Mary Howitt 75</p> + +<p>AMERICAN HISTORICAL TALES for Youth. 16mo. 75</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p><b>LIBRARY FOR MY YOUNG COUNTRYMEN.</b></p> + +<p>ADVENTURES of Captain John Smith. By the Author of Uncle Philip 38</p> + +<p>ADVENTURES of Daniel Boon. By do. 38</p> + +<p>DAWNINGS of Genius. By Anne Pratt. 38</p> + +<p>LIFE and Adventures of Henry Hudson. By the Author of Uncle Philip. 38</p> + +<p>LIFE and Adventures of Herman Cortez. By do. 38</p> + +<p>PHILIP RANDOLPH. A Tale of Virginia. By Mary Gertrude. 38</p> + +<p>ROWAN'S History of the French Revolution. 2 vols. 75</p> + +<p>SOUTHEY'S Life of Cromwell. 38</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p><b>TALES FOR THE PEOPLE AND THEIR CHILDREN</b>.</p> + +<p>ALICE FRANKLIN. By Mary Howitt. 38</p> + +<p>LOVE AND MONEY. By do. 38</p> + +<p>HOPE ON, HOPE EVER! Do. 38</p> + +<p>LITTLE COIN, MUCH CARE. By do. 38</p> + +<p>MY OWN STORY. By do. 38</p> + +<p>MY UNCLE, THE CLOCKMAKER. By do. 38</p> + +<p>NO SENSE LIKE COMMON SENSE. By do. 38</p> + +<p>SOWING AND REAPING. Do. 38</p> + +<p>STRIVE AND THRIVE. By do. 38</p> + +<p>THE TWO APPRENTICES. By do. 38</p> + +<p>WHICH IS THE WISER? Do. 38</p> + +<p>WHO SHALL BE GREATEST? By do. 38</p> + +<p>WORK AND WAGES. By do. 38</p> + +<p>CROFTON BOYS, The. By Harriet Martineau. 38</p> + +<p>DANGERS OF DINING OUT By Mrs. Ellis. 38</p> + +<p>FIRST IMPRESSIONS. By do. 38</p> + +<p>MINISTER'S FAMILY. By do. 38</p> + +<p>SOMMERVILLE HALL. By do. 38</p> + +<p>DOMESTIC TALES. By Hannah More. 2 vols.... 75</p> + +<p>EARLY FRIENDSHIP. By Mrs. Copley. 38</p> + +<p>FARMER'S DAUGHTER, The By Mrs. Cameron. 38</p> + +<p>LOOKING-GLASS FOR THE MIND. Many plates. 45</p> + +<p>MASTERMAN READY. By Capt. Marryat. 3 vols. 2</p> + +<p>PEASANT AND THE PRINCE. By H. Martineau. 38</p> + +<p>POPLAR GROVE. By Mrs. Copley. 38</p> + +<p>SETTLERS IN CANADA. By Capt. Marryatt. 2 vols. 75</p> + +<p>TIRED OF HOUSEKEEPING. By T.S. Arthur. 38</p> + +<p>TWIN SISTERS, The. By Mrs. Sandham. 38</p> + +<p>YOUNG STUDENT. By Madame Guizot. 3 vols. 1 12</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>SECOND SERIES.</p> + +<p>CHANCES AND CHANGES. By Charles Burdett. 38</p> + +<p>NEVER TOO LATE. By do. 38</p> + +<p>GOLDMAKERS VILLAGE. By R. Zschokke. 38</p> + +<p>OCEAN WORK, ANCIENT AND MODERN. By J.H. Wright. 38</p> + +<p>THE MISSION; or, Scenes in Africa By Capt. Marryatt. 2 vols. 75</p> + +<p>STORY OF A GENIUS</p> + +<p><b>TEXT BOOKS</b></p> + +<p><b><i>FOR LEARNING THE FRENCH, GERMAN ITALIAN AND SPANISH LANGUAGES.</i></b></p> + +<p>I. FRENCH.</p> + +<p>COLLOT'S Dramatic French Reader. 12mo. $1.</p> + +<p>DE FIVA'S Elementary French Reader. 12mo. 50 cts.</p> + +<p>DE FIVA'S Classic French Reader for Advanced Students. 12mo. $1.</p> + +<p>OLLENDORFF'S Elementary French Grammar. By Greene. 16mo. 38 cts. with +Key, 50 cts.</p> + +<p>OLLENDORFF'S New Method of Learning French. Edited by J.L. 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Edited by Eliza Robins, author of +"Popular Lessons." 12mo.....75</p> + +<p>MANDEVILLE'S Series of School Readers: +</p> + +<p> +---- Part I.....10 +</p> +<p> +---- Part II.... 16 +</p> +<p> +---- Part III.....28 +</p> +<p> +---- Part IV.....38 +</p> +<p> +---- Course of Reading for Common Schools and Lower Academies. 12mo.....75 +</p> +<p> +---- Elements of Reading and Oratory. 8vo.... 1 00 +</p> + +<p>PUTZ and ARNOLD'S Manual of Ancient Geography and History. 12mo.... 1.00</p> + +<p>REID'S Dictionary of the English Language, with Derivations, &c. +12mo.... 1.00</p> + +<p>SEWELL'S First History of Rome. 16mo.....60</p> + +<p>TAYLOR'S Manual of Modern and Ancient History. Edited by Professor +Henry. 8vo., cloth or sheep.... 1.60</p> + +<p>TAYLOR'S Ancient History. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Youth's Coronal</p> +<p>Author: Hannah Flagg Gould</p> +<p>Release Date: March 3, 2004 [eBook #11432]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: iso-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUTH'S CORONAL***</p> +<br> +<br> +<center><b>E-text prepared by Amy Petri<br> + and Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders<br> + from images provided by Internet Archive Children's Library<br> + and the University of Florida</b></center> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="full"> +<br> +<br> +<h1>THE YOUTH'S CORONAL.</h1> + +<h2>BY HANNAH FLAGG GOULD</h2> +<br> +<br> +<center>AUTHOR OF "POEMS," ETC., ETC.<br> +<br> +Whate'er the good instruction may reveal, <BR> +The head must <i>take</i>, before the heart can <i>feel</i>. <BR> +THE MORALIZER.<br> +<br> +1851 +</center> +<br> +<br> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="ADDRESS"></a><h2>ADDRESS</h2> +<br> +<br> + +<p>TO THE YOUTH OF MY COUNTRY.</p> +<br> + +<p>In preparing the following pages, my aim has been, to produce a book +alike entertaining and instructive;—one which, in the reading, should +afford an amusement to the mind, pleasant as the spring-blossoms on the +tree; and, in its influences on the heart in after life, be like the +good fruits that succeed and ripen, to refresh and nourish us, when the +vernal season is over and gone, and the voices of the singing-birds are +lost in the distance.</p> + +<p>Choosing an appropriate title for such a presentation, I have borrowed +my idea from the words of the wise king of Israel:—"Hear the +instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother; for +they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head," &c., and other +Scripture passages of similar figurative meaning; for, though often +given in a sportive way, it is my design that no moral shall be +conveyed in the volume, but such as a good and judicious parent would +wish a child to imbibe.</p> + +<p>Accept, then, my young Friends, this new CORONAL of the little flowers +of poesy which I have woven for you. When you shall have examined and +scented it, and found no thorn to pierce—no juice or odor to poison you +in its whole circle, wear it for the giver's sake; and enjoy it and +profit by its healthful influences, for your own.</p> + +<p>Gladly would I feel assured that, in some future years,—when I shall +have done with earthly flowers, and you will be engaged in the busy +scenes and arduous duties of mature life,—the import of these leaves +may from time to time arise to your memory, in all its dewy freshness, +like the fragrance which the summer-breeze wafts after us, from the +lilies and violets we have passed and left far behind us, in our morning +rambles. Then, if not to-day, you will be convinced that I was—as now I +am,</p> + +<p>Your true Friend,</p> + +<p>H. F. GOULD.</p> + +<p><i>Newburyport, Mass</i>., August, 1850.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CONTENTS"></a><h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<a href="#ADDRESS"><b>ADDRESS</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Sale_of_the_Water-Lily"><b>The Sale of the Water-Lily</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Humming-Bird's_Anger"><b>The Humming-Bird's Anger</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Butterfly's_Dream"><b>The Butterfly's Dream</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Boy_and_the_Cricket"><b>The Boy and the Cricket</b></a><br> + <a href="#Sudden_Elevation_or_The_Empaled_Butterfly"><b>Sudden Elevation; or The Empaled Butterfly</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Stricken_Bird"><b>The Stricken Bird</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Young_Sportsman"><b>The Young Sportsman</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Pebble_and_the_Acorn"><b>The Pebble and the Acorn</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Grasshopper_and_the_Ant"><b>The Grasshopper and the Ant</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Rose-Bud_of_Autumn"><b>The Rose-Bud of Autumn</b></a><br> + <a href="#Frost_the_Winter-Sprite"><b>Frost, the Winter-Sprite</b></a><br> + <a href="#Vivy_Vain"><b>Vivy Vain</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Lost_Kite"><b>The Lost Kite</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Summer-Morning_Rumble"><b>A Summer-Morning Rumble</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Shoemaker"><b>The Shoemaker</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Snow-Storm"><b>The Snow-Storm</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Whirlwind"><b>The Whirlwind</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Disobedient_Skater_Boys"><b>The Disobedient Skater Boys</b></a><br> + <a href="#Winter_and_Spring"><b>Winter and Spring</b></a><br> + <a href="#Tom_Tar"><b>Tom Tar</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Envious_Lobster"><b>The Envious Lobster</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Crocus_Soliloquy"><b>The Crocus' Soliloquy</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Bee_Clover_and_Thistle"><b>The Bee, Clover, and Thistle</b></a><br> + <a href="#Poor_Old_Paul"><b>Poor Old Paul</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Sea-Eagle's_Fall"><b>The Sea-Eagle's Fall</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Two_Thieves"><b>The Two Thieves</b></a><br> + <a href="#Jemmy_String"><b>Jemmy String</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Caterpillar"><b>The Caterpillar</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Mocking_Bird"><b>The Mocking Bird</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Silk-Worm's_Will"><b>The Silk-Worm's Will</b></a><br> + <a href="#Dame_Biddy"><b>Dame Biddy</b></a><br> + <a href="#Kit_With_the_Rose"><b>Kit With the Rose</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Captive_Butterfly"><b>The Captive Butterfly</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Dissatisfied_Angler_Boy"><b>The Dissatisfied Angler Boy</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Stove_and_the_Grate-Setter"><b>The Stove and the Grate-Setter</b></a><br> + <a href="#Song_of_the_Bees"><b>Song of the Bees</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Summer_is_Come"><b>The Summer is Come</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Morning-Glory"><b>The Morning-Glory</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Old_Cotter_and_his_Cow"><b>The Old Cotter and his Cow</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Speckled_One"><b>The Speckled One</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Blind_Musician"><b>The Blind Musician</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Lame_Horse"><b>The Lame Horse</b></a><br> + <a href="#Humility_or_The_Mushroom's_Soliloquy"><b>Humility; or, The Mushroom's Soliloquy</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Lost_Nestlings"><b>The Lost Nestlings</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Bat's_Flight_By_Daylight_An_Allegory"><b>The Bat's Flight By Daylight An Allegory</b></a><br> + <a href="#Idle_Jack"><b>Idle Jack</b></a><br> + <a href="#David_and_Goliath"><b>David and Goliath</b></a><br> + <a href="#Escape_of_the_Doves"><b>Escape of the Doves</b></a><br> + <a href="#Edward_and_Charles"><b>Edward and Charles</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Mountain_Minstrel"><b>The Mountain Minstrel</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Veteran_and_the_Child"><b>The Veteran and the Child</b></a><br> + <a href="#Captain_Kidd"><b>Captain Kidd</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Dying_Storm"><b>The Dying Storm</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Little_Traveller"><b>The Little Traveller</b></a><br> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Sale_of_the_Water-Lily"></a><h2><b>The Sale of the Water-Lily</b></h2> + +And these would sometimes come, and cheer<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The widow with a song,</span><br> +To let her feel a neighbor near,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wing an hour along.</span><br> +<br> +A pond, supplied by hidden springs,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With lilies bordered round,</span><br> +Was found among the richest things,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That blessed the widow's ground.</span><br> +<br> +She had, besides, a gentle brook,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That wound the meadow through,</span><br> +Which from the pond its being took,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And had its treasures too.</span><br> +<br> +Her eldest orphan was a son;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For, children she had three;</span><br> +She called him, though a little one,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her hope for days to be.</span><br> +<br> +And well he might be reckoned so;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If, from the tender shoot,</span><br> +We know the way the branch will grow;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or, by the flower, the fruit.</span><br> +<br> +His tongue was true, his mind was bright;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His temper smooth and mild:</span><br> +He was—the parent's chief delight—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A good and pleasant child.</span><br> +<br> +He'd gather chips and sticks of wood<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The winter fire to make;</span><br> +And help his mother dress their food,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or tend the baking cake.</span><br> +<br> +In summer time he'd kindly lead<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His little sisters out,</span><br> +To pick wild berries on the mead,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fish the brook for trout.</span><br> +<br> +He stirred his thoughts for ways to earn<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some little gain; and hence,</span><br> +Contrived the silver pond to turn.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In part, to silver pence.</span><br> +<br> +He found the lilies blooming there<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So spicy sweet to smell,</span><br> +And to the eye so pure and fair,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He plucked them up to sell.</span><br> +<br> +He could not to the market go:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He had too young a head,</span><br> +The distant city's ways to know;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The route he could not tread.</span><br> +<br> +But, when the coming coach-wheels rolled<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To pass his humble cot,</span><br> +His bunch of lilies to be sold<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was ready on the spot.</span><br> +<br> +He'd stand beside the way, and hold<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His treasures up to show,</span><br> +That looked like yellow stars of gold<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just set in leaves of snow.</span><br> +<br> +"O buy my lilies!" he would say;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"You'll find them new and sweet:</span><br> +So fresh from out the pond are they,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I haven't dried my feet!"</span><br> +<br> +And then he showed the dust that clung<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon his garment's hem,</span><br> +Where late the water-drops had hung,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he had gathered them.</span><br> +<br> +And while the carriage checked its pace,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To take the lilies in,</span><br> +His artless orphan tongue and face<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some bright return would win.</span><br> +<br> +For many a noble stranger's hand,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With open purse, was seen,</span><br> +To cast a coin upon the sand,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or on the sloping green.</span><br> +<br> +And many a smiling lady threw<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The child a silver piece;</span><br> +And thus, as fast as lilies grew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He saw his wealth increase.</span><br> +<br> +While little more—and little more,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was gathered by their sale,</span><br> +His widowed mother's frugal store<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would never wholly fail.</span><br> +<br> +For He, who made, and feeds the bird,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her little children fed.</span><br> +He knew her trust: her cry he heard;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And answered it with bread.</span><br> +<br> +And thus, protected by the Power,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who made the lily fair,</span><br> +Her orphans, like the meadow flower,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grew up in beauty there.</span><br> +<br> +Her son, the good and prudent boy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who wisely thus began,</span><br> +Was long the aged widow's joy;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lived an honored man.</span><br> +<br> +He had a ship, for which he chose<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The LILY" as a name,</span><br> +To keep in memory whence he rose,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And how his fortune came.'</span><br> +<br> +He had a lily carved, and set,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her emblem, on her stem;</span><br> +And she was called, by all she met,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A beauteous ocean gem.</span><br> +<br> +She bore sweet spices, treasures bright;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, on the waters wide,</span><br> +Her sails as lily-leaves were white:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her name was well applied.</span><br> +<br> +Her feeling owner never spurned<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The presence of the poor;</span><br> +And found that all he gave returned<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In blessings rich and sure.</span><br> +<br> +The God who by the lily-pond<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had drawn his heart above,</span><br> +In after life preserved the bond<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of grateful, holy love.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Humming-Bird's_Anger"></a><h2><b>The Humming-Bird's Anger</b></h2> + +<p>"Small as the humming-bird is, it has great courage and violent +passions. If it find a flower that has been deprived of its honey, it +will pluck it off, throw it on the ground, and sometimes tear it to +pieces." BUFFON.</p> + +On light little wings as the humming-birds fly,<br> +With plumes many-hued as the bow of the sky,<br> +Suspended in ether, they shine to the light<br> +As jewels of nature high-finished and bright.<br> +<br> +Their vision-like forms are so buoyant and small<br> +They hang o'er the flowers, as too airy to fall,<br> +Up-borne by their beautiful pinions, that seem<br> +Like glittering vapor, or parts of a dream.<br> +<br> +The humming-bird feeds upon honey; and so,<br> +Of course, 'tis a sweet little creature, you know.<br> +But sweet little creatures have sometimes, they say,<br> +A great deal that's bitter, or sour, to betray!<br> +<br> +And often the humming-bird's delicate breast<br> +Is found of a very high temper possessed.<br> +Such essence of anger within it is pent,<br> +'Twould burst did no safety-valve give it a vent.<br> +<br> +Displeased, it will seem a bright vial of wrath,<br> +Uncorked by its heat, the offender to scath;<br> +And, taking occasion to let off its ire,<br> +'Tis startling to witness how high it will fire.<br> +<br> +A humming-bird once o'er a trumpet-flower hung,<br> +And darted that sharp little member, the tongue,<br> +At once to the nectarine cell, for the sweet<br> +She felt at the bottom most certain to meet.<br> +<br> +But, finding some other light child of the air<br> +To rifle its store, had already been there;<br> +And no drop of honey for her to draw up,<br> +Her vengeance broke forth on the destitute cup.<br> +<br> +She flew in a passion, that heightened her power;<br> +And cuffing, and shaking the innocent flower,<br> +Its tender corolla in shred after shred<br> +She hastily stripped; then she snapped off its head.<br> +<br> +A delicate ruin, on earth as it lay,<br> +That bright little fury went, humming, away,<br> +With gossamer softness, and fair to the eye,<br> +Like some living brilliant, just dropped from the sky.<br> +<br> +And since, when that curious bird I behold<br> +Arrayed in rich colors, and dusted with gold,<br> +I cannot but think of the wrath and the spite<br> +She has in reserve, though they're now out of sight.<br> +<br> +Ye two-footed, beautiful, passionate things,<br> +If plumy or plumeless—without, or with wings,<br> +Beware, lest ye break, in some hazardous hour,<br> +Your vials of wrath, hot, or bitter, or sour!<br> +<br> +And would ye but know how at times ye do seem<br> +Transformed to bright furies, or frights in a dream,<br> +Go, stand at the glass—to the painter go sit,<br> +When anger is just at the height of its fit!<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Butterfly's_Dream"></a><h2><b>The Butterfly's Dream</b></h2> + +A tulip, just opened, had offered to hold<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A butterfly gaudy and gay;</span><br> +And rocked in his cradle of crimson and gold,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The careless young slumberer lay.</span><br> +<br> +For the butterfly slept;—as such thoughtless ones will,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At ease, and reclining on flowers;—</span><br> +If ever they study, 'tis how they may kill<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The best of their mid-summer hours!</span><br> +<br> +And the butterfly dreamed, as is often the case<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With <i>indolent</i> lovers of change,</span><br> +Who, keeping the body at ease in its place,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Give fancy permission to range.</span><br> +<br> +He dreamed that he saw, what he could but despise,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The swarm from a neighboring hive;</span><br> +Which, having come out for their winter supplies,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had made the whole garden alive.</span><br> +<br> +He looked with disgust, as the proud often do,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the diligent movements of those,</span><br> +Who, keeping both present and future in view,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Improve every hour as it goes.</span><br> +<br> +As the brisk little alchymists passed to and fro,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With anger the butterfly swelled;</span><br> +And called them mechanics—a rabble too low<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To come near the station he held.</span><br> +<br> +"Away from my presence!" said he, in his sleep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Ye humble plebeians! nor dare</span><br> +Come here with your colorless winglets to sweep<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The king of this brilliant parterre!"</span><br> +<br> +He thought, at these words, that together they flew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, facing about, made a stand;</span><br> +And then, to a terrible army they grew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fenced him on every hand.</span><br> +<br> +Like hosts of huge giants, his numberless foes<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seemed spreading to measureless size:</span><br> +Their wings with a mighty expansion arose,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And stretched like a veil o'er the skies.</span><br> +<br> +Their eyes seemed like little volcanoes, for fire,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their hum, to a cannon-peal grown,—</span><br> +Farina to bullets was rolled in their ire,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, he thought, hurled at him and his throne.</span><br> +<br> +He tried to cry quarter! his voice would not sound,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His head ached—his throne reeled and fell;</span><br> +His enemy cheered, as he came to the ground,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And cried, "King Papilio, farewell!"</span><br> +<br> +His fall chased the vision—the sleeper awoke,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wonderful dream to expound;</span><br> +The lightning's bright flash from the thunder-cloud broke,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And hail-stones were rattling around.</span><br> +<br> +He'd slumbered so long, that now, over his head,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tempest's artillery rolled;</span><br> +The tulip was shattered—the whirl-blast had fled,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And borne off its crimson and gold.</span><br> +<br> +'Tis said, for the fall and the pelting, combined<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With suppressed ebullitions of pride.</span><br> +This vain son of summer no balsam could find,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But he crept under covert and died!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Boy_and_the_Cricket"></a><h2><b>The Boy and the Cricket</b></h2> + +At length I have thee! my brisk new-comer,<br> +Sounding thy lay to departing summer;<br> +And I'll take thee up from thy bed of grass,<br> +And carry thee home to a house of glass;<br> +Where thy slender limbs, and the faded green<br> +Of thy close-made coat, can all be seen.<br> +For I long to know if the cricket <i>sings</i>,<br> +Or <i>plays</i> the tune with his gauzy wings;—<br> +To bring that shrill-toned pipe to light<br> +Which kept me awake so long last night,<br> +That I told the hours by the lazy clock,<br> +Till I heard the crow of the noisy cock;<br> +When, tossing and turning, at length I fell<br> +In a sleep so strange, that the dream I'll tell.<br> +<br> +Methought, on a flowery bank I lay,<br> +By a beautiful stream; and watched the play<br> +Of the sparkling wavelets, that fled so fast,<br> +I could not number them as they passed.<br> +But I marked the things which they carried by;<br> +And a neat little skiff first caught my eye.<br> +'Twas woven of reeds, and its sides were bound<br> +By a tender vine, that had clasped it round;<br> +And spreading within, had made it seem<br> +A basket of leaves, borne down the stream.<br> +And the skiff had neither a sail nor oar;<br> +But a bright little boy stood up, and bore,<br> +On his outstretched hands, a wreath so gay,<br> +It looked like a crown for the Queen of May.<br> +And while he was going, I heard him sing,<br> +"O seize the garland of passing <i>Spring!</i>"<br> +But I dared not reach, for the bank was steep;<br> +And he bore it away, to the far off deep!<br> +<br> +There came, then, a lady;—her eye was bright—<br> +She was young and fair, and her bark was light;<br> +Its mast was a living tree, that spread<br> +Its boughs for a sail, o'er the lady's head.<br> +And some of its fruits had just begun<br> +To flush, on the side that was next the sun;<br> +And some with the crimson streak were stained;<br> +While others their size had not yet gained.<br> +In passing she cried, "Oh! who can insure<br> +The fruits of <i>Summer</i> to get mature?<br> +For, fast as the waters beneath me flowing,<br> +Beyond recall, I'm going! I'm going!"<br> +<br> +I turned my eye, and beheld another,<br> +That seemed as she might be Summer's mother.<br> +She looked more grave; while her cheek was tinged<br> +With a deeper brown; and her bark was fringed<br> +With the tasselled heads of the wheaten sheaves<br> +Along its sides; and the yellow leaves,<br> +That had covered the deck concealed a throng<br> +Of <i>Crickets!</i>—I knew by their choral song.<br> +And at <i>Autumn's</i> feet lay the golden corn,<br> +While her hands were raised, to invert a horn<br> +That was filled with a sweet and mellow store,<br> +And the purple clusters were hanging o'er.<br> +She bade me seize on the fruit that should last<br> +When the harvest was gone, and Autumn had past.<br> +But, when I had paused to make the choice,<br> +I saw no bark! and I heard no voice!<br> +<br> +Then I looked on a sight that chilled my blood!<br> +'Twas a mass of ice, where an old man stood<br> +On his frozen float; while his shrivelled hand<br> +Had clenched, as a staff by which to stand,<br> +A whitened branch that the blast had broke<br> +From the lifeless trunk of an aged oak.<br> +The icicles hung from the naked limb,<br> +And the old man's eye was sunken and dim.<br> +But his scattering locks were silver bright,<br> +His beard with gathering frost was white;<br> +The tears congealed on his furrowed cheek,<br> +His garb was thin, and the winds were bleak.<br> +He faintly uttered, while drawing near,<br> +"<i>Winter</i>, the death of the short-lived year,<br> +Can yield thee nought, as I downward tend<br> +To the boundless sea, where the Seasons end!<br> +But I trust from others, who've gone before,<br> +Thou'st clothed thy form, and supplied thy store<br> +And now, what tidings am I to bear<br> +Of thee—for I shall be questioned there?"<br> +<br> +I asked my mother, who o'er me bent,<br> +What all this show of the Seasons meant?<br> +She said 'twas a picture of Life, I saw;<br> +And the useful moral myself must draw!<br> +<br> +I woke, and found that thy song was stilled,<br> +And the sun's bright beams my room had filled!<br> +But I think, my Cricket, I long shall keep<br> +In mind the dream of my morning sleep!<br> + +<br> + +<p><b>Fanny Spy</b></p> + +Lucy, Lucy, come away!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never climb for things so high.</span><br> +Don't you know, the other day,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What fell out with Fanny Spy?</span><br> +<br> +Fanny spied, a loaf of cake,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wisely set above her reach;</span><br> +Yet did Fanny think to make<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In its tempting side a breach.</span><br> +<br> +When she thought the family<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Out of sight and hearing too,</span><br> +Forth a polished table she<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quickly to the closet drew.</span><br> +<br> +First, she stepped upon a chair;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then the table—then a shelf;</span><br> +Thinking she securely there<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Might, unnoticed, help herself.</span><br> +<br> +Then she seized a heavy slice,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leaving in the loaf a cleft</span><br> +Wider than a dozen mice,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Feasted there all night, had left.</span><br> +<br> +Stepping backward, Fanny slid<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the table's polished face:—</span><br> +Down she came, with dish and lid,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Silver—glass—and china vase!</span><br> +<br> +In, from every room they rushed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Father—mother—servants—all,</span><br> +Thinking all the closet crushed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the racket and the fall.</span><br> +<br> +'Mid the uproar of the house,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fanny, in her shame and fright,</span><br> +Wished herself indeed a mouse,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But to run and hide from sight.</span><br> +<br> +Yet was she to learn how vain,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poor and worthless, is a wish.</span><br> +Wishing could not lull her pain,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hide her shame, nor mend a dish.</span><br> +<br> +There she lay, but could not speak;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For a tooth had made a pass</span><br> +Through her lip; and to her cheek<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clung a piece of shivered glass.</span><br> +<br> +From her altered features gushed<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rolling tears, and streaming gore;</span><br> +While, untasted still, and crushed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lay her cake upon the floor.</span><br> +<br> +Then the doctor hurried in:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fanny at his needle swooned,</span><br> +As he held her crimson chin,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And together stitched the wound.</span><br> +<br> +Now her face a scar must wear,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ever till her dying day!</span><br> +Questioned how it happened there,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What can blushing Fanny say?</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Sudden_Elevation_or_The_Empaled_Butterfly"></a><h2><b>Sudden Elevation; or The Empaled Butterfly</b></h2> + +"Ho!" said the Butterfly, "here am I,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Up in the air, who used to lie</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Flat on the ground, for the passers by</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To treat with utter neglect!</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But none will suspect that I am the same;</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">With a bright, new coat, and a different name;</span><br> +The piece of nothingness whence I came<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">In me they'll never detect.</span><br> +<br> +"That horrible night in the chrysalis,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Which brought me at length to a day like this,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">In a form of beauty—a state of bliss,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Was little enough to give</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For freedom to range from bower to bower,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">To flirt with the buds, and flatter the flower,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And bask in the sunbeams hour by hour,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">The envy of all that live.</span><br> +<br> +"Why, this is a world of curious things,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Where those who crawl, and those that have wings,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Are ranked in the classes of beggars, and kings,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">No matter how much the worth</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">May be on the side of those who creep,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Where the vain, the light, and the bold will sweep,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Others from notice, and proudly keep</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Uppermost on the earth!</span><br> +<br> +"Many a one that has loathed the sight<br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Of the piteous worm, will take delight</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">In welcoming me, as I look so bright</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">In my new and beautiful dress.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But some I shall pass with a scornful glance,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Some, with an elegant <i>nonchalance</i>;</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And others will woo me, till I advance</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To give them a slight caress."</span><br> +<br> +"Ha, ha!" said the Pin, "you are just the one<br> +Through which I'm commissioned, at once, to run<br> +From back to breast, till, your fluttering done,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your form may be fairly shown.</span><br> +And when my point shall have reached your heart,<br> +'T will be as a balm to the wounded part,<br> +To think how you're to be copied by art,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And your beauty will all be known!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Stricken_Bird"></a><h2><b>The Stricken Bird</b></h2> + +Here's the last food your poor mother can bring!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take it, my suffering brood.</span><br> +Oh! they have stricken me under the wing;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">See, it is dripping with blood!</span><br> +<br> +Fair was the morn, and I wished them to rise,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Enjoying its beauties with me.</span><br> +The air was all fragrance—all splendor the skies,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While bright shone the earth and the sea.</span><br> +<br> +Little I thought, when so freely I went,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Employing my earliest breath,</span><br> +To wake them with song, it could be their intent<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To pay me with arrows and death!</span><br> +<br> +Fear that my nestlings would feel them forgot,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Helped me a moment to fly;</span><br> +Else I had given up life on the spot,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under my murderer's eye.</span><br> +<br> +Yet, I can never brood o'er you again,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Closing you under my breast!</span><br> +Its coldness would chill you; my blood would but stain<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And spoil the warm down of your nest.</span><br> +<br> +Ere the night-coming, your mother will lie,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All motionless, under the tree;</span><br> +Where, deafened, and silent, I still shall be nigh,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While you will be moaning for me!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Young_Sportsman"></a><h2><b>The Young Sportsman</b></h2> + +Harry had a dog and gun;<br> +And he loved to set the one,<br> +Barking, out upon the run,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While he held the other,</span><br> +Often charged so heavily,<br> +'Twas a dangerous thing to be<br> +With so young a wight as he<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mindless of his mother.</span><br> +<br> +Earnestly she warned her child<br> +To forego a sport so wild;<br> +While he, turning, frowned or smiled,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And away would sidle.</span><br> +For, to give him short and long,<br> +Harry had a head so strong,<br> +In the right or in the wrong,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was hard to bridle.</span><br> +<br> +On his gunning madly bent,<br> +Often in his clothes a rent<br> +Told the reckless way he went,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Over hedge and brambles.</span><br> +Homeward then would Harry slouch,<br> +With his gun and empty pouch,<br> +Looking like a scaramouch<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Coming from his rambles.</span><br> +<br> +Sometimes when he scaled a wall,<br> +Headlong there to pitch and fall,<br> +Ratling stones, and gun and all.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Down together tumbled.</span><br> +Tray would bark to tell the news<br> +Of his master with a bruise,<br> +Hatless, and with grated shoes,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lying flat and humbled!</span><br> +<br> +Where he saw the bushes stirred,<br> +Harry, sure of hare or bird,<br> +Drew,—and at a flash was heard<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Noise like little thunder.</span><br> +When he ran his game to find,<br> +Disappointment 'mazed his mind;—<br> +Finding he'd but shot the wind,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dumb he stood with wonder!</span><br> +<br> +Over muddy pool or bog,<br> +Not so nimble as his dog,<br> +When he walked the plank or log,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There his balance losing,</span><br> +Splash! he went—a rueful plight!<br> +If his face before was white,<br> +'Twas like morning turned to night,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Much against his choosing.</span><br> +<br> +Now, like many a hasty one,<br> +Whether quadruped or gun,<br> +Or a mother's wayward son<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Given to disaster,</span><br> +Harry's gun was rather quick;<br> +And it had a naughty trick,—<br> +It would snap itself, and kick<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fiercely at its master.</span><br> +<br> +So, this snappish habit grew<br> +With a power for him to rue;<br> +Just as all bad habits do<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grow, as age increases.</span><br> +When, one day, with noise and smoke,<br> +Over-charged, the barrel broke,<br> +Harry's hand the mischief spoke—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was blown to pieces!</span><br> +<br> +Tray came crouching round, and growled,—<br> +Saw the gore, and whined, and howled,<br> +While his owner groaned and scowled,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the blood was running.</span><br> +With the horrors of his state,<br> +And with anguish desperate,<br> +Then poor Harry owned too late,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was <i>sick of gunning</i>!</span><br> +<br> +While his mother bent to mourn<br> +As her froward son was borne,<br> +With his hand all burnt and torn,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Faint and pale, before her,</span><br> +Harry's pain must be endured,—<br> +And the wound—it might be cured;<br> +But, for fingers uninsured,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There was no restorer!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Pebble_and_the_Acorn"></a><h2><b>The Pebble and the Acorn</b></h2> + +"I am a Pebble! I yield to none!"<br> +Were the swelling words of a tiny stone,<br> +"Nor time nor season can alter me;<br> +I am abiding, while ages flee.<br> +The pelting hail and the drizzling rain<br> +Have tried to soften me, long, in vain;<br> +And the dew has tenderly sought to melt,<br> +Or touch my heart; but it was not felt.<br> +There's none to tell you about my birth,<br> +For I am as old as the big, round earth.<br> +The children of men arise, and pass<br> +Out of the world, like blades of grass;<br> +And many foot that on me has trod<br> +Is gone from sight, and under the sod!<br> +I am a Pebble! but who art <i>thou</i>,<br> +Rattling along from the restless bough?"<br> +<br> +The Acorn was shocked at this rude salute,<br> +And lay for a moment abashed and mute:<br> +She never before had been so near<br> +This gravelly ball, the mundane sphere;<br> +And she felt for a time at loss to know<br> +How to answer a thing so coarse and low.<br> +But to give reproof of a nobler sort<br> +Than the angry look, or the keen retort,<br> +At length she said, in a gentle tone,<br> +"Since it has happened that I am thrown,<br> +From the lighter element where I grew,<br> +Down to another, so hard and new,<br> +And beside a personage so august,<br> +Abased, I'll cover my head with dust,<br> +And quick retire from the sight of one<br> +Whom time, nor season, nor storm, nor sun,<br> +Nor the gentle dew, nor the grinding heel<br> +Has ever subdued, or made to feel!"<br> +And soon in the earth she sank away<br> +From the cheerless spot where the Pebble lay.<br> +<br> +But 'twas not long ere the soil was broke<br> +By the jeering head of an infant oak!<br> +As it arose, and its branches spread,<br> +The Pebble looked up, and, wondering, said,<br> +"Ah, modest Acorn! never to tell<br> +What was enclosed in its simple shell;—<br> +That the pride of the forest was folded up<br> +In the narrow space of its little cup!—<br> +And meekly to sink in the darksome earth,<br> +Which proves that nothing could hide her worth!<br> +And O, how many will tread on me,<br> +To come and admire the beautiful tree,<br> +Whose head is towering towards the sky,<br> +Above such a worthless thing as I!<br> +Useless and vain, a cumberer here,<br> +Have I been idling from year to year.<br> +But never, from this, shall a vaunting word<br> +From the humbled Pebble again be heard,<br> +Till something without me or within<br> +Shall show the purpose for which I've been!"<br> +The Pebble could ne'er its vow forget,<br> +And it lies there wrapt in silence yet.<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Grasshopper_and_the_Ant"></a><h2><b>The Grasshopper and the Ant</b></h2> + +"Ant, look at me!" a young grasshopper said,<br> +As nimbly he sprang from his green, summer-bed,<br> +"See how I'm going to skip over your head,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And could o'er a thousand like you!</span><br> +Ant, by your motion alone, I should judge<br> +That Nature ordained you a slave and a drudge,<br> +For ever and ever to keep on the trudge,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And always find something to do.</span><br> +<br> +"Oh! there is nothing like having our day—<br> +Taking our pleasure and ease while we may—<br> +Bathing ourselves in the bright, mellow ray<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That comes from the warm, golden sun!</span><br> +Whilst I am up in the light and the air,<br> +You, a sad picture of labor and care,<br> +Still have some hard, heavy burden to bear,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And work that you never get done.</span><br> +<br> +"I have an exercise healthful and good,<br> +For tuning the nerves and digesting the food—<br> +Graceful gymnastics for stirring the blood<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without the <i>gross purpose of use</i></span><br> +Ant, let me tell you 'tis not <i>à la mode</i><br> +To plod like a pilgrim, and carry a load,<br> +Perverting the limbs that for grace were bestowed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By such a plebeian abuse!</span><br> +<br> +"While the whole world with provisions is filled,<br> +Who would keep toiling and toiling, to build<br> +And lay in a store for himself, till he's killed<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With work that another might do?</span><br> +Come! drop your budget, and just give a spring;<br> +Jump on a grass-blade, and balance and swing;<br> +Soon you'll be light as a gnat on the wing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gay as a grasshopper, too!"</span><br> +<br> +Ant trudged along, while the grasshopper sung,<br> +Minding her business and holding her tongue,<br> +Until she got home her own people among;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But these were her thoughts on the road.</span><br> +"What will become of that poor, idle one<br> +When the light sports of the summer are done?<br> +And, where is the covert to which he may run<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To find a safe winter abode?</span><br> +<br> +"Oh! if I only could tell him how sweet<br> +Toil makes my rest and the morsel I eat,<br> +While hope gives a spur to my little black feet,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He'd never pity my lot!</span><br> +He'd never ask me my burden to drop,<br> +To join in his folly—to spring, and to hop;<br> +And thus make the ant and her labor to stop,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When time, I am certain, would not.</span><br> +<br> +"When the cold frost all the herbage has nipped,<br> +When the bare branches with ice-drops are tipped,<br> +Where will the grasshopper then be, that skipped<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So careless and lightly to-day?</span><br> +Frozen to death! '<i>a sad picture</i>,' indeed,<br> +Of reckless indulgence and what must succeed,<br> +That all his gymnastics can't shelter or feed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or quicken his pulse into play!</span><br> +<br> +"I must prepare for a winter to come,<br> +I shall be glad of a home and a crumb,<br> +When my frail form out of doors would be numb,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I in the snow-storm should die.</span><br> +Summer is lovely, but soon will be past.<br> +Summer has plenty not always to last.<br> +Summer's the time for the ant to make fast<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her stores for a future supply!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Rose-Bud_of_Autumn"></a><h2><b>The Rose-Bud of Autumn</b></h2> + +Come out—pretty Rose-Bud,—my lone, timid one!<br> +Come forth from thy green leaves, and peep at the sun!<br> +For little he does, in these dull autumn hours,<br> +At height'ning of beauty, or laughing with flowers.<br> +<br> +His beams, on thy tender young cheek as he plays,<br> +Will give it a blush that no other could raise:<br> +Thy fine silken petals they'll softly unfold,<br> +Thy pure bosom filling with spices and gold!<br> +<br> +I would not instruct thee in coveting wealth;<br> +Yet beauty, we know, is the offspring of health;<br> +And health, the fair daughter of freedom! is bright<br> +From drinking the breezes, and feasting on light.<br> +<br> +Then, come, little gem, from thy covert look out;<br> +And see what the glad, golden sun is about!<br> +His shafts, do they strike thee, new charms will impart,<br> +Thy form making fairer, and richer, thy heart.<br> +<br> +Occasion, sweet Bud, is for thee and for me:<br> +This hour it may give what again ne'er shall be.<br> +O, let not the sunshine of life pass away,<br> +Nor touch both our eye and our heart with its ray!<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Frost_the_Winter-Sprite"></a><h2><b>Frost, the Winter-Sprite</b></h2> + +The Frost looked forth on a still, clear night,<br> +And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight;<br> +So through the valley, and over the height<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll silently take my way.</span><br> +I will not go on like that blustering train,<br> +The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,<br> +That make so much bustle and noise in vain.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I'll be as busy as they!"</span><br> +<br> +He flew up, and powdered the mountain's crest;<br> +He lit on the trees, and their boughs he drest<br> +With diamonds and pearls;—and over the breast<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the quivering Lake he spread</span><br> +A bright coat of mail that it need not fear<br> +The glittering point of many a spear<br> +That he hung on its margin, far and near,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where a rock was rearing its head.</span><br> +<br> +He went to the windows of those who slept,<br> +And over each pane, like a fairy crept;<br> +Wherever he breathed—wherever he stepped—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Most beautiful things were seen</span><br> +By morning's first light!--there flowers and trees,<br> +With bevies of birds, and swarms of bright bees;—<br> +There were cities—temples, and towers; and these,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All pictured in silvery sheen!</span><br> +<br> +But one thing he did that was hardly fair—<br> +He peeped in the cupboard, and, finding there<br> +That none had remembered for him to prepare,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Now, just to set them a-thinking,</span><br> +I'll bite their rich basket of fruit," said he,<br> +"This burly old pitcher—I'll burst it in three!<br> +And the glass with the water they've left for me<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Vivy_Vain"></a><h2><b>Vivy Vain</b></h2> + +Miss Vain was all given to dress—<br> +Too fond of gay clothing; and so,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She'd gad about town</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just to show a new gown,</span><br> +As a train-band their color to show.<br> +<br> +Her head being empty and light,<br> +Whene'er she obtained a new hat,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With pride in her air,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She'd go round, here and there,</span><br> +For all whom she knew to see that.<br> +<br> +Her folly was chiefly in this:<br> +More highly she valued fine looks,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than virtue or truth,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or devoting her youth</span><br> +To usefulness, friendship, or books.<br> +<br> +Her passion for show was unchecked;<br> +And therefore, it happened one day,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Arrayed in bright hues,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And with new hat and shoes,</span><br> +Miss Vain walked abroad for display.<br> +<br> +She took the most populous streets.<br> +To cause but aversion in those,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who saw how she prinked,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the bystanders winked.</span><br> +While the boys cried, "Halloo! there she goes!"<br> +<br> +It chanced, that, in passing on way,<br> +She came near a pool, and a green<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With fence close and high;</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, as Vivy drew nigh,</span><br> +A donkey stood near it unseen.<br> +<br> +He put his mouth over its top,<br> +The moment she came by his place;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gave a loud bray</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In her ear, when, away</span><br> +She sprang, shrieked, and fell on her face.<br> +<br> +She thought she was swallowed alive,<br> +Awhile upon earth lying flat;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the terrible sound</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seemed to furrow the ground</span><br> +She embraced in her fine gown and hat.<br> +<br> +She gathered herself up, and ran,<br> +Yet heeded not whither or whence,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To flee from the roar,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That continued to pour</span><br> +Behind her, from over the fence.<br> +<br> +In passing a slope near the pool,<br> +She slipped and rolled down to its brim;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The geese gave a shout,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And at length hissed her out</span><br> +Of the bounds, where they'd gathered to swim.<br> +<br> +In turning a corner, she met<br> +Abruptly, the horns of a cow<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That mooed, while the cur,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At her heels, turned from her,</span><br> +And aimed at Miss Vain his "bow-wow."<br> +<br> +Then Vivy's bright ribbons and skirt,<br> +As she flew, flirted high on the wind;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The children at play,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Paused to see one so gay,</span><br> +And all in a flutter behind.<br> +<br> +A group of glad schoolboys came by:<br> +Said they, "So it seems, that to-day,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Vain carries marks</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At which the dog barks,</span><br> +And that make sober Long-Ears to bray."<br> +<br> +And when, all bedraggled and pale,<br> +Poor Vivy approached her own door,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She went, swift and straight</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As a dart, through the gate,</span><br> +Abhorring the gay gear she wore.<br> +<br> +She sat down, and thought of the scene<br> +With humiliation and tears:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The words, and the noise</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the brutes and the boys</span><br> +Were echoing still in her ears.<br> +<br> +She reasoned, and came at the cause,<br> +Resolving that cause to remove;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thence, her desire</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was for modest attire,</span><br> +And her heart and her mind to improve.<br> +<br> +And soon, all who knew her before<br> +Remarked on the change and the gain<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In mind, and in mien,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in dress, that were seen</span><br> +In the once flashy Miss Vivy Vain.<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Lost_Kite"></a><h2><b>The Lost Kite</b></h2> + +"My kite! my kite! I've lost my kite!<br> +Oh! when I saw the steady flight,<br> +With which she gained her lofty height,<br> +How could I know, that letting go<br> +That naughty string, would bring so low<br> +My pretty, buoyant, darling kite,<br> +To pass for ever out of sight?<br> +<br> +"A purple cloud was sailing by,<br> +With silver fringes, o'er the sky;<br> +And then I thought, it seemed so nigh,<br> +I'd make my kite go up and light<br> +Upon its edge, so soft and bright;<br> +To see how noble, high and proud<br> +She'd look, while riding on a cloud!<br> +<br> +"As near her shining mark she drew<br> +I clapped my hands; the line slipped through<br> +My silly fingers; and she flew,<br> +Away! away! in airy play,<br> +Right over where the water lay!<br> +She veered and fluttered, swung and gave<br> +A plunge, then vanished with the wave!<br> +<br> +"I never more shall want to look<br> +On that false cloud, or babbling brook;<br> +Nor e'er to feel the breeze that took<br> +My dearest joy, to thus destroy<br> +The pastime of your happy boy.<br> +My kite! my kite! how sad to think<br> +She flew so high, so soon to sink!"<br> +<br> +"Be this," the mother said, and smiled,<br> +"A lesson to thee, simple child!<br> +And when by fancies vain and wild,<br> +As that which cost the kite that's lost,<br> +The busy brain again is crossed,<br> +Of shining vapor then beware,<br> +Nor trust thy joys to fickle air.<br> +<br> +"I have a darling treasure, too,<br> +That sometimes would, by slipping through<br> +My guardian hands, the way pursue,<br> +From which, more tight than thou thy kite,<br> +I hold my jewel, new and bright,<br> +Lest he should stray without a guide,<br> +To drown my hopes in sorrow's tide!"<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="A_Summer-Morning_Rumble"></a><h2><b>A Summer-Morning Rumble</b></h2> + +Oh! the happy Summer hours.<br> +With their butterflies and flowers,<br> +And the birds among the bowers<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sweetly singing;—</span><br> +With the spices from the trees,<br> +Vines, and lilies, while the bees<br> +Come floating on the breeze,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Honey bringing!</span><br> +<br> +All the East was rosy red,<br> +When we woke and left our bed;<br> +And to gather flowers we sped,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gay and early.</span><br> +Every clover-top was wet,<br> +And the spider's silken net<br> +With a thousand dew-drops set,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Pure and pearly.</span><br> +<br> +With their modest eyes of blue<br> +Were the violets peeping through<br> +Tufts of grasses, where they grew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Full of beauty,</span><br> +At the lamb in snowy white,<br> +O'er the meadow bounding light,<br> +And the crow just taking flight,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Grave and sooty.</span><br> +<br> +On our floral search intent,<br> +Still away, away we went,—<br> +Up and down the rugged bent,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Through the wicket,—</span><br> +Where the rock with water drops,—<br> +Through the bushes and the copse,—<br> +Where the greenwood pathway stops<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In the thicket.</span><br> +<br> +We heard the fountain gush,<br> +And the singing of the thrush;<br> +And we saw the squirrel's brush<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In the hedges,</span><br> +As along his back 't was thrown,<br> +Like a glory of his own.<br> +While the sun behind it, shone<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Through its edges.</span><br> +<br> +All the world appeared so fair,<br> +And so fresh and free the air,—<br> +Oh! it seemed that all the care<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In creation</span><br> +Belonged to God alone;<br> +And that none beneath his throne,<br> +Need to murmur or to groan<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">At his station.</span><br> +<br> +Dear little brother Will!<br> +He has leaped the hedge and rill,—<br> +He has clambered up the hill,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ere the beaming</span><br> +Of the rising sun, to sweep<br> +With its golden rays the steep,<br> +Till he's tired, and dropped asleep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sweetly dreaming.</span><br> +<br> +See, he threw aside his cap,<br> +And the roses from his lap,<br> +When his eyes were, for the nap,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Slowly closing:</span><br> +Wit his sunny curls outspread,<br> +On its fragrant mossy bed,<br> +Now his precious infant head<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Is reposing.</span><br> +<br> +He is dreaming of his play—<br> +How he rose at break of day,<br> +And he frolicked all the way<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On his ramble.</span><br> +And before his fancy's eye,<br> +He has still the butterfly<br> +Mocking him, where not so high<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He could scramble.</span><br> +<br> +In his cheek the dimples dip,<br> +And a smile is on his lip,<br> +While his tender finger-tip<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Seems as aiming</span><br> +At some wild and lovely thing<br> +That is out upon the wing,<br> +Which he longs to catch and bring<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Home for taming.</span><br> +<br> +While he thus at rest is laid<br> +In the old oak's quiet shade,<br> +Let's cull our flowers to braid,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or unite them</span><br> +In bunches trim and neat,<br> +That for every friend we meet,<br> +We may have a token sweet<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To delight them.</span><br> +<br> +'Tis the very crowning art<br> +Of a happy, grateful heart<br> +To others to impart<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of its pleasure.</span><br> +Thus its joys can never cease,<br> +For it brings an inward peace,<br> +Like an every day increase<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of a treasure.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Shoemaker"></a><h2><b>The Shoemaker</b></h2> + +"Honor and shame from no condition rise.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Act well your part:—there all the honor lies."</span><br> + +The shoemaker sat amid wax and leather,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With lapstone over his knee;</span><br> +Where, snug in his shop, he defied all weather,<br> +A-drawing his quarters and sole together:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A happy old man was he!</span><br> +<br> +This happy old man was so wise and knowing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The worth of his time he knew.</span><br> +He bristled his ends, and he kept them going;<br> +And felt to each moment a stitch was owing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Until he got round the shoe.</span><br> +<br> +Of every deed that his wax was sealing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The closing was firm and fast.</span><br> +The prick of his steel never caused a feeling<br> +Of pain to the toe, and his skill in heeling<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was perfect, and true to the last!</span><br> +<br> +Whenever you gave him a foot to measure.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With gentle and skilful hand,</span><br> +He took its proportions, with looks of pleasure,<br> +As if you were giving the costliest treasure,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or dubbing him lord of the land.</span><br> +<br> +And many a one did he save from getting<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A fever, or cold or cough:</span><br> +For many a sole did he save from wetting,<br> +When, whether in water or snow 'twas setting,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His shoeing would keep them off</span><br> +<br> +And when he had done with his making and mending,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With hope and a peaceful breast,</span><br> +Resigning his awl, as his thread was ending,<br> +He slid from his bench, to the grave descending,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As high as a king to rest!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Snow-Storm"></a><h2><b>The Snow-Storm</b></h2> + +It snows! it snows! from out the sky<br> +The feathered flakes, how fast they fly,<br> +Like little birds, that don't know why<br> +They're on the chase, from place to place,<br> +While neither can the other trace!<br> +It snows, it snows! a merry play<br> +Is o'er us, on this sombre day.<br> +<br> +As dancers in time's airy hall,<br> +That not a moment holds them all,<br> +While some keep up, and others fall,<br> +The atoms shift; then, thick and swift,<br> +They drive along to form the drift,<br> +That weaving up, so dazzling white,<br> +Is rising like a wall of light.<br> +<br> +But now the wind comes, whistling loud,<br> +To snatch and waft it, as a cloud,<br> +Or giant phantom in a shroud.<br> +It spreads,—it curls,—it mounts and whirls;<br> +At length a mighty wing unfurls;<br> +And then, away!--but where, none knows,<br> +Or ever will.—It snows! it snows!<br> +<br> +To-morrow will the storm be done;<br> +Then out will come the golden sun!<br> +And we shall, we shall see, upon the run<br> +Before his beams, in sparkling streams,<br> +What now a curtain o'er him seems.<br> +And thus, with life it ever goes;—<br> +'Tis shade and shine! It snows, it snows!<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Whirlwind"></a><h2><b>The Whirlwind</b></h2> + +Whirlwind, Whirlwind, whither art thou hieing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Snapping off the flowers young and fair;—</span><br> +Setting all the chaff and the withered leaves a-flying,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tossing up the dust in the air?</span><br> +<br> +"I," said the Whirlwind, "cannot stop for talking!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Give me up your cap, my little man;</span><br> +And the polished stick, that you will not need for walking.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While you run to catch them, if you can!</span><br> +<br> +"You, pretty maiden—none has time to tell her<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am coming, ere I shall be there.</span><br> +I will twirl her zephyr—snatch her light umbrella,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seize her hat, and snarl her glossy hair!"</span><br> +<br> +On went the Whirlwind, showing many capers<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One would hardly deem it meet to tell;—</span><br> +Dusting Judge and Parson—flirting gown and papers,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Discomposing matron, beau and belle.</span><br> +<br> +"Whisk!" from behind came the long and sweeping feather,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Round the head of old Chanticleer:—</span><br> +Plumed and plumeless biped felt gust together,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a way they wouldn't like to hear.</span><br> +<br> +Snug in his arbor sat a scholar, musing<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Calmly o'er the philosophic page:</span><br> +"Flap!" went the leaves of the volume he was using,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cutting short the lecture of the sage.</span><br> +<br> +"Hey!" said the bookworm, "this I think is taking<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rather too much liberty with me!</span><br> +Yet I'll not resent it; being bent on making<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Use of every thing I hear and see.</span><br> +<br> +"Many, I know, will not their anger stifle,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When as little cause as this, they find</span><br> +To let it kindle up; but minding every trifle<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is profitless as quarrels with the wind.</span><br> +<br> +"Forth to his business when the Whirlwind sallies,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He is all alive to get it done;—</span><br> +He on his pathway never lags nor dallies;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But is ever up, and on the run.</span><br> +<br> +"Though ever whirling, never growing dizzy;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Motion gives him buoyancy and power.</span><br> +All who have known him own that he is busy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doing much in half a fleeting hour.</span><br> +<br> +"Oh! there is nothing—when our work's before us,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like <i>despatch;</i> for, while our time is brief,</span><br> +Some sweeping blast may suddenly come o'er us,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lose our place, and turn another leaf!</span><br> +<br> +"Whirlwind, Whirlwind, though you're but a flurry,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so odd the business you pursue;—</span><br> +Though you come on, and are off, in such a hurry,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I have caught a hint; and now adieu!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Disobedient_Skater_Boys"></a><h2><b>The Disobedient Skater Boys</b></h2> + +Said William to George, "It is New-Year's day!<br> +And now for the pond and the merriest play!<br> +So, on with your cap; and away, away,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We'll off for a frolic and slide,</span><br> +Be quick—be quick, if you would not be chid<br> +For doing what father and mother forbid;<br> +And under your coat let the skates be hid;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then over the ice we'll glide."</span><br> +<br> +They're up, and they're off; on their run-away feet<br> +They fasten the skates, when, away they fleet,<br> +Far over the pond, and beyond retreat,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unconscious of danger near.</span><br> +But lo! the ice is beginning to bend—<br> +It cracks—it cracks—and their feet descend!<br> +To whom can they look as a helper—a friend?<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their faces are pale with fear.</span><br> +<br> +In their flight to the pond, they had caught the eye<br> +Of a neighboring peasant, who, lingering nigh,<br> +Aware of their danger, and hearing their cry,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now hastens to give them aid.</span><br> +As home they are brought, all dripping and cold,<br> +To all who their piteous plight behold,<br> +The worst of the story is plainly told—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their parents were disobeyed!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Winter_and_Spring"></a><h2><b>Winter and Spring</b></h2> + +"Adieu!" Father Winter sadly said<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the world, when about withdrawing,</span><br> +With his old white wig half off his head,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his icicle fingers thawing;—</span><br> +<br> +"Adieu! I'm going to the rocks and caves,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And must leave all here behind me;</span><br> +Or perhaps I shall sink in the Northern waves,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So deep that none can find me."</span><br> +<br> +"Good luck! good luck, to your hoary locks!"<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said the gay young Spring, advancing;</span><br> +"You may take your rest 'mid the caves and rocks,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While I o'er the earth am dancing.</span><br> +<br> +"But there is not a spot where you have trod.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You hard, old clumsy fellow,—</span><br> +Not a hill, nor a field, nor a single sod,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I must make haste to mellow.</span><br> +<br> +"I then shall carpet them o'er with grass,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To look so bright and cheering,</span><br> +That none will regret having let you pass<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Far out of sight and hearing.</span><br> +<br> +"The fountains that you locked up so tight,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When I shall give them a sunning,</span><br> +Will sparkle and play in my warmth and light,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the streams set off to running.</span><br> +<br> +"I'll speak in the earth to the palsied root,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That under your reign was sleeping;</span><br> +I'll teach it the way in the dark to shoot,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And draw out the vine to creeping.</span><br> +<br> +"The boughs that you cased so close in ice,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was chilling e'en to behold them,</span><br> +I'll deck all over with buds so nice;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My breath can alone unfold them.</span><br> +<br> +"And when all the trees are with blossoms drest,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The bird, with her song so merry,</span><br> +Will come to the branches to build her nest,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a view to the future cherry.</span><br> +<br> +"The earth will show by her loveliness,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wonders that I am doing;</span><br> +While the skies look down with a smile, to bless<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The way that I'm pursuing!"</span><br> +<br> +Said Winter, "Then I would have you learn,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By me, my gay new-comer,</span><br> +To push off too, when it comes your turn,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yield your place to Summer!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Tom_Tar"></a><h2><b>Tom Tar</b></h2> + +I'll tell you now about Tom Tar,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sailor stout and bold,</span><br> +Who o'er the ocean roamed so far,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To countries new and old.</span><br> +<br> +Tom was a man of thousands! he<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would ne'er complain nor frown,</span><br> +Though high and low the wind and sea<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Might toss him up and down.</span><br> +<br> +Amid the waters dark and deep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He had the happy art,</span><br> +When all around was storm, to keep<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fair weather in his heart.</span><br> +<br> +Though winds were wild, and waves were rough,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He'd always cast about,</span><br> +And find within he'd calm enough<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To stand the storms without.</span><br> +<br> +"For nought," said Tom, "is ever gained<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By sighs for what we lack;</span><br> +Nor can it mend a vessel strained,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To let our temper crack.</span><br> +<br> +"And sure I am, the worst of storms,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That any man should dread,</span><br> +Is that which in the bosom forms,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And musters to the head."</span><br> +<br> +Serene, and ever self-possessed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His mess-mates he would cheer,</span><br> +And often put their fears to rest,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When dangers gathered near.</span><br> +<br> +If on the rocks the ship was cast,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And surges swept the deck,</span><br> +Tom Tar was ever found the last<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who would forsake the wreck.</span><br> +<br> +And when his only hat and shoes<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The waters plucked from him,</span><br> +Why, these, he felt, were small to lose,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Could he keep up and swim!</span><br> +<br> +Then through the billows, foam, and spray,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That rose on every hand,</span><br> +He'd, somehow, always find a way<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of getting safe to land.</span><br> +<br> +The secret was, the fear and love<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Heaven had filled his soul:</span><br> +His trust was firm in One above,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Howe'er the seas might roll.</span><br> +<br> +And Tom had sailed to many a shore,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And many a wonder seen:</span><br> +The stories he could tell would more<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than fill a magazine.</span><br> +<br> +He'd seen mankind in every state,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Almost, that man can know;</span><br> +But envied not the rich and great,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor scorned the poor and low.</span><br> +<br> +The monarch in his sight had stood,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Superb, in glittering vest;</span><br> +The savage, too, that roams the wood,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In skins and feathers dressed.</span><br> +<br> +The tribes of many an isle he knew;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And beasts, and birds, and flowers,</span><br> +And fruits, of many a shape and hue,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In lands remote from ours.</span><br> +<br> +He'd seen the wide-winged albatros<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her breast in ocean lave;</span><br> +And bold sea-lions, playing, toss<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their heads above the wave.</span><br> +<br> +He'd seen the dolphin, while his back<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Went flashing to the sun,</span><br> +A swarm of flying fish attack,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And swallow every one!</span><br> +<br> +The porpoise and the spouting whale<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had sported in his view;</span><br> +And hungry sharks pursued his sail,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if they'd eat the crew.</span><br> +<br> +And ever, when Tom Tar got home,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The children, at their play,</span><br> +Were glad to have the Sailor come,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And greet them by the way.</span><br> +<br> +Then, oft, some curious stone, or shell,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The laughing girls and boys</span><br> +Would find, upon their aprons fell,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To put among their toys.</span><br> +<br> +"These pearly shells," said he, "I found<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where gloomy waters roar:</span><br> +These polished stones, so smooth and round,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rough surges washed ashore.</span><br> +<br> +"Though small to us a pebble seems,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis made and marked by One,</span><br> +Who gave the warmth, and lit the beams<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of yon great shining sun.</span><br> +<br> +"And when these pretty shells I find,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Along the ocean strand,</span><br> +Their beauteous finish brings to mind<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their Maker's perfect hand.</span><br> +<br> +"When on the wildest shore I'm thrown<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And far from human eye,</span><br> +I think of him who made the stone,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And shell, and sea, and sky.</span><br> +<br> +"For he's my Friend and I am his!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though strong and cold the blast,</span><br> +My safest guide I know he is<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where'er my lot is cast."</span><br> +<br> +When Tom passed on, the children said,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"These treasures from afar</span><br> +He brought us! Blessings on his head!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For he's a good Tom Tar!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Envious_Lobster"></a><h2><b>The Envious Lobster</b></h2> + +<p>A FABLE</p> + +A Lobster from the water came,<br> +And saw another, just the same<br> +In form and size; but gayly clad<br> +In scarlet clothing; while she had<br> +No other clothing on her back<br> +Than her old suit of greenish black.<br> +<br> +"So ho!" she cried, "'tis very fine!<br> +Your dress was yesterday like mine;<br> +And in the mud below the sea,<br> +You lived, a crawling thing like me.<br> +But now, because you've come ashore,<br> +You've grown so proud, that what you wore—<br> +Your strong old suit of bottle-green,<br> +You think improper to be seen.<br> +<br> +"To tell the truth, I don't see why<br> +You should be better dressed than I.<br> +And I should like a suit of red<br> +As bright as yours, from feet to head.<br> +I think I'm quite as good as you,<br> +And might be clothed in scarlet too."<br> +<br> +"Will you be <i>boiled</i>" her owner said,<br> +"To be arrayed in glowing red?<br> +Come here, my discontented miss,<br> +And hear the scalding kettle hiss!<br> +Will you go in, and there be boiled,<br> +To have your dress, so old and soiled,<br> +Exchanged for one of scarlet hue?"<br> +"Yes," cried the Lobster, "that I'll do,<br> +And twice as much, if needs must be,<br> +To be as gayly clad as she."<br> +Then, in she made a fatal dive,<br> +And never more was seen alive!<br> +<br> +Now, if you ever chance to know,<br> +Of one as fond of dress and show<br> +As that vain Lobster, and withal<br> +As envious you'll perhaps recall<br> +To mind her folly, and the plight<br> +In which she reappeared to sight.<br> +<br> +She had obtained a bright array,<br> +But for it, thrown her life away!<br> +Her life and death were best untold,<br> +But for the moral they unfold!<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Crocus_Soliloquy"></a><h2><b>The Crocus' Soliloquy</b></h2> + +Down in my solitude, under the snow,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where nothing cheering can reach me—</span><br> +Here, without light to see how I should grow,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I trust to nature to teach me.</span><br> +I'll not despair, nor be idle, nor frown;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though locked in so gloomy a dwelling!</span><br> +My leaves shall shoot up, while my root's running down,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the bud in my bosom is swelling.</span><br> +<br> +Soon as the frost will get off from my bed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From this cold dungeon to free me,</span><br> +I will peer up, with my bright little head;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All will be joyful to see me!</span><br> +Then from my heart will young petals diverge,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like rays of the sun from their focus;</span><br> +When I from the darkness of earth shall emerge,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All complete, as a beautiful CROCUS!</span><br> +<br> +Gayly arrayed in gold, crimson, and green,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When to their view I have risen;</span><br> +Will they not wonder how one so serene<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came from so dismal a prison?</span><br> +Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A wise little lesson may borrow:—</span><br> +If patient to-day through the dreariest hour,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We shall come out the brighter to-morrow!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Bee_Clover_and_Thistle"></a><h2><b>The Bee, Clover, and Thistle</b></h2> + +A bee from the hive one morning flew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A tune to the daylight humming;</span><br> +And away she went o'er the sparkling dew,<br> +Where the grass was green, the violet blue,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the gold of the sun was coming.</span><br> +<br> +And what first tempted the roving Bee,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was a head of the crimson clover.</span><br> +"I've found a treasure betimes!" said she,<br> +"And perhaps a greater I might not see,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If I travelled the field all over.</span><br> +<br> +"My beautiful Clover, so round and red,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There is not a thing in twenty,</span><br> +That lifts this morning so sweet a head<br> +Above its leaves, and its earthy bed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With so many horns of plenty!"</span><br> +<br> +The flow'rets were thick which the Clover crowned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the plumes in the helm of Hector;</span><br> +And each had a cell that was deep and round,<br> +Yet it would not impart, as the Bee soon found,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One drop of its precious nectar.</span><br> +<br> +She cast in her eye where the honey lay,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And her pipe she began to measure;</span><br> +But she saw at once it was clear as day,<br> +That it would not go down one half the way<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the place of the envied treasure.<a name="FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1"><sup>[1]</sup></a></span><br> +<br> +Said she, in a pet, "One thing I know,"<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As she rose, and in haste departed,</span><br> +"It is not those of the <i>greatest show,</i><br> +To whom for a favor 'tis best to go,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or that prove most generous-hearted!"</span><br> +<br> +A fleecy flock came into the field;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When one of its members followed</span><br> +The scent of the clover, till between<br> +Her nibbling teeth its head was seen,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And then in a moment swallowed.</span><br> +<br> +"Ha, ha!" said the Bee, as the Clover died,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Her fortune's smile was fickle!</span><br> +And now I can get my wants supplied<br> +By a homely flower, with a rough outside.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And even with scale and prickle!"</span><br> +<br> +Then she flew to one, that, by man and beast<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was shunned for its stinging bristle;</span><br> +But it injured not the Bee in the least;<br> +And she filled her pocket, and had a feast,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the bloom of the purple Thistle.</span><br> +<br> +The generous Thistle's life was spared<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the home where the Bee first found her,</span><br> +Till she grew so old she was hoary-haired,<br> +And her snow-white locks with the silk compared,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As they shone where the sun beamed round her.</span><br> +<br> +FOOTNOTES:<br> +<br> +<a name="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">[1]</a><div class=note> The clover-floret is so small and deep in its tube,<br> +that the bee cannot reach the honey at the bottom.</div><br> +<br> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Poor_Old_Paul"></a><h2><b>Poor Old Paul</b></h2> + +Poor old Paul! he has lost a foot;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And see him go hobbling along,</span><br> +With the stump laced up in that clumsy boot,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before the gathering throng!</span><br> +<br> +And now, as he has to pass so many,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And suffer the gaze of all,</span><br> +If each would only bestow a penny,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twere something for poor old Paul.</span><br> +<br> +His cheek is wan, and his garb is thin;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His eye is sunken and dim;</span><br> +He looks as if the winter had been<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Making sad work with him.</span><br> +<br> +While he is trying to hide the tatter,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mark how his looks will fall!</span><br> +Nobody needs to ask the matter<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With poor, old, hungry Paul.</span><br> +<br> +All that he has in his dingy sack<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is morsels of bread and meat,—</span><br> +The leavings, to burden his aged back,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which others refused to eat.</span><br> +<br> +So now I am sure, you will all be willing<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To part with a sum so small</span><br> +As each will spare, who makes up a shilling<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To comfort him—Poor old Paul!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Sea-Eagle's_Fall"></a><h2><b>The Sea-Eagle's Fall</b></h2> + +An Eagle, on his towering wing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hung o'er the summer sea;</span><br> +And ne'er did airy, feathered king<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Look prouder there than he.</span><br> +<br> +He spied the finny tribes below,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amid the limpid brine;</span><br> +And felt it now was time to know<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whereon he was to dine.</span><br> +<br> +He saw a noble, shining fish<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So near the surface swim,</span><br> +He felt at once a hungry wish<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make a feast of him.</span><br> +<br> +Then straight he took his downward course;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A sudden plunge he gave;</span><br> +And, pouncing, seized, with murderous force,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His tempter in the wave.</span><br> +<br> +He struck his talons firm and deep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within the slippery prize,</span><br> +In hope his ruffian grasp to keep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And high and dry to rise.</span><br> +<br> +But ah! it was a fatal stoop,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As ever monarch made;</span><br> +And, for that rash—that cruel swoop,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He soon most dearly paid!</span><br> +<br> +The fish had too much gravity<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To yield to this attack.</span><br> +His feet the eagle could not free<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From off the scaly back.</span><br> +<br> +He'd seized on one too strong and great;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His mastery now was gone!</span><br> +And on, by that preponderant weight,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And downward, he was drawn.</span><br> +<br> +Nor found he here the element<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where he could move with grace;</span><br> +And flap, and dash, his pinions went,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In ocean's wrinkled face.</span><br> +<br> +They could not bring his talons out,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His forfeit life to save;</span><br> +And planted thus, he writhed about<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon his gaping grave.</span><br> +<br> +He raised his head, and gave a shriek,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To bid adieu to light:</span><br> +The water bubbled in his beak—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He sank from human sight!</span><br> +<br> +The children of the sea came round,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The foreigner to view.</span><br> +To see an airy monarch drowned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To them was something new</span><br> +<br> +Some gave a quick, astonished look,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And darted swift away;</span><br> +While some his parting plumage shook,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And nibbled him for prey.</span><br> +<br> +O! who that saw that bird at noon<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So high and proudly soar,</span><br> +Could think how awkwardly—how soon,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He'd fall to rise no more?</span><br> +<br> +Though glory, majesty, and pride<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were his an hour ago,</span><br> +Deprived of all, that eagle died,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For stooping once too low!</span><br> +<br> +Now, have you ever known or heard<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of biped, from his sphere</span><br> +Descending, like that silly bird<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To buy a fish so dear?</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Two_Thieves"></a><h2><b>The Two Thieves</b></h2> + +A lady, they called her Miss Mouse,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a slate-colored dress, like a Quaker,</span><br> +Once lived in a snug little house,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of which she herself was the maker.</span><br> +<br> +There lived in another close by,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A dame, whom they called Lady Kitty;</span><br> +But that she was stationed so nigh,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Mouse often thought a great pity.</span><br> +<br> +For she, though so soberly clad,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never inclined to ill-speaking,</span><br> +Had often a fancy to gad,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or more than her own might be seeking.</span><br> +<br> +She did not then like to be scanned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or questioned respecting her duty,</span><br> +When some little theft she had planned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or seen coming home with her booty.</span><br> +<br> +So modest she was, and so shy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Although an inveterate sinner,</span><br> +She'd nip out her part of the pie<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before it was brought up to dinner.</span><br> +<br> +She held that 'twas folly to ask<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For what her own wits would allow her;</span><br> +And, making her way through the cask,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She helped herself well to the flour.</span><br> +<br> +The candles she scraped to their wicks;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, mischievous in her invention,</span><br> +Would do many more naughty tricks,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I, as her friend, cannot mention.</span><br> +<br> +Kit, too, had her living to make,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yet, she was so above toiling,</span><br> +She'd sooner attack the beef-steak,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the cook had prepared it for broiling.</span><br> +<br> +And so, near a dish of warm toast,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She often most patiently lingered,</span><br> +To seize her first chance; yet, could boast<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That none ever called her <i>light-fingered</i>.</span><br> +<br> +But mending, or minding herself,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She thought would be quite too much labor,</span><br> +And so peeped about on the shelf,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To spy out the faults of her neighbor.</span><br> +<br> +For Mouse loved to promenade there,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While Kit would watch close to waylay her;</span><br> +And once, in the midst of her fare,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Up bounded Miss Kitty to slay her!</span><br> +<br> +But this was as luckless a jump<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As ever Kit made, with the clatter</span><br> +Of knife, skimmer, spoon, and a thump,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which she got, as she threw down the platter.</span><br> +<br> +While Mouse glided under a dish.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Escaping the mortal disaster,</span><br> +Miss Kitty turned off to a fish,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The breakfast elect for her master.</span><br> +<br> +Said she to herself, "Tis clear gain,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This rarity, fresh from the water,</span><br> +Will save my white mittens the stain—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And me from the trouble of slaughter!"</span><br> +<br> +But her racket, she found to her cost,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The plot had most fatally thickened;</span><br> +And all hope of mercy was lost,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Jack's coming footstep was quickened.</span><br> +<br> +He seized her, and binding her fast.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Declared he could never forgive her;</span><br> +So Kitty was sentenced and cast,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a stone at her neck, in the river!</span><br> +<br> +But Mouse still continued to thieve;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And often, alone in her dwelling,</span><br> +Would silently laugh in her sleeve,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At the scene in the tale I've been telling—</span><br> +<br> +Till once, by a fatal mishap,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The little unfortunate rover</span><br> +Perceived herself close in a trap,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And felt that her race was now over.</span><br> +<br> +She knew she must leave all behind;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thus, in the midst of her terrors,</span><br> +As every thing rushed to her mind,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Began her confession of errors:—</span><br> +<br> +"You'll find, on the word of a Mouse,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whom hope has for ever forsaken,</span><br> +The following things in my house,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I have unlawfully taken:</span><br> +<br> +"A cork, that was soaked in the beer,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I nibbled until I was merry;</span><br> +Some kernels of corn from the ear,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The skin and the stone of a cherry:—</span><br> +<br> +"Some hemp-seed I took from the bird,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And found most deliriously tasted,</span><br> +While safe in my covert, I heard<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its owner complain that 'twas wasted:—</span><br> +<br> +"You'll find a few cucumber seeds,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I thought, if they could but be hollowed,</span><br> +Would answer to string out for beads;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So the inside of all I have swallowed:—</span><br> +<br> +"A few crumbs of biscuit and cheese,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I thought might a long time supply me</span><br> +With luncheon—some rice and split peas,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which seemed well prepared to keep by me:—</span><br> +<br> +"A cluster of curls which I stole<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At night from a young lady's toilet,</span><br> +And made me a bed of it whole,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As tearing it open would spoil it;—</span><br> +<br> +"And as, in a long summer day<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'd time both or reading and spelling,</span><br> +I gnawed up the whole of a play,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And carried it home to my dwelling.</span><br> +<br> +"I wish you'd set fire to my place;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And pray you at once to despatch me,</span><br> +That none of my enemy's race,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the form of Miss Kitty, may catch me!"</span><br> +<br> +Disgrace thus will follow on vice,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Although for a while it be hidden;</span><br> +When children, or kittens, or mice,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will do what they know is forbidden.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Jemmy_String"></a><h2><b>Jemmy String</b></h2> + +I knew a little heedless boy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A child that seldom cared,</span><br> +If he could get his cake and toy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How other matters fared.</span><br> +<br> +He always bore upon his foot<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A signal of the thing,</span><br> +For which, on him his playmates put<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The name of Jemmy String.</span><br> +<br> +No malice in his heart was there;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He had no fault beside,</span><br> +So great as that of wanting care.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To keep his shoe-strings tied.</span><br> +<br> +You'd often see him on the run,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To chase the geese about,</span><br> +While both his shoe-ties were undone,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With one end slipping out.</span><br> +<br> +He'd tread on one, then down he'd go,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all around would ring</span><br> +With bitter cries, and sounds of woe,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That came from Jemmy String.</span><br> +<br> +And oft, by such a sad mishap,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would Jemmy catch a hurt;</span><br> +The muddy pool would catch his cap,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His clothes would catch the dirt!</span><br> +<br> +Then home he'd hasten through the street,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To tell about his fall;</span><br> +While, on his little sloven feet,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cause was plain to all.</span><br> +<br> +For while he shook his aching hand,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Complaining of the bruise,</span><br> +The strings were trailing through the sand<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From both his loosened shoes.</span><br> +<br> +One day, his father thought a ride<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would do his children good;</span><br> +But Jemmy's shoe-strings were untied,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And on the stairs he stood.</span><br> +<br> +In hastening down to take his place<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the carriage seat,</span><br> +Poor Jemmy lost his joyous face;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor could he keep his feet.</span><br> +<br> +The dragging string had made him trip,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bump! bump! went his head;—</span><br> +The teeth had struck and cut his lip,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And tears and blood were shed.</span><br> +<br> +His aching wounds he meekly bore;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But with a swelling heart</span><br> +He heard the carriage from the door,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With all but him, depart.</span><br> +<br> +This grievous lesson taught him care,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gave his mind a spring;</span><br> +For he resolved no more to bear<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The name of JEMMY STRING!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Caterpillar"></a><h2><b>The Caterpillar</b></h2> + +"Don't kill me!" Caterpillar said,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Charles had raised his heel</span><br> +Upon the humble worm to tread,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As though it could not feel.</span><br> +<br> +"Don't kill me! and I'll crawl away<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hide awhile, and try</span><br> +To come and look, another day,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More pleasing to your eye.</span><br> +<br> +"I know I'm now among the things<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Uncomely to your sight;</span><br> +But by and by on splendid wings<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You'll see me high and light!</span><br> +<br> +"And then, perhaps, you may be glad<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To watch me on the flower;</span><br> +And that you spared the worm you had<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To-day within your power!"</span><br> +<br> +Then Caterpillar went and hid<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In some secreted place,</span><br> +Where none could look on what he did<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To change his form and face.</span><br> +<br> +And by and by, when Charles had quite<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forgotten what I've told,</span><br> +A Butterfly appeared in sight,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Most beauteous to behold.</span><br> +<br> +His shining wings were trimmed with gold,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And many a brilliant dye</span><br> +Was laid upon their velvet fold,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To charm the gazing eye!</span><br> +<br> +Then, near as prudence would allow,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Charles's ear he drew</span><br> +And said, "You may not know me, now<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My form and name are new!</span><br> +<br> +"But I'm the worm that once you raised<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your ready foot to kill!</span><br> +For sparing me, I long have praised,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And love and praise you still.</span><br> +<br> +"The lowest reptile at your feet,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When power is not abused,</span><br> +May prove the fruit of mercy sweet,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By being kindly used!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Mocking_Bird"></a><h2><b>The Mocking Bird</b></h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Mocking Bird was he,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a bushy, blooming tree,</span><br> +Imbosomed by the foliage and flower.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there he sat and sang,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till all around him rang,</span><br> +With sounds, from out the merry mimic's bower.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The little satirist</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Piped, chattered, shrieked, and hissed;</span><br> +He then would moan, and whistle, quack, and caw;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then, carol, drawl, and croak,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if he'd pass a joke</span><br> +On every other winged one he saw.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Together he would catch</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A gay and plaintive snatch,</span><br> +And mingle notes of half the feathered throng.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For well the mocker knew,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of every thing that flew,</span><br> +To imitate the manner and the song.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The other birds drew near,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And paused awhile to hear</span><br> +How well he gave their voices and their airs.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And some became amused;</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While some, disturbed, refused</span><br> +To own the sounds that others said were theirs.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sensitive were shocked,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To find their honors mocked</span><br> +By one so pert and voluble as he;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They knew not if 't was done</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In earnest or in fun;</span><br> +And fluttered off in silence from the tree.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The silliest grew vain,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To think a song or strain</span><br> +Of theirs, however weak, or loud, or hoarse,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Was worthy to be heard</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Repeated by the bird;</span><br> +For of his wit they could not feel the force.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The charitable said,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Poor fellow! if his head</span><br> +Is turned, or cracked, or has no talent left;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But feels the want of powers,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And plumes itself from ours,</span><br> +Why, we shall not be losers by the theft."<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The haughty said, "He thus.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">It seems, would mimic us,</span><br> +And steal our songs, to pass them for his own!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">But if he only quotes</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In honor of our notes,</span><br> +We then were quite as honored, let alone."<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The wisest said, "If foe</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Or friend, we still may know</span><br> +By him, wherein our greatest failing lies.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So, let us not be moved,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since first to be improved</span><br> +By every thing, becomes the truly wise."<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Silk-Worm's_Will"></a><h2><b>The Silk-Worm's Will</b></h2> + +On a plain rush-hurdle a silk-worm lay,<br> +When a proud young princess came that way.<br> +The haughty child of a human king<br> +Threw a sidelong glance at the humble thing,<br> +That received with a silent gratitude<br> +From the mulberry-leaf her simple food;<br> +And shrunk, half scorn, and half disgust,<br> +Away from her sister child of the dust;<br> +Declaring she never yet could see<br> +Why a reptile form like this should be;—<br> +And that she was not made with nerves so firm,<br> +As calmly to stand by a <i>crawling worm</i>!<br> +<br> +With mute forbearance the silk-worm took<br> +The taunting words and the spurning look.<br> +<br> +Alike a stranger to self and pride,<br> +She'd no disquiet from aught beside;<br> +And lived of a meekness and peace possest<br> +Which these debar from the human breast.<br> +She only wished, for the harsh abuse,<br> +To find some way to become of use<br> +To the haughty daughter of lordly man;<br> +And thus did she lay her noble plan<br> +To teach her wisdom, and make it plain<br> +That the humble worm was not made in vain;—<br> +A plan so generous, deep and high,<br> +That to carry it out, she must even die!<br> +<br> +"No more," said she, "will I drink or eat!<br> +I'll spin and weave me a winding-sheet,<br> +To wrap me up from the sun's clear light,<br> +And hide my form from her wounded sight.<br> +In secret then, till my end draws nigh,<br> +I will toil for her; and when I die,<br> +I'll leave behind, as a farewell boon<br> +To the proud young princess, my whole cocoon,<br> +To be reeled, and wove to a shining lace,<br> +And hung in a veil o'er her scornful face!<br> +And when she can calmly draw her breath<br> +Through the very threads that have caused my death;<br> +"When she finds at length, she has nerves so firm,<br> +As to wear the shroud of a <i>crawling worm</i>,<br> +May she bear in mind that she walks with pride<br> +In the winding-sheet where the silk-worm died!"<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Dame_Biddy"></a><h2><b>Dame Biddy</b></h2> + +Dame Biddy abode in a coop,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because it so chanced that dame Biddy</span><br> +Had round her a family group<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of chicks, young, and helpless, and giddy.</span><br> +<br> +And when she had freedom to roam,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She fancied the life of a ranger;</span><br> +And led off her brood, far from home,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To fall into mischief or danger.</span><br> +<br> +She'd trail through the grass to be mown,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And call all her children to follow;</span><br> +And scratch up the seeds that were sown,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then, lie in their places and wallow.</span><br> +<br> +She'd go where the corn in the hill,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its first little blade had been shooting,</span><br> +And try, by the strength of her bill,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To learn if the kernel was rooting.</span><br> +<br> +And when she went out on a walk<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of pleasure, through thicket and brambles,</span><br> +The covetous eye of a Hawk<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Delighted in marking her rambles.</span><br> +<br> +"I spy," to himself he would say,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"A prize of which I'll be the winner!"</span><br> +So down would he pounce on his prey,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bear off a chicken for dinner.</span><br> +<br> +The poor frighted matron, that heard<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cry of her youngling in dying,</span><br> +Would scream at the merciless bird,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That high with his booty was flying.</span><br> +<br> +But shrieks could not ease her distress,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor grief her lost darling recover.</span><br> +She now had a chicken the less,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For acting the part of a rover.</span><br> +<br> +And there lay the feathers, all torn.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And flying one way and another,</span><br> +That still her dear child might have worn,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had she been more wise as a mother.</span><br> +<br> +Her owner then thought he must teach<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dame Biddy a little subjection;</span><br> +And cooped her up, out of the reach<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of hawking, with time for reflection.</span><br> +<br> +And, throwing a net o'er a pile<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of brush-wood that near her was lying,</span><br> +He hoped to its meshes to wile<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fowler, that o'er her was flying.</span><br> +<br> +For Hawk, not forgetting his fare,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And having a taste to renew it,</span><br> +Sailed round near the coop, high in air,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With cruel intention, to view it.</span><br> +<br> +The owner then said, "Master Hawk,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you love my chickens so dearly,</span><br> +Come down to my yard for a walk,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you may address them more nearly."</span><br> +<br> +But, "No," thought the sharp-taloned foe<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Biddy, "my circuit is higher!</span><br> +If I to his premises go.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twill be when I see he's not nigh her."</span><br> +<br> +The Farmer strewd barley, and toled<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The chickens the brush to run under,</span><br> +And left them, while Hawk growing bold,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thus tempted, came near for his plunder.</span><br> +<br> +As closer and closer he drew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With appetite stronger and stronger,</span><br> +He found he'd but one thing to do,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And plunged, to defer it no longer.</span><br> +<br> +But now he had come to a pause,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At once in the net-work entangled,</span><br> +While through it his head and his claws<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In hopeless vacuity dangled.</span><br> +<br> +The chicks saw him hang overhead,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where they for their barley had huddled;</span><br> +And all in a flutter they fled,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And soon through the coop holes had scuddled.</span><br> +<br> +The Farmer came out to his snare,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He saw the bold captive was in it;</span><br> +And said, "If this play be unfair,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Remember, I did not begin it!"</span><br> +<br> +He then put a cork on his beak,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The airy assassin disarming,</span><br> +Unspurred him, and rendered him weak,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By blunting each talent for harming.</span><br> +<br> +And into the coop he was thrown:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The chickens hid under their mother,</span><br> +For he, by his feathers was known<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he, who had murdered their brother</span><br> +<br> +Dame Biddy, beholding his plight,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Determined to show him no quarter,</span><br> +In action gave vent to her spite;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As motherly tenderness taught her.</span><br> +<br> +She shouted, and blustered; and then<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Attacked the poor captive unfriended;</span><br> +And you, (who have witnessed a hen<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In anger,) may guess how it ended.</span><br> +<br> +She made him a touching address,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If pecking and scratching could do it;</span><br> +Till sinking in silent distress,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He perished before she got through it.</span><br> +<br> +We would not, however, convey<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A thought like approving the fury,</span><br> +That gave, in this summary way,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Punition without judge or jury.</span><br> +<br> +Whenever 'tis given, it tends<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To lessen the angry bestower.</span><br> +The <i>fowl</i> that inflicts it descends—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the <i>featherless biped</i>, still lower.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Kit_With_the_Rose"></a><h2><b>Kit With the Rose</b></h2> + +A Rose-tree stood in the parlor,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Kit came frolicking by;</span><br> +So, up went her feet on the window-seat,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To a rose that had caught her eye.</span><br> +<br> +She gave it a cuff, and it trembled<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beneath her ominous paw;</span><br> +And while it shook, with a threatening look,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She coveted what she saw.</span><br> +<br> +Thought she, "What a beautiful toss-ball!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If I could but give it a snap,</span><br> +Now all are out, nor thinking about<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their rose, or the least mishap!"</span><br> +<br> +She twisted the stem, and she twirled it;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And seizing the flower it bore,</span><br> +With the timely aid of her teeth, she made<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A leap to the parlor-floor.</span><br> +<br> +Then over the carpet she tossed it,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All fresh in its morning bloom,</span><br> +Till, shattered and rent, its leaves were sent<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To every side of the room.</span><br> +<br> +At length, with her sport grown weary,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She laid herself down to sun,</span><br> +Inclining to doze, forgetting the rose,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the mischief she'd slily done.</span><br> +<br> +By and by her young mistress entered,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And uttered a piteous cry,</span><br> +When she saw the fate of what had so late<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Delighted her watchful eye.</span><br> +<br> +But, where was the one who had spoiled it<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Concealing his guilty face?</span><br> +She had not a clue, whereby to pursue<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The rogue to his lurking-place!</span><br> +<br> +Thought Kit, "I'll keep still till it's over;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And none will suspect it was I."</span><br> +For the puss awoke, when her mistress spoke;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she well understood the cry.</span><br> +<br> +But, mewing at length for her dinner,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kit's mouth confessed the whole truth:</span><br> +It opened so wide that her mistress espied<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A rose-leaf pierced by her tooth!</span><br> +<br> +Then, banished was Kit from the parlor,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All covered with shame! And those</span><br> +Inclined, like her, in secret to err,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should remember Kit with the Rose.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Captive_Butterfly"></a><h2><b>The Captive Butterfly</b></h2> + +Good morning, pretty Butterfly!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How have you passed the night?</span><br> +I hope you're gay and glad as I<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see the morning light.</span><br> +<br> +But, little silent one, methinks<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You're in a sober mood.</span><br> +I wonder if you'd like to drink,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what you take for food.</span><br> +<br> +I shut you in my crystal cup,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To let your winglets rest.</span><br> +And now I want to hold you up,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see your velvet vest.</span><br> +<br> +I want to count your tiny toes.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To find your breathing-place,</span><br> +And touch the downy horn that grows<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each side your pretty face.</span><br> +<br> +I'd like to see just how you're made,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With streaks and spots and rings;</span><br> +And wish you'd show me how you played<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your shining, rainbow wings.</span><br> +<br> +"'T was not," the little prisoner said,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"For want of food or drink,</span><br> +That, while you slumbered on your bed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I could not sleep a wink.</span><br> +<br> +"My wings are pained for want of flight,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My lungs, for want of air.</span><br> +In bitterness I've passed the night,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And meet the morning's glare.</span><br> +<br> +"When looking through my prison wall,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So close, and yet so clear,</span><br> +I see there's freedom there for all,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While I'm a captive here.</span><br> +<br> +"I've stood upon my feeble feet<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Until they're full of pain.</span><br> +I know that liberty is sweet,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I cannot regain.</span><br> +<br> +"Do I deserve a fate like this,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who've ever acted well,</span><br> +Since first I left the chrysalis,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fluttered from my shell?</span><br> +<br> +"I've never injured fruit, or flower,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or man, or bird, or beast;</span><br> +And such a one should have the power<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of going free, at least.</span><br> +<br> +"And now, if you will let me quit<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My prison-house, the cup,</span><br> +I'll show you how I sport and flit,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And make my wings go up!"</span><br> +<br> +The lid was raised; the prisoner said,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Behold my airy play!"</span><br> +Then quickly on the wing he fled<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Away, away, away!</span><br> +<br> +From flower to flower he gayly flew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To cool his aching feet,</span><br> +And slake his thirst with morning dew,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where liberty was sweet!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Dissatisfied_Angler_Boy"></a><h2><b>The Dissatisfied Angler Boy</b></h2> + +I'm sorry they let me go down to the brook;<br> +I'm sorry they gave me the line and the hook;<br> +And wish I had staid at home with my book!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm sure 'twas no pleasure to see</span><br> +That poor little harmless, suffering thing<br> +Silently writhe at the end of the string,<br> +Or to hold the pole, while I felt him swing<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In torture,—and all for me!</span><br> +<br> +'Twas a beautiful speckled and glossy trout;<br> +And when from the water I drew him out,<br> +On the grassy bank as he floundered about,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It made me shivering cold,</span><br> +To think I had caused so much needless pain;<br> +And I tried to relieve him, but all in vain:<br> +O never, as long as I live, again<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May I such a sight behold!</span><br> +<br> +But, what would I give, once more to see<br> +The brisk little swimmer alive and free,<br> +And darting about as he used to be,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unhurt, in his native brook!</span><br> +'Tis strange that people can love to play,<br> +By taking innocent lives away!<br> +I wish I had stayed at home to-day<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With sister, and read my book.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Stove_and_the_Grate-Setter"></a><h2><b>The Stove and the Grate-Setter</b></h2> + +Old Winter is coming, to play off his tricks—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make your ears tingle—your fingers to numb!</span><br> +So I, with my trowel, new mortar and bricks,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To guard you against him, already am come.</span><br> +<br> +An ounce of prevention in time, I have found,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is worth pounds of remedy taken too late!</span><br> +And proof that the sense of my maxim is sound,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will shine where I fasten stove, furnace or grate.</span><br> +<br> +The Summer leaves now whirling fast from the trees,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By Autumn's chill blast are tossed yellow and sere;</span><br> +And soon, with the breath of his nostrils to freeze<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each thing he can puff at, will Winter be here!</span><br> +<br> +But hardly he'll dare to steal in at the door,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your elbows to bite with his keen cutting air,</span><br> +And give you an ague, where I've been before,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To set the defence I to-day can prepare.</span><br> +<br> +And when he comes blustering on from the north,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To give you blue faces, and shakes by the chin,</span><br> +You'll find what the craft of the mason was worth,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As you from abroad to your parlor step in!</span><br> +<br> +For all will around be so pleasant and warm,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your hearth bright and cheering—your coal in a glow;</span><br> +You'll not heed the winds whistling up the rough storm<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To sift o'er your dwellings its clouds full of snow!</span><br> +<br> +You'll then think of me;—how I handled to-day<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cold stone and iron—the brick and the lime:</span><br> +And all, but the surer foundation to lay<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For comfort to give in the drear winter time.</span><br> +<br> +I lay you, against this old Winter, a charm.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make him, at least, keep himself out of doors!</span><br> +'Twould melt—should he enter—his hard hand and arm.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When loud for admission he threatens and roars.</span><br> +<br> +If gratitude then should come, warming your <i>heart</i>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As peaceful you sit by your warm <i>fireside</i>;</span><br> +Perhaps it may teach you some good to impart<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To those, where the gifts you enjoy are denied.</span><br> +<br> +For He in whose favor all blessedness is;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And out of whose kingdom no treasure is sure,</span><br> +Was poor when on earth;—and the poor still are his:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His charge to his friends is "<i>Remember the poor</i>."</span><br> +<br> +Nor would his disciple be higher than He,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who once on the dwellings of men, for his bread,</span><br> +In lowliness wrought! but contentedly, we<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will work by the light that our Master has shed.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Song_of_the_Bees"></a><h2><b>Song of the Bees</b></h2> + +We watch for the light of the morn to break,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And color the eastern sky</span><br> +With its blended hues of saffron and lake;<br> +Then say to each other, "Awake! awake!<br> +For our winter's honey is all to make,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And our bread for a long supply!"</span><br> +<br> +Then off we hie to the hill and the dell—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the field, the meadow, and bower:</span><br> +In the columbine's horn we love to dwell,—<br> +To dip in the lily with snow-white bell,—<br> +To search the balm in its odorous cell,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The mint, and rosemary flower.</span><br> +<br> +We suck the bloom of the eglantine,—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the pointed thistle and brier;</span><br> +And follow the track of the wandering vine,<br> +Whether it trail on the earth, supine,<br> +Or round the aspiring tree-top twine,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And reach for a state still higher.</span><br> +<br> +As each, on the good of the others bent,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is busy, and cares for all,</span><br> +We hope for an evening with hearts content,—<br> +That Winter may find us without lament<br> +For a Summer that's gone, with its hours misspent,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a harvest that's past recall!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Summer_is_Come"></a><h2><b>The Summer is Come</b></h2> + +<p>CHILDHOOD'S RURAL SONG.</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Summer is come</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the insect's hum,</span><br> +And the birds that merrily sing.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sweet are the hours,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the fruits and flowers,</span><br> +That Summer has come to bring.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All nature is glad,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the earth is clad</span><br> +In her brightest and best array:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So, we with delight</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will our songs unite,</span><br> +Our tribute of joy to pay.<br> +<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The swallow is out,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she sails about</span><br> +In air, for the careless fly:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then she takes a sip</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With her horny lip</span><br> +As she skims where the waters lie.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the lamb bounds light</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In his fleece of white,</span><br> +But he doesn't know what to think,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the streamlet clear,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where he sees appear</span><br> +His face as he stoops to drink.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For, never before</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has he gambolled o'er</span><br> +The summer-dressed, flowery earth;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he skips in play,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he fain would say</span><br> +"'Tis a season of feast and mirth."<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we have to-day</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Been rambling away</span><br> +To gather the flowers most fair,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which we sat beneath</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An old oak to wreath</span><br> +While fanned by the balmy air.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now the sun goes down</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like a golden crown</span><br> +That's sliding behind a hill;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So we dance the while</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To his farewell smile;</span><br> +And well dance as the dews distil.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then, we'll dance to-night</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While the fire-fly's light</span><br> +Is sparkling among the grass;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we'll step our tune</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the silver moon,</span><br> +As over the green we pass.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O, Summer is sweet!</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But her joys are fleet;</span><br> +We catch them but on the wing:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet never the less</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would our hearts confess</span><br> +The blessings she comes to bring.<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Morning-Glory"></a><h2><b>The Morning-Glory</b></h2> + +Come here and sit thee down by me!<br> +I've read a tale, I'll tell to thee;<br> +And precious will the moral be,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though simple is the story.</span><br> +It is about a brilliant flower,<br> +With beauty scarce possessed of power<br> +Its opening to survive an hour—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An airy Morning-Glory.</span><br> +<br> +'Tis common parlance names it thus;<br> +But 'twas a gay convolvulus:<br> +Yet we'll not stop to here discuss<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its species or its genus.</span><br> +We'll just suppose a blooming vine<br> +With many leaf and bud to shine,<br> +And curling tendrils thrown to twine<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And form a bower, between us.</span><br> +<br> +And we'll suppose a happy boy,<br> +With face lit up by hope and joy,<br> +Who thinks that nothing shall destroy<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His vine, his pride and pleasure,</span><br> +Is standing near, with kindling eye,<br> +As if its very look would pry<br> +The cup apart, therein to spy<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The growing floral treasure.</span><br> +<br> +And now the petal, twisted tight,<br> +Above the calyx peers to sight<br> +With apex tipped with purple, bright<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if the rainbow dyed it.</span><br> +While on the air it vacillates,<br> +Its owner's bosom palpitates<br> +To see it open, as he waits<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Impatient close beside it.</span><br> +<br> +Another rising sun has thrown<br> +Its beams upon the vine, and shown<br> +The splendid Morning-Glory blown,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if some little fairy,</span><br> +When early from his couch he went,<br> +On some ethereal journey bent,<br> +Had there inverted left his tent<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of purple, high and airy.</span><br> +<br> +And many a fair and shining flower<br> +As bright as this adorned the bower,<br> +Displayed like jewels in an hour,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where'er the vine was clinging.</span><br> +As each corolla lost its twist,<br> +The zephyr fanned, the sunbeam kissed<br> +The little vase of amethyst;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And round it birds were singing.</span><br> +<br> +And now the little boy comes out<br> +To see his vine. He gives a shout,<br> +And sings and laughs, and jumps about<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like one two-thirds demented.</span><br> +His little playmates, one, two, three,<br> +Come round the beauteous vine to see,<br> +And each cries, "Give a flower to me,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I'll go off contented."</span><br> +<br> +But "No," the selfish owner cried,<br> +And pushed his comrades all aside,<br> +While walking round his bower with pride,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Not one of you shall sever</span><br> +A floweret from the stem so gay;<br> +I own them, not to give away!<br> +I'll come to see them every day;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And keep them mine for ever!"</span><br> +<br> +So, when at noon from school he came,<br> +To see his vine was first his aim:<br> +But oh! his feelings who can name,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As mute he stood and eyed it?</span><br> +For not a flower could he behold,<br> +While each corolla, inward rolled,<br> +Appeared as shrivelled, dead, and old<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if a fire had dried it.</span><br> +<br> +"Alas!" the selfish owner said,<br> +"My Glories----oh! they all are dead!<br> +And all my little friends have fled<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aggrieved! for I've abused them.</span><br> +They'll keep away, and but deride<br> +My sorrow, when they hear my pride<br> +Is gone;—that quick the pleasures died<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which rudely I refused them!"</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Old_Cotter_and_his_Cow"></a><h2><b>The Old Cotter and his Cow</b></h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My good old Cow,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I scarce know how</span><br> +Again we've wintered over;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With my scant fare,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thine so spare—</span><br> +No dainty dish, nor clover!<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We both were old,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And keen the cold;</span><br> +While poorly housed we found us;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by the blast</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That, whistling, passed,</span><br> +The snows were sifted round us.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While, many a day.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Few locks of hay</span><br> +Were most thy crib presented,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A patient Cow,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And kind wast thou,</span><br> +And with thy mite contented.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But though the storms</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have chilled our forms,</span><br> +And we've been pinched together,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The dark, blue day</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is passed away;</span><br> +We've reached the warm spring weather!<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The bounteous earth</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is shooting forth</span><br> +Her grass and flowers so gayly;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou now canst feed</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Along the mead,</span><br> +While food is growing daily.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The soft, sweet breeze</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through budding trees</span><br> +Now fans my brow so hoary:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And these old eyes</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Find new supplies</span><br> +Of light from nature's glory.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though poor my cot,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And low my lot,</span><br> +With thee, my richest treasure,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I take my cup,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And looking up,</span><br> +Bless Him who gives my measure.<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Speckled_One"></a><h2><b>The Speckled One</b></h2> + +Poor speckled one! none else will deign<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To waft thy name around;</span><br> +So, let me take it on my strain,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To give it air and sound.</span><br> +<br> +Yes—air and sound, low child of earth!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For these are oft the things</span><br> +That give a name its greatest worth,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its gorgeous plumes and wings.</span><br> +<br> +But do not shun me thus, and hop<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Affrighted from my way!</span><br> +Dismiss thy terrors—turn and stop;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And hear what I may say.</span><br> +<br> +Meek, harmless thing, afraid of man?<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This truly should not be.</span><br> +Then calmly pause, and let me scan<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Maker's work in thee.</span><br> +<br> +For both of us to Him belong;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We're fellow-creatures here;</span><br> +And power should not be armed with wrong,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor weakness filled with fear.</span><br> +<br> +I know it is thy humble lot<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To burrow in a hole—</span><br> +To have a form I envy not,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And that without a soul.</span><br> +<br> +In motion, attitude and limb<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I see thee void of grace;</span><br> +And that a look supremely grim,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reigns o'er thy solemn face.</span><br> +<br> +But thou for this art not to blame;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor should it make us load</span><br> +With obloquy, and scorn, and shame<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The honest name of TOAD.</span><br> +<br> +For, though so low on nature's scale—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In presence so uncouth,</span><br> +Thou ne'er hast told an evil tale,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of falsehood, or of truth.</span><br> +<br> +Thy thoughts are ne'er on malice bent—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor hands to mischief prone;</span><br> +Nor yet thy heart to discontent;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though spurned, and poor and lone.</span><br> +<br> +No coveting nor envy burns<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In thy bright golden eye,</span><br> +That calm and innocently turns<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On all below the sky.</span><br> +<br> +Thy cautious tongue and sober lip<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No words of folly pass,</span><br> +Nor, are they found to taste and sip<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The madness of the glass.</span><br> +<br> +Thy frugal meal is often drawn<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From earth, and wood, and stone;</span><br> +And when thy means by these are gone,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou seem'st to live on none.</span><br> +<br> +I hear that in an earthen jar<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sealed close, shut up alive,</span><br> +From food, drink, air, sun, moon and star,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou'lt live and even thrive:—</span><br> +<br> +And that no moan, or murmuring sound<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will issue from the lid</span><br> +Of thy dark dwelling under ground,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When it is deeply hid.</span><br> +<br> +Thou hast, as 'twere, a secret shelf,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whereon is a supply</span><br> +Of nourishment, within thyself,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Concealed from mortal eye.</span><br> +<br> +Methinks this self-sustaining art<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twere well for us to know,</span><br> +To keep us up in flesh and heart,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When outer means grow low.</span><br> +<br> +Could we contain our riches thus,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On such mysterious shelves,</span><br> +Why, none could rob or beggar us;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unless we lost ourselves!</span><br> +<br> +But ah! my Toadie, there's the rub,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With every human breast—</span><br> +To live as in the cynic's tub,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yet be self-possessed!</span><br> +<br> +For, how to let no boast get round<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beyond our tub, to show</span><br> +That we in head and heart are sound,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is one great thing to know.</span><br> +<br> +And yet, the prison-staves and hoop<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To let no murmur through,</span><br> +However hard we find the coop,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is greater still to do.</span><br> +<br> +Then go, thou sage, resigned and calm,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amid thy low estate;</span><br> +And to thy burrow bear the palm<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For victory over fate.</span><br> +<br> +We conquer, when we meekly bear<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The lot we cannot shape;</span><br> +And hug to death the ills and care<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From which there's no escape.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Blind_Musician"></a><h2><b>The Blind Musician</b></h2> + +"Ah! who comes here?" old Raymond cried,<br> +As lone he sat by the highway-side,<br> +Where Frisk jumped up at his knee in play;<br> +And his white locks went to the air astray;—<br> +While his worn-out hat lay on the ground,<br> +And his light violin gave forth no sound—<br> +"Ah! who comes here with voice so kind<br> +To the ear of a poor old man who's blind?"<br> +<br> +'Twas a gladsome troop of bright young boys,<br> +With hearts all full of their play-day joys,<br> +As their baskets were of nuts and cake,<br> +And fruits, a pic-nic treat to make.<br> +For they were out for the fields and flowers—<br> +For the grassy lane, and the woodland bowers;<br> +And the course they took first led them by<br> +Where the lone one sat with a sightless eye.<br> +<br> +They saw he'd a worn and hungry look;<br> +And each from his basket promptly took<br> +A part of its precious pic-nic store,<br> +And tried the others to get before,<br> +As on with their ready gifts they ran,<br> +To reach them forth to the poor old man;<br> +And said, "Good Sir, take this and eat<br> +While resting thus on your mossy seat."<br> +<br> +"Heaven bless you, little children dear!"<br> +Old Raymond cried, with a starting tear,<br> +As they took their cup to the fountain's brink,<br> +And brought him back some clear, cool drink.<br> +And Frisk looked up with a grateful eye,<br> +As to him they dropped some crust of pie:<br> +For he, good dog, was his master's guide,<br> +By a cord to the ring of his collar tied.<br> +<br> +"And now, would you like to hear me play,"<br> +Said the traveller, "ere you go your way?<br> +O, I did not think that aught so soon<br> +Could have put my poor old heart in tune.<br> +But you have touched it at the spring,<br> +And it seems as if it could dance and sing.<br> +Your kindness makes my spirit light,<br> +Till I hardly feel that I've lost my sight!"<br> +<br> +He took up his violin and bow,<br> +And made his voice to their music flow;<br> +And the children, listening sat around<br> +As if by a spell to the circle bound.<br> +While thus they were fastened to the spot,<br> +And their first pursuit almost forgot,<br> +They felt they could ask no pleasure more,<br> +And their picnic frolic at once gave o'er.<br> +<br> +And there they staid till the sun went down,<br> +When they led the old Raymond safe to town;<br> +While Frisk went sporting all the way,<br> +To speak his thanks by his joyous play.<br> +They found him a room with a table spread,<br> +And a pillow to rest his hoary head.<br> +Then feeling their time and pence well-spent,<br> +They all went back to their homes content.<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Lame_Horse"></a><h2><b>The Lame Horse</b></h2> + +O, I cannot bring to mind<br> +When I've had a look so kind,<br> +Gentle lady, as thine eye<br> +Gives me, while I'm limping by!<br> +Then, thy little boy appears<br> +To regard me but with tears.<br> +Think'st thou he would like to know<br> +What has brought my state so low?<br> +<br> +When not half so old as he,<br> +I was bounding, light and free,<br> +By my happy mother's side,<br> +Ere my mouth the bit had tried,<br> +Or my head had felt the rein<br> +Drawn, my spirits to restrain.<br> +But I'm now so worn and old,<br> +Half my sorrows can't be told.<br> +<br> +When my services began,<br> +How I loved my master, man!<br> +I was pampered and caressed,—<br> +Housed, and fed upon the best.<br> +Many looked with hearts elate<br> +At my graceful form and gait,—<br> +At my smooth and glossy hair<br> +Combed and brushed with daily care.<br> +<br> +Studded trappings then I wore,<br> +And with pride my master bore,—<br> +Glad his kindness to repay<br> +In my free, but silent way.<br> +Then was found no nimble steed<br> +That could equal me in speed,<br> +So untiring, and so fleet<br> +Were these now, old, aching feet.<br> +<br> +But my troubles soon drew nigh:<br> +Less of kindness marked his eye,<br> +When my strength began to fail;<br> +And he put me off at sale.<br> +Constant changes were my fate,<br> +Far too grievous to relate.<br> +Yet I've been, to say the least,<br> +Through them all a patient beast.<br> +<br> +Older—weaker—still I grew:<br> +Kind attentions all withdrew!<br> +Little food, and less repose;<br> +Harder burdens—heavier blows,—<br> +These became my hapless lot,<br> +Till I sunk upon the spot!<br> +This maimed limb beneath me bent<br> +With the pain it underwent.<br> +<br> +Now I'm useless, old, and poor,<br> +They have made my sentence sure;<br> +And to-morrow is the day,<br> +Set for me to limp away,<br> +To some far, sequestered place,<br> +There at once to end my race.<br> +I stood by, and heard their plot—<br> +Soon my woes shall be forgot!<br> +<br> +Gentle lady, when I'm dead<br> +By the blow upon my head,<br> +Proving thus, the truest friend,<br> +Him who brings me to my end;<br> +Wilt thou bid them dig a grave<br> +For their faithful, patient slave;<br> +Then, my mournful story trace,<br> +Asking mercy for my race?<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Humility_or_The_Mushroom's_Soliloquy"></a><h2><b>Humility; or, The Mushroom's Soliloquy</b></h2> + +O, what, and whence am I, 'mid damps and dust,<br> +And darkness, into sudden being thrust?<br> +What was I yesterday? and what will be,<br> +Perchance, to-morrow, seen or heard of me?<br> +<br> +Poor—lone—unfriended—ignorant—forlorn,<br> +To bear the new, full glory of the morn,—<br> +Beneath the garden wall I stand aside,<br> +With all before me beauty, show, and pride.<br> +<br> +Ah! why did Nature shoot me thus to light,<br> +A thing unfit for use—unfit for sight;<br> +Less like her work than like a piece of Art,<br> +Whirled out and trimmed—exact in every part?<br> +<br> +Unlike the graceful shrub, and flexible vine,<br> +No fruit—no branch—nor leaf, nor bud, is mine.<br> +No singing bird, nor butterfly, nor bee<br> +Will come to cheer, caress, or flatter me.<br> +<br> +No beauteous flower adorns my humble head,<br> +No spicy odors on the air I shed;<br> +But here I'm stationed, in my sombre suit,<br> +With only top and stem—I've scarce a root!<br> +<br> +Untaught of my beginning or my end,<br> +I know not whence I sprung, or where I tend:<br> +Yet I will wait, and trust; nor dare presume<br> +To question Justice—I, a frail Mushroom!<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Lost_Nestlings"></a><h2><b>The Lost Nestlings</b></h2> + +"Have you seen my darling nestlings?"<br> +A mother-robin cried,<br> +"I cannot, cannot find them,<br> +Though I've sought them far and wide.<br> +<br> +"I left them well this morning,<br> +When I went to seek their food;<br> +But I found, upon returning,<br> +I'd a nest without a brood.<br> +<br> +"O have you nought to tell me,<br> +That will ease my aching breast,<br> +About my tender offspring<br> +That I left within the nest?<br> +<br> +"I have called them in the bushes,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the rolling stream beside;</span><br> +Yet they come not at my bidding;—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm afraid they all have died!"</span><br> +<br> +"I can tell you all about them;"<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said a little wanton boy</span><br> +"For 'twas I that had the pleasure<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your nestlings to destroy.</span><br> +<br> +"But I didn't think their mother<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her little ones would miss;</span><br> +Or ever come to hail me<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a wailing sound, like this.</span><br> +<br> +"I didn't know your bosom<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was formed to suffer woe,</span><br> +And to mourn your murdered children,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or I had not grieved you so.</span><br> +<br> +"I am sorry that I've taken<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The lives I can't restore;</span><br> +And this regret shall teach me<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To do the like no more.</span><br> +<br> +"I ever shall remember<br> +The wailing sound I've heard!<br> +No more I'll kill a nestling,<br> +To pain a mother-bird!"<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Bat's_Flight_By_Daylight_An_Allegory"></a><h2><b>The Bat's Flight By Daylight An Allegory</b></h2> + +A Bat one morn from his covert flew,<br> +To show the world what a Bat could do,<br> +By soaring off on a lofty flight,<br> +In the open day, by the sun's clear light!<br> +He quite forgot that he had for wings<br> +But a pair of monstrous, plumeless things;<br> +That, more than half like a fish's fin,<br> +With a warp of bone, and a woof of skin,<br> +Were only fit in the dark to fly,<br> +In view of a bat's or an owlet's eye.<br> +<br> +He sallied forth from his hidden hole,<br> +And passed the door of his neighbor, Mole,<br> +Who shrugged, and said, "Of the two so blind<br> +The wisest, surely, stays behind!"<br> +But he could not cope with the glare of day:<br> +He lost his sight, and he missed his way;—<br> +He wheeled on his flapping wings, till, "bump!"<br> +His head went, hard on the farm-yard pump.<br> +Then, stunned and posed, as he met the ground,<br> +A stir and a shout in the yard went round;<br> +For its tenants thought they had one come there,<br> +That seemed not of water, earth, or air.<br> +The Hen, "Cut, cut, cut-dah-cut!" cried,<br> +For all to cut at the thing she spied;<br> +While the taunting Duck said, "Quack, quack, quack!"<br> +As her muddy mouth to the pool went back,<br> +For something denser than sound, to show<br> +Her sage disgust, at the quack to throw.<br> +The old Turk strutted, and gobbled aloud,<br> +Till he gathered around him a babbling crowd;<br> +When each proud neck in the whole doomed group<br> +Was poked with a condescending stoop,<br> +And a pointed beak, at the prostrate Bat,<br> +Which they eyed askance, as to ask, "What's <i>that</i>?"<br> +But none could tell; and the poults moved off,<br> +In their <i>select circle</i> to leer and scoff.<br> +<br> +The Goslings skulked; but their wise mamma,<br> +She hissed, and screamed, till the Lambs cried, "Ba-a!"<br> +When up from his straw sprang the gaping Calf,<br> +With a gawky leap and a clammy laugh.<br> +He stared—retreated—and off he went,<br> +The wondrous news in his voice to vent,—<br> +That he had discovered a <i>monster</i> there—<br> +A <i>bird four-footed, and clothed with hair</i>!<br> +And had dashed his heel at the sight so odd,<br> +It looked, he thought, like a <i>heathen god</i>!<br> +<br> +The scuddling Chicks cried, "Peep, peep, peep!<br> +For Boss looks high, but not very deep!<br> +It is not a fowl! 'tis the worst of things,—<br> +low, mean beast, with the use of wings,<br> +So noiseless round on the air to skim,<br> +You know not when you are safe from him."<br> +<br> +There stood by, some of the bristly tribe,<br> +Who felt so touched by the peeper's gibe,<br> +Their backs were up; for they thought, at least,<br> +It aimed at them the <i>low, mean beast:</i><br> +And they challenged Chick to her tiny face,<br> +In their sharp, high notes, and their awful base.<br> +<br> +Then old Chanticleer to his mount withdrew,<br> +And gave from his rostrum a loud halloo.<br> +He blew his clarion strong and shrill,<br> +Till he turned all eyes to his height, the hill;<br> +When he noised it round with his loudest crow,<br> +That 't was none of the <i>plumed</i> ones brought so low.<br> +<br> +And, "Bow-wow-wow!" went the sentry Cur;<br> +But he soon strolled off in a grave demur,<br> +When he saw on the wonder, <i>hair</i>, like his,<br> +<i>Two ears</i>, and a kind of <i>doubtful phiz;</i><br> +And he deemed it prudent to pause, and hark<br> +In silence, for fear that the sight might <i>bark</i>!<br> +<br> +At last came Puss, with a cautious pat<br> +To feel the pulse of the quivering Bat,<br> +That had not, under her tender paw,<br> +A limb to move, nor a breath to draw!<br> +Then she called her kit for a mother's gift,<br> +And stilled its mew with the racy lift.<br> +<br> +When Mole of the awful death was told,<br> +"Alas!" cried she, "he had grown too bold—<br> +Too vain and proud! Had he only kept,<br> +Like the <i>prudent Mole</i>, in his nest, and slept.<br> +Or worked underground, where none could see,<br> +He might have still been alive, like me!"<br> +<br> +While thus, so early the poor Bat died,<br> +A cry, that it was but the fall of pride,<br> +And signs of mirth, or of scorn, were all<br> +He had from those who beheld his fall.<br> +They each could triumph, and each condemn;<br> +But no kind pity was shown by them.<br> +<br> +And now, should we, as a mirror, place<br> +This story out for the world to face,<br> +How many, think you, would there perceive<br> +Likeness to children of Adam and Eve?<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Idle_Jack"></a><h2><b>Idle Jack</b></h2> + +See mischievous and idle Jack!<br> +How fast he flies, nor dares look back!<br> +He seized Horatio's pretty cart,<br> +And broke and threw it part from part;<br> +The body here, and there the wheels;<br> +And now, by taking to his heels,<br> +He makes the Scripture proverb true,—<br> +<i>The wicked flee when none pursue.</i>.<br> +<br> +Oh! Jack's a worthless, wicked boy,<br> +Who seems but evil to enjoy.<br> +He often racks his naughty brain<br> +Inventing ways of giving pain.<br> +He loves to torture butterflies—<br> +To dust the kitten's tender eyes—<br> +To break the cricket's slender limb;<br> +And pain to them is sport to him.<br> +<br> +He sometimes to your garden comes,<br> +To crush the flowers and steal the plums—<br> +The melons tries with thievish gripe,<br> +To find the one that's nearest ripe—<br> +His pocket fills with grapes or pears,<br> +No matter how their owner fares;<br> +When, by its lawless, robber track,<br> +You trace the foot of idle Jack.<br> +<br> +Whenever Jack is sent to school,<br> +He, playing truant, plays the fool:<br> +Or else he goes, with sloven looks<br> +And hands unclean, to spoil the books—<br> +To spill the ink, or make a noise,<br> +Disturbing good and studious boys;<br> +Till all who find what Jack's about<br> +Within the school, must wish him out.<br> +<br> +If ever Jack at church appears,<br> +He knows not, cares not, what he hears.<br> +While others to the word attend,<br> +He has a pencil-point to mend—<br> +An apple, or his nails to pare,<br> +Or cracks a nut in time of prayer,<br> +Till many wish that Jack would come,<br> +A better boy, or stay at home.<br> +<br> +In short, he shows, beyond a doubt,<br> +That, if he does not turn about,<br> +And mend his morals and his ways,<br> +He yet must come to evil days;<br> +And of a life of wasted time—<br> +Of idleness, and vice, and crime,<br> +To meet, perhaps, a felon's end,<br> +With neither man, nor God his friend.<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="David_and_Goliath"></a><h2><b>David and Goliath</b></h2> + +Young David was a ruddy lad<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With silken, sunny locks,</span><br> +The youngest son that Jesse had:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He kept his father's flocks.</span><br> +<br> +Goliath was a Philistine,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A giant, huge and high;</span><br> +He lifted, like a towering pine,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His head towards the sky.</span><br> +<br> +He was the foe of Israel's race.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A mighty warrior, too;</span><br> +And on he strode from place to place,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And many a man he slew.</span><br> +<br> +So Saul, the king of Israel then,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Proclaimed it to and fro,</span><br> +That most he'd favor of his men<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The one, who'd kill the foe.</span><br> +<br> +Yet all, who saw this foe draw near,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would feel their courage fail;</span><br> +For not an arrow, sword, or spear,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Could pierce the giant's mail.</span><br> +<br> +But Jesse's son conceived a way,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That would deliverance bring;</span><br> +Whereby he might Goliath slay,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thus relieve the king.</span><br> +<br> +Then quick he laid his shepherd's crook<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon a grassy bank;</span><br> +And off he waded in the brook<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From which the lambkins drank.</span><br> +<br> +He culled and fitted to his sling<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Five pebbles, smooth and round;</span><br> +And one of these he meant should bring<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The giant to the ground.</span><br> +<br> +"I've killed a lion and a bear,"<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said he, "and now I'll slay</span><br> +The Philistine, and by the hair<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll bring his head away!"</span><br> +<br> +Then onward to the battle-field<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The youthful hero sped;</span><br> +He knew Goliath by his shield,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by his towering head.</span><br> +<br> +But when, with only sling and staff,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The giant saw him come,</span><br> +In triumph he began to laugh;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet David struck him dumb.</span><br> +<br> +He fell! 'twas David's puny hand<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That caused his overthrow!</span><br> +Though long the terror of the land,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A pebble laid him low.</span><br> +<br> +The blood from out his forehead gushed.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He rolled, and writhed, and roared:</span><br> +The little hero on him rushed,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And drew his ponderous sword.</span><br> +<br> +Before its owner's dying eye<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He held the gleaming point</span><br> +Upon his throbbing neck to try;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then severed cord and joint.</span><br> +<br> +He took the head, and carried it<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And laid it down by Saul;</span><br> +And showed him where the pebble hit<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That caused the giant's fall.</span><br> +<br> +The lad, who had Goliath slain<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With pebbles and a sling,</span><br> +Was raised in after years to reign<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Israel's second king!</span><br> +<br> +'Twas not the courage, skill, or might<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which David had, alone,</span><br> +That helped him Israel's foe to fight<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And conquer, with a stone.</span><br> +<br> +But, when the shepherd stripling went<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The giant thus to kill,</span><br> +God used him as an instrument<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His purpose to fulfil!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Escape_of_the_Doves"></a><h2><b>Escape of the Doves</b></h2> + +Come back, pretty Doves! O, come back from the tree.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You bright little fugitive things!</span><br> +We could not have thought you so ready and free<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In using your beautiful wings.</span><br> +<br> +We didn't suppose, when we lifted the lid,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see if you knew how to fly,</span><br> +You'd all flutter off in a moment, and bid<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The basket for ever good-by!</span><br> +<br> +Come down, and we'll feast you on insects and seeds;—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You sha'nt have occasion to roam—</span><br> +We'll give you all things that a bird ever needs,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make it contented at home.</span><br> +<br> +Then come, pretty Doves! O, return for our sakes,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And don't keep away from us thus;</span><br> +Or, when your old slumbering master awakes,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twill be a sad moment for us!</span><br> +<br> +"We can't!" said the birds, "and the basket may stand<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A long time in waiting; for now</span><br> +You find out too late, that a bird in the hand<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is worth, at least, two on the bough.</span><br> +<br> +"And we, from our height, looking down on you there,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By experience taught to be sage,—</span><br> +Find, one pair of wings that are free in the air<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are worth two or three in the cage!</span><br> +<br> +"But when our old master awakes, and shall find<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The work you have just been about,</span><br> +We hope, by the freedom we love, he'll be kind,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And spare you for letting us out.</span><br> +<br> +"We thank you for all the fine stories you tell,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all the good things you would give;</span><br> +But think, since we're out, we shall do very well<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where nature designed us to live.</span><br> +<br> +"Whene'er you may think of the swift little wings<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On which from your reach we have flown,</span><br> +No doubt, you'll beware, and not meddle with things,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In future, that are not your own."</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Edward_and_Charles"></a><h2><b>Edward and Charles</b></h2> + +The brothers went out with the father to ride,<br> +Where they looked for the flowers, that, along the way-side,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So lately were blooming and fair;</span><br> +But their delicate heads by the frost had been nipped;<br> +Their stalks by the blast were all twisted and stripped;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And nothing but ruin was there.</span><br> +<br> +"Oh! how the rude autumn has spoiled the green hills!"<br> +Exclaimed little Charles, "and has choked the bright rills<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With leaves that are faded and dead!</span><br> +The few on the trees are fast losing their hold.<br> +And leaving the branches so naked and cold.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That the beautiful birds have all fled."</span><br> +<br> +"I know," replied Edward, "the country has lost<br> +A great many charms by the touch of the frost,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which used to appear to the eye;</span><br> +But then, it has opened the chestnut-burr too,<br> +The walnut released from the case where it grew;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And now our <i>Thanksgiving</i> is nigh!</span><br> +<br> +"Oh! what do you think we shall do on that day?"<br> +"I guess," answered Charles, "we shall all go away<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Grandpa's; and there find enough</span><br> +Of turkeys, plum-puddings, and pies by the dozens,<br> +For Grandpa' and Grandma', aunts, uncles and cousins;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And at night we'll all play blind-man's-buff.</span><br> +<br> +"Perhaps we'll get Grandpa' to tell us some stories<br> +About the old times, with their <i>Whigs</i> and their <i>Tories</i>;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what sort of men they could be;</span><br> +When some spread their tables without any cloth,<br> +With basins and spoons, and the fuming bean-broth,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which they took for their coffee and tea.</span><br> +<br> +"They'd queer kind of sights, I have heard Grandma' say,<br> +About in their streets; for, if not every day,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At least it was nothing uncommon,</span><br> +To see them pile on the poor back of one horse<br> +A saddle and <i>pillion</i>; and what was still worse,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Up mounted a man and a woman!</span><br> +<br> +"The lady held on by the driver; and so,<br> +Away about town at full trot would they go;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or perhaps to a great country marriage,—</span><br> +To Thanksgiving-supper—to husking, or ball;<br> +Or quilting; for thus did they take nearly all<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their rides, on an <i>animal</i> carriage!</span><br> +<br> +"I know not what <i>huskings</i> and <i>quiltings</i> maybe;<br> +But Grandma' will tell; and perhaps let us see<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some things she has long laid away:—</span><br> +That stiff damask gown, with its sharp-pointed waist,<br> +The hoop, the craped, cushion, and buckles of paste,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which they wore in her grandparent's day.</span><br> +<br> +"She says they had buttons as large as our dollars,<br> +To wear on their coats with their square, standing collars;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And then, there's a droll sort of hat,</span><br> +Which Mary once fixed me one like, out of paper,<br> +And said she believed 'twas called <i>three-cornered scraper</i>;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Perhaps, too, she'll let us see that.</span><br> +<br> +"Oh! a glorious time we shall have! If they knew<br> +At the south, what it is, I guess they'd have one too;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I have heard somebody say,</span><br> +That, there, they call all the New England folks <i>Bumpkins,</i><br> +Because we eat puddings, and pies made of pumpkins,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And have our good Thanksgiving-day."</span><br> +<br> +"I think, brother Charles," returned Edward "at least,<br> +That they might go to church, if they don't like the feast;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For to me it is much the best part,</span><br> +To hear the sweet anthems of praise, that we give<br> +To Him, on whose bounty we constantly live:—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It is feasting the ear and the heart.</span><br> +<br> +"From Him, who has brought us another year round,<br> +Who gives every blessing, wherewith we are crowned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their gratitude who can withhold?</span><br> +And now how I wish I could know all the poor<br> +Their Thanksgiving-stores had already secure,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their fuel, and clothes for the cold!"</span><br> +<br> +"I'm glad," said their father, "to hear such a wish;<br> +But wishes alone, can fill nobody's dish,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or clothe them, or build them a fire.</span><br> +And now I will give you the money, my sons,<br> +Which I promised, you know, for your drum and your guns,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To spend in the way you desire."</span><br> +<br> +The brothers went home, thinking o'er by the way,<br> +For how many comforts this money might pay,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In something for clothing or food:</span><br> +At length they resolved, if their mother would spend it,<br> +For what she thought best, they would get her to send it<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where she thought it would do the most good.</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Mountain_Minstrel"></a><h2><b>The Mountain Minstrel</b></h2> + +On our mountain of Savoy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the shadow of a rock,</span><br> +Once I sat, a shepherd-boy,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Watching o'er my father's flock.</span><br> +<br> +We'd a happy cottage-home,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peaceful as the sparrow's nest,</span><br> +Where, at evening, we could come<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From our roamings to our rest.</span><br> +<br> +I'd a minstrel's voice and ear:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I could whistle, pipe and sing,</span><br> +While I roving, seemed to hear<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Music stir in every thing.</span><br> +<br> +But misfortune, like a blast.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swift upon my father rushed;</span><br> +From our dwelling we were cast—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At a stroke our peace was crushed.</span><br> +<br> +All we had was seized for debt:<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the sudden overthrow,</span><br> +Even my fond, fleecy pet,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My white cosset, too, must go.</span><br> +<br> +Then I wandered, sad and lone,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where I'd once a flock to feed;</span><br> +All the treasure now my own<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was my simple pipe of reed.</span><br> +<br> +But a noble, pitying friend,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who had seen me sadly stray,</span><br> +Made me to his lute attend;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he taught me how to play.</span><br> +<br> +Then his lute to me he gave;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And abroad he bade me roam,</span><br> +Till the earnings I could save<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would redeem our cottage-home.</span><br> +<br> +Glad, his counsel straight I took—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I received his gift with joy;</span><br> +All my former ways forsook,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And became a minstrel-boy.</span><br> +<br> +With my mountain airs to sing,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forward then I roamed afar,</span><br> +Sweeping still the tuneful string—<br> +Having hope my leading star.<br> +<br> +In the hamlets where I've gone,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Groups would gather—music-bound:</span><br> +In the cities I have drawn<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">List'ners till my hopes were crowned.</span><br> +<br> +Ever saving as I earned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I of one dear object dreamed;</span><br> +To my mountain then returned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And our cottage-home redeemed.</span><br> +<br> +Time has wiped away our tears;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Here we dwell together blest;</span><br> +All our sorrows, doubts and fears<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I have played and sung to rest.</span><br> +<br> +Here my aged parents live<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Free from want, and toil, and cares;</span><br> +All the bliss that earth can give<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Deem they in this home of theirs.</span><br> +<br> +Life's night-shades fast o'er them creep;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All their wrongs have been forgiven—</span><br> +They have but to fall asleep<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In their cot, to wake in heaven.</span><br> +<br> +Gentle friend, dost thou inquire<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What's the lineage whence I came?</span><br> +Jesse is my shepherd sire—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">David-Jesse is my name!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Veteran_and_the_Child"></a><h2><b>The Veteran and the Child</b></h2> + +"Come, grandfather, show how you carried your gun<br> +To the field, where America's freedom was won,<br> +Or bore your old sword, which you say was new then,<br> +When you rose to command, and led forward your men;<br> +And tell how you felt with the balls whizzing by,<br> +Where the wounded fell round you, to bleed and to die!"<br> +<br> +The prattler had stirred, in the veteran's breast,<br> +The embers of fire that had long been at rest.<br> +The blood of his youth rushed anew through his veins;<br> +The soldier returned to his weary campaigns;<br> +His perilous battles at once fighting o'er,<br> +While the soul of nineteen lit the eye of four-score.<br> +<br> +"I carried my musket, as one that must be<br> +But loosed from the hold of the dead, or the free!<br> +And fearless I lifted my good, trusty sword,<br> +In the hand of a mortal, the strength of the Lord!<br> +In battle, my vital flame freely I felt<br> +Should go, but the chains of my country to melt!<br> +<br> +"I sprinkled my blood upon Lexington's sod,<br> +And Charlestown's green height to the war-drum I trod.<br> +From the fort, on the Hudson, our guns I depressed,<br> +The proud coming sail of the foe to arrest.<br> +I stood at Stillwater, the Lakes and White Plains,<br> +And offered for freedom to empty my veins!<br> +<br> +"Dost now ask me, child, since thou hear'st here I've been,<br> +Why my brow is so furrowed, my locks white and thin—<br> +Why this faded eye cannot go by the line,<br> +Trace out little beauties, and sparkle like thine;<br> +Or why so unstable this tremulous knee,<br> +Who bore 'sixty years since,' such perils for thee?<br> +<br> +"What! sobbing so quick? are the tears going to start?<br> +Come! lean thy young head on thy grandfather's heart!<br> +It has not much longer to glow with the joy<br> +I feel thus to clasp thee, so noble a boy!<br> +But when in earth's bosom it long has been cold,<br> +A man, thou'lt recall, what, a babe, thou art told."<br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="Captain_Kidd"></a><h2><b>Captain Kidd</b></h2> + +There's many a one who oft has heard<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The name of Robert Kidd,</span><br> +Who cannot tell, perhaps, a word<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of him, or what he did.</span><br> +<br> +So, though I never saw the man,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lived not in his day;</span><br> +I'll tell you how his guilt began—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To what it paved the way.</span><br> +<br> +'Twas in New York Kidd had his home;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there he left his wife</span><br> +And children, when he went to roam,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lead a seaman's life.</span><br> +<br> +Now Robert had as firm a hand,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A heart as stern and brave,</span><br> +As ever met in one on land,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or on the briny wave.</span><br> +<br> +'Twas in the third king William's time,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When many a pirate bold</span><br> +Committed on the seas the crime<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of shedding blood for gold.</span><br> +<br> +So Captain Kidd was singled out<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As one devoid of fears,</span><br> +To take a ship and cruise about<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Against the Bucaniers.</span><br> +<br> +The ship was armed with many a gun,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And manned with many a man,</span><br> +Across the southern seas to run<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To foil the pirate's plan.</span><br> +<br> +But when she long, from isle to isle,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without success had sailed,</span><br> +And made no capture all the while,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her master's patience failed.</span><br> +<br> +The prizes he so oft had sought,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He found he sought in vain;</span><br> +And soon a wicked, bloody thought,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came into Robert's brain!</span><br> +<br> +His mind he opened to his men;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And found his guilty crew</span><br> +Agreed with him, that they, from then,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would all turn pirates too!</span><br> +<br> +He threw his Bible in the deep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Defied its Author's will;</span><br> +And, with his conscience put to sleep,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Began to rob and kill.</span><br> +<br> +And now the desperado reigned,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A tyrant on the waves;</span><br> +While they whose blood his hands had stained,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Went down to watery graves.</span><br> +<br> +No merchant ship could near him go,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which he would not annoy;</span><br> +For Kidd was passing to and fro,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And seeking to destroy.</span><br> +<br> +He seized the vessel, plunged the knife<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within the seamen's breast:</span><br> +And by a cruel waste of life,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His evil gains possessed.</span><br> +<br> +He then would make the nearest isle.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And go at night by stealth,</span><br> +To hide within the earth awhile<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His last ill-gotten wealth.</span><br> +<br> +Thus, many a shining wedge of gold<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This modern Achan hid;</span><br> +And many a frightful tale was told<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">About the pirate, Kidd.</span><br> +<br> +But Justice does not slumber long;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If slow, she's ever sure.</span><br> +There's none too artful, quick, or strong<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For her to make secure!</span><br> +<br> +To Boston, with a brazen face,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The pirate boldly went,</span><br> +Where he was seized; and in disgrace<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And chains, to England sent.</span><br> +<br> +The captain and his crew were there,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A solemn, fearful sight;</span><br> +Resigning life high up in air,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">E'en at the gibbet's height!</span><br> +<br> +For many a year their bodies hung<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Along the river side;</span><br> +As beacons, showing old and young<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How they had lived and died.</span><br> +<br> +The wealth they hid was never found.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though often sought of men.</span><br> +'Tis where they placed it in the ground,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till they should come again!</span><br> +<br> +The earth has seemed by Heaven constrained.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The treasures to withhold</span><br> +That price of blood has none obtained,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or used the pirate's gold!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Dying_Storm"></a><h2><b>The Dying Storm</b></h2> + +I am feeble, pale and weary,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And my wings are nearly furled.</span><br> +I have caused a scene so dreary,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am glad to quit the world.</span><br> +While with bitterness I'm thinking<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the evil I have done,</span><br> +To my caverns deep I'm sinking<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the coming of the sun.</span><br> +<br> +Oh! the heart of man will sicken<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In that pure and holy light,</span><br> +When he feels the hopes I've stricken<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With an everlasting blight!</span><br> +For, so wildly in my madness<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have I poured abroad my wrath,</span><br> +I've been changing joy to sadness;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And with ruins strewed my path.</span><br> +<br> +Earth has shuddered at my motion:—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She my power in silence owns;</span><br> +While the troubled, roaring ocean<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O'er my deeds of horror moans.</span><br> +I have sunk the dearest treasure—<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I've destroyed the fairest form:</span><br> +Sadly have I filled my measure;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I'm now a dying Storm!</span><br> +<br> +Yet, to man among the living,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With my final gasp and sigh,</span><br> +I, a solemn caution giving,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fain would serve him while I die.</span><br> +Not like me, shall he, descending<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swift to death, from being cease.</span><br> +He's a spirit!--fleetly tending<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To eternal pain or peace!</span><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="The_Little_Traveller"></a><h2><b>The Little Traveller</b></h2> + +I am the tiniest child of earth!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But still, I would like to be known to fame;</span><br> +Though next to nothing I had my birth,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lowest of all in my lowly name.</span><br> +<br> +Yet, if so humble my native place,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This I can say, in family pride—</span><br> +That I'm of the world's most numerous race,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And made by the Maker of all beside.</span><br> +<br> +Although I'm so poor, I naught to lose;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still I'm so little I can't be lost!</span><br> +I journey about, wherever I choose,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And those who carry me bear the cost.</span><br> +<br> +The most forgiving of earthly things,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I often cling to my deadly foe;</span><br> +And, spite of the cruellest flirts and flings,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Arise by the force that has cast me low.</span><br> +<br> +When beauty has trodden me under foot,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I've quietly risen, her face to seek,—</span><br> +Embraced her forehead, and calmly put<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Myself to rest in her dimpled cheek.</span><br> +<br> +I've ridden to war on the soldier's plume;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But startled and sprung, at the wild affray,—</span><br> +The sights of horror—of fire and fume;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fled on the wings of the wind away.</span><br> +<br> +I've visited courts, and been ushered in<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the proudest guest of the stately scene;</span><br> +I've touched his majesty's bosom-pin,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the nuptial ring of his lofty queen.</span><br> +<br> +At the royal board, in the grand parade,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I've oft been one familiar and free:</span><br> +The fairest lady has smiled, and laid<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her delicate, gloveless hand on me.</span><br> +<br> +Philosopher, poet, the learned, the sage,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never declines a call from me;</span><br> +And all, of every rank and age.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Admit me into their <i>coteri</i>.</span><br> +<br> +I visit the lions of every where,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If human, or brute, and can testify</span><br> +To what they do, to what they wear,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To wonders none ever beheld but I!</span><br> +<br> +And now, reviewing the things I've done,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forgetting my name, my rank and birth,</span><br> +I begin to think I am number ONE,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the great and manifold things of earth.</span><br> +<br> +I've still much more, I yet might tell,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which modesty bids me here withhold;</span><br> +For fear with my travels I seem to swell,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or grow, for an ATOM OF DUST, too bold!</span><br> + +<p>THE END</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="BY_SUSAN_PINDAR_Now_ready_a_New_Edition"></a><h2>BY SUSAN PINDAR. <b>Now ready, a New Edition</b>.</h2> + +<p><b>FIRESIDE FAIRIES; OR, CHRISTMAS AT AUNT ELSIE'S.</b></p> + +<p>Beautifully illustrated, with Original Designs. 1 vol. 12mo. 75 cts., +gilt ed. $1.</p> + +<p><i>Contents</i>.</p> + +<p>The Two Voices, or the Shadow and the Shadowless. The Minute Fairies. I +Have and O Had I. The Hump and Long Nose. The Lily Fairy and the Silver +Beam. The Wonderful Watch. The Red and White Rose Trees. The Diamond +Fountain. The Magical Key.</p> + +<p>Though this is a small book, it is, mechanically, exceedingly beautiful, +being illustrated with spirited woodcuts from Original Designs. But that +is its least merit. It is one of the most entertaining, and decidedly +one of the best juveniles that have issued from the prolific press of +this city. We speak advisedly. It is long since we found time to read +through a juvenile book, so near Christmas, when the name of this class +of volumes is legion; but this charmed us so much that we were unwilling +to lay it down after once commencing it. The first story,—"The Two +Voices, or the Shadow and the Shadowless,"—is a sweet thing, as is also +the one entitled, "The Diamond Fountain." Indeed, the whole number, and +there are ten, will be read with avidity. Their moral is as pure as +their style is enchanting.—<i>Com. Adv</i>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p><i>D. Appleton & Co. have just ready</i>,</p> + +<p><b>A NEW UNIFORM SERIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS</b>. BY AMEREL.</p> + +<p>COMPRISING</p> + +I. CHRISTMAS STORIES, for Good Children. Illustrated. 16mo. <BR> +II. WINTER HOLIDAYS. A Story for Children. Illustrated. 16mo.<BR> +III. THE SUMMER HOLIDAYS. A Story for Children. Illus. 16mo. <BR> +IV. GEORGE'S ADVENTURES IN THE COUNTRY. Illus. 16mo.<BR> +V. THE CHILD'S STORY BOOK. A Holiday Gift. Illus. 16mo.<BR> +VI. THE LITTLE GIFT-BOOK. For Good Boys and Girls. Illus. 16mo. + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="NEW_ILLUSTRATED_JUVENILES"></a><h2><b>NEW ILLUSTRATED JUVENILES.</b></h2> + +<p>AUNT FANNY'S STORY BOOK. Illustrated. 16mo. $ 50</p> + +<p>THE CHILD'S PRESENT. Illustrated. 16mo.</p> + +<p>HOWITT'S PICTURE AND VERSE BOOK. Illustrated with 100 plates. 75 cts.; +gilt 1 00</p> + +<p>HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. Illustrated. 4to., 25 cts.; cloth 50</p> + +<p>STORY OF JOAN OF ARC. By R.M. Evans. With 23 illustrations. 16mo. 75</p> + +<p>ROBINSON CRUSOE. Pictorial Edition. 300 plates. 8vo. 1 50</p> + +<p>THE CARAVAN; A COLLECTION OF TALES AND STORIES FROM THE GERMAN. +Translated by G.P. Quackenboss. Illustrated by Orr. 16mo.</p> + +<p>INNOCENCE OF CHILDHOOD. By Mrs. Colman. Illustrated 50</p> + +<p>HOME RECREATIONS, comprising Travels and Adventures, &c. Colored +Illustrations. 16mo. 87</p> + +<p>FIRESIDE FAIRIES. A New Story Book. My Miss Susan Pindar. Finely +Illustrated. 16mo.</p> + +<p>STORY OF LITTLE JOHN. Trans, from the French. Illus. 62</p> + +<p>LIVES AND ANECDOTES OF ILLUSTRIOUS MEN. 16mo. 75</p> + +<p>UNCLE JOHN'S PANORAMIC PICTURE BOOKS. Six kinds, 25 cts. each; +half-cloth 50</p> + +<p>HOLIDAY HOUSE. Tales, by Catherine Sinclair. Illustrated 75</p> + +<p>PUSS IN BOOTS. Finely illus. by O. Speckter. 50c.; ex. glt. 75</p> + +<p>TALES AND STORIES for Boys and Girls. By Mary Howitt 75</p> + +<p>AMERICAN HISTORICAL TALES for Youth. 16mo. 75</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p><b>LIBRARY FOR MY YOUNG COUNTRYMEN.</b></p> + +<p>ADVENTURES of Captain John Smith. By the Author of Uncle Philip 38</p> + +<p>ADVENTURES of Daniel Boon. By do. 38</p> + +<p>DAWNINGS of Genius. By Anne Pratt. 38</p> + +<p>LIFE and Adventures of Henry Hudson. By the Author of Uncle Philip. 38</p> + +<p>LIFE and Adventures of Herman Cortez. By do. 38</p> + +<p>PHILIP RANDOLPH. A Tale of Virginia. By Mary Gertrude. 38</p> + +<p>ROWAN'S History of the French Revolution. 2 vols. 75</p> + +<p>SOUTHEY'S Life of Cromwell. 38</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p><b>TALES FOR THE PEOPLE AND THEIR CHILDREN</b>.</p> + +<p>ALICE FRANKLIN. By Mary Howitt. 38</p> + +<p>LOVE AND MONEY. By do. 38</p> + +<p>HOPE ON, HOPE EVER! Do. 38</p> + +<p>LITTLE COIN, MUCH CARE. By do. 38</p> + +<p>MY OWN STORY. By do. 38</p> + +<p>MY UNCLE, THE CLOCKMAKER. By do. 38</p> + +<p>NO SENSE LIKE COMMON SENSE. By do. 38</p> + +<p>SOWING AND REAPING. Do. 38</p> + +<p>STRIVE AND THRIVE. By do. 38</p> + +<p>THE TWO APPRENTICES. By do. 38</p> + +<p>WHICH IS THE WISER? Do. 38</p> + +<p>WHO SHALL BE GREATEST? By do. 38</p> + +<p>WORK AND WAGES. By do. 38</p> + +<p>CROFTON BOYS, The. By Harriet Martineau. 38</p> + +<p>DANGERS OF DINING OUT By Mrs. Ellis. 38</p> + +<p>FIRST IMPRESSIONS. By do. 38</p> + +<p>MINISTER'S FAMILY. By do. 38</p> + +<p>SOMMERVILLE HALL. By do. 38</p> + +<p>DOMESTIC TALES. By Hannah More. 2 vols.... 75</p> + +<p>EARLY FRIENDSHIP. By Mrs. Copley. 38</p> + +<p>FARMER'S DAUGHTER, The By Mrs. Cameron. 38</p> + +<p>LOOKING-GLASS FOR THE MIND. Many plates. 45</p> + +<p>MASTERMAN READY. By Capt. Marryat. 3 vols. 2</p> + +<p>PEASANT AND THE PRINCE. By H. Martineau. 38</p> + +<p>POPLAR GROVE. By Mrs. Copley. 38</p> + +<p>SETTLERS IN CANADA. By Capt. Marryatt. 2 vols. 75</p> + +<p>TIRED OF HOUSEKEEPING. By T.S. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Youth's Coronal + +Author: Hannah Flagg Gould + +Release Date: March 3, 2004 [eBook #11432] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUTH'S CORONAL*** + + +E-text prepared by Amy Petri and Project Gutenberg Distributed +Proofreaders from images provided by Internet Archive Children's Library +and the University of Florida + + + +Note: Images of the original pages are available through the Florida + Board of Education, Division of Colleges and Universities, + PALMM Project, 2001. (Preservation and Access for American and + British Children's Literature, 1850-1869.) See + http://purl.fcla.edu/fcla/dl/UF00001878.jpg + or + http://purl.fcla.edu/fcla/dl/UF00001878.pdf + + + + + +THE YOUTH'S CORONAL + +BY HANNAH FLAGG GOULD + +Author of "Poems," etc., etc. + +1851 + + + + + + + Whate'er the good instruction may reveal, +The head must _take_, before the heart can _feel_. +THE MORALIZER. + + + + + +ADDRESS + +TO THE YOUTH OF MY COUNTRY. + + +In preparing the following pages, my aim has been, to produce a book +alike entertaining and instructive;--one which, in the reading, should +afford an amusement to the mind, pleasant as the spring-blossoms on the +tree; and, in its influences on the heart in after life, be like the +good fruits that succeed and ripen, to refresh and nourish us, when the +vernal season is over and gone, and the voices of the singing-birds are +lost in the distance. + +Choosing an appropriate title for such a presentation, I have borrowed +my idea from the words of the wise king of Israel:--"Hear the +instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother; for +they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head," &c., and other +Scripture passages of similar figurative meaning; for, though often +given in a sportive way, it is my design that no moral shall be +conveyed in the volume, but such as a good and judicious parent would +wish a child to imbibe. + +Accept, then, my young Friends, this new CORONAL of the little flowers +of poesy which I have woven for you. When you shall have examined and +scented it, and found no thorn to pierce--no juice or odor to poison you +in its whole circle, wear it for the giver's sake; and enjoy it and +profit by its healthful influences, for your own. + +Gladly would I feel assured that, in some future years,--when I shall +have done with earthly flowers, and you will be engaged in the busy +scenes and arduous duties of mature life,--the import of these leaves +may from time to time arise to your memory, in all its dewy freshness, +like the fragrance which the summer-breeze wafts after us, from the +lilies and violets we have passed and left far behind us, in our morning +rambles. Then, if not to-day, you will be convinced that I was--as now I +am, + +Your true Friend, + +H. F. GOULD. + +Newburyport, Mass., August, 1850. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +The Sale of the Water-Lily + +The Humming-Bird's Anger + +The Butterfly's Dream + +The Boy and the Cricket + +Fanny Spy + +Sudden Elevation + +The Stricken Bird + +The Young Sportsman + +The Pebble and the Acorn + +The Grasshopper and the Ant + +The Rose-Bud of Autumn + +Frost, the Winter-Sprite + +Vivy Vain + +The Lost Kite + +The Summer-Morning Ramble + +The Shoemaker + +The Snow-Storm + +The Whirlwind + +The Disobedient Skater Boys + +Winter and Spring + +Tom Tar + +The Envious Lobster + +The Crocus' Soliloquy + +The Bee, Clover, and Thistle + +Poor Old Paul + +The Sea-Eagle's Fall + +The Two Thieves + +Jemmy String + +The Caterpillar + +The Mocking Bird + +The Silk-Worm's Will + +Dame Biddy + +Kit with the Rose + +The Captive Butterfly + +The Dissatisfied Angler Boy + +The Stove and Grate-Setter + +Song of the Bees + +Summer is Come + +The Morning-Glory + +The Old Cotter and his Cow + +The Speckled One + +The Blind Musician + +The Lame Horse + +The Mushroom's Soliloquy + +The Lost Nestlings + +The Bat's Flight by Daylight + +Idle Jack + +David and Goliath + +Escape of the Doves + +Edward and Charles + +The Mountain Minstrel + +The Veteran and the Child + +Captain Kidd + +The Dying Storm + +The Little Traveller + + + + +=The Sale of the Water-Lily= + +And these would sometimes come, and cheer + The widow with a song, +To let her feel a neighbor near, + And wing an hour along. + +A pond, supplied by hidden springs, + With lilies bordered round, +Was found among the richest things, + That blessed the widow's ground. + +She had, besides, a gentle brook, + That wound the meadow through, +Which from the pond its being took, + And had its treasures too. + +Her eldest orphan was a son; + For, children she had three; +She called him, though a little one, + Her hope for days to be. + +And well he might be reckoned so; + If, from the tender shoot, +We know the way the branch will grow; + Or, by the flower, the fruit. + +His tongue was true, his mind was bright; + His temper smooth and mild: +He was--the parent's chief delight-- + A good and pleasant child. + +He'd gather chips and sticks of wood + The winter fire to make; +And help his mother dress their food, + Or tend the baking cake. + +In summer time he'd kindly lead + His little sisters out, +To pick wild berries on the mead, + And fish the brook for trout. + +He stirred his thoughts for ways to earn + Some little gain; and hence, +Contrived the silver pond to turn. + In part, to silver pence. + +He found the lilies blooming there + So spicy sweet to smell, +And to the eye so pure and fair, + He plucked them up to sell. + +He could not to the market go: + He had too young a head, +The distant city's ways to know; + The route he could not tread. + +But, when the coming coach-wheels rolled + To pass his humble cot, +His bunch of lilies to be sold + Was ready on the spot. + +He'd stand beside the way, and hold + His treasures up to show, +That looked like yellow stars of gold + Just set in leaves of snow. + +"O buy my lilies!" he would say; + "You'll find them new and sweet: +So fresh from out the pond are they, + I haven't dried my feet!" + +And then he showed the dust that clung + Upon his garment's hem, +Where late the water-drops had hung, + When he had gathered them. + +And while the carriage checked its pace, + To take the lilies in, +His artless orphan tongue and face + Some bright return would win. + +For many a noble stranger's hand, + With open purse, was seen, +To cast a coin upon the sand, + Or on the sloping green. + +And many a smiling lady threw + The child a silver piece; +And thus, as fast as lilies grew, + He saw his wealth increase. + +While little more--and little more, + Was gathered by their sale, +His widowed mother's frugal store + Would never wholly fail. + +For He, who made, and feeds the bird, + Her little children fed. +He knew her trust: her cry he heard; + And answered it with bread. + +And thus, protected by the Power, + Who made the lily fair, +Her orphans, like the meadow flower, + Grew up in beauty there. + +Her son, the good and prudent boy, + Who wisely thus began, +Was long the aged widow's joy; + And lived an honored man. + +He had a ship, for which he chose + "The LILY" as a name, +To keep in memory whence he rose, + And how his fortune came.' + +He had a lily carved, and set, + Her emblem, on her stem; +And she was called, by all she met, + A beauteous ocean gem. + +She bore sweet spices, treasures bright; + And, on the waters wide, +Her sails as lily-leaves were white: + Her name was well applied. + +Her feeling owner never spurned + The presence of the poor; +And found that all he gave returned + In blessings rich and sure. + +The God who by the lily-pond + Had drawn his heart above, +In after life preserved the bond + Of grateful, holy love. + + + + +=The Humming-Bird's Anger= + +"Small as the humming-bird is, it has great courage and violent +passions. If it find a flower that has been deprived of its honey, it +will pluck it off, throw it on the ground, and sometimes tear it to +pieces." BUFFON. + +On light little wings as the humming-birds fly, +With plumes many-hued as the bow of the sky, +Suspended in ether, they shine to the light +As jewels of nature high-finished and bright. + +Their vision-like forms are so buoyant and small +They hang o'er the flowers, as too airy to fall, +Up-borne by their beautiful pinions, that seem +Like glittering vapor, or parts of a dream. + +The humming-bird feeds upon honey; and so, +Of course, 'tis a sweet little creature, you know. +But sweet little creatures have sometimes, they say, +A great deal that's bitter, or sour, to betray! + +And often the humming-bird's delicate breast +Is found of a very high temper possessed. +Such essence of anger within it is pent, +'Twould burst did no safety-valve give it a vent. + +Displeased, it will seem a bright vial of wrath, +Uncorked by its heat, the offender to scath; +And, taking occasion to let off its ire, +'Tis startling to witness how high it will fire. + +A humming-bird once o'er a trumpet-flower hung, +And darted that sharp little member, the tongue, +At once to the nectarine cell, for the sweet +She felt at the bottom most certain to meet. + +But, finding some other light child of the air +To rifle its store, had already been there; +And no drop of honey for her to draw up, +Her vengeance broke forth on the destitute cup. + +She flew in a passion, that heightened her power; +And cuffing, and shaking the innocent flower, +Its tender corolla in shred after shred +She hastily stripped; then she snapped off its head. + +A delicate ruin, on earth as it lay, +That bright little fury went, humming, away, +With gossamer softness, and fair to the eye, +Like some living brilliant, just dropped from the sky. + +And since, when that curious bird I behold +Arrayed in rich colors, and dusted with gold, +I cannot but think of the wrath and the spite +She has in reserve, though they're now out of sight. + +Ye two-footed, beautiful, passionate things, +If plumy or plumeless--without, or with wings, +Beware, lest ye break, in some hazardous hour, +Your vials of wrath, hot, or bitter, or sour! + +And would ye but know how at times ye do seem +Transformed to bright furies, or frights in a dream, +Go, stand at the glass--to the painter go sit, +When anger is just at the height of its fit! + + + + +=The Butterfly's Dream= + +A tulip, just opened, had offered to hold + A butterfly gaudy and gay; +And rocked in his cradle of crimson and gold, + The careless young slumberer lay. + +For the butterfly slept;--as such thoughtless ones will, + At ease, and reclining on flowers;-- +If ever they study, 'tis how they may kill + The best of their mid-summer hours! + +And the butterfly dreamed, as is often the case + With _indolent_ lovers of change, +Who, keeping the body at ease in its place, + Give fancy permission to range. + +He dreamed that he saw, what he could but despise, + The swarm from a neighboring hive; +Which, having come out for their winter supplies, + Had made the whole garden alive. + +He looked with disgust, as the proud often do, + On the diligent movements of those, +Who, keeping both present and future in view, + Improve every hour as it goes. + +As the brisk little alchymists passed to and fro, + With anger the butterfly swelled; +And called them mechanics--a rabble too low + To come near the station he held. + +"Away from my presence!" said he, in his sleep, + "Ye humble plebeians! nor dare +Come here with your colorless winglets to sweep + The king of this brilliant parterre!" + +He thought, at these words, that together they flew, + And, facing about, made a stand; +And then, to a terrible army they grew, + And fenced him on every hand. + +Like hosts of huge giants, his numberless foes + Seemed spreading to measureless size: +Their wings with a mighty expansion arose, + And stretched like a veil o'er the skies. + +Their eyes seemed like little volcanoes, for fire,-- + Their hum, to a cannon-peal grown,-- +Farina to bullets was rolled in their ire, + And, he thought, hurled at him and his throne. + +He tried to cry quarter! his voice would not sound, + His head ached--his throne reeled and fell; +His enemy cheered, as he came to the ground, + And cried, "King Papilio, farewell!" + +His fall chased the vision--the sleeper awoke, + The wonderful dream to expound; +The lightning's bright flash from the thunder-cloud broke, + And hail-stones were rattling around. + +He'd slumbered so long, that now, over his head, + The tempest's artillery rolled; +The tulip was shattered--the whirl-blast had fled, + And borne off its crimson and gold. + +'Tis said, for the fall and the pelting, combined + With suppressed ebullitions of pride. +This vain son of summer no balsam could find, + But he crept under covert and died! + + + + +=The Boy and the Cricket= + +At length I have thee! my brisk new-comer, +Sounding thy lay to departing summer; +And I'll take thee up from thy bed of grass, +And carry thee home to a house of glass; +Where thy slender limbs, and the faded green +Of thy close-made coat, can all be seen. +For I long to know if the cricket _sings_, +Or _plays_ the tune with his gauzy wings;-- +To bring that shrill-toned pipe to light +Which kept me awake so long last night, +That I told the hours by the lazy clock, +Till I heard the crow of the noisy cock; +When, tossing and turning, at length I fell +In a sleep so strange, that the dream I'll tell. + +Methought, on a flowery bank I lay, +By a beautiful stream; and watched the play +Of the sparkling wavelets, that fled so fast, +I could not number them as they passed. +But I marked the things which they carried by; +And a neat little skiff first caught my eye. +'Twas woven of reeds, and its sides were bound +By a tender vine, that had clasped it round; +And spreading within, had made it seem +A basket of leaves, borne down the stream. +And the skiff had neither a sail nor oar; +But a bright little boy stood up, and bore, +On his outstretched hands, a wreath so gay, +It looked like a crown for the Queen of May. +And while he was going, I heard him sing, +"O seize the garland of passing _Spring!_" +But I dared not reach, for the bank was steep; +And he bore it away, to the far off deep! + +There came, then, a lady;--her eye was bright-- +She was young and fair, and her bark was light; +Its mast was a living tree, that spread +Its boughs for a sail, o'er the lady's head. +And some of its fruits had just begun +To flush, on the side that was next the sun; +And some with the crimson streak were stained; +While others their size had not yet gained. +In passing she cried, "Oh! who can insure +The fruits of _Summer_ to get mature? +For, fast as the waters beneath me flowing, +Beyond recall, I'm going! I'm going!" + +I turned my eye, and beheld another, +That seemed as she might be Summer's mother. +She looked more grave; while her cheek was tinged +With a deeper brown; and her bark was fringed +With the tasselled heads of the wheaten sheaves +Along its sides; and the yellow leaves, +That had covered the deck concealed a throng +Of _Crickets!_--I knew by their choral song. +And at _Autumn's_ feet lay the golden corn, +While her hands were raised, to invert a horn +That was filled with a sweet and mellow store, +And the purple clusters were hanging o'er. +She bade me seize on the fruit that should last +When the harvest was gone, and Autumn had past. +But, when I had paused to make the choice, +I saw no bark! and I heard no voice! + +Then I looked on a sight that chilled my blood! +'Twas a mass of ice, where an old man stood +On his frozen float; while his shrivelled hand +Had clenched, as a staff by which to stand, +A whitened branch that the blast had broke +From the lifeless trunk of an aged oak. +The icicles hung from the naked limb, +And the old man's eye was sunken and dim. +But his scattering locks were silver bright, +His beard with gathering frost was white; +The tears congealed on his furrowed cheek, +His garb was thin, and the winds were bleak. +He faintly uttered, while drawing near, +"_Winter_, the death of the short-lived year, +Can yield thee nought, as I downward tend +To the boundless sea, where the Seasons end! +But I trust from others, who've gone before, +Thou'st clothed thy form, and supplied thy store +And now, what tidings am I to bear +Of thee--for I shall be questioned there?" + +I asked my mother, who o'er me bent, +What all this show of the Seasons meant? +She said 'twas a picture of Life, I saw; +And the useful moral myself must draw! + +I woke, and found that thy song was stilled, +And the sun's bright beams my room had filled! +But I think, my Cricket, I long shall keep +In mind the dream of my morning sleep! + + + + +=Fanny Spy= + +Lucy, Lucy, come away! + Never climb for things so high. +Don't you know, the other day, + What fell out with Fanny Spy? + +Fanny spied, a loaf of cake, + Wisely set above her reach; +Yet did Fanny think to make + In its tempting side a breach. + +When she thought the family + Out of sight and hearing too, +Forth a polished table she + Quickly to the closet drew. + +First, she stepped upon a chair; + Then the table--then a shelf; +Thinking she securely there + Might, unnoticed, help herself. + +Then she seized a heavy slice, + Leaving in the loaf a cleft +Wider than a dozen mice, + Feasted there all night, had left. + +Stepping backward, Fanny slid + On the table's polished face:-- +Down she came, with dish and lid, + Silver--glass--and china vase! + +In, from every room they rushed, + Father--mother--servants--all, +Thinking all the closet crushed, + By the racket and the fall. + +'Mid the uproar of the house, + Fanny, in her shame and fright, +Wished herself indeed a mouse, + But to run and hide from sight. + +Yet was she to learn how vain, + Poor and worthless, is a wish. +Wishing could not lull her pain, + Hide her shame, nor mend a dish. + +There she lay, but could not speak; + For a tooth had made a pass +Through her lip; and to her cheek + Clung a piece of shivered glass. + +From her altered features gushed + Rolling tears, and streaming gore; +While, untasted still, and crushed, + Lay her cake upon the floor. + +Then the doctor hurried in: + Fanny at his needle swooned, +As he held her crimson chin, + And together stitched the wound. + +Now her face a scar must wear, + Ever till her dying day! +Questioned how it happened there, + What can blushing Fanny say? + + + + +=Sudden Elevation; or The Empaled Butterfly= + +"Ho!" said the Butterfly, "here am I, + Up in the air, who used to lie + Flat on the ground, for the passers by + To treat with utter neglect! + But none will suspect that I am the same; + With a bright, new coat, and a different name; +The piece of nothingness whence I came + In me they'll never detect. + +"That horrible night in the chrysalis, + Which brought me at length to a day like this, + In a form of beauty--a state of bliss, + Was little enough to give + For freedom to range from bower to bower, + To flirt with the buds, and flatter the flower, + And bask in the sunbeams hour by hour, + The envy of all that live. + +"Why, this is a world of curious things, + Where those who crawl, and those that have wings, + Are ranked in the classes of beggars, and kings, + No matter how much the worth + May be on the side of those who creep, + Where the vain, the light, and the bold will sweep, + Others from notice, and proudly keep + Uppermost on the earth! + +"Many a one that has loathed the sight + Of the piteous worm, will take delight + In welcoming me, as I look so bright + In my new and beautiful dress. + But some I shall pass with a scornful glance, + Some, with an elegant _nonchalance_; + And others will woo me, till I advance + To give them a slight caress." + +"Ha, ha!" said the Pin, "you are just the one +Through which I'm commissioned, at once, to run +From back to breast, till, your fluttering done, + Your form may be fairly shown. +And when my point shall have reached your heart, +'T will be as a balm to the wounded part, +To think how you're to be copied by art, + And your beauty will all be known!" + + + + +=The Stricken Bird= + +Here's the last food your poor mother can bring! + Take it, my suffering brood. +Oh! they have stricken me under the wing; + See, it is dripping with blood! + +Fair was the morn, and I wished them to rise, + Enjoying its beauties with me. +The air was all fragrance--all splendor the skies, + While bright shone the earth and the sea. + +Little I thought, when so freely I went, + Employing my earliest breath, +To wake them with song, it could be their intent + To pay me with arrows and death! + +Fear that my nestlings would feel them forgot, + Helped me a moment to fly; +Else I had given up life on the spot, + Under my murderer's eye. + +Yet, I can never brood o'er you again, + Closing you under my breast! +Its coldness would chill you; my blood would but stain + And spoil the warm down of your nest. + +Ere the night-coming, your mother will lie, + All motionless, under the tree; +Where, deafened, and silent, I still shall be nigh, + While you will be moaning for me! + + + + +=The Young Sportsman= + +Harry had a dog and gun; +And he loved to set the one, +Barking, out upon the run, + While he held the other, +Often charged so heavily, +'Twas a dangerous thing to be +With so young a wight as he + Mindless of his mother. + +Earnestly she warned her child +To forego a sport so wild; +While he, turning, frowned or smiled, + And away would sidle. +For, to give him short and long, +Harry had a head so strong, +In the right or in the wrong, + It was hard to bridle. + +On his gunning madly bent, +Often in his clothes a rent +Told the reckless way he went, + Over hedge and brambles. +Homeward then would Harry slouch, +With his gun and empty pouch, +Looking like a scaramouch + Coming from his rambles. + +Sometimes when he scaled a wall, +Headlong there to pitch and fall, +Ratling stones, and gun and all. + Down together tumbled. +Tray would bark to tell the news +Of his master with a bruise, +Hatless, and with grated shoes, + Lying flat and humbled! + +Where he saw the bushes stirred, +Harry, sure of hare or bird, +Drew,--and at a flash was heard + Noise like little thunder. +When he ran his game to find, +Disappointment 'mazed his mind;-- +Finding he'd but shot the wind, + Dumb he stood with wonder! + +Over muddy pool or bog, +Not so nimble as his dog, +When he walked the plank or log, + There his balance losing, +Splash! he went--a rueful plight! +If his face before was white, +'Twas like morning turned to night, + Much against his choosing. + +Now, like many a hasty one, +Whether quadruped or gun, +Or a mother's wayward son + Given to disaster, +Harry's gun was rather quick; +And it had a naughty trick,-- +It would snap itself, and kick + Fiercely at its master. + +So, this snappish habit grew +With a power for him to rue; +Just as all bad habits do + Grow, as age increases. +When, one day, with noise and smoke, +Over-charged, the barrel broke, +Harry's hand the mischief spoke-- + It was blown to pieces! + +Tray came crouching round, and growled,-- +Saw the gore, and whined, and howled, +While his owner groaned and scowled, + And the blood was running. +With the horrors of his state, +And with anguish desperate, +Then poor Harry owned too late, + He was _sick of gunning_! + +While his mother bent to mourn +As her froward son was borne, +With his hand all burnt and torn, + Faint and pale, before her, +Harry's pain must be endured,-- +And the wound--it might be cured; +But, for fingers uninsured, + There was no restorer! + + + + +=The Pebble and the Acorn= + +"I am a Pebble! I yield to none!" +Were the swelling words of a tiny stone, +"Nor time nor season can alter me; +I am abiding, while ages flee. +The pelting hail and the drizzling rain +Have tried to soften me, long, in vain; +And the dew has tenderly sought to melt, +Or touch my heart; but it was not felt. +There's none to tell you about my birth, +For I am as old as the big, round earth. +The children of men arise, and pass +Out of the world, like blades of grass; +And many foot that on me has trod +Is gone from sight, and under the sod! +I am a Pebble! but who art _thou_, +Rattling along from the restless bough?" + +The Acorn was shocked at this rude salute, +And lay for a moment abashed and mute: +She never before had been so near +This gravelly ball, the mundane sphere; +And she felt for a time at loss to know +How to answer a thing so coarse and low. +But to give reproof of a nobler sort +Than the angry look, or the keen retort, +At length she said, in a gentle tone, +"Since it has happened that I am thrown, +From the lighter element where I grew, +Down to another, so hard and new, +And beside a personage so august, +Abased, I'll cover my head with dust, +And quick retire from the sight of one +Whom time, nor season, nor storm, nor sun, +Nor the gentle dew, nor the grinding heel +Has ever subdued, or made to feel!" +And soon in the earth she sank away +From the cheerless spot where the Pebble lay. + +But 'twas not long ere the soil was broke +By the jeering head of an infant oak! +As it arose, and its branches spread, +The Pebble looked up, and, wondering, said, +"Ah, modest Acorn! never to tell +What was enclosed in its simple shell;-- +That the pride of the forest was folded up +In the narrow space of its little cup!-- +And meekly to sink in the darksome earth, +Which proves that nothing could hide her worth! +And O, how many will tread on me, +To come and admire the beautiful tree, +Whose head is towering towards the sky, +Above such a worthless thing as I! +Useless and vain, a cumberer here, +Have I been idling from year to year. +But never, from this, shall a vaunting word +From the humbled Pebble again be heard, +Till something without me or within +Shall show the purpose for which I've been!" +The Pebble could ne'er its vow forget, +And it lies there wrapt in silence yet. + + + + +=The Grasshopper and the Ant= + +"Ant, look at me!" a young grasshopper said, +As nimbly he sprang from his green, summer-bed, +"See how I'm going to skip over your head, + And could o'er a thousand like you! +Ant, by your motion alone, I should judge +That Nature ordained you a slave and a drudge, +For ever and ever to keep on the trudge, + And always find something to do. + +"Oh! there is nothing like having our day-- +Taking our pleasure and ease while we may-- +Bathing ourselves in the bright, mellow ray + That comes from the warm, golden sun! +Whilst I am up in the light and the air, +You, a sad picture of labor and care, +Still have some hard, heavy burden to bear, + And work that you never get done. + +"I have an exercise healthful and good, +For tuning the nerves and digesting the food-- +Graceful gymnastics for stirring the blood + Without the _gross purpose of use_ +Ant, let me tell you 'tis not _a la mode_ +To plod like a pilgrim, and carry a load, +Perverting the limbs that for grace were bestowed, + By such a plebeian abuse! + +"While the whole world with provisions is filled, +Who would keep toiling and toiling, to build +And lay in a store for himself, till he's killed + With work that another might do? +Come! drop your budget, and just give a spring; +Jump on a grass-blade, and balance and swing; +Soon you'll be light as a gnat on the wing, + Gay as a grasshopper, too!" + +Ant trudged along, while the grasshopper sung, +Minding her business and holding her tongue, +Until she got home her own people among; + But these were her thoughts on the road. +"What will become of that poor, idle one +When the light sports of the summer are done? +And, where is the covert to which he may run + To find a safe winter abode? + +"Oh! if I only could tell him how sweet +Toil makes my rest and the morsel I eat, +While hope gives a spur to my little black feet, + He'd never pity my lot! +He'd never ask me my burden to drop, +To join in his folly--to spring, and to hop; +And thus make the ant and her labor to stop, + When time, I am certain, would not. + +"When the cold frost all the herbage has nipped, +When the bare branches with ice-drops are tipped, +Where will the grasshopper then be, that skipped + So careless and lightly to-day? +Frozen to death! '_a sad picture_,' indeed, +Of reckless indulgence and what must succeed, +That all his gymnastics can't shelter or feed, + Or quicken his pulse into play! + +"I must prepare for a winter to come, +I shall be glad of a home and a crumb, +When my frail form out of doors would be numb, + And I in the snow-storm should die. +Summer is lovely, but soon will be past. +Summer has plenty not always to last. +Summer's the time for the ant to make fast + Her stores for a future supply!" + + + + +=The Rose-Bud of Autumn= + +Come out--pretty Rose-Bud,--my lone, timid one! +Come forth from thy green leaves, and peep at the sun! +For little he does, in these dull autumn hours, +At height'ning of beauty, or laughing with flowers. + +His beams, on thy tender young cheek as he plays, +Will give it a blush that no other could raise: +Thy fine silken petals they'll softly unfold, +Thy pure bosom filling with spices and gold! + +I would not instruct thee in coveting wealth; +Yet beauty, we know, is the offspring of health; +And health, the fair daughter of freedom! is bright +From drinking the breezes, and feasting on light. + +Then, come, little gem, from thy covert look out; +And see what the glad, golden sun is about! +His shafts, do they strike thee, new charms will impart, +Thy form making fairer, and richer, thy heart. + +Occasion, sweet Bud, is for thee and for me: +This hour it may give what again ne'er shall be. +O, let not the sunshine of life pass away, +Nor touch both our eye and our heart with its ray! + + + + +=Frost, the Winter-Sprite= + +The Frost looked forth on a still, clear night, +And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight; +So through the valley, and over the height + I'll silently take my way. +I will not go on like that blustering train, +The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain, +That make so much bustle and noise in vain. + But I'll be as busy as they!" + +He flew up, and powdered the mountain's crest; +He lit on the trees, and their boughs he drest +With diamonds and pearls;--and over the breast + Of the quivering Lake he spread +A bright coat of mail that it need not fear +The glittering point of many a spear +That he hung on its margin, far and near, + Where a rock was rearing its head. + +He went to the windows of those who slept, +And over each pane, like a fairy crept; +Wherever he breathed--wherever he stepped-- + Most beautiful things were seen +By morning's first light!--there flowers and trees, +With bevies of birds, and swarms of bright bees;-- +There were cities--temples, and towers; and these, + All pictured in silvery sheen! + +But one thing he did that was hardly fair-- +He peeped in the cupboard, and, finding there +That none had remembered for him to prepare, + "Now, just to set them a-thinking, +I'll bite their rich basket of fruit," said he, +"This burly old pitcher--I'll burst it in three! +And the glass with the water they've left for me + Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking!" + + + + +=Vivy Vain= + +Miss Vain was all given to dress-- +Too fond of gay clothing; and so, + She'd gad about town + Just to show a new gown, +As a train-band their color to show. + +Her head being empty and light, +Whene'er she obtained a new hat, + With pride in her air, + She'd go round, here and there, +For all whom she knew to see that. + +Her folly was chiefly in this: +More highly she valued fine looks, + Than virtue or truth, + Or devoting her youth +To usefulness, friendship, or books. + +Her passion for show was unchecked; +And therefore, it happened one day, + Arrayed in bright hues, + And with new hat and shoes, +Miss Vain walked abroad for display. + +She took the most populous streets. +To cause but aversion in those, + Who saw how she prinked, + And the bystanders winked. +While the boys cried, "Halloo! there she goes!" + +It chanced, that, in passing on way, +She came near a pool, and a green + With fence close and high; + And, as Vivy drew nigh, +A donkey stood near it unseen. + +He put his mouth over its top, +The moment she came by his place; + And gave a loud bray + In her ear, when, away +She sprang, shrieked, and fell on her face. + +She thought she was swallowed alive, +Awhile upon earth lying flat; + And the terrible sound + Seemed to furrow the ground +She embraced in her fine gown and hat. + +She gathered herself up, and ran, +Yet heeded not whither or whence, + To flee from the roar, + That continued to pour +Behind her, from over the fence. + +In passing a slope near the pool, +She slipped and rolled down to its brim; + The geese gave a shout, + And at length hissed her out +Of the bounds, where they'd gathered to swim. + +In turning a corner, she met +Abruptly, the horns of a cow + That mooed, while the cur, + At her heels, turned from her, +And aimed at Miss Vain his "bow-wow." + +Then Vivy's bright ribbons and skirt, +As she flew, flirted high on the wind; + The children at play, + Paused to see one so gay, +And all in a flutter behind. + +A group of glad schoolboys came by: +Said they, "So it seems, that to-day, + Miss Vain carries marks + At which the dog barks, +And that make sober Long-Ears to bray." + +And when, all bedraggled and pale, +Poor Vivy approached her own door, + She went, swift and straight + As a dart, through the gate, +Abhorring the gay gear she wore. + +She sat down, and thought of the scene +With humiliation and tears: + The words, and the noise + Of the brutes and the boys +Were echoing still in her ears. + +She reasoned, and came at the cause, +Resolving that cause to remove; + And thence, her desire + Was for modest attire, +And her heart and her mind to improve. + +And soon, all who knew her before +Remarked on the change and the gain + In mind, and in mien, + And in dress, that were seen +In the once flashy Miss Vivy Vain. + + + + +=The Lost Kite= + +"My kite! my kite! I've lost my kite! +Oh! when I saw the steady flight, +With which she gained her lofty height, +How could I know, that letting go +That naughty string, would bring so low +My pretty, buoyant, darling kite, +To pass for ever out of sight? + +"A purple cloud was sailing by, +With silver fringes, o'er the sky; +And then I thought, it seemed so nigh, +I'd make my kite go up and light +Upon its edge, so soft and bright; +To see how noble, high and proud +She'd look, while riding on a cloud! + +"As near her shining mark she drew +I clapped my hands; the line slipped through +My silly fingers; and she flew, +Away! away! in airy play, +Right over where the water lay! +She veered and fluttered, swung and gave +A plunge, then vanished with the wave! + +"I never more shall want to look +On that false cloud, or babbling brook; +Nor e'er to feel the breeze that took +My dearest joy, to thus destroy +The pastime of your happy boy. +My kite! my kite! how sad to think +She flew so high, so soon to sink!" + +"Be this," the mother said, and smiled, +"A lesson to thee, simple child! +And when by fancies vain and wild, +As that which cost the kite that's lost, +The busy brain again is crossed, +Of shining vapor then beware, +Nor trust thy joys to fickle air. + +"I have a darling treasure, too, +That sometimes would, by slipping through +My guardian hands, the way pursue, +From which, more tight than thou thy kite, +I hold my jewel, new and bright, +Lest he should stray without a guide, +To drown my hopes in sorrow's tide!" + + + + +=A Summer-Morning Rumble= + +Oh! the happy Summer hours. +With their butterflies and flowers, +And the birds among the bowers + Sweetly singing;-- +With the spices from the trees, +Vines, and lilies, while the bees +Come floating on the breeze, + Honey bringing! + +All the East was rosy red, +When we woke and left our bed; +And to gather flowers we sped, + Gay and early. +Every clover-top was wet, +And the spider's silken net +With a thousand dew-drops set, + Pure and pearly. + +With their modest eyes of blue +Were the violets peeping through +Tufts of grasses, where they grew, + Full of beauty, +At the lamb in snowy white, +O'er the meadow bounding light, +And the crow just taking flight, + Grave and sooty. + +On our floral search intent, +Still away, away we went,-- +Up and down the rugged bent,-- + Through the wicket,-- +Where the rock with water drops,-- +Through the bushes and the copse,-- +Where the greenwood pathway stops + In the thicket. + +We heard the fountain gush, +And the singing of the thrush; +And we saw the squirrel's brush + In the hedges, +As along his back 't was thrown, +Like a glory of his own. +While the sun behind it, shone + Through its edges. + +All the world appeared so fair, +And so fresh and free the air,-- +Oh! it seemed that all the care + In creation +Belonged to God alone; +And that none beneath his throne, +Need to murmur or to groan + At his station. + +Dear little brother Will! +He has leaped the hedge and rill,-- +He has clambered up the hill, + Ere the beaming +Of the rising sun, to sweep +With its golden rays the steep, +Till he's tired, and dropped asleep, + Sweetly dreaming. + +See, he threw aside his cap, +And the roses from his lap, +When his eyes were, for the nap, + Slowly closing: +Wit his sunny curls outspread, +On its fragrant mossy bed, +Now his precious infant head + Is reposing. + +He is dreaming of his play-- +How he rose at break of day, +And he frolicked all the way + On his ramble. +And before his fancy's eye, +He has still the butterfly +Mocking him, where not so high + He could scramble. + +In his cheek the dimples dip, +And a smile is on his lip, +While his tender finger-tip + Seems as aiming +At some wild and lovely thing +That is out upon the wing, +Which he longs to catch and bring + Home for taming. + +While he thus at rest is laid +In the old oak's quiet shade, +Let's cull our flowers to braid, + Or unite them +In bunches trim and neat, +That for every friend we meet, +We may have a token sweet + To delight them. + +'Tis the very crowning art +Of a happy, grateful heart +To others to impart + Of its pleasure. +Thus its joys can never cease, +For it brings an inward peace, +Like an every day increase + Of a treasure. + + + + +=The Shoemaker= + +"Honor and shame from no condition rise. + Act well your part:--there all the honor lies." + +The shoemaker sat amid wax and leather, + With lapstone over his knee; +Where, snug in his shop, he defied all weather, +A-drawing his quarters and sole together: + A happy old man was he! + +This happy old man was so wise and knowing, + The worth of his time he knew. +He bristled his ends, and he kept them going; +And felt to each moment a stitch was owing, + Until he got round the shoe. + +Of every deed that his wax was sealing, + The closing was firm and fast. +The prick of his steel never caused a feeling +Of pain to the toe, and his skill in heeling + Was perfect, and true to the last! + +Whenever you gave him a foot to measure. + With gentle and skilful hand, +He took its proportions, with looks of pleasure, +As if you were giving the costliest treasure, + Or dubbing him lord of the land. + +And many a one did he save from getting + A fever, or cold or cough: +For many a sole did he save from wetting, +When, whether in water or snow 'twas setting, + His shoeing would keep them off + +And when he had done with his making and mending, + With hope and a peaceful breast, +Resigning his awl, as his thread was ending, +He slid from his bench, to the grave descending, + As high as a king to rest! + + + + +=The Snow-Storm= + +It snows! it snows! from out the sky +The feathered flakes, how fast they fly, +Like little birds, that don't know why +They're on the chase, from place to place, +While neither can the other trace! +It snows, it snows! a merry play +Is o'er us, on this sombre day. + +As dancers in time's airy hall, +That not a moment holds them all, +While some keep up, and others fall, +The atoms shift; then, thick and swift, +They drive along to form the drift, +That weaving up, so dazzling white, +Is rising like a wall of light. + +But now the wind comes, whistling loud, +To snatch and waft it, as a cloud, +Or giant phantom in a shroud. +It spreads,--it curls,--it mounts and whirls; +At length a mighty wing unfurls; +And then, away!--but where, none knows, +Or ever will.--It snows! it snows! + +To-morrow will the storm be done; +Then out will come the golden sun! +And we shall, we shall see, upon the run +Before his beams, in sparkling streams, +What now a curtain o'er him seems. +And thus, with life it ever goes;-- +'Tis shade and shine! It snows, it snows! + + + + +=The Whirlwind= + +Whirlwind, Whirlwind, whither art thou hieing, + Snapping off the flowers young and fair;-- +Setting all the chaff and the withered leaves a-flying,-- + Tossing up the dust in the air? + +"I," said the Whirlwind, "cannot stop for talking! + Give me up your cap, my little man; +And the polished stick, that you will not need for walking. + While you run to catch them, if you can! + +"You, pretty maiden--none has time to tell her + I am coming, ere I shall be there. +I will twirl her zephyr--snatch her light umbrella, + Seize her hat, and snarl her glossy hair!" + +On went the Whirlwind, showing many capers + One would hardly deem it meet to tell;-- +Dusting Judge and Parson--flirting gown and papers,-- + Discomposing matron, beau and belle. + +"Whisk!" from behind came the long and sweeping feather, + Round the head of old Chanticleer:-- +Plumed and plumeless biped felt gust together, + In a way they wouldn't like to hear. + +Snug in his arbor sat a scholar, musing + Calmly o'er the philosophic page: +"Flap!" went the leaves of the volume he was using, + Cutting short the lecture of the sage. + +"Hey!" said the bookworm, "this I think is taking + Rather too much liberty with me! +Yet I'll not resent it; being bent on making + Use of every thing I hear and see. + +"Many, I know, will not their anger stifle, + When as little cause as this, they find +To let it kindle up; but minding every trifle + Is profitless as quarrels with the wind. + +"Forth to his business when the Whirlwind sallies, + He is all alive to get it done;-- +He on his pathway never lags nor dallies; + But is ever up, and on the run. + +"Though ever whirling, never growing dizzy; + Motion gives him buoyancy and power. +All who have known him own that he is busy, + Doing much in half a fleeting hour. + +"Oh! there is nothing--when our work's before us,-- + Like _despatch;_ for, while our time is brief, +Some sweeping blast may suddenly come o'er us, + Lose our place, and turn another leaf! + +"Whirlwind, Whirlwind, though you're but a flurry, + And so odd the business you pursue;-- +Though you come on, and are off, in such a hurry, + I have caught a hint; and now adieu!" + + + + +=The Disobedient Skater Boys= + +Said William to George, "It is New-Year's day! +And now for the pond and the merriest play! +So, on with your cap; and away, away, + We'll off for a frolic and slide, +Be quick--be quick, if you would not be chid +For doing what father and mother forbid; +And under your coat let the skates be hid; + Then over the ice we'll glide." + +They're up, and they're off; on their run-away feet +They fasten the skates, when, away they fleet, +Far over the pond, and beyond retreat, + Unconscious of danger near. +But lo! the ice is beginning to bend-- +It cracks--it cracks--and their feet descend! +To whom can they look as a helper--a friend? + Their faces are pale with fear. + +In their flight to the pond, they had caught the eye +Of a neighboring peasant, who, lingering nigh, +Aware of their danger, and hearing their cry, + Now hastens to give them aid. +As home they are brought, all dripping and cold, +To all who their piteous plight behold, +The worst of the story is plainly told-- + Their parents were disobeyed! + + + + +=Winter and Spring= + +"Adieu!" Father Winter sadly said + To the world, when about withdrawing, +With his old white wig half off his head, + And his icicle fingers thawing;-- + +"Adieu! I'm going to the rocks and caves, + And must leave all here behind me; +Or perhaps I shall sink in the Northern waves, + So deep that none can find me." + +"Good luck! good luck, to your hoary locks!" + Said the gay young Spring, advancing; +"You may take your rest 'mid the caves and rocks, + While I o'er the earth am dancing. + +"But there is not a spot where you have trod. + You hard, old clumsy fellow,-- +Not a hill, nor a field, nor a single sod, + But I must make haste to mellow. + +"I then shall carpet them o'er with grass, + To look so bright and cheering, +That none will regret having let you pass + Far out of sight and hearing. + +"The fountains that you locked up so tight, + When I shall give them a sunning, +Will sparkle and play in my warmth and light, + And the streams set off to running. + +"I'll speak in the earth to the palsied root, + That under your reign was sleeping; +I'll teach it the way in the dark to shoot, + And draw out the vine to creeping. + +"The boughs that you cased so close in ice, + It was chilling e'en to behold them, +I'll deck all over with buds so nice; + My breath can alone unfold them. + +"And when all the trees are with blossoms drest, + The bird, with her song so merry, +Will come to the branches to build her nest, + With a view to the future cherry. + +"The earth will show by her loveliness, + The wonders that I am doing; +While the skies look down with a smile, to bless + The way that I'm pursuing!" + +Said Winter, "Then I would have you learn, + By me, my gay new-comer, +To push off too, when it comes your turn, + And yield your place to Summer!" + + + + +=Tom Tar= + +I'll tell you now about Tom Tar, + The sailor stout and bold, +Who o'er the ocean roamed so far, + To countries new and old. + +Tom was a man of thousands! he + Would ne'er complain nor frown, +Though high and low the wind and sea + Might toss him up and down. + +Amid the waters dark and deep, + He had the happy art, +When all around was storm, to keep + Fair weather in his heart. + +Though winds were wild, and waves were rough, + He'd always cast about, +And find within he'd calm enough + To stand the storms without. + +"For nought," said Tom, "is ever gained + By sighs for what we lack; +Nor can it mend a vessel strained, + To let our temper crack. + +"And sure I am, the worst of storms, + That any man should dread, +Is that which in the bosom forms, + And musters to the head." + +Serene, and ever self-possessed, + His mess-mates he would cheer, +And often put their fears to rest, + When dangers gathered near. + +If on the rocks the ship was cast, + And surges swept the deck, +Tom Tar was ever found the last + Who would forsake the wreck. + +And when his only hat and shoes + The waters plucked from him, +Why, these, he felt, were small to lose, + Could he keep up and swim! + +Then through the billows, foam, and spray, + That rose on every hand, +He'd, somehow, always find a way + Of getting safe to land. + +The secret was, the fear and love + Of Heaven had filled his soul: +His trust was firm in One above, + Howe'er the seas might roll. + +And Tom had sailed to many a shore, + And many a wonder seen: +The stories he could tell would more + Than fill a magazine. + +He'd seen mankind in every state, + Almost, that man can know; +But envied not the rich and great, + Nor scorned the poor and low. + +The monarch in his sight had stood, + Superb, in glittering vest; +The savage, too, that roams the wood, + In skins and feathers dressed. + +The tribes of many an isle he knew; + And beasts, and birds, and flowers, +And fruits, of many a shape and hue, + In lands remote from ours. + +He'd seen the wide-winged albatros + Her breast in ocean lave; +And bold sea-lions, playing, toss + Their heads above the wave. + +He'd seen the dolphin, while his back + Went flashing to the sun, +A swarm of flying fish attack, + And swallow every one! + +The porpoise and the spouting whale + Had sported in his view; +And hungry sharks pursued his sail, + As if they'd eat the crew. + +And ever, when Tom Tar got home, + The children, at their play, +Were glad to have the Sailor come, + And greet them by the way. + +Then, oft, some curious stone, or shell, + The laughing girls and boys +Would find, upon their aprons fell, + To put among their toys. + +"These pearly shells," said he, "I found + Where gloomy waters roar: +These polished stones, so smooth and round, + Rough surges washed ashore. + +"Though small to us a pebble seems, + 'Tis made and marked by One, +Who gave the warmth, and lit the beams + Of yon great shining sun. + +"And when these pretty shells I find, + Along the ocean strand, +Their beauteous finish brings to mind + Their Maker's perfect hand. + +"When on the wildest shore I'm thrown + And far from human eye, +I think of him who made the stone, + And shell, and sea, and sky. + +"For he's my Friend and I am his! + Though strong and cold the blast, +My safest guide I know he is + Where'er my lot is cast." + +When Tom passed on, the children said, + "These treasures from afar +He brought us! Blessings on his head! + For he's a good Tom Tar!" + + + + +=The Envious Lobster= + +A FABLE + +A Lobster from the water came, +And saw another, just the same +In form and size; but gayly clad +In scarlet clothing; while she had +No other clothing on her back +Than her old suit of greenish black. + +"So ho!" she cried, "'tis very fine! +Your dress was yesterday like mine; +And in the mud below the sea, +You lived, a crawling thing like me. +But now, because you've come ashore, +You've grown so proud, that what you wore-- +Your strong old suit of bottle-green, +You think improper to be seen. + +"To tell the truth, I don't see why +You should be better dressed than I. +And I should like a suit of red +As bright as yours, from feet to head. +I think I'm quite as good as you, +And might be clothed in scarlet too." + +"Will you be _boiled_" her owner said, +"To be arrayed in glowing red? +Come here, my discontented miss, +And hear the scalding kettle hiss! +Will you go in, and there be boiled, +To have your dress, so old and soiled, +Exchanged for one of scarlet hue?" +"Yes," cried the Lobster, "that I'll do, +And twice as much, if needs must be, +To be as gayly clad as she." +Then, in she made a fatal dive, +And never more was seen alive! + +Now, if you ever chance to know, +Of one as fond of dress and show +As that vain Lobster, and withal +As envious you'll perhaps recall +To mind her folly, and the plight +In which she reappeared to sight. + +She had obtained a bright array, +But for it, thrown her life away! +Her life and death were best untold, +But for the moral they unfold! + + + + +=The Crocus' Soliloquy= + +Down in my solitude, under the snow, + Where nothing cheering can reach me-- +Here, without light to see how I should grow, + I trust to nature to teach me. +I'll not despair, nor be idle, nor frown; + Though locked in so gloomy a dwelling! +My leaves shall shoot up, while my root's running down, + And the bud in my bosom is swelling. + +Soon as the frost will get off from my bed, + From this cold dungeon to free me, +I will peer up, with my bright little head; + All will be joyful to see me! +Then from my heart will young petals diverge, + Like rays of the sun from their focus; +When I from the darkness of earth shall emerge, + All complete, as a beautiful CROCUS! + +Gayly arrayed in gold, crimson, and green, + When to their view I have risen; +Will they not wonder how one so serene + Came from so dismal a prison? +Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower + A wise little lesson may borrow:-- +If patient to-day through the dreariest hour, + We shall come out the brighter to-morrow! + + + + +=The Bee, Clover, and Thistle= + +A bee from the hive one morning flew, + A tune to the daylight humming; +And away she went o'er the sparkling dew, +Where the grass was green, the violet blue, + And the gold of the sun was coming. + +And what first tempted the roving Bee, + Was a head of the crimson clover. +"I've found a treasure betimes!" said she, +"And perhaps a greater I might not see, + If I travelled the field all over. + +"My beautiful Clover, so round and red, + There is not a thing in twenty, +That lifts this morning so sweet a head +Above its leaves, and its earthy bed, + With so many horns of plenty!" + +The flow'rets were thick which the Clover crowned, + As the plumes in the helm of Hector; +And each had a cell that was deep and round, +Yet it would not impart, as the Bee soon found, + One drop of its precious nectar. + +She cast in her eye where the honey lay, + And her pipe she began to measure; +But she saw at once it was clear as day, +That it would not go down one half the way + To the place of the envied treasure.[1] + +Said she, in a pet, "One thing I know," + As she rose, and in haste departed, +"It is not those of the _greatest show,_ +To whom for a favor 'tis best to go, + Or that prove most generous-hearted!" + +A fleecy flock came into the field; + When one of its members followed +The scent of the clover, till between +Her nibbling teeth its head was seen, + And then in a moment swallowed. + +"Ha, ha!" said the Bee, as the Clover died, + "Her fortune's smile was fickle! +And now I can get my wants supplied +By a homely flower, with a rough outside. + And even with scale and prickle!" + +Then she flew to one, that, by man and beast + Was shunned for its stinging bristle; +But it injured not the Bee in the least; +And she filled her pocket, and had a feast, + From the bloom of the purple Thistle. + +The generous Thistle's life was spared + In the home where the Bee first found her, +Till she grew so old she was hoary-haired, +And her snow-white locks with the silk compared, + As they shone where the sun beamed round her. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: The clover-floret is so small and deep in its tube, +that the bee cannot reach the honey at the bottom.] + + + + +=Poor Old Paul= + +Poor old Paul! he has lost a foot; + And see him go hobbling along, +With the stump laced up in that clumsy boot, + Before the gathering throng! + +And now, as he has to pass so many, + And suffer the gaze of all, +If each would only bestow a penny, + 'Twere something for poor old Paul. + +His cheek is wan, and his garb is thin; + His eye is sunken and dim; +He looks as if the winter had been + Making sad work with him. + +While he is trying to hide the tatter, + Mark how his looks will fall! +Nobody needs to ask the matter + With poor, old, hungry Paul. + +All that he has in his dingy sack + Is morsels of bread and meat,-- +The leavings, to burden his aged back, + Which others refused to eat. + +So now I am sure, you will all be willing + To part with a sum so small +As each will spare, who makes up a shilling + To comfort him--Poor old Paul! + + + + +=The Sea-Eagle's Fall= + +An Eagle, on his towering wing, + Hung o'er the summer sea; +And ne'er did airy, feathered king + Look prouder there than he. + +He spied the finny tribes below, + Amid the limpid brine; +And felt it now was time to know + Whereon he was to dine. + +He saw a noble, shining fish + So near the surface swim, +He felt at once a hungry wish + To make a feast of him. + +Then straight he took his downward course; + A sudden plunge he gave; +And, pouncing, seized, with murderous force, + His tempter in the wave. + +He struck his talons firm and deep, + Within the slippery prize, +In hope his ruffian grasp to keep, + And high and dry to rise. + +But ah! it was a fatal stoop, + As ever monarch made; +And, for that rash--that cruel swoop, + He soon most dearly paid! + +The fish had too much gravity + To yield to this attack. +His feet the eagle could not free + From off the scaly back. + +He'd seized on one too strong and great; + His mastery now was gone! +And on, by that preponderant weight, + And downward, he was drawn. + +Nor found he here the element + Where he could move with grace; +And flap, and dash, his pinions went, + In ocean's wrinkled face. + +They could not bring his talons out, + His forfeit life to save; +And planted thus, he writhed about + Upon his gaping grave. + +He raised his head, and gave a shriek, + To bid adieu to light: +The water bubbled in his beak-- + He sank from human sight! + +The children of the sea came round, + The foreigner to view. +To see an airy monarch drowned, + To them was something new + +Some gave a quick, astonished look, + And darted swift away; +While some his parting plumage shook, + And nibbled him for prey. + +O! who that saw that bird at noon + So high and proudly soar, +Could think how awkwardly--how soon, + He'd fall to rise no more? + +Though glory, majesty, and pride + Were his an hour ago, +Deprived of all, that eagle died, + For stooping once too low! + +Now, have you ever known or heard + Of biped, from his sphere +Descending, like that silly bird + To buy a fish so dear? + + + + +=The Two Thieves= + +A lady, they called her Miss Mouse, + In a slate-colored dress, like a Quaker, +Once lived in a snug little house, + Of which she herself was the maker. + +There lived in another close by, + A dame, whom they called Lady Kitty; +But that she was stationed so nigh, + Miss Mouse often thought a great pity. + +For she, though so soberly clad, + And never inclined to ill-speaking, +Had often a fancy to gad, + Or more than her own might be seeking. + +She did not then like to be scanned, + Or questioned respecting her duty, +When some little theft she had planned, + Or seen coming home with her booty. + +So modest she was, and so shy, + Although an inveterate sinner, +She'd nip out her part of the pie + Before it was brought up to dinner. + +She held that 'twas folly to ask + For what her own wits would allow her; +And, making her way through the cask, + She helped herself well to the flour. + +The candles she scraped to their wicks; + And, mischievous in her invention, +Would do many more naughty tricks, + Which I, as her friend, cannot mention. + +Kit, too, had her living to make, + And yet, she was so above toiling, +She'd sooner attack the beef-steak, + When the cook had prepared it for broiling. + +And so, near a dish of warm toast, + She often most patiently lingered, +To seize her first chance; yet, could boast + That none ever called her _light-fingered_. + +But mending, or minding herself, + She thought would be quite too much labor, +And so peeped about on the shelf, + To spy out the faults of her neighbor. + +For Mouse loved to promenade there, + While Kit would watch close to waylay her; +And once, in the midst of her fare, + Up bounded Miss Kitty to slay her! + +But this was as luckless a jump + As ever Kit made, with the clatter +Of knife, skimmer, spoon, and a thump, + Which she got, as she threw down the platter. + +While Mouse glided under a dish. + Escaping the mortal disaster, +Miss Kitty turned off to a fish, + The breakfast elect for her master. + +Said she to herself, "Tis clear gain,-- + This rarity, fresh from the water, +Will save my white mittens the stain-- + And me from the trouble of slaughter!" + +But her racket, she found to her cost, + The plot had most fatally thickened; +And all hope of mercy was lost, + As Jack's coming footstep was quickened. + +He seized her, and binding her fast. + Declared he could never forgive her; +So Kitty was sentenced and cast, + With a stone at her neck, in the river! + +But Mouse still continued to thieve; + And often, alone in her dwelling, +Would silently laugh in her sleeve, + At the scene in the tale I've been telling-- + +Till once, by a fatal mishap, + The little unfortunate rover +Perceived herself close in a trap, + And felt that her race was now over. + +She knew she must leave all behind; + And thus, in the midst of her terrors, +As every thing rushed to her mind, + Began her confession of errors:-- + +"You'll find, on the word of a Mouse, + Whom hope has for ever forsaken, +The following things in my house, + Which I have unlawfully taken: + +"A cork, that was soaked in the beer, + Which I nibbled until I was merry; +Some kernels of corn from the ear, + The skin and the stone of a cherry:-- + +"Some hemp-seed I took from the bird, + And found most deliriously tasted, +While safe in my covert, I heard + Its owner complain that 'twas wasted:-- + +"You'll find a few cucumber seeds, + Which I thought, if they could but be hollowed, +Would answer to string out for beads; + So the inside of all I have swallowed:-- + +"A few crumbs of biscuit and cheese, + Which I thought might a long time supply me +With luncheon--some rice and split peas, + Which seemed well prepared to keep by me:-- + +"A cluster of curls which I stole + At night from a young lady's toilet, +And made me a bed of it whole, + As tearing it open would spoil it;-- + +"And as, in a long summer day + I'd time both or reading and spelling, +I gnawed up the whole of a play, + And carried it home to my dwelling. + +"I wish you'd set fire to my place; + And pray you at once to despatch me, +That none of my enemy's race, + In the form of Miss Kitty, may catch me!" + +Disgrace thus will follow on vice, + Although for a while it be hidden; +When children, or kittens, or mice, + Will do what they know is forbidden. + + + + +=Jemmy String= + +I knew a little heedless boy, + A child that seldom cared, +If he could get his cake and toy, + How other matters fared. + +He always bore upon his foot + A signal of the thing, +For which, on him his playmates put + The name of Jemmy String. + +No malice in his heart was there; + He had no fault beside, +So great as that of wanting care. + To keep his shoe-strings tied. + +You'd often see him on the run, + To chase the geese about, +While both his shoe-ties were undone, + With one end slipping out. + +He'd tread on one, then down he'd go, + And all around would ring +With bitter cries, and sounds of woe, + That came from Jemmy String. + +And oft, by such a sad mishap, + Would Jemmy catch a hurt; +The muddy pool would catch his cap, + His clothes would catch the dirt! + +Then home he'd hasten through the street, + To tell about his fall; +While, on his little sloven feet, + The cause was plain to all. + +For while he shook his aching hand, + Complaining of the bruise, +The strings were trailing through the sand + From both his loosened shoes. + +One day, his father thought a ride + Would do his children good; +But Jemmy's shoe-strings were untied, + And on the stairs he stood. + +In hastening down to take his place + Upon the carriage seat, +Poor Jemmy lost his joyous face; + Nor could he keep his feet. + +The dragging string had made him trip, + And bump! bump! went his head;-- +The teeth had struck and cut his lip, + And tears and blood were shed. + +His aching wounds he meekly bore; + But with a swelling heart +He heard the carriage from the door, + With all but him, depart. + +This grievous lesson taught him care, + And gave his mind a spring; +For he resolved no more to bear + The name of JEMMY STRING! + + + + +=The Caterpillar= + +"Don't kill me!" Caterpillar said, + As Charles had raised his heel +Upon the humble worm to tread, + As though it could not feel. + +"Don't kill me! and I'll crawl away + To hide awhile, and try +To come and look, another day, + More pleasing to your eye. + +"I know I'm now among the things + Uncomely to your sight; +But by and by on splendid wings + You'll see me high and light! + +"And then, perhaps, you may be glad + To watch me on the flower; +And that you spared the worm you had + To-day within your power!" + +Then Caterpillar went and hid + In some secreted place, +Where none could look on what he did + To change his form and face. + +And by and by, when Charles had quite + Forgotten what I've told, +A Butterfly appeared in sight, + Most beauteous to behold. + +His shining wings were trimmed with gold, + And many a brilliant dye +Was laid upon their velvet fold, + To charm the gazing eye! + +Then, near as prudence would allow, + To Charles's ear he drew +And said, "You may not know me, now + My form and name are new! + +"But I'm the worm that once you raised + Your ready foot to kill! +For sparing me, I long have praised, + And love and praise you still. + +"The lowest reptile at your feet, + When power is not abused, +May prove the fruit of mercy sweet, + By being kindly used!" + + + + +=The Mocking Bird= + + A Mocking Bird was he, + In a bushy, blooming tree, +Imbosomed by the foliage and flower. + And there he sat and sang, + Till all around him rang, +With sounds, from out the merry mimic's bower. + + The little satirist + Piped, chattered, shrieked, and hissed; +He then would moan, and whistle, quack, and caw; + Then, carol, drawl, and croak, + As if he'd pass a joke +On every other winged one he saw. + + Together he would catch + A gay and plaintive snatch, +And mingle notes of half the feathered throng. + For well the mocker knew, + Of every thing that flew, +To imitate the manner and the song. + + The other birds drew near, + And paused awhile to hear +How well he gave their voices and their airs. + And some became amused; + While some, disturbed, refused +To own the sounds that others said were theirs. + + The sensitive were shocked, + To find their honors mocked +By one so pert and voluble as he; + They knew not if 't was done + In earnest or in fun; +And fluttered off in silence from the tree. + + The silliest grew vain, + To think a song or strain +Of theirs, however weak, or loud, or hoarse, + Was worthy to be heard + Repeated by the bird; +For of his wit they could not feel the force. + + The charitable said, + "Poor fellow! if his head +Is turned, or cracked, or has no talent left; + But feels the want of powers, + And plumes itself from ours, +Why, we shall not be losers by the theft." + + The haughty said, "He thus. + It seems, would mimic us, +And steal our songs, to pass them for his own! + But if he only quotes + In honor of our notes, +We then were quite as honored, let alone." + + The wisest said, "If foe + Or friend, we still may know +By him, wherein our greatest failing lies. + So, let us not be moved, + Since first to be improved +By every thing, becomes the truly wise." + + + + +=The Silk-Worm's Will= + +On a plain rush-hurdle a silk-worm lay, +When a proud young princess came that way. +The haughty child of a human king +Threw a sidelong glance at the humble thing, +That received with a silent gratitude +From the mulberry-leaf her simple food; +And shrunk, half scorn, and half disgust, +Away from her sister child of the dust; +Declaring she never yet could see +Why a reptile form like this should be;-- +And that she was not made with nerves so firm, +As calmly to stand by a _crawling worm_! + +With mute forbearance the silk-worm took +The taunting words and the spurning look. + +Alike a stranger to self and pride, +She'd no disquiet from aught beside; +And lived of a meekness and peace possest +Which these debar from the human breast. +She only wished, for the harsh abuse, +To find some way to become of use +To the haughty daughter of lordly man; +And thus did she lay her noble plan +To teach her wisdom, and make it plain +That the humble worm was not made in vain;-- +A plan so generous, deep and high, +That to carry it out, she must even die! + +"No more," said she, "will I drink or eat! +I'll spin and weave me a winding-sheet, +To wrap me up from the sun's clear light, +And hide my form from her wounded sight. +In secret then, till my end draws nigh, +I will toil for her; and when I die, +I'll leave behind, as a farewell boon +To the proud young princess, my whole cocoon, +To be reeled, and wove to a shining lace, +And hung in a veil o'er her scornful face! +And when she can calmly draw her breath +Through the very threads that have caused my death; +When she finds at length, she has nerves so firm, +As to wear the shroud of a _crawling worm_, +May she bear in mind that she walks with pride +In the winding-sheet where the silk-worm died!" + + + + +=Dame Biddy= + +Dame Biddy abode in a coop, + Because it so chanced that dame Biddy +Had round her a family group + Of chicks, young, and helpless, and giddy. + +And when she had freedom to roam, + She fancied the life of a ranger; +And led off her brood, far from home, + To fall into mischief or danger. + +She'd trail through the grass to be mown, + And call all her children to follow; +And scratch up the seeds that were sown, + Then, lie in their places and wallow. + +She'd go where the corn in the hill, + Its first little blade had been shooting, +And try, by the strength of her bill, + To learn if the kernel was rooting. + +And when she went out on a walk + Of pleasure, through thicket and brambles, +The covetous eye of a Hawk + Delighted in marking her rambles. + +"I spy," to himself he would say, + "A prize of which I'll be the winner!" +So down would he pounce on his prey, + And bear off a chicken for dinner. + +The poor frighted matron, that heard + The cry of her youngling in dying, +Would scream at the merciless bird, + That high with his booty was flying. + +But shrieks could not ease her distress, + Nor grief her lost darling recover. +She now had a chicken the less, + For acting the part of a rover. + +And there lay the feathers, all torn. + And flying one way and another, +That still her dear child might have worn, + Had she been more wise as a mother. + +Her owner then thought he must teach + Dame Biddy a little subjection; +And cooped her up, out of the reach + Of hawking, with time for reflection. + +And, throwing a net o'er a pile + Of brush-wood that near her was lying, +He hoped to its meshes to wile + The fowler, that o'er her was flying. + +For Hawk, not forgetting his fare, + And having a taste to renew it, +Sailed round near the coop, high in air, + With cruel intention, to view it. + +The owner then said, "Master Hawk, + If you love my chickens so dearly, +Come down to my yard for a walk, + That you may address them more nearly." + +But, "No," thought the sharp-taloned foe + Of Biddy, "my circuit is higher! +If I to his premises go. + 'Twill be when I see he's not nigh her." + +The Farmer strewd barley, and toled + The chickens the brush to run under, +And left them, while Hawk growing bold, + Thus tempted, came near for his plunder. + +As closer and closer he drew, + With appetite stronger and stronger, +He found he'd but one thing to do, + And plunged, to defer it no longer. + +But now he had come to a pause, + At once in the net-work entangled, +While through it his head and his claws + In hopeless vacuity dangled. + +The chicks saw him hang overhead, + Where they for their barley had huddled; +And all in a flutter they fled, + And soon through the coop holes had scuddled. + +The Farmer came out to his snare, + He saw the bold captive was in it; +And said, "If this play be unfair, + Remember, I did not begin it!" + +He then put a cork on his beak, + The airy assassin disarming, +Unspurred him, and rendered him weak, + By blunting each talent for harming. + +And into the coop he was thrown: + The chickens hid under their mother, +For he, by his feathers was known + As he, who had murdered their brother + +Dame Biddy, beholding his plight, + Determined to show him no quarter, +In action gave vent to her spite; + As motherly tenderness taught her. + +She shouted, and blustered; and then + Attacked the poor captive unfriended; +And you, (who have witnessed a hen + In anger,) may guess how it ended. + +She made him a touching address, + If pecking and scratching could do it; +Till sinking in silent distress, + He perished before she got through it. + +We would not, however, convey + A thought like approving the fury, +That gave, in this summary way, + Punition without judge or jury. + +Whenever 'tis given, it tends + To lessen the angry bestower. +The _fowl_ that inflicts it descends-- + But the _featherless biped_, still lower. + + + + +=Kit With the Rose= + +A Rose-tree stood in the parlor, + When Kit came frolicking by; +So, up went her feet on the window-seat, + To a rose that had caught her eye. + +She gave it a cuff, and it trembled + Beneath her ominous paw; +And while it shook, with a threatening look, + She coveted what she saw. + +Thought she, "What a beautiful toss-ball! + If I could but give it a snap, +Now all are out, nor thinking about + Their rose, or the least mishap!" + +She twisted the stem, and she twirled it; + And seizing the flower it bore, +With the timely aid of her teeth, she made + A leap to the parlor-floor. + +Then over the carpet she tossed it, + All fresh in its morning bloom, +Till, shattered and rent, its leaves were sent + To every side of the room. + +At length, with her sport grown weary, + She laid herself down to sun, +Inclining to doze, forgetting the rose, + And the mischief she'd slily done. + +By and by her young mistress entered, + And uttered a piteous cry, +When she saw the fate of what had so late + Delighted her watchful eye. + +But, where was the one who had spoiled it + Concealing his guilty face? +She had not a clue, whereby to pursue + The rogue to his lurking-place! + +Thought Kit, "I'll keep still till it's over; + And none will suspect it was I." +For the puss awoke, when her mistress spoke; + And she well understood the cry. + +But, mewing at length for her dinner, + Kit's mouth confessed the whole truth: +It opened so wide that her mistress espied + A rose-leaf pierced by her tooth! + +Then, banished was Kit from the parlor, + All covered with shame! And those +Inclined, like her, in secret to err, + Should remember Kit with the Rose. + + + + +=The Captive Butterfly= + +Good morning, pretty Butterfly! + How have you passed the night? +I hope you're gay and glad as I + To see the morning light. + +But, little silent one, methinks + You're in a sober mood. +I wonder if you'd like to drink, + And what you take for food. + +I shut you in my crystal cup, + To let your winglets rest. +And now I want to hold you up, + To see your velvet vest. + +I want to count your tiny toes. + To find your breathing-place, +And touch the downy horn that grows + Each side your pretty face. + +I'd like to see just how you're made, + With streaks and spots and rings; +And wish you'd show me how you played + Your shining, rainbow wings. + +"'T was not," the little prisoner said, + "For want of food or drink, +That, while you slumbered on your bed, + I could not sleep a wink. + +"My wings are pained for want of flight, + My lungs, for want of air. +In bitterness I've passed the night, + And meet the morning's glare. + +"When looking through my prison wall, + So close, and yet so clear, +I see there's freedom there for all, + While I'm a captive here. + +"I've stood upon my feeble feet + Until they're full of pain. +I know that liberty is sweet, + Which I cannot regain. + +"Do I deserve a fate like this, + Who've ever acted well, +Since first I left the chrysalis, + And fluttered from my shell? + +"I've never injured fruit, or flower, + Or man, or bird, or beast; +And such a one should have the power + Of going free, at least. + +"And now, if you will let me quit + My prison-house, the cup, +I'll show you how I sport and flit, + And make my wings go up!" + +The lid was raised; the prisoner said, + "Behold my airy play!" +Then quickly on the wing he fled + Away, away, away! + +From flower to flower he gayly flew, + To cool his aching feet, +And slake his thirst with morning dew, + Where liberty was sweet! + + + + +=The Dissatisfied Angler Boy= + +I'm sorry they let me go down to the brook; +I'm sorry they gave me the line and the hook; +And wish I had staid at home with my book! + I'm sure 'twas no pleasure to see +That poor little harmless, suffering thing +Silently writhe at the end of the string, +Or to hold the pole, while I felt him swing + In torture,--and all for me! + +'Twas a beautiful speckled and glossy trout; +And when from the water I drew him out, +On the grassy bank as he floundered about, + It made me shivering cold, +To think I had caused so much needless pain; +And I tried to relieve him, but all in vain: +O never, as long as I live, again + May I such a sight behold! + +But, what would I give, once more to see +The brisk little swimmer alive and free, +And darting about as he used to be, + Unhurt, in his native brook! +'Tis strange that people can love to play, +By taking innocent lives away! +I wish I had stayed at home to-day + With sister, and read my book. + + + + +=The Stove and the Grate-Setter= + +Old Winter is coming, to play off his tricks-- + To make your ears tingle--your fingers to numb! +So I, with my trowel, new mortar and bricks, + To guard you against him, already am come. + +An ounce of prevention in time, I have found, + Is worth pounds of remedy taken too late! +And proof that the sense of my maxim is sound, + Will shine where I fasten stove, furnace or grate. + +The Summer leaves now whirling fast from the trees, + By Autumn's chill blast are tossed yellow and sere; +And soon, with the breath of his nostrils to freeze + Each thing he can puff at, will Winter be here! + +But hardly he'll dare to steal in at the door, + Your elbows to bite with his keen cutting air, +And give you an ague, where I've been before, + To set the defence I to-day can prepare. + +And when he comes blustering on from the north, + To give you blue faces, and shakes by the chin, +You'll find what the craft of the mason was worth, + As you from abroad to your parlor step in! + +For all will around be so pleasant and warm,-- + Your hearth bright and cheering--your coal in a glow; +You'll not heed the winds whistling up the rough storm + To sift o'er your dwellings its clouds full of snow! + +You'll then think of me;--how I handled to-day + The cold stone and iron--the brick and the lime: +And all, but the surer foundation to lay + For comfort to give in the drear winter time. + +I lay you, against this old Winter, a charm. + To make him, at least, keep himself out of doors! +'Twould melt--should he enter--his hard hand and arm. + When loud for admission he threatens and roars. + +If gratitude then should come, warming your _heart_, + As peaceful you sit by your warm _fireside_; +Perhaps it may teach you some good to impart + To those, where the gifts you enjoy are denied. + +For He in whose favor all blessedness is; + And out of whose kingdom no treasure is sure, +Was poor when on earth;--and the poor still are his: + His charge to his friends is "_Remember the poor_." + +Nor would his disciple be higher than He, + Who once on the dwellings of men, for his bread, +In lowliness wrought! but contentedly, we + Will work by the light that our Master has shed. + + + + +=Song of the Bees= + +We watch for the light of the morn to break, + And color the eastern sky +With its blended hues of saffron and lake; +Then say to each other, "Awake! awake! +For our winter's honey is all to make, + And our bread for a long supply!" + +Then off we hie to the hill and the dell-- + To the field, the meadow, and bower: +In the columbine's horn we love to dwell,-- +To dip in the lily with snow-white bell,-- +To search the balm in its odorous cell, + The mint, and rosemary flower. + +We suck the bloom of the eglantine,-- + Of the pointed thistle and brier; +And follow the track of the wandering vine, +Whether it trail on the earth, supine, +Or round the aspiring tree-top twine, + And reach for a state still higher. + +As each, on the good of the others bent, + Is busy, and cares for all, +We hope for an evening with hearts content,-- +That Winter may find us without lament +For a Summer that's gone, with its hours misspent, + And a harvest that's past recall! + + + + +=The Summer is Come= + +CHILDHOOD'S RURAL SONG. + + The Summer is come + With the insect's hum, +And the birds that merrily sing. + And sweet are the hours, + And the fruits and flowers, +That Summer has come to bring. + + All nature is glad, + And the earth is clad +In her brightest and best array: + So, we with delight + Will our songs unite, +Our tribute of joy to pay. + + + The swallow is out, + And she sails about +In air, for the careless fly: + Then she takes a sip + With her horny lip +As she skims where the waters lie. + + And the lamb bounds light + In his fleece of white, +But he doesn't know what to think, + In the streamlet clear, + Where he sees appear +His face as he stoops to drink. + + For, never before + Has he gambolled o'er +The summer-dressed, flowery earth; + And he skips in play, + As he fain would say +"'Tis a season of feast and mirth." + + And we have to-day + Been rambling away +To gather the flowers most fair, + Which we sat beneath + An old oak to wreath +While fanned by the balmy air. + + Now the sun goes down + Like a golden crown +That's sliding behind a hill; + So we dance the while + To his farewell smile; +And well dance as the dews distil. + + Then, we'll dance to-night + While the fire-fly's light +Is sparkling among the grass; + And we'll step our tune + To the silver moon, +As over the green we pass. + + O, Summer is sweet! + But her joys are fleet; +We catch them but on the wing: + Yet never the less + Would our hearts confess +The blessings she comes to bring. + + + + +=The Morning-Glory= + +Come here and sit thee down by me! +I've read a tale, I'll tell to thee; +And precious will the moral be, + Though simple is the story. +It is about a brilliant flower, +With beauty scarce possessed of power +Its opening to survive an hour-- + An airy Morning-Glory. + +'Tis common parlance names it thus; +But 'twas a gay convolvulus: +Yet we'll not stop to here discuss + Its species or its genus. +We'll just suppose a blooming vine +With many leaf and bud to shine, +And curling tendrils thrown to twine + And form a bower, between us. + +And we'll suppose a happy boy, +With face lit up by hope and joy, +Who thinks that nothing shall destroy + His vine, his pride and pleasure, +Is standing near, with kindling eye, +As if its very look would pry +The cup apart, therein to spy + The growing floral treasure. + +And now the petal, twisted tight, +Above the calyx peers to sight +With apex tipped with purple, bright + As if the rainbow dyed it. +While on the air it vacillates, +Its owner's bosom palpitates +To see it open, as he waits + Impatient close beside it. + +Another rising sun has thrown +Its beams upon the vine, and shown +The splendid Morning-Glory blown, + As if some little fairy, +When early from his couch he went, +On some ethereal journey bent, +Had there inverted left his tent + Of purple, high and airy. + +And many a fair and shining flower +As bright as this adorned the bower, +Displayed like jewels in an hour, + Where'er the vine was clinging. +As each corolla lost its twist, +The zephyr fanned, the sunbeam kissed +The little vase of amethyst; + And round it birds were singing. + +And now the little boy comes out +To see his vine. He gives a shout, +And sings and laughs, and jumps about + Like one two-thirds demented. +His little playmates, one, two, three, +Come round the beauteous vine to see, +And each cries, "Give a flower to me, + And I'll go off contented." + +But "No," the selfish owner cried, +And pushed his comrades all aside, +While walking round his bower with pride, + "Not one of you shall sever +A floweret from the stem so gay; +I own them, not to give away! +I'll come to see them every day; + And keep them mine for ever!" + +So, when at noon from school he came, +To see his vine was first his aim: +But oh! his feelings who can name, + As mute he stood and eyed it? +For not a flower could he behold, +While each corolla, inward rolled, +Appeared as shrivelled, dead, and old + As if a fire had dried it. + +"Alas!" the selfish owner said, +"My Glories----oh! they all are dead! +And all my little friends have fled + Aggrieved! for I've abused them. +They'll keep away, and but deride +My sorrow, when they hear my pride +Is gone;--that quick the pleasures died + Which rudely I refused them!" + + + + +=The Old Cotter and his Cow= + + My good old Cow, + I scarce know how +Again we've wintered over; + With my scant fare, + And thine so spare-- +No dainty dish, nor clover! + + We both were old, + And keen the cold; +While poorly housed we found us; + And by the blast + That, whistling, passed, +The snows were sifted round us. + + While, many a day. + Few locks of hay +Were most thy crib presented, + A patient Cow, + And kind wast thou, +And with thy mite contented. + + But though the storms + Have chilled our forms, +And we've been pinched together, + The dark, blue day + Is passed away; +We've reached the warm spring weather! + + The bounteous earth + Is shooting forth +Her grass and flowers so gayly; + Thou now canst feed + Along the mead, +While food is growing daily. + + The soft, sweet breeze + Through budding trees +Now fans my brow so hoary: + And these old eyes + Find new supplies +Of light from nature's glory. + + Though poor my cot, + And low my lot, +With thee, my richest treasure, + I take my cup, + And looking up, +Bless Him who gives my measure. + + + + +=The Speckled One= + +Poor speckled one! none else will deign + To waft thy name around; +So, let me take it on my strain, + To give it air and sound. + +Yes--air and sound, low child of earth! + For these are oft the things +That give a name its greatest worth, + Its gorgeous plumes and wings. + +But do not shun me thus, and hop + Affrighted from my way! +Dismiss thy terrors--turn and stop; + And hear what I may say. + +Meek, harmless thing, afraid of man? + This truly should not be. +Then calmly pause, and let me scan + My Maker's work in thee. + +For both of us to Him belong; + We're fellow-creatures here; +And power should not be armed with wrong, + Nor weakness filled with fear. + +I know it is thy humble lot + To burrow in a hole-- +To have a form I envy not, + And that without a soul. + +In motion, attitude and limb + I see thee void of grace; +And that a look supremely grim, + Reigns o'er thy solemn face. + +But thou for this art not to blame; + Nor should it make us load +With obloquy, and scorn, and shame + The honest name of TOAD. + +For, though so low on nature's scale-- + In presence so uncouth, +Thou ne'er hast told an evil tale, + Of falsehood, or of truth. + +Thy thoughts are ne'er on malice bent-- + Nor hands to mischief prone; +Nor yet thy heart to discontent; + Though spurned, and poor and lone. + +No coveting nor envy burns + In thy bright golden eye, +That calm and innocently turns + On all below the sky. + +Thy cautious tongue and sober lip + No words of folly pass, +Nor, are they found to taste and sip + The madness of the glass. + +Thy frugal meal is often drawn + From earth, and wood, and stone; +And when thy means by these are gone, + Thou seem'st to live on none. + +I hear that in an earthen jar + Sealed close, shut up alive, +From food, drink, air, sun, moon and star, + Thou'lt live and even thrive:-- + +And that no moan, or murmuring sound + Will issue from the lid +Of thy dark dwelling under ground, + When it is deeply hid. + +Thou hast, as 'twere, a secret shelf, + Whereon is a supply +Of nourishment, within thyself, + Concealed from mortal eye. + +Methinks this self-sustaining art + 'Twere well for us to know, +To keep us up in flesh and heart, + When outer means grow low. + +Could we contain our riches thus, + On such mysterious shelves, +Why, none could rob or beggar us; + Unless we lost ourselves! + +But ah! my Toadie, there's the rub, + With every human breast-- +To live as in the cynic's tub, + And yet be self-possessed! + +For, how to let no boast get round + Beyond our tub, to show +That we in head and heart are sound, + Is one great thing to know. + +And yet, the prison-staves and hoop + To let no murmur through, +However hard we find the coop, + Is greater still to do. + +Then go, thou sage, resigned and calm, + Amid thy low estate; +And to thy burrow bear the palm + For victory over fate. + +We conquer, when we meekly bear + The lot we cannot shape; +And hug to death the ills and care + From which there's no escape. + + + + +=The Blind Musician= + +"Ah! who comes here?" old Raymond cried, +As lone he sat by the highway-side, +Where Frisk jumped up at his knee in play; +And his white locks went to the air astray;-- +While his worn-out hat lay on the ground, +And his light violin gave forth no sound-- +"Ah! who comes here with voice so kind +To the ear of a poor old man who's blind?" + +'Twas a gladsome troop of bright young boys, +With hearts all full of their play-day joys, +As their baskets were of nuts and cake, +And fruits, a pic-nic treat to make. +For they were out for the fields and flowers-- +For the grassy lane, and the woodland bowers; +And the course they took first led them by +Where the lone one sat with a sightless eye. + +They saw he'd a worn and hungry look; +And each from his basket promptly took +A part of its precious pic-nic store, +And tried the others to get before, +As on with their ready gifts they ran, +To reach them forth to the poor old man; +And said, "Good Sir, take this and eat +While resting thus on your mossy seat." + +"Heaven bless you, little children dear!" +Old Raymond cried, with a starting tear, +As they took their cup to the fountain's brink, +And brought him back some clear, cool drink. +And Frisk looked up with a grateful eye, +As to him they dropped some crust of pie: +For he, good dog, was his master's guide, +By a cord to the ring of his collar tied. + +"And now, would you like to hear me play," +Said the traveller, "ere you go your way? +O, I did not think that aught so soon +Could have put my poor old heart in tune. +But you have touched it at the spring, +And it seems as if it could dance and sing. +Your kindness makes my spirit light, +Till I hardly feel that I've lost my sight!" + +He took up his violin and bow, +And made his voice to their music flow; +And the children, listening sat around +As if by a spell to the circle bound. +While thus they were fastened to the spot, +And their first pursuit almost forgot, +They felt they could ask no pleasure more, +And their picnic frolic at once gave o'er. + +And there they staid till the sun went down, +When they led the old Raymond safe to town; +While Frisk went sporting all the way, +To speak his thanks by his joyous play. +They found him a room with a table spread, +And a pillow to rest his hoary head. +Then feeling their time and pence well-spent, +They all went back to their homes content. + + + + +=The Lame House= + +O, I cannot bring to mind +When I've had a look so kind, +Gentle lady, as thine eye +Gives me, while I'm limping by! +Then, thy little boy appears +To regard me but with tears. +Think'st thou he would like to know +What has brought my state so low? + +When not half so old as he, +I was bounding, light and free, +By my happy mother's side, +Ere my mouth the bit had tried, +Or my head had felt the rein +Drawn, my spirits to restrain. +But I'm now so worn and old, +Half my sorrows can't be told. + +When my services began, +How I loved my master, man! +I was pampered and caressed,-- +Housed, and fed upon the best. +Many looked with hearts elate +At my graceful form and gait,-- +At my smooth and glossy hair +Combed and brushed with daily care. + +Studded trappings then I wore, +And with pride my master bore,-- +Glad his kindness to repay +In my free, but silent way. +Then was found no nimble steed +That could equal me in speed, +So untiring, and so fleet +Were these now, old, aching feet. + +But my troubles soon drew nigh: +Less of kindness marked his eye, +When my strength began to fail; +And he put me off at sale. +Constant changes were my fate, +Far too grievous to relate. +Yet I've been, to say the least, +Through them all a patient beast. + +Older--weaker--still I grew: +Kind attentions all withdrew! +Little food, and less repose; +Harder burdens--heavier blows,-- +These became my hapless lot, +Till I sunk upon the spot! +This maimed limb beneath me bent +With the pain it underwent. + +Now I'm useless, old, and poor, +They have made my sentence sure; +And to-morrow is the day, +Set for me to limp away, +To some far, sequestered place, +There at once to end my race. +I stood by, and heard their plot-- +Soon my woes shall be forgot! + +Gentle lady, when I'm dead +By the blow upon my head, +Proving thus, the truest friend, +Him who brings me to my end; +Wilt thou bid them dig a grave +For their faithful, patient slave; +Then, my mournful story trace, +Asking mercy for my race? + + + + +=Humility; or, The Mushroom's Soliloquy.= + +O, what, and whence am I, 'mid damps and dust, +And darkness, into sudden being thrust? +What was I yesterday? and what will be, +Perchance, to-morrow, seen or heard of me? + +Poor--lone--unfriended--ignorant--forlorn, +To bear the new, full glory of the morn,-- +Beneath the garden wall I stand aside, +With all before me beauty, show, and pride. + +Ah! why did Nature shoot me thus to light, +A thing unfit for use--unfit for sight; +Less like her work than like a piece of Art, +Whirled out and trimmed--exact in every part? + +Unlike the graceful shrub, and flexible vine, +No fruit--no branch--nor leaf, nor bud, is mine. +No singing bird, nor butterfly, nor bee +Will come to cheer, caress, or flatter me. + +No beauteous flower adorns my humble head, +No spicy odors on the air I shed; +But here I'm stationed, in my sombre suit, +With only top and stem--I've scarce a root! + +Untaught of my beginning or my end, +I know not whence I sprung, or where I tend: +Yet I will wait, and trust; nor dare presume +To question Justice--I, a frail Mushroom! + + + + +=The Lost Nestlings.= + +"Have you seen my darling nestlings?" +A mother-robin cried, +"I cannot, cannot find them, +Though I've sought them far and wide. + +"I left them well this morning, +When I went to seek their food; +But I found, upon returning, +I'd a nest without a brood. + +"O have you nought to tell me, +That will ease my aching breast, +About my tender offspring +That I left within the nest? + +"I have called them in the bushes, + And the rolling stream beside; +Yet they come not at my bidding;-- + I'm afraid they all have died!" + +"I can tell you all about them;" + Said a little wanton boy +"For 'twas I that had the pleasure + Your nestlings to destroy. + +"But I didn't think their mother + Her little ones would miss; +Or ever come to hail me + With a wailing sound, like this. + +"I didn't know your bosom + Was formed to suffer woe, +And to mourn your murdered children, + Or I had not grieved you so. + +"I am sorry that I've taken + The lives I can't restore; +And this regret shall teach me + To do the like no more. + +"I ever shall remember +The wailing sound I've heard! +No more I'll kill a nestling, +To pain a mother-bird!" + + + + +=The Bat's Flight By Daylight An Allegory=. + +A Bat one morn from his covert flew, +To show the world what a Bat could do, +By soaring off on a lofty flight, +In the open day, by the sun's clear light! +He quite forgot that he had for wings +But a pair of monstrous, plumeless things; +That, more than half like a fish's fin, +With a warp of bone, and a woof of skin, +Were only fit in the dark to fly, +In view of a bat's or an owlet's eye. + +He sallied forth from his hidden hole, +And passed the door of his neighbor, Mole, +Who shrugged, and said, "Of the two so blind +The wisest, surely, stays behind!" +But he could not cope with the glare of day: +He lost his sight, and he missed his way;-- +He wheeled on his flapping wings, till, "bump!" +His head went, hard on the farm-yard pump. +Then, stunned and posed, as he met the ground, +A stir and a shout in the yard went round; +For its tenants thought they had one come there, +That seemed not of water, earth, or air. +The Hen, "Cut, cut, cut-dah-cut!" cried, +For all to cut at the thing she spied; +While the taunting Duck said, "Quack, quack, quack!" +As her muddy mouth to the pool went back, +For something denser than sound, to show +Her sage disgust, at the quack to throw. +The old Turk strutted, and gobbled aloud, +Till he gathered around him a babbling crowd; +When each proud neck in the whole doomed group +Was poked with a condescending stoop, +And a pointed beak, at the prostrate Bat, +Which they eyed askance, as to ask, "What's _that_?" +But none could tell; and the poults moved off, +In their _select circle_ to leer and scoff. + +The Goslings skulked; but their wise mamma, +She hissed, and screamed, till the Lambs cried, "Ba-a!" +When up from his straw sprang the gaping Calf, +With a gawky leap and a clammy laugh. +He stared--retreated--and off he went, +The wondrous news in his voice to vent,-- +That he had discovered a _monster_ there-- +A _bird four-footed, and clothed with hair_! +And had dashed his heel at the sight so odd, +It looked, he thought, like a _heathen god_! + +The scuddling Chicks cried, "Peep, peep, peep! +For Boss looks high, but not very deep! +It is not a fowl! 'tis the worst of things,-- +low, mean beast, with the use of wings, +So noiseless round on the air to skim, +You know not when you are safe from him." + +There stood by, some of the bristly tribe, +Who felt so touched by the peeper's gibe, +Their backs were up; for they thought, at least, +It aimed at them the _low, mean beast:_ +And they challenged Chick to her tiny face, +In their sharp, high notes, and their awful base. + +Then old Chanticleer to his mount withdrew, +And gave from his rostrum a loud halloo. +He blew his clarion strong and shrill, +Till he turned all eyes to his height, the hill; +When he noised it round with his loudest crow, +That 't was none of the _plumed_ ones brought so low. + +And, "Bow-wow-wow!" went the sentry Cur; +But he soon strolled off in a grave demur, +When he saw on the wonder, _hair_, like his, +_Two ears_, and a kind of _doubtful phiz;_ +And he deemed it prudent to pause, and hark +In silence, for fear that the sight might _bark_! + +At last came Puss, with a cautious pat +To feel the pulse of the quivering Bat, +That had not, under her tender paw, +A limb to move, nor a breath to draw! +Then she called her kit for a mother's gift, +And stilled its mew with the racy lift. + +When Mole of the awful death was told, +"Alas!" cried she, "he had grown too bold-- +Too vain and proud! Had he only kept, +Like the _prudent Mole_, in his nest, and slept. +Or worked underground, where none could see, +He might have still been alive, like me!" + +While thus, so early the poor Bat died, +A cry, that it was but the fall of pride, +And signs of mirth, or of scorn, were all +He had from those who beheld his fall. +They each could triumph, and each condemn; +But no kind pity was shown by them. + +And now, should we, as a mirror, place +This story out for the world to face, +How many, think you, would there perceive +Likeness to children of Adam and Eve? + + + + +=Idle Jack.= + +See mischievous and idle Jack! +How fast he flies, nor dares look back! +He seized Horatio's pretty cart, +And broke and threw it part from part; +The body here, and there the wheels; +And now, by taking to his heels, +He makes the Scripture proverb true,-- +_The wicked flee when none pursue._. + +Oh! Jack's a worthless, wicked boy, +Who seems but evil to enjoy. +He often racks his naughty brain +Inventing ways of giving pain. +He loves to torture butterflies-- +To dust the kitten's tender eyes-- +To break the cricket's slender limb; +And pain to them is sport to him. + +He sometimes to your garden comes, +To crush the flowers and steal the plums-- +The melons tries with thievish gripe, +To find the one that's nearest ripe-- +His pocket fills with grapes or pears, +No matter how their owner fares; +When, by its lawless, robber track, +You trace the foot of idle Jack. + +Whenever Jack is sent to school, +He, playing truant, plays the fool: +Or else he goes, with sloven looks +And hands unclean, to spoil the books-- +To spill the ink, or make a noise, +Disturbing good and studious boys; +Till all who find what Jack's about +Within the school, must wish him out. + +If ever Jack at church appears, +He knows not, cares not, what he hears. +While others to the word attend, +He has a pencil-point to mend-- +An apple, or his nails to pare, +Or cracks a nut in time of prayer, +Till many wish that Jack would come, +A better boy, or stay at home. + +In short, he shows, beyond a doubt, +That, if he does not turn about, +And mend his morals and his ways, +He yet must come to evil days; +And of a life of wasted time-- +Of idleness, and vice, and crime, +To meet, perhaps, a felon's end, +With neither man, nor God his friend. + + + + +=David and Goliath=. + +Young David was a ruddy lad + With silken, sunny locks, +The youngest son that Jesse had: + He kept his father's flocks. + +Goliath was a Philistine, + A giant, huge and high; +He lifted, like a towering pine, + His head towards the sky. + +He was the foe of Israel's race. + A mighty warrior, too; +And on he strode from place to place, + And many a man he slew. + +So Saul, the king of Israel then, + Proclaimed it to and fro, +That most he'd favor of his men + The one, who'd kill the foe. + +Yet all, who saw this foe draw near, + Would feel their courage fail; +For not an arrow, sword, or spear, + Could pierce the giant's mail. + +But Jesse's son conceived a way, + That would deliverance bring; +Whereby he might Goliath slay, + And thus relieve the king. + +Then quick he laid his shepherd's crook + Upon a grassy bank; +And off he waded in the brook + From which the lambkins drank. + +He culled and fitted to his sling + Five pebbles, smooth and round; +And one of these he meant should bring + The giant to the ground. + +"I've killed a lion and a bear," + Said he, "and now I'll slay +The Philistine, and by the hair + I'll bring his head away!" + +Then onward to the battle-field + The youthful hero sped; +He knew Goliath by his shield, + And by his towering head. + +But when, with only sling and staff, + The giant saw him come, +In triumph he began to laugh; + Yet David struck him dumb. + +He fell! 'twas David's puny hand + That caused his overthrow! +Though long the terror of the land, + A pebble laid him low. + +The blood from out his forehead gushed. + He rolled, and writhed, and roared: +The little hero on him rushed, + And drew his ponderous sword. + +Before its owner's dying eye + He held the gleaming point +Upon his throbbing neck to try; + Then severed cord and joint. + +He took the head, and carried it + And laid it down by Saul; +And showed him where the pebble hit + That caused the giant's fall. + +The lad, who had Goliath slain + With pebbles and a sling, +Was raised in after years to reign + As Israel's second king! + +'Twas not the courage, skill, or might + Which David had, alone, +That helped him Israel's foe to fight + And conquer, with a stone. + +But, when the shepherd stripling went + The giant thus to kill, +God used him as an instrument + His purpose to fulfil! + + + + +=Escape of the Doves=. + +Come back, pretty Doves! O, come back from the tree. + You bright little fugitive things! +We could not have thought you so ready and free + In using your beautiful wings. + +We didn't suppose, when we lifted the lid, + To see if you knew how to fly, +You'd all flutter off in a moment, and bid + The basket for ever good-by! + +Come down, and we'll feast you on insects and seeds;-- + You sha'nt have occasion to roam-- +We'll give you all things that a bird ever needs, + To make it contented at home. + +Then come, pretty Doves! O, return for our sakes, + And don't keep away from us thus; +Or, when your old slumbering master awakes, + 'Twill be a sad moment for us! + +"We can't!" said the birds, "and the basket may stand + A long time in waiting; for now +You find out too late, that a bird in the hand + Is worth, at least, two on the bough. + +"And we, from our height, looking down on you there, + By experience taught to be sage,-- +Find, one pair of wings that are free in the air + Are worth two or three in the cage! + +"But when our old master awakes, and shall find + The work you have just been about, +We hope, by the freedom we love, he'll be kind, + And spare you for letting us out. + +"We thank you for all the fine stories you tell, + And all the good things you would give; +But think, since we're out, we shall do very well + Where nature designed us to live. + +"Whene'er you may think of the swift little wings + On which from your reach we have flown, +No doubt, you'll beware, and not meddle with things, + In future, that are not your own." + + + + +=Edward and Charles=. + +The brothers went out with the father to ride, +Where they looked for the flowers, that, along the way-side, + So lately were blooming and fair; +But their delicate heads by the frost had been nipped; +Their stalks by the blast were all twisted and stripped; + And nothing but ruin was there. + +"Oh! how the rude autumn has spoiled the green hills!" +Exclaimed little Charles, "and has choked the bright rills + With leaves that are faded and dead! +The few on the trees are fast losing their hold. +And leaving the branches so naked and cold. + That the beautiful birds have all fled." + +"I know," replied Edward, "the country has lost +A great many charms by the touch of the frost, + Which used to appear to the eye; +But then, it has opened the chestnut-burr too, +The walnut released from the case where it grew; + And now our _Thanksgiving_ is nigh! + +"Oh! what do you think we shall do on that day?" +"I guess," answered Charles, "we shall all go away + To Grandpa's; and there find enough +Of turkeys, plum-puddings, and pies by the dozens, +For Grandpa' and Grandma', aunts, uncles and cousins; + And at night we'll all play blind-man's-buff. + +"Perhaps we'll get Grandpa' to tell us some stories +About the old times, with their _Whigs_ and their _Tories_; + And what sort of men they could be; +When some spread their tables without any cloth, +With basins and spoons, and the fuming bean-broth, + Which they took for their coffee and tea. + +"They'd queer kind of sights, I have heard Grandma' say, +About in their streets; for, if not every day, + At least it was nothing uncommon, +To see them pile on the poor back of one horse +A saddle and _pillion_; and what was still worse, + Up mounted a man and a woman! + +"The lady held on by the driver; and so, +Away about town at full trot would they go; + Or perhaps to a great country marriage,-- +To Thanksgiving-supper--to husking, or ball; +Or quilting; for thus did they take nearly all + Their rides, on an _animal_ carriage! + +"I know not what _huskings_ and _quiltings_ maybe; +But Grandma' will tell; and perhaps let us see + Some things she has long laid away:-- +That stiff damask gown, with its sharp-pointed waist, +The hoop, the craped, cushion, and buckles of paste, + Which they wore in her grandparent's day. + +"She says they had buttons as large as our dollars, +To wear on their coats with their square, standing collars; + And then, there's a droll sort of hat, +Which Mary once fixed me one like, out of paper, +And said she believed 'twas called _three-cornered scraper_; + Perhaps, too, she'll let us see that. + +"Oh! a glorious time we shall have! If they knew +At the south, what it is, I guess they'd have one too; + But I have heard somebody say, +That, there, they call all the New England folks _Bumpkins,_ +Because we eat puddings, and pies made of pumpkins, + And have our good Thanksgiving-day." + +"I think, brother Charles," returned Edward "at least, +That they might go to church, if they don't like the feast; + For to me it is much the best part, +To hear the sweet anthems of praise, that we give +To Him, on whose bounty we constantly live:-- + It is feasting the ear and the heart. + +"From Him, who has brought us another year round, +Who gives every blessing, wherewith we are crowned, + Their gratitude who can withhold? +And now how I wish I could know all the poor +Their Thanksgiving-stores had already secure, + Their fuel, and clothes for the cold!" + +"I'm glad," said their father, "to hear such a wish; +But wishes alone, can fill nobody's dish, + Or clothe them, or build them a fire. +And now I will give you the money, my sons, +Which I promised, you know, for your drum and your guns, + To spend in the way you desire." + +The brothers went home, thinking o'er by the way, +For how many comforts this money might pay, + In something for clothing or food: +At length they resolved, if their mother would spend it, +For what she thought best, they would get her to send it + Where she thought it would do the most good. + + + + +=The Mountain Minstrel=. + +On our mountain of Savoy, + In the shadow of a rock, +Once I sat, a shepherd-boy, + Watching o'er my father's flock. + +We'd a happy cottage-home, + Peaceful as the sparrow's nest, +Where, at evening, we could come + From our roamings to our rest. + +I'd a minstrel's voice and ear: + I could whistle, pipe and sing, +While I roving, seemed to hear + Music stir in every thing. + +But misfortune, like a blast. + Swift upon my father rushed; +From our dwelling we were cast-- + At a stroke our peace was crushed. + +All we had was seized for debt: + In the sudden overthrow, +Even my fond, fleecy pet, + My white cosset, too, must go. + +Then I wandered, sad and lone, + Where I'd once a flock to feed; +All the treasure now my own + Was my simple pipe of reed. + +But a noble, pitying friend, + Who had seen me sadly stray, +Made me to his lute attend; + And he taught me how to play. + +Then his lute to me he gave; + And abroad he bade me roam, +Till the earnings I could save + Would redeem our cottage-home. + +Glad, his counsel straight I took-- + I received his gift with joy; +All my former ways forsook, + And became a minstrel-boy. + +With my mountain airs to sing, + Forward then I roamed afar, +Sweeping still the tuneful string-- +Having hope my leading star. + +In the hamlets where I've gone, + Groups would gather--music-bound: +In the cities I have drawn + List'ners till my hopes were crowned. + +Ever saving as I earned, + I of one dear object dreamed; +To my mountain then returned, + And our cottage-home redeemed. + +Time has wiped away our tears; + Here we dwell together blest; +All our sorrows, doubts and fears + I have played and sung to rest. + +Here my aged parents live + Free from want, and toil, and cares; +All the bliss that earth can give + Deem they in this home of theirs. + +Life's night-shades fast o'er them creep; + All their wrongs have been forgiven-- +They have but to fall asleep + In their cot, to wake in heaven. + +Gentle friend, dost thou inquire + What's the lineage whence I came? +Jesse is my shepherd sire-- + David-Jesse is my name! + + + + +=The Veteran and the Child=. + +"Come, grandfather, show how you carried your gun +To the field, where America's freedom was won, +Or bore your old sword, which you say was new then, +When you rose to command, and led forward your men; +And tell how you felt with the balls whizzing by, +Where the wounded fell round you, to bleed and to die!" + +The prattler had stirred, in the veteran's breast, +The embers of fire that had long been at rest. +The blood of his youth rushed anew through his veins; +The soldier returned to his weary campaigns; +His perilous battles at once fighting o'er, +While the soul of nineteen lit the eye of four-score. + +"I carried my musket, as one that must be +But loosed from the hold of the dead, or the free! +And fearless I lifted my good, trusty sword, +In the hand of a mortal, the strength of the Lord! +In battle, my vital flame freely I felt +Should go, but the chains of my country to melt! + +"I sprinkled my blood upon Lexington's sod, +And Charlestown's green height to the war-drum I trod. +From the fort, on the Hudson, our guns I depressed, +The proud coming sail of the foe to arrest. +I stood at Stillwater, the Lakes and White Plains, +And offered for freedom to empty my veins! + +"Dost now ask me, child, since thou hear'st here I've been, +Why my brow is so furrowed, my locks white and thin-- +Why this faded eye cannot go by the line, +Trace out little beauties, and sparkle like thine; +Or why so unstable this tremulous knee, +Who bore 'sixty years since,' such perils for thee? + +"What! sobbing so quick? are the tears going to start? +Come! lean thy young head on thy grandfather's heart! +It has not much longer to glow with the joy +I feel thus to clasp thee, so noble a boy! +But when in earth's bosom it long has been cold, +A man, thou'lt recall, what, a babe, thou art told." + + + + +=Captain Kidd=. + +There's many a one who oft has heard + The name of Robert Kidd, +Who cannot tell, perhaps, a word + Of him, or what he did. + +So, though I never saw the man, + And lived not in his day; +I'll tell you how his guilt began-- + To what it paved the way. + +'Twas in New York Kidd had his home; + And there he left his wife +And children, when he went to roam, + And lead a seaman's life. + +Now Robert had as firm a hand, + A heart as stern and brave, +As ever met in one on land, + Or on the briny wave. + +'Twas in the third king William's time, + When many a pirate bold +Committed on the seas the crime + Of shedding blood for gold. + +So Captain Kidd was singled out + As one devoid of fears, +To take a ship and cruise about + Against the Bucaniers. + +The ship was armed with many a gun, + And manned with many a man, +Across the southern seas to run + To foil the pirate's plan. + +But when she long, from isle to isle, + Without success had sailed, +And made no capture all the while, + Her master's patience failed. + +The prizes he so oft had sought, + He found he sought in vain; +And soon a wicked, bloody thought, + Came into Robert's brain! + +His mind he opened to his men; + And found his guilty crew +Agreed with him, that they, from then, + Would all turn pirates too! + +He threw his Bible in the deep, + Defied its Author's will; +And, with his conscience put to sleep, + Began to rob and kill. + +And now the desperado reigned, + A tyrant on the waves; +While they whose blood his hands had stained, + Went down to watery graves. + +No merchant ship could near him go, + Which he would not annoy; +For Kidd was passing to and fro, + And seeking to destroy. + +He seized the vessel, plunged the knife + Within the seamen's breast: +And by a cruel waste of life, + His evil gains possessed. + +He then would make the nearest isle. + And go at night by stealth, +To hide within the earth awhile + His last ill-gotten wealth. + +Thus, many a shining wedge of gold + This modern Achan hid; +And many a frightful tale was told + About the pirate, Kidd. + +But Justice does not slumber long; + If slow, she's ever sure. +There's none too artful, quick, or strong + For her to make secure! + +To Boston, with a brazen face, + The pirate boldly went, +Where he was seized; and in disgrace + And chains, to England sent. + +The captain and his crew were there, + A solemn, fearful sight; +Resigning life high up in air, + E'en at the gibbet's height! + +For many a year their bodies hung + Along the river side; +As beacons, showing old and young + How they had lived and died. + +The wealth they hid was never found. + Though often sought of men. +'Tis where they placed it in the ground, + Till they should come again! + +The earth has seemed by Heaven constrained. + The treasures to withhold +That price of blood has none obtained, + Or used the pirate's gold! + + + + +=The Dying Storm=. + +I am feeble, pale and weary, + And my wings are nearly furled. +I have caused a scene so dreary, + I am glad to quit the world. +While with bitterness I'm thinking + On the evil I have done, +To my caverns deep I'm sinking + From the coming of the sun. + +Oh! the heart of man will sicken + In that pure and holy light, +When he feels the hopes I've stricken + With an everlasting blight! +For, so wildly in my madness + Have I poured abroad my wrath, +I've been changing joy to sadness; + And with ruins strewed my path. + +Earth has shuddered at my motion:-- + She my power in silence owns; +While the troubled, roaring ocean + O'er my deeds of horror moans. +I have sunk the dearest treasure-- + I've destroyed the fairest form: +Sadly have I filled my measure; + And I'm now a dying Storm! + +Yet, to man among the living, + With my final gasp and sigh, +I, a solemn caution giving, + Fain would serve him while I die. +Not like me, shall he, descending + Swift to death, from being cease. +He's a spirit!--fleetly tending + To eternal pain or peace! + + + + +=The Little Traveller=. + +I am the tiniest child of earth! + But still, I would like to be known to fame; +Though next to nothing I had my birth, + And lowest of all in my lowly name. + +Yet, if so humble my native place, + This I can say, in family pride-- +That I'm of the world's most numerous race, + And made by the Maker of all beside. + +Although I'm so poor, I naught to lose; + Still I'm so little I can't be lost! +I journey about, wherever I choose, + And those who carry me bear the cost. + +The most forgiving of earthly things, + I often cling to my deadly foe; +And, spite of the cruellest flirts and flings, + Arise by the force that has cast me low. + +When beauty has trodden me under foot, + I've quietly risen, her face to seek,-- +Embraced her forehead, and calmly put + Myself to rest in her dimpled cheek. + +I've ridden to war on the soldier's plume; + But startled and sprung, at the wild affray,-- +The sights of horror--of fire and fume; + And fled on the wings of the wind away. + +I've visited courts, and been ushered in + By the proudest guest of the stately scene; +I've touched his majesty's bosom-pin, + And the nuptial ring of his lofty queen. + +At the royal board, in the grand parade, + I've oft been one familiar and free: +The fairest lady has smiled, and laid + Her delicate, gloveless hand on me. + +Philosopher, poet, the learned, the sage, + Never declines a call from me; +And all, of every rank and age. + Admit me into their _coteri_. + +I visit the lions of every where, + If human, or brute, and can testify +To what they do, to what they wear, + To wonders none ever beheld but I! + +And now, reviewing the things I've done, + Forgetting my name, my rank and birth, +I begin to think I am number ONE, + Of the great and manifold things of earth. + +I've still much more, I yet might tell, + Which modesty bids me here withhold; +For fear with my travels I seem to swell, + Or grow, for an ATOM OF DUST, too bold! + +THE END. + + + + +BY SUSAN PINDAR. =Now ready, a New Edition=. + +=FIRESIDE FAIRIES; OR, CHRISTMAS AT AUNT ELSIE'S.= + +Beautifully illustrated, with Original Designs. 1 vol. 12mo. 75 cts., +gilt ed. $1. + +_Contents_. + +The Two Voices, or the Shadow and the Shadowless. The Minute Fairies. I +Have and O Had I. The Hump and Long Nose. The Lily Fairy and the Silver +Beam. The Wonderful Watch. The Red and White Rose Trees. The Diamond +Fountain. The Magical Key. + +Though this is a small book, it is, mechanically, exceedingly beautiful, +being illustrated with spirited woodcuts from Original Designs. But that +is its least merit. It is one of the most entertaining, and decidedly +one of the best juveniles that have issued from the prolific press of +this city. We speak advisedly. It is long since we found time to read +through a juvenile book, so near Christmas, when the name of this class +of volumes is legion; but this charmed us so much that we were unwilling +to lay it down after once commencing it. The first story,--"The Two +Voices, or the Shadow and the Shadowless,"--is a sweet thing, as is also +the one entitled, "The Diamond Fountain." Indeed, the whole number, and +there are ten, will be read with avidity. Their moral is as pure as +their style is enchanting.--_Com. Adv_. + + * * * * * + +D. Appleton & Co. have just ready, + +A NEW UNIFORM SERIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. BY AMEREL. + +COMPRISING + +I. CHRISTMAS STORIES, for Good Children. Illustrated. 16mo. II. WINTER +HOLIDAYS. A Story for Children. Illustrated. 16mo. III. THE SUMMER +HOLIDAYS. A Story for Children. Illus. 16mo. IV. GEORGE'S ADVENTURES IN +THE COUNTRY. Illus. 16mo. V. THE CHILD'S STORY BOOK. A Holiday Gift. +Illus. 16mo. VI. THE LITTLE GIFT-BOOK. For Good Boys and Girls. Illus. +16mo. + + + + +NEW ILLUSTRATED JUVENILES. + +AUNT FANNY'S STORY BOOK. Illustrated. 16mo. $ 50 + +THE CHILD'S PRESENT. Illustrated. 16mo. + +HOWITT'S PICTURE AND VERSE BOOK. Illustrated with 100 plates. 75 cts.; +gilt 1 00 + +HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. Illustrated. 4to., 25 cts.; cloth 50 + +STORY OF JOAN OF ARC. By R.M. Evans. With 23 illustrations. 16mo. 75 + +ROBINSON CRUSOE. Pictorial Edition. 300 plates. 8vo. 1 50 + +THE CARAVAN; A COLLECTION OF TALES AND STORIES FROM THE GERMAN. +Translated by G.P. Quackenboss. Illustrated by Orr. 16mo. + +INNOCENCE OF CHILDHOOD. By Mrs. Colman. Illustrated 50 + +HOME RECREATIONS, comprising Travels and Adventures, &c. Colored +Illustrations. 16mo. 87 + +FIRESIDE FAIRIES. A New Story Book. My Miss Susan Pindar. Finely +Illustrated. 16mo. + +STORY OF LITTLE JOHN. Trans, from the French. Illus. 62 + +LIVES AND ANECDOTES OF ILLUSTRIOUS MEN. 16mo. 75 + +UNCLE JOHN'S PANORAMIC PICTURE BOOKS. Six kinds, 25 cts. each; +half-cloth 50 + +HOLIDAY HOUSE. Tales, by Catherine Sinclair. Illustrated 75 + +PUSS IN BOOTS. Finely illus. by O. Speckter. 50c.; ex. glt. 75 + +TALES AND STORIES for Boys and Girls. By Mary Howitt 75 + +AMERICAN HISTORICAL TALES for Youth. 16mo. 75 + + * * * * * + +LIBRARY FOR MY YOUNG COUNTRYMEN. + +ADVENTURES of Captain John Smith. By the Author of Uncle Philip 38 + +ADVENTURES of Daniel Boon. By do. 38 + +DAWNINGS of Genius. By Anne Pratt. 38 + +LIFE and Adventures of Henry Hudson. By the Author of Uncle Philip. 38 + +LIFE and Adventures of Herman Cortez. By do. 38 + +PHILIP RANDOLPH. A Tale of Virginia. By Mary Gertrude. 38 + +ROWAN'S History of the French Revolution. 2 vols. 75 + +SOUTHEY'S Life of Cromwell. 38 + + * * * * * + +TALES FOR THE PEOPLE AND THEIR CHILDREN. + +ALICE FRANKLIN. By Mary Howitt. 38 + +LOVE AND MONEY. By do. 38 + +HOPE ON, HOPE EVER! Do. 38 + +LITTLE COIN, MUCH CARE. By do. 38 + +MY OWN STORY. By do. 38 + +MY UNCLE, THE CLOCKMAKER. By do. 38 + +NO SENSE LIKE COMMON SENSE. By do. 38 + +SOWING AND REAPING. Do. 38 + +STRIVE AND THRIVE. By do. 38 + +THE TWO APPRENTICES. By do. 38 + +WHICH IS THE WISER? Do. 38 + +WHO SHALL BE GREATEST? By do. 38 + +WORK AND WAGES. By do. 38 + +CROFTON BOYS, The. By Harriet Martineau. 38 + +DANGERS OF DINING OUT By Mrs. Ellis. 38 + +FIRST IMPRESSIONS. By do. 38 + +MINISTER'S FAMILY. By do. 38 + +SOMMERVILLE HALL. By do. 38 + +DOMESTIC TALES. By Hannah More. 2 vols.... 75 + +EARLY FRIENDSHIP. By Mrs. Copley. 38 + +FARMER'S DAUGHTER, The By Mrs. Cameron. 38 + +LOOKING-GLASS FOR THE MIND. Many plates. 45 + +MASTERMAN READY. By Capt. Marryat. 3 vols. 2 + +PEASANT AND THE PRINCE. By H. Martineau. 38 + +POPLAR GROVE. By Mrs. Copley. 38 + +SETTLERS IN CANADA. By Capt. Marryatt. 2 vols. 75 + +TIRED OF HOUSEKEEPING. By T.S. Arthur. 38 + +TWIN SISTERS, The. By Mrs. Sandham. 38 + +YOUNG STUDENT. By Madame Guizot. 3 vols. 1 12 + + * * * * * + +SECOND SERIES. + +CHANCES AND CHANGES. By Charles Burdett. 38 + +NEVER TOO LATE. By do. 38 + +GOLDMAKERS VILLAGE. By R. Zschokke. 38 + +OCEAN WORK, ANCIENT AND MODERN. By J.H. Wright. 38 + +THE MISSION; or, Scenes in Africa By Capt. 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