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Ex. 74. – A SOFT ANSWER.


HEN thy heart is sad and heavy,

When thy life is all misread,
Give not anger for injustice,

Give a gentle word instead.

When another's heart is hardened,

Say not "It is naught to me!”
Do thy best to heal the mischief,

Lest the sin should rest on thee.

Never speak in bitter scorning,

Seeking any heart to pain;
As the seed is, so the blossom,

And the curse comes back again.

Ex. 75.


- Ingelow.


THERE 'S no dew left on the daisies and clover,

There 's no rain left in heaven. I've said my “seven times

over and over, Seven times one are seven.

I am old, so old I can write a letter;

My birthday lessons are done.
The lambs play always, — they know no better;

They are only one times one.

O Moon! in the night I have seen you sailing

And shining so round and low. You were bright — ah, bright — but your light is failing;

You are nothing now but a bow.

O velvet Bee ! you 're a dusty fellow, —

You've powdered your legs with gold. O brave marsh Mary-buds, rich and yellow,

Give me your money to hold !

O Columbine! open your folded wrapper,

Where two twin turtle-doves dwell!
O Cuckoo-pint! toll me the purple clapper

That hangs in your clear green bell!

And show me your nest, with the young ones in it, –

I will not steal them away :
I am old ! you may trust me, linnet, linnet !

I am seven times one to-day.

Ex. 76.




THE bird let loose in eastern skies,

When hastening fondly home,
Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies

Where idle warblers roam;
But high she shoots through air and light,

Above all low delay,
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight.

Nor shadow dims her way.

So grant me, God, from every care

And stain of passion free,
Aloft, through Virtue's purer air,

To hold my course to thee !
No sin to cloud, no lure to stay

My soul, as home she springs ;-
Thy sunshine on her joyful way,

Thy freedom on her wings.

Ex. 77.



SHUN the spot, my youthful friends; I urge you to

beware! Beguiling is the pleasant way, and softly breathes the air ; Yet none have ever passed to scenes ennobling, great, and

high, Who once began to linger in the street of By-and-By.

How varied are the images arising to my sight,
Of those who wished to shun the wrong, who loved and

praised the right! Yet from the silken bonds of sloth they vainly strove to fly, Which held them gently prisoned in the street of By


Then shun the spot, my youthful friends ; work on

while yet you may ; Let not old age o'ertake you as you slothfully delay, Lest you should gaze around you, and discover with a sigh You have reached the house of “Never” by the street of


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WEET and low, sweet and low,

Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the western sea !
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow,

Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,

Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,

Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west

Under the silver moon;
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.




DISTRICT school, not far away,

Mid Berkshire hills, one winter's day,
Was humming with its wonted noise
Of threescore mingled girls and boys;
Some few upon their task intent,
But more on furtive mischief bent,
The while the master's downward look
Was fastened on a copy-book ;
When suddenly, behind his back,
Rose sharp and clear a rousing smack !
As 't were a battery of bliss
Let off in one tremendous kiss !
“ What's that ?” the startled master cries ;
“That, thir," a little imp replies,
“ Wath William Willith, if you pleathe,
I thaw him kith Thuthanna Peathe !”
With frown to make a statue thrill,
The master thundered, “Hither, Will !”
Like wretch o'ertaken in his track,
With stolen chattels on his back,
Will hung his head in fear and shame,
And to the awful presence came,

A great, green, bashful simpleton,
The butt of all good-natured fun.
With smile suppressed and birch upraised
The threatener faltered, "I'm amazed
That you, my biggest pupil, should
Be guilty of an act so rude !
Before the whole set school to boot -
What evil genius put you to 't?”
“'T was she herself, sir," sobbed the lad,
“I did not mean to be so bad;
But when Susannah shook her curls,
And whispered I was 'fraid of girls,
And dursn't kiss a baby's doll,
I could n't stand it, sir, at all,
But up and kissed her on the spot!
I know - boo-hoo-I ought to not,
But, somehow, from her looks — boo-hoo- -
I thought she kind o'wished me to !”

Ex. 80.- THE QUARREL. - Coleridge.

LAS! they had been friends in youth ;

But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above;

And life is thorny; and youth is vain ;
And to be wroth with one we love

Doth work like madness in the brain.
And thus it chanced, as I divine,
With Roland and Sir Leoline !
Each spoke words of high disdain

And insult to his heart's best brother;
They parted, — ne'er to meet again !

But never either found another
To free the hollow heart from paining.

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