Lissom swayings make the willows Which the breeze puffs out in billows From the marshy brook that 's smoking I can catch the crool and croaking Dogwood stars the slopes are studding, Blooms upon the purple-budding Aspen tassels thick are dropping And the alder-leaves are cropping Broader out; Mouse-ear tufts the hawthorn sprinkle, The park bed of periwinkle Fresher grows. Up and down are midges dancing How their gauzy wings are glancing What does all this haste and hurry All this out-door flush and flurry THE CANARY IN HIS CAGE. Sing away, ay, sing away, Like a human soul you seem Shut in golden bars: Placed amid earth's sunshine stream, Never! Sing, bird-poet mine, Which they never knew. Yet, my birdie, you're content In your tiny cage: Not a carol thence is sent But for happiness is meant So lie down, thou peevish pen ; MRS. DINAH MARIA (MULOCK) CRAIK. Not I, said the dog, bow-wow! I would n't be so mean as that, now, I gave hairs the nest to make, But the nest I did not take. Not I, said the dog, bow-wow! I would n't be so mean as that, now. Not I, said the sheep, Oh no! I would n't treat a poor bird so! I gave the wool the nest to line, But the nest was none of mine. Baa! baa! said the sheep; Oh no, I would not rob a bird, Of any thing so mean. Said little Alice Neal; I wonder if she knew ; How sad the bird would feel? A little boy hung down his head, He did n't like to tell his name. Hymns for Mother and Children. WHO STOLE THE EGGS? "Oh, what is the matter with Robin, That makes her cry round here all day? I think she must be in great trouble," "I know why the Robin is crying," Said Wren, with a sob in her breast; "A naughty bold robber has stolen Three little blue eggs from her nest. "He carried them home in his pocket; For fear he would come and rob me!" "Oh! what little boy was so wicked?" A dear little bird's-nest - not I." "Nor I!" said the birds in a chorus: "A cruel and mischievous boy! I pity his father and mother; He surely can't give them much joy. "I guess he forgot what a pleasure In early spring-time and in summer, I guess he forgot that the rule is, To do as you'd be always done by ; guess he forgot that from heaven There looks down an All-seeing Eye." MRS. C. F. Berry. |