THE SPRING. I'm very glad the spring is come- The young grass looks so fresh and green, I like to see the daisy And the buttercups once more, With fluttering painted wing, The fishes in the little brook There's not a cloud upon the sky, God must be very good indeed, THE VIOLET. Down in a green and shady bed, Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, And yet it was a lovely flower, It might have graced a rosy bower, Yet there it was content to bloom. In modest tints array'd; And there diffused a sweet perfume, Then let me to the valley go, THE HIVE BEE. CHILD of patient industry, Thou art out at early morn, Just as the opening flowers are born, Or suck the clover's crimson bloom; THE SPIDER AND THE FLY. A NEW VERSION OF AN OLD STORY. "WILL you walk into my parlour ?" Said the Spider to the Fly; 66 'Tis the prettiest little parlour That ever you did spy; The way into my parlour دو For, who goes up your winding stair Will you rest upon my little bed ?" 66 There are pretty curtains drawn around ; "For I've often heard it said, Good store of all that's nice; "Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "Kind sir, that cannot be; I've heard what's in your pantry, And I do not wish to see!" "Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "You're witty and you're wise, How handsome are your gauzy wings, How brilliant are your eyes! I have a little looking-glass Upon my parlour shelf, If you'll step in one moment, dear, You shall behold yourself." "I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "For what you're pleased to say, And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day." The Spider turned him round about, And went into his den, For well he knew the silly Fly Would soon come back again : So he wove a subtle web, In a little corner sly, And set his table ready, To dine upon the Fly. Then he came out to his door again, And merrily did sing, "Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, With the pearl and silver wing; |