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And it seem'd so lone and dreary
That I hid myself to weep.
Behind a cask of water,
I hid myself for hours,

And wish'd myself at home again,
Among the birds and flowers.
But I soon began to love

The bright and sparkling main, And the swift-sailing ship That rode the watery plain; I loved to mark the sails, And see the stooping masts, And I loved the brisk gale, That drove us on so fast; I loved to climb the ropes, Like a squirrel on a tree, And nothing seemed so happy As the sailor boy at sea.

A MADRIGAL.

CRABBED Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather,

Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare:
Youth is full of sport,

Age's breath is short,

Youth is nimble, Age is lame :
Youth is hot and bold,

Age is weak and cold,

Youth is wild, and Age is tame.

UNDER the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throatCome hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall we see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

Who doth ambition shun
And loves to live i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats

And pleased with what he getsCome hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

LITTLE BIRD! LITTLE BIRD! "LITTLE bird! little bird! come to me! I have a green cage ready for thee; I'll bring thee flowers, both red and blue, And fresh, ripe cherries all wet with dew."

"Thanks, little maiden, for all thy care, But I dearly love the clear, cool air; And my snug little nest in the old oak tree." "Little bird! little bird stay with me.

"Nay, little damsel; away I'll fly
To greener fields and a warmer sky;
When spring returns with pattering rain
You will hear my merry song again."

"Little bird, little bird! who'll guide thee
Over the hills, and over the sea?
Foolish one, come, and with me stay;
For I'm sure you'll never find your way.'

"Ah, no, little maiden! God guides me
Over the hills, and over the sea;
I will be as free as the clear bright air,
Chasing the sun-light everywhere!'

FINE CLOTHES.

How proud we are, how fond to show
Our clothes, and call them rich and new ;
When the poor sheep and silk-worms wore
That very clothing long before!

The tulip and the butterfly,
Appear in gayer coats than I:
Let me be dress'd fine as I will,
Flies, worms, and flowers exceed me still.

Then will I set my heart to find
Inward adornings of the mind;
Knowledge and virtue, truth and grace,
These are the robes of richest dress.

THE FLY.

WHAT a sharp little fellow is Mister Fly, He goes where he pleases, low or high, And can walk just as well with his feet to the sky,

As I can on the floor;

And, o'er the smooth glass
Can easily pass,

Or through the keyhole of the door.

He eats the sugar and goes away,
Nor never once asks what there is to pay;
And, sometimes, he crosses the tea-pot's
steam,

And comes and plunges his head in the

cream;

Then on the edge of the jug he stands, And cleans his wings with his feet and hands.

This done, through the window he hurries away,

And gives a buzz, as if to say, "At present I haven't a minute to stay, But I'll peep in again in the course of the day."

Then away he'll fly,

Where the sunbeams lie,
Neither stop to shake hands

Nor bid one good-bye:

Such a strange little fellow is Mister Fly, Who goes where he pleases, low or high, And can walk on the ceiling, Without ever feeling

A fear of tumbling down "sky high."

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