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The Cuckoo.
The little children flocking came
And chased his frozen hands in theirs,
And busily the good old dame

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Their kindness cheered his drooping foul,
And owly down his wrinkled cheek
Tie big round tears were seen to roll,
Aid told the thanks he could not speak.

The children too began to figh,
And all their merry chat was o'er;
And yet they felt, they knew not why,
More glad than they had done before.



JAIL, beauteous stranger of the wood,

Attendant on the spring!
Now heaven repairs thy yernal feat',
And woods thy welcome fing.

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The Cuckos.
Soon as the daily decks the green -

Thy certain voice we hear;
Hast thou a star to guide thy path,

Or mark the rolling year?


I must

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Delightful visitant! with thee
· I hail the time of flowers,
When heaven is filled with music fweet
* Of birds among the bowers.

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The schoolboy wandering in the wood

To pull the flowers so gay, Starts--thy curious voice to hear,

And imitates thy lay.

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Soon as the pea puts on the bloom,

Thou fly'st the vocal vale,
An annual guest in other lands,

Another spring to hail...


Sreet bird, thy bower is ever green,

Thy sky is ever clear ; i jou haft no forrow in thy song,

No winter in thy year!

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O say, what is that thing call’d light,

Which I must ne’er enjoy?
What are the blessings of the fight ?.

tell your poor blind boy!

You talk of wondrous things you fee;

You say the sun shines bright:
I feel him warm, bụt how can he

Or inake it day or night?

My day or night myself I make ? / Whene'er I sleep or play,

and could I always keep awake of With me 't were always day:

With heavy fighs I often hear

You mourn my hapless woe; But sure with patience I can bear

A loss I ne'er can know.

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Shall man, the great master of all,
The only infensible prove ?
Forbid it; fair gratitude's call!
Forbid it, devotion and love!
The Lord, who such wonders could raile,
And still can deftroy with a nod,
My lips shall incessantly praise,
My foal fhall be wrapt in my God!


Busy, curious, thirsty fly,
Drink with me, and drink as I;
Freely welcome to my cup,
Couldst thou lip, and fip it up.
Make the most of life you may,
Life is short, and wears away.
Both alike are mine and thine,
Haft’ning quick to their decline :
Thine's a summer, mine's no more
Though repeated to threescore;
Threescore fummers, when they're gone,
Will appear as thort as one,


ST I NE Uraspopper : O! could I fly, I'd fly with thee;

We'd make, with social wing, Our annual visit o'er the globe,

Companions of the spring:



Happy insect! what can be
In happiness compared to thee?
Fed with nourishment divine,
The dewy morning's gentle wine!
Nature waits upon thee still,
And thy verdant cup does fill.
Thou doft drink and dance and sing,
Happier than the happiest king!
All the fields which thou dost see,
All the plants, belong to thee,
All that summer hours produce,
Fertile made with early juice.
Man for thee does sow and plów;
Farmer he, and landlord thou ! :

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