BBS ■' ■'■ a • ■• ■ ■•■.,-■ :■(,:■:■■■■■ mm, WS5k WSmsBGBL ■raMiil BSBuESXar ^W r . Wmm. A OTHERS ^-.VSrba^V*^ -\\j; i FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY ^9/7 ■ H fc' \ ** I ^^H I - ■ "fcfc"* !?3C$ BOSTON^* B1€HSB§ £&B EtiEEBfr MAY 16 1936 HYMNS MOTHERS AND CHILDREN. Second Series, COilPILED BY THE EDITOR OF "HT3IXS OF THE AGES. f\9* W BOSTON: NICHOLS AND HALL 1872. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by WALKER, FULLER, A> T D COMPANY, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. CAMBRIDGE : STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON.. THE LAW OF LOVE. Oh ! if there is one law, above the rest, Written in wisdom ; if there is a word That I would trace, as with a pen of fire, Upon the unsullied temper of a child ; If there is any thing that keeps the mind Open to angel visits, and repels The ministry of ill, — 'tis human love ; And, in the yearning tenderness of a child For every bird that sings above its head, And every creature feeding on the hills, And every tree and flower and running brook, "We see how every thing was made to love ; And how they err, who, in a world like this, Find any thing to hate but human pride. [iii] CONTENTS. PART I. CHILDREN. Page. . iii . 3 . 4 . 7 The Law of Love The Mother's Hyjl\ W. C. Bryant . . . , Baby Bunn Home Journal .... Lullaby Mary Forrest .... Cradle So>-g Dr. J. G. Holland ... 8 Lullaby E. J. Cutler 10 The Outcasts Mrs. E. B. Browning . . 12 Two Sons Temple Bar 14 Cradle Song Dr. Watts 16 Frances Julie Leonard 17 The Beggar Gospel Messenger . ... 18 PART n. HOME PLEASURES. The Children's Hour H. W. Ijmgfelloic ... 22 Love Words Youth's Companion ... 23 To a Child embracing his Mother . Thomas Hood 24 Popping Corn Harpers' Magazine ... 25 The Rabbit on the Wall Catharine Allan .... 26 In the Garden M. 0. W. 27 The Wonderfu' Wean William Miller .... 29 [5] VI CONTEXTS. PART in. FOR YOUNG CHILDREN. Page. The BABY Soldiek Pacific Monthly .... 35 Little Birdik Tennyson 36 Little White Lily G. MacDonald 37 Deeds of Kindness Congregationalist .... 38 I am PAPA'S Julie Leonard 40 Song of the Summer Rain 41 The Kitchen Clock Aunt Effie's Rhymes ... 43 Little Lotty Rev. James Knapton ... 44 The Idle Girl Caroline Howard .... 47 Twinkle, Twinkle 48 A Nursery Song 49 The Little Boy and the Stars . . Aunt Effie's Rhymes ... 51 The Out-door Parlor 53 Baby and Mamma 54 Little Willie and the Apple . . . M. A. D 55 Little Things 56 The Lady-rug Mrs. Sigourney .... 57 The Vain Little Girl 58 Softly, Softly, Little Child . . . Julie Leonard 59 Industry Isaac Watts 60 If I WERE A SUNBEAM Lucy Larcom 61 The Dirty Old Man William AUingkam ... 62 General Washington 63 Tin: Robin's Secret Penny Gazette 64 The Cherry-tree 65 The Tired Boy From the German ... 67 Choosinc; a Name Mary Lamb 69 The Little Tree From the German ... 70 Father's Story Bayard Taylor .... 75 Good Night and Good Morning . . R. ^[. MUne* 77 I'm: PlRST GRIEF Mrs. Hemans 78 I'm': Bird William AUingkam ... 79 The Open Door 81 CONTENTS. Ml ft PART IV. N A T D R E. Page. The Choice Owen Meredith .... 85 Seven* times One Jean Ingelow 87 LUCY Wordsworth 88 The Farmer's Boy 90 Wishing William Allingham ... 91 The O'Lincoln Family Wilson Flagg .... 92 Ready for Duty Miss Warner 94 The Winter King H. F. Gould 96 What the Birds say William Allingham ... 97 The Wood-mouse Mary Howiit 99 The Country Child Marian Douglas . . . . 101 The Gbay Squirrels Mary How itt 103 The Grasshopper A. Cowley 105 To a Butterfly Wordsworth 106 Signs of Rain E. Jenner 107 The Lark's Song 108 Robin-redbreast William Allingham ... 110 The Robin-redbreast Wordsworth Ill It is More Blessed 112 Winter Flowers C. U. 113 Corn-fields Mary Eowitt 114 PART V. FAIRIES. The Fairies William Allingham ... 119 The Fairy Queen Ben Jonson 121 Fairies T. B. Aldrich 123 The Fairies' Dance Julie Leonard .... 124 A Fairy Palace Drayton 125 A Fairy Bed Draytcn 126 Fairy Favors Shahpeare 126 Fairy Torments Ben Jonson 127 Queen Mab Shalcspeare 127 Mother Fairie Alice Carey 128 The Answer 130 Vlll CONTENTS. PART VI. RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. Pagr. The Parent's Prayer C. Wesley 135 The Mother's Work 136 The Evening Prayer 137 A Mother's Morning Prayer 138 Baptism Henry Alford 139 The Children's Hymn 140 The Oldest Christian Hymn . . . Lyra Domestica .... 142 The Better Land 143 Tee Unseen Would Hymns of the Spirit. . . 145 The Kingdom of God is Within . . W. A. Danskin .... 146 My Shepherd 147 Remember thy Creator Salisbury Collection . . . 148 Early Piety Isaac Watts 149 The Pure Heart M . W. Hale 149 God Jane Taylor 150 The Great Teacher 151 God in Nature T. Moore 152 God 152 The Birth of Christ Patrick 152 A Christmas Carol L. G. Ware 154 Christmas Song Julie Leonard .... 154 The Childhood of Jesus 155 Only Believe S. Sumner 156 Lost 157 The Two Commandments Roscoe 158 Love Lange 158 Love one Another 159 Forgiveness Miss Fletcher .... 160 One Lesson, Shepherd Wordsworth 160 Conscience Hymns of the Spirit . . . 161 Be True Bonar 161 The Golden Rule 162 The Soul Furness 162 The Want Within Furness 163 Good Life, Long Life H. Bonar 164 Seeds 166 CONTEXTS. IX Page. The Honest Man 165 A Lik Chambers's Journal . . 166 Small Service Wordsworth 166 Morning Hymn 167 Evening Hymn Julie Leonard .... 168 Little Stars are Shining Julie Leonard .... 169 Watch o'er a Little Child 169 On Going to Rest 170 An Evening Song G. W. Bungay .... 171 The Sower to his Seed London S. S. Magazine . 172 A Child's Dream of Heaven . . . Julie Leonard .... 173 part vn. LOYALTY. Nkw England J. G. Whittier .... 179 My Country, 'tis of Thee . . . . S. F. Smith 180 The Little Drummer R. H. Stoddard .... 181 Barbara Frietchie ....... J. G. Whittier .... 187 Horatius the Roman Macaulay 190 Love of Country Sir W. Scott 191 Casbianca Jfrs. Eemans 192 From Ghent to Axe Robert Browning . . . 194 Jaffar Leigh Hunt 197 Loyalty Confined Sir Roger V Estrange . . 199 The Mothers of 1862 Caroline A. Mason . . . 202 Somebody's Darling 205 The Fatherland J. R, Lowell 207 PART YIII. FOR OLDER CHILDREN. On the Lord's Side 211 The Sowers 212 Earthly* and Heavenly Interest 214 Paddle Y'OUR own Canoe Annie E. Howe .... 214 Courage, Boy; Courage Rev. T. T. Waterman. . 216 Lifp:'s Mission Rev. S. Longfellow . . . 217 The Little Heart's-ease 218 X CONTENTS. Page. The Lady's Dream Thomas Hood 222 Gold Thomas Hood 226 The Cruse that Faileth not 227 Little and Great Charles Mackay .... 228 Now! SargenVs Speaker . .' . 230 By-AND-by Mrs. Abdy 231 A Moment too Late Youth's Companion . . . 233 Touch Not 234 Let it Pass All the Year Round. . . 234 Little by Little 236 The Ladder of St. Augustine . . . H. W. Longfellow ... 238 Move On Goodwyn Barmby . . . 240 The Grain of Corn J. Montgomery .... 242 A Plain Man's Philosophy .... Charles Mackay .... 243 What I live for G. L. Banks 245 A Man's a Man for a' that .... Robert Burns 247 The Royal Pedigree J. R. Lowell 248 The Lords of Thule 251 Abraham Lincoln London Punch .... 252 PART IX. BALLADS. King John and the Abbot .... Old Ballad 259 Bishop Hatto R. South ey 264 Napoleon and the Soldier .... T. Campbell 267 PART X. TEACHINGS OF CHILDREN. Childhood Wordsworth 273 The Teacher Charles Dickinson . . . 274 My Boy R. H. Stoddard .... 277 Little Benny and Santa Claus 278 Mi: too! 281 The Captain's Daughter James T. Fields .... 283 ('mi. i), Close the Door Christian Inquirer . . . 284 Little Willie Waking Up ... . Rev. E. II. Sears . . . 286 The Child of James Melville . . . Jlfrs. A. S. Menteath . . 288 CONTEXTS. XI Page. A Little Child shall lead Them . . Meeta 291 The School Fitz Hugh Ludbw . . . 294 The Little People 295 A Parable J. R. Lowell 297 The Beconcilhtion A. Tennyson 299 PART XL DEATH OF CHILDREX. To-day and To-morrow Christian Inquirer . . . 303 Only a Baby's Grave Good Words Our Baby 305 Benoxi Chambers's Journal . . 306 Baby looking out for Me .... Ethel Lynn 308 Charlie T. B. Aldrich .... 310 For Charlie's Sake Xeic-YorJ; Tribune. . . 311 The Lent Jewels R. 31. Milnes 314 Our Little Child with Radiant Eyes Gerald Massey .... 316 The Child-angel Jane Taylor 318 The Xuble Nature Ben Jonson 318 PART XII. THE CLOSE. A Petition to Time B. W. Proctor .... 321 We Two Clarence Butler .... 322 Song and Silence J. G. Holland 324 The Old Man's Dreams Dr. 0. W. Holmes ... 326 A Mother's Thoughts Frances D. Gage . . . 328 Old Folks 330 My Mother X. P. Willis 331 The Gray Swan Alice Carey 333 An Autumn Birthday Once a Week .... 336 Bock Me to Sleep Mrs. Alers 337 "The E'en brings a' Hame". . . . Harpers' Weekly . . . 339 THE MOTHER'S HYMX. ORD, who ordainest for mankind Benignant toils and tender cares. We thank thee for the ties that bind The mother to the child she bears. AYe thank thee for the hopes that rise AVithin her heart, as, day by day, The dawning soul from those young eyes Looks with a clearer, steadier ray. And, grateful for the blessing given, With that dear infant on her knee, She trains the eye to look to heaven, The voice to lisp a prayer to thee. [3] BABY BUNN. All-gracious ! grant to those who bear A mother's charge, the strength and light To guide the feet that own their care In ways of Love and Truth and Eight. W. C. Bryant. BABY BUNN. Winsome baby Bunn ! Brighter than the stars that rise In the dusky evening skies, Browner than the raven's wing, Clearer than the woodland spring, Are the eyes of baby Bunn ! "Winsome baby Bunn ! Smile, mother, smile ! Thinking softly all the while Of a tender, blissful day, When the dark eyes, so like these Of the cherub on your knees, Stole your girlish heart away. Oh the eyes of baby Bunn ! Rarest mischief will they do, When once old enough to steal What their father stole from you ! Smile, mother, smile ! BABY BUNN. Winsome baby Bunn ! Milk-white lilies half unrolled, Set in calyces of gold, Cannot make his forehead fair, With its rings of yellow hair ! Scarlet berry cleft in twain By a wedge of pe L rly grain Is the mouth of baby Bunn ! Winsome baby Bunn ! Weep, mother, weep, For the little one asleep With his head against your breast ! Never in the coming years, Though he seeks for it with tears, Will he find so sweet a rest. Oh the brow of baby Bunn ! Oh the scarlet mouth of Bunn ! One must wear its crown of thorns, Drink its cup of gall must one, Though the trembling lips shall shrink White with anguish as they drink, And the temple sweat with pain Drops of blood like purple rain ! Weep, mother, weep ! Winsome baby Bunn ! Not the sea-shell's palest tinge, Not the daisy's rose- white fringe, BABY BUNN. Not the softest, faintest glow Of the sunset on the snow, Is more beautiful and sweet Than the wee pink hands and feet Of the little baby Bunn, — Winsome baby Bunn ! Feet like these may lose the way, Wandering blindly from the right. Pray, and sometimes will your prayers Be to him like golden stairs Built through darkness into light. Oh the dimpled feet of Bunn, In her silken stockings dressed ! Oh the dainty hands of Bunn, Hid like rose-leaves in your breast ! These will grasp at jewels rare, But to find them empty air ; These shall falter many a day, Bruised and bleeding by the way, Ere they reach the land of rest ! Pray, mother, pray ! Home Journal* LULLABY. LULLABY. CcoiE to my arms, you bewildering elf! Let me gather you, body and soul, to myself; Bury your seintillant eyes and hair, And all the glory and grace you wear, From twinkling feet to golden crown ; Clasping you close to my bosom and heart, A thing of my holiest being a part ; Crooning a song in olden rhvme, Tender and sweet as a vesper chime. Sleep, baby boy : The little birds rest, Downy and soft, In the mother-bird's nest ; The lambkins are safe In the shepherd's warm fold ; The dew-drop's asleep In the buttercup's gold. The violet nods To the daisy's dream ; The lily lies hushed On the lap of the stream ; And holy and calm. Like motherly eyes, The stars look down From the silent skies. CRADLE SONG. Sleep, baby boy, My birdling, my flower, My lily, my lambkin, My dew-drop, my dower ! While heart against heart Beats softly in time To the murmuring flow Of my tender old rhyme. Mar? Forrest CRADLE SONG. What is the little one thinking about ? Very wonderful things, no doubt : Unwritten history ! Unfathomed mystery ! Yet he chuckles and crows and nods and winks, As if his head were as full of kinks And curious riddles as any sphinx ! Warped by colic, and wet by tears, Punctured by pins, and tortured by fears, Our little nephew will lose two years ; And he'll never know Where the summers go : lie need not laugh, for he'll find it so. CRADLE SOXG. Who can tell what a baby thinks? Who can follow the gossamer links By which the manikin feels his way Out from the shore of the great unknown, — Blind and wailing and alone, — Into the light of day ? Out from the shore of the unknown sea, Tossing in pitiful agony ; Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls, Specked with the barks of little souls : Barks that were launched on the other side, And shipped from heaven on an ebbing tide ! "What does he think of his mother's eyes? "What does he think of his mother's hair ? What of the cradle-roof, that flies Forward and backward through the air? "What does he think of his mother"? breast, Bare and beautiful, smooth and white, Seeking it ever with fresh delight, Cup of his life, and couch of his rest? What does he think, when her quick embrace Presses his hand, and buries his face Deep where the heart-throbs sink and swell, With a tenderness she can never tell? Though she murmur the words Of all the birds,— Words she has learned to murmur well ? Xow he thinks he'll go to sleep ! I can see the shadow creep 10 LULLABY. Over his eyes in soft eclipse, Over his brow and over his lips, Out to his little finger-tips. Softly sinking, down he goes ! Down he goes ! down he goes ! See ! he's hushed in sweet repose. Dr. J. G. Holland LULLABY. Now the twilight shadows flit ; Now the evening lamp is lit ; Sleep, baby, sleep ! Little head on mother's arm, She will keep him safe from harm , — Keep him safe, and fold him warm ; Sleep, baby, sleep ! Baby's father, far away, Thinks of him at shut of day ; Sleep, baby, sleep ! He must guard the sleeping camp, Hearkening, in the cold and damp, For the foeman's stealthy tramp ; Sleep, baby, sleep ! LULLABY. 11 He can hear the lullaby, He can see the laughing eve ; Sleep, baby, sleep ! And he knows, though we are dumb, How we long to have him come Back to baby, mother, home ; Sleep, baby, sleep ! Xow the eyes are closing up ; Let their little curtains drop ; Sleep, baby, sleep ! Softly on his father's bed Mother lays her baby's head ; There, until the night be fled, Sleep, baby, sleep ! God, who driest the widow's tears, God, who calm'st the orphan's fears, Guard baby's sleep ! Shield the father in the fray ; Help the mother wait and pray ; Keep us all , by night and day ; Sleep, baby, sleep ! E. J. Cutler 12 THE OUTCASTS. THE OUTCASTS. But these others, — children small, Spilt like blots about the city, Quay and street and palace-wall, — Take them up into your pity ! Ragged children, with bare feet, "Whom the angels in white raiment Know the names of, to repeat "When they come on you for payment. Ragged children, hungry-eyed, Huddled up out of the coldness On your door-steps, side by side, Till your footman damns their boldness. In the alleys, in the squares, Begging, lying little rebels ; In the noisy thoroughfares Struggling on with piteous trebles. Patient children, — think what pain Makes a young child patient, — ponder ! Wronged too commonly to strain After right, or wish, or wonder. THE OUTCASTS. 13 Wicked children, with peaked chins, And old foreheads ! there are many With no pleasures except sins, Gambling with a stolen penny. Sickly children, that whine low To themselves, and not their mothers, From mere habit, — never so Hoping help or care from others. Healthy children, with those blue English eyes, fresh from their Maker, Fierce and ravenous, staring through At the brown loaves of the baker. Can we smooth down the bright hair, O my sisters ! calm, unthrilled in Our heart's pulses ? Can we bear The sweet looks of our own children, While those others, lean and small, Scurf and mildew of the city, Spot our streets, convict us all, Till we take them into pity? O my sisters ! children small, Blue-eyed, wailing through the city, — Our own babes cry in them all : Let us take them into pity ! Mrs. E. B. Browning 14 TWO SONS. TWO SONS. I have two sons, wife, — Two, and yet the same ; Both are only one, wife, Bearing but one name : The one is bearded, sunburnt, grim, and fights across the sea ; The other is a little child, who sits upon your knee. Only one is here, wife, Free from scath and harm ; I can hear his voice, wife, All about the farm. The other is a great strong man, wherever he may be ; But this one, shadowy and dim, is sitting on your knee. One is fierce and cold, wife, With a wayward will ; He has passed through fire, wife, Knowing £rood and ill : He has tried our hearts for many a year, — not broken them ; for he Is still the stainless little one that sits upon your knee, One did wilful wrong, wife, Brin£in£ us to shame ; Darkened all the farm, wife, Blotted our good name ; TWO SONS. 15 And when our hearts were big with grief, he sailed across the sea, — But still we keep the little son that sits upon your knee. One was rash and dark, wife, AVould have say for say ; Furious when chid, wife, He went his wilful way ; His voice in sinful rage was loud within the farm ; but he Remained the crowing little one who sat upon your knee. One may fall in fight, wife, — Is he not our son ? Pray with all your heart, wife, For the wayward one ; Pray for the dark, rough soldier, who fights across the sea, Because you love the little one who smiles upon your knee. One in sinful fight, wife, As I speak, may fall ; But this one at home, wife, Cannot die at all. They both are only one ; and how thankful we should be, That we cannot lose the darling son who sits upon your knee. Temple Bar. lb* CRADLE SONG. CRADLE SONG. Hush, my babe, lie still and slumber : Holy angels guard thy bed ; Heavenly blessings without number, Gently falling on thy head. Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide All without thy care or payment, All thy wants are well supplied. See the lovely babe a-dressing ; Lovely infant, how he smiled ! When he wept, the mother's blessing Soothed and hushed the Holy Child. Lo, he slumbers in the manger, Where the horned oxen fed ! Peace, my darling ; here's no danger ; There's no oxen near thy bed. Twaa to save thee, child, from dying, Save my dear from sin and shame, 'Twas to lead thee home to heaven, That thy blest Redeemer came. FRANCES. 17 May'st thou live to know and fear him, Trust and love him all thy days ; Then go dwell for ever near him, See his face, and sing his praise. I could give thee thousand kisses, Hoping what I most desire ; Not a mother's fondest wishes Can to greater joys aspire. i Da. Watts. FRANCES. She is not pretty, our sweet child ; But then she is so good and mild ; You do not ask the hue of eyes Where truest love in ambush lies, "Where golden-hearted Charity, And lowliest deep Humility, And all Unselfishness you see. Her pure mind is so beautiful, So fond, so kind, so dutiful, Her soul's sweet beauty takes all praise, And leaves no word for her dear face. Julie Leonard. 18 A BEGGAR. A BEGGAR. Poor little feet on the pavement bare, Sad little face grown hardened with care ; Scanty the clothing around the wee form, Searching for bread in this pitiless storm ! Coldly we speak to the wandering thing, Scarring the tender young heart by our sting, — Poor little heart that is yearning to be Caressed like the darling clinging to me. Think ye, when Jesus was here among men, And took up the little ones brought to him then, And blessed them with love far better than gold, The poor and the homeless he did not infold ? Ah, poor little child ! unloved but by him, Good angels defend thee, — Christ shrive us our sin ; Far better for us than add sorrow to thee, To be helplessly cast in the midst of the sea. Gospel Messenger. ■pBsn n THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. UETWEEN the dark and the daylight, When the niirht is be^innin^ to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations That is known as the Children's Hour. I hear in the chamber above me The patter of little feet, The sound of a door that is opened, And voices soft and sweet. From my study I see in the lamplight, Descending the broad hall stair, Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra, And Edith with srolden hair. [21 22 the children's hour. A whisper, and then a silence : Yet I know by their merry eyes They are plotting and planning together To take me by surprise. A sudden rush from the stairway, A sudden raid from the hall ! By three doors left unguarded They enter my castle-wall ! They climb up into my turret, O'er the arms and back of my chair : If I try to escape, they surround me ; They seem to be everywhere. They almost devour me with kisses, Their arms about me entwine, Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen, In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine ! Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti ! Because you have scaled the wall, Such an old moustache as I am Is not a match for you all ? I have you fast in my fortress, And will not let you depart, But put you down into the dungeons In the round tower of my heart. LOVE WOSDS. 23 And there will I keep you for ever, Yes, for ever and a day, Till the walls shall crumble to ruin, And moulder in dust away ! H. W. Longfellow. LOVE WORDS. A little head, with its golden hair ; A little face, so sweet and fair ; A little hand, with its dimpled grace, — It wanders lovingly over my face ; And a sweet voice whispers, soft and low, "I love you, sister, — I love you so." It is dreary outside, — the wind and rain Sweep sobbing by, like a funeral train : But there's light within, — my heart beats high, I heed not the wild wind's wailing cry, As I list to the murmur soft and low, "I love you, sister, — I love you so." Ah ! what is fame but an empty show, Luring us on through fields of snow ? Ah ! what is wealth but a glittering chain, Linking our hearts to the wind and rain, If we hear not murmured, soft and low, The sweet, fond words, "I love you so"? 24 TO A CHILD EMBRACING HIS MOTHER. w I love you, sister ! " — ah ! murmur it o'er : They're the echoed words of another shore, Where the streets are gold and the robes are white, "Where there comes no storm with its bitter blight, Where many hearts we have missed below Are murmuring still, "We love you so." Youth's Companion. TO A CHILD EMBRACING HIS MOTHER. Love thy mother, little one ! Kiss and clasp her neck again : Hereafter she may have a son Will kiss and clasp her neck in vain. Love thy mother, little one ! Gaze upon her living eyes, And mirror back her love for thee : Hereafter thou may'st shudder sighs To meet them when they cannot see. Gaze upon her living eyes ! Press her lips, the while they glow, With love that they have often told : Hereafter thou may'st press in woe, And kiss them till thine own are cold. Press her lips, the while they glow ! POPPING CORN. 25 Oh, revere her raven hair ! Although it be not silver gray : Too early, Death, led on by Care, May snatch save one dear lock away. Oh, revere her raven hair ! Pray for her at eve and morn, That Heaven may long the stroke defer ; For thou may'st live the hour forlorn, When thou wilt ask to die with her. Pray for her at eve and morn ! Thomas Hood. POPPING CORN. One autumn night, when the wind was high, And the rain fell in many flashes, A little boy sat by the kitchen fire, A-popping corn in the ashes : And his sister, a curly-haired child of three, Sat looking on, just close to his knee. Pop ! pop ! and the kernels, one by one, Came out of the embers flving ; The boy held a long pine stick in hand, And kept it busily plying : He stirred the corn, and it snapped the more, And faster jumped to the clean-swept floor. 26 THE RABBIT OX THE WALL. Part of the kernels flew one way, And a part hopped out the other ; Some flew plump into the sister's lap, Some under the stool of the brother : The little girl gathered them into a heap, And called them " a flock of milk-white Bheep." IIakper's Magazine. THE RABBIT ON THE WALL. The cottage work is over, The evening meal is done ; Hark ! through the starlight stillness You hear the river run. The little children whisper, Then speak out one and all : Come, father, make for Johnny A rabbit on the wall. He smilingly assenting, They gather round his chair ; "Now, grandma, you hold Johnny ; Don't let the candle flare."' So speaking, from his Angers He throws a shadow tall, That seems, the moment after, A rabbit on the wall. IX THE GARDEN. '1 < The children shout with laughter, The uproar louder growa : Even grandma chuckles faintly. And Johnny chirps and crows. There ne'er was gilded painting, Hung up in lordly hall, Gave half the simple pleasure This rabbit on the wall. Cathahixe Allan IX THE GARDEN. Gkeex grass beneath, green leaves above, That rustle like a running stream : And sunshine that, witli tender gleam, Touches the little heads I love, — The little heads, the dewy eyes That shine and smile through sun and shower, That are my portion and my dower, My sum of wealth beneath the skies. The white doves flutter on the wall, Amid the rose-trees' crimson pride : The small house opes its windows wide, Fearless, whatever may befall. 28 TV THE GARDEN. Whate'er befalls ! O instinct strong Of this strange life, so sad and dear, That still foresees some coming tear, And of its joy still asks, How long? I sit and rest from all my woe, Peace in the air, light in the sky ; Here let me rest until I die, Nor further pain nor pleasure know. Half on the tender greensward round, And half on me, as here I rest, My nestlings nestle in their nest, "With fitful arms about me wound. The while I read, — and smile to see My boy's eye light with gleams of war, How the plumed helmet of Navarre Set bleeding France at Ivry free ; Or in my little maiden's face, — At hearing of Lord Burleigh's bride, And how he loved, and how she died, - A glow of softer radiance trace ; "While the small brother pauses oft, In babble half as sweet to hear ; The meaning lies beyond his ear. But sweet the music chimes and soft. 29 If there be any cloud that glides Unseen above this quiet spot, Dear Lord ! I thank thee I know not "What still in thy good hand abides. But while the peaceful moments last, I snatch this hour, unstained by tears, Out of my stormy tale of years, To charm the future and the past. And here memorial glad I raise, How, on one joyous day in June, Through all the sunny afternoon, Sang birds and babes unconscious praise. M. 0. W. O. THE WONDERFU' WEAN. Our wean's the most wonderfu' wean e'er I saw : It would tak me a lang simmer day to tell a* His pranks, frae the mornhv till night shuts his ee, When he sleeps like a peerie, 'tween father and me ; For in his quite turns siccan questions he'll speir ! How the moon can stick up in the sky that's sae clear ? What gars the wind blaw ? and whar frae comes the rain ? He's a perfec' divert, — he's a wonderfu' wean ! 30 THE W<)XI)i:iiFU' WEAN. Or wha was the first bodie's father? and wha Made tlie vera first snaw-shooer that ever did fa'? And wha made the first bird that sung on a tree? And the water that sooms a' the ships in the sea? But, after I've told him as weel as I ken, Again he begins wi' his wha and his when ; And lie looks aye sae wistful* the whiles I explain : He's as anld as the hills, — he's an anld-farrant wean. And folk wha hae skill o' the bumps on the head Hint there's mac ways than toilin' o' winnin' ane's bread ; How he'll be a rich man, and hae men to work for him, Wi' a kvte like a baillie's, shug-shuggin* afore him ; Wi' a face like the moon, — sober, sonsy, and douce, And a back for its bredth, like the side o' a house. 'Tweel ! I'm unco ta'en up wi't, — they mak a' sae plain. He's just a town's talk, he's a by-ord'nar wean ! I ne'er can forget sic a laugh as I gat, To see him put on father's waistcoat and hat ; Then the lang-leggit boots gaed sae far owre his knees, The tap-loops wi' his fingers he grippit wi' ease ; Then he marched through the house ; he marched but, he marched ben, Like owre inony mae o' our great little men, That I leuch clean outright, for I cou'dna contain : He was sic a conceit, — sic an ancient-like wean ! THE WONDEEFU* WEAN. 31 But, 'mid a' his daffin, sic kindness he shows, That he's dear to my heart as the dew to the rose ; And the unclouded hinny-beam aye in his ee Maks him every day dearer and dearer to me. Though Fortune be saucy and dorty and dour, And gloom through her fingers like hills through a shooer, When bodies hae gat a bit bairn o' their ain, How he cheers up their hearts ! — he's a wondcrfii' wean ! Wm. Miller. THE BABY SOLDIER. XOTHER little private Mustered in The army of temptation And of sin. Another soldier arming For the strife, To fight the toilsome battles Of a life. Another little sentry, Who will stand On guard, while evils prowl On every hand. [35] 36 LITTLE BIRDIE. Lord, our little darling Guide and save, 'Mid the perils of the march To the grave ! Pacific Monthly. LITTLE BIRDIE. WHAT does little birdie say In her nest at peep of day? " Let me fly," says little birdie, " Mother, let me fly away." — "Birdie, rest a little longer, Till the little wings are stronger." So she rests a little longer, Then she flies away. What does little baby say In her bed at peep of day ? Baby says, like little birdie, "Let me rise, and fly away." — "Baby, sleep a little longer, Till the little limbs are stronger. If she sleeps a little longer, Baby too shall fly away." Tenntson. LITTLE WHITE LILY. 37 LITTLE WHITE LILY, Little white Lily Sat by a stone, Drooping and waiting 'Till the sun shone. Little white Lily, Sunshine has fed ; Little white Lily Is lifting her head. Little white Lily Said, "It is good ; Little white Lily's Clothing and food." Little white Lily Drest like a bride ! Shining with whiteness, And crowned beside ! Little white Lily Droopeth with pain, Waiting and waiting For the wet rain. Little white Lily Holdeth her cup ; Rain is fast falling 1 And filling it up. 38 DEEDS OF KINDNESS. Little white Lily Said, " Good again, When I am thirsty To have nice rain ; Now I am stronger, Now I am cool ; Heat cannot burn me, My veins are so full." Little white Lily Smells very sweet ; On her head sunshine, Eain at her feet. "Thanks to the sunshine, Thanks to the rain, Little white Lily Is happy again ! " G. MacDonald. DEEDS OF KINDNESS. Suppose the little cowslip Should hang its little cup, And say, "I'm such a tiny flower I'd better not grow up," How many a weary traveller Would miss its fragrant smell ! How many a little child would grieve To miss it from the dell ! DEEDS OF KIXDXESS. 39 Suppose the glistening dewdrop Upon the grass, should say, K What can a little dewdrop do ? I'd better roll away ; " The blade on which it rested, Before the day was done, Without a drop to moisten it, Would wither in the sun. Suppose the little breezes, Upon a summer's day, Should think themselves too small to cool • The traveller on his way ; Who would not miss the smallest And softest ones that blow, And think they made a great mistake If they were talking so ? How many deeds of kindness A little child may do, Although it has so little strength, And little wisdom too ! It wants a loving spirit Much more than strength, to prove How many things a child may do For others by his love. Congreoatioxali8t. 40 "i AM papa's.' I AM PAPA'S." Come, Lily, be my little girl, And love me every day, And I will give you pretty birds, And toys with which to play. She glanced up with her sweet gray eyes, And looked into my face A look of innocent surprise ; Then said, with modest grace, "I am papa's, and even in play I cannot give myself away." . "But think," I urged, "how many things I'll give you if you will : A garden full of rarest flowers, Where you may pick your fill." A smile played on her dimpled face, But yet she answered low, — "Though dearly I do love sweet flowers, I'm sure I cannot go : I am papa's, and even in play I cannot give myself away." "A little pony you shall have, With saddle of the brightest red ; And every day with grass and oats He shall by your own hand be fed." SOXG OF THE SUMMER RAIX. 41 Her bright eves sparkled, — "I should like To ride that pony very much, To feed him all myself, and find He was obedient to my touch ; But I'm papa's, and even in play I cannot give myself away." "Dear child," I cried, and clasped her tight, "I'm glad you love your father so ; But there is One whom 'twould be right To love even dearer still, you know. He gives you all your daily food ; Your many pleasures, too, he gives ; He gave that loving father good, — 'Tis due to God that he still lives. Dear child, oh may you ever say, *I am God's child,' and him obey." Julie Leonard. SONG OF THE SUMMER RAIN. O children ! come and look at me : Was ever rain in such a glee As I have been all day? Drop chasing drop most merrily, Jostling each other clumsily, You'd think we were in play. 42 SONG OF THE SUMMER RAIN. And yet see how much work we've done, And then you'll see we're not in fun, Whate'er you thought before. We've driven the sun out of the sky, Made all the trees and bushes ery, And tightly closed the door. We've turned the dry and dusty street, That yesterday was parched with heat, Into a flowing river. We've made the flowers all hang their heads So low upon their rain-soaked beds, I fear they can't recover. We've given a shower-bath to the cow ; Where are the birds and chickens now ? They're hiding one and all. Oh, dear ! what will the farmers say? We've ruined all the new-mown hay By our unlucky fall. "O sweet, refreshing rain !" you say, "Ah ! soon, too soon, you'll pass away : Pray, come to us again." "When I am sent," the rain replies : "I come from God the good and wise, Oh, bless him for the rain ! " THE KITCHEN CLOCK. 43 THE KITCHEN CLOCK. Listex to the kitchen clock ! To itself it ever talks, From its place it never walks ; " Tick-tock, — tick-tack." Tell me what it says. " I'm a very patient clock, Never moved by hope or fear, Though I've stood for many a year ; Tick-tock, — tick-tock." That is what it savs. " I'm a very truthful clock : People say, about the place, Truth is written on my face ; Tick-tock, — tick-tock." That is what it says. " I'm a very active clock ; For I go while you're asleep, Though you never take a peep ; Tick-tock, — tick tock." That is what it says. 44 LITTLE LOTTY. . K I'm a most obli^in^ clock ; If you wish to hear me strike, You may do it when you like ; Tick-tock, — tick-tock." That is what it says. What a talkative old clock ! Let us see what it will do When the pointer reaches two. w Din^-dinof, — tick-tock." That is what it says. Aunt Effie's Rhymes. LITTLE LOTTY. Little Lotty went to ma ; Ma was very busy, Rocking in her old arm-chair Little sister Lizzie ; w Go to sleep my pretty one," Patiently and cheerly Sang she oft ; for, oh ! she loved Little Lizzie dearly. Soon to dream-land Lizzie went ; Then that happy mother Thought that like her children twain Never was another : LITTLE LOTTY. 45 Baby was so cherub-like, Lotty was so sprightly, Day or night to see them smile Made her heart dance lightly. Ah ! but why o'er Lotty's brow Hangs that shade of sadness ? Why, in rapture, from her eye Beams no ray of gladness ? Can it be on life's rough path One so young hath started ? You shall hear her simple tale, — Lottv is true-hearted. j " Dearest ma, as Fred and I On the lawn were playing, Naughtily I took a stone In the pathway lying. It was but a tiny thing : So in sport I aimed it At a little robin's head ; Hit it hard, and maimed it. f ' Soon it died. ' Xow let us haste Secretly, and throw it O'er the hedge,' said cousin Fred, — 1 Ma will never know it ; ' But behind your pretty vase Carefully we hid it, Purposing, when found, to say Little Tibby did it. 46 LITTLE LOTTY. "And for such a wicked thought Now my heart is smitten, Though poor little Tibby be But a silly kitten ; And I cannot sleep to-night First without confessing. Do you think that God again E'er will grant his blessing ? " Clasping Lotty to her heart Heaving with emotion, Lifting up her eyes to heaven, Beaming with devotion : "Yes, my child," she softly said, " Go to him in sorrow ; Tell him all, and joy shall be Thine again to-morrow." Little reader, when in fault, Never seek to hide it ; Always to the God above Faithfully confide it. He is ever kind and good, Over thee and near thee ; And, though every friend forsakes, He will wait to cheer thee. Kev. James Knapton. THE IDLE GIRL. 47 THE IDLE GIRL. O sux, bright sun ! come out of the sky, Put your hard work for a minute by, Give up for a while your endless round, And come and play with me on the ground. But the sun said, Xo. Wind, cold wind, with your whistle and roar, Pray do not toy with the waves any more ; Come frolic with me, that's a good old breeze, In the orchard green, 'neath the apple-trees. But the breeze said, Xo. O water clear ! as you flow along, Come close to my feet, and sing me a song ; Don't go for ever that endless way, But pause for a moment, and with me stay. But the stream said, No. Little blue bird, on the high tree-top, You have nothing to do, and you will stop ; I'll show you a way to build a nest, An easy way, the nicest and best. But the bird said, Xo. 48 TWINKLE, TWINKLE. Sun, water, and wind, and bird, say no ! I, too, to my task will quickly go : I must not be idle alone all the day ; But when my work's done, can I come and play? And they all said, Yes. Caroline Howard. TWINKLE, TWINKLE. Twinkle, twinkle, little star; How I wonder what you are ! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. When the glorious sun is set, When the grass with dew is wet, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. In the dark-blue sky you keep, And often through my curtains peep ; For you never shut your eye Till the sun is in the sky. As your bright and tiny spark Lights the traveller in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star ! A NURSERY SONG. 49 A NURSERY SONG. As I walked over the hills one day, I listened, and heard a mother-sheep say, " In all the green world there is nothing so sweet As my little lammie, with his nimble feet, With his eye so bright, And his wool so white, Oh ! he is my darling, my heart's delight. The robin, he That sings in the tree, Dearly mav dote on his darlings four ; But I love my one little lambkin more." And the mother-sheep and her little one Side by side lay down in the sun, And they went to sleep on the hill-side warm, While my little lammie lies here on my arm. I went to the kitchen, and what did I see, But the old gray cat and her kittens three ? I heard her whispering soft : said she, "My kittens, with tails all so cunningly curled, Are the prettiest things that can be in the world. The bird on the tree, And the old ewe, she, May love their babies exceedingly : But I love my kittens there, Under the rockinjr-chair. 50 A NURSERY SOXG. I love my kittens with all my might ; I love them at morning and noon and night ; Which is the prettiest I cannot tell, — Which of the three, For the life of me, — I love them all so well. Now I'll take up my kitties, — the kitties I love, And we'll lie down together beneath the warm stove." Let the kitties sleep under the stove so warm, While my little darling lies here on my arm. I went to the yard, and I saw the old hen Go clucking about with her chickens ten. She clucked and she scratched and she bristled away, And what do you think I heard her say ? I heard her say, " The sun never did shine On any thing like to these chickens of mine. You may hunt the full moon, and the stars if you please, But you never will find such ten chickens as these. The cat loves her kittens, the ewe loves her lamb, But they do not know what a proud mother I am ; For lambs, nor for kittens, I won't part with these, Though the sheep and the cat should go down on their knees. No ! no ! not though The kittens could crow, Or the lammie on two yellow legs could go. My dear downy darlings ! my sweet little things ! Come nestle, now, cosily under my wings." THE LITTLE BOY AXD THE STABS. 51 So the hen said, And the chickens all sped As fast as they could to their nice feather bed. And there let them sleep in their feathers so warm, "While my little chick nestles here on my arm. THE LITTLE BOY AND THE STARS. You little twinkling stars, that shine Above my head so high, If I had but a pair of wings, I'd join you in the sky. I am not happy lying here, With neither book nor toy ; For I am sent to bed, because I've been a naughty boy. If you will listen, little stars, I'll tell you all I did : I only said I would not do The thing that I was bid ! I'm six years old this very day, And I can write and read, And not to have my own way yet Is very hard indeed. 1/2 THE LITTLE BOY AND THE STARS. I do not know how old you are, Or whether you can speak ; But you may twinkle all night long, And play at hide-and-seek. If I were with you, little stars, How merrily we'd roll Across the skies, and through the clouds, And round about the Pole ! The moon, that once was round and full, Is now a silver boat ; We'd launch it off that bri^ht-ed^ed cloud, And then — how we should float ! Does anybody say, "Be still !" When you would dance or play ? Does anybody hinder you When you would have your way ? Oh, tell me, little stars ! for much I wonder why you go The whole night long, from East to West, So patiently and slow?" w We have a Father, little child, Who guides us on our way : We never question ; when he speaks, We listen and obey." Aunt Effie's Rhymes. THE OUT-DOOR PARLOR. 53 THE OUT-DOOR PARLOR. This cricket is not high enough ; Mother, please bring a chair : How prettily these curtains hang, Parted just like my hair ! Let us pretend that all out-doors Is one great drawing-room : Our carpet is so white and clean, We'll never need a broom. The sheet of ice where Willie skates "Would make a looking-glass, If we could only set it up "Where all the people pass. Oh, what a window we have now ! The sky is all one pane : The clouds have covered it, like frost That comes instead of rain. Let us pretend I've just got up, An hour or two too soon ; I put my finger on the frost, And see ! it makes the moon ! 54 BABY AND MAMMA. mother ! think how bright 'twould be If we could raise it all, — If we could only raise the sash, And never let it fall. 1 think that some time we shall £0 Where we can see the light, Where all the world will be out-doors And there will be no night. BABY AND MAMMA. What a little thing am I ! Hardly higher than the table ; I can eat and play and cry, But to work I am not able. Nothing in the world I know, But mamma will try and show me ; Sweet mamma, I love her so, She's so very kind unto me. And she sets me on her knee Very often for some kisses : Oh ! how good I'll try to be, For such a dear mamma as this is ! LITTLE WILLIE AND THE APPLE. 55 LITTLE WILLIE AND THE APPLE. Little Willie stood under an apple-tree old, The fruit was all shining with crimson and gold, Hanging temptingly low, — how he longed for a bite ! Though he knew, if he took one, it wouldn't be right. Said he : "I don't see why my father should say, 'Don't touch the old apple-tree, Willie, to-day;' I shouldn't have thought — now thev're hanging so low When I asked for just one, he would answer me 'No.' He would never find out, if I took but just one ; And thev do look so good, shining out in the sun : J DO There are hundreds and hundreds, and he wouldn't miss So paltry a little red apple as this." He stretched forth his hand ; but a low, mournful strain Came wandering dreamily over his brain : In his bosom a beautiful harp had long laid, That the angel of conscience quite frequently played. And he sung : "Little Willie, beware ! oh, beware ! Your father has gone, but your Maker is there : How sad you would feel, if you heard the Lord say, 1 This dear little boy stole an apple to-day ' ! " 56 LITTLE THINGS. Then Willie turned round, and, as still as a mouse, CreJ)t slowly and carefully into the house ; In his own little chamber he knelt down to pray That the Lord would forgive him, and please not to say, r Little Willie almost stole an apple to-day." M. A. D. LITTLE THINGS. Little drops of water, Little grains of sand, Make the mighty ocean And the glorious land. And the little moments, Humble though they be, Make the mighty ages Of eternity. So our little errors Lead the soul away From the paths of virtue, Oft in sin to stray. Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love, Make our earth an Eden, Like the heaven above. THE LADY-BUG. 57 THE LADY-BUG. The lady-bug sat in the rose's heart, And smiled with pride and scorn, As she saw a plain-dressed ant go by With a heavy grain of corn. So she drew her curtains of damask around, And adjusted her silken vest ; Making her glass of a drop of dew That lay in the rose's breast : Then laughed so loud that the ant looked up, And seeing her haughty face, Took no more notice, but travelled along At the same industrious pace. But a sudden wind of autumn came, And rudely swept the ground ; And down the rose with the lady-bug bent, And scattered its leaves around. Then the houseless lady was much amazed, For she knew not where to go ; Since cold November's surly blast Had brought both rain and snow. 58 THE VAIN LITTLE GIRL. Her wings were wet, and her feet were cold, And she thought of the ant's warm cell ; And what she did in the wintry storm, I'm sure I cannot tell. But the careful ant was in her nest, With the little ones by her side : She taught them all like herself to toil, Nor mind the sneer of pride. And I thought, as I sat at the close of day, Eating my bread and milk, It was wiser to work, and improve the time, Than be idle, and dressed in silk. Mrs. Sigourney THE VAIN LITTLE GIRL. What, looking in the glass again ! Why is my silly child so vain ? Do you think yourself as fair As the gentle lilies are? Is your merry eye as blue As the violets, wet with dew? Yet it loves the best to hide By the hedge's shady side. SOFTLY, SOFTLY, LITTLE CHILD. 59 "When your cheek the brightest glows, Is it redder than the rose ? But the rose's buds are seen Almost hid with moss and green. Little flowers, that open gay, Peeping forth at break of day, In the garden, hedge, or plain, Do you think that they are vain? SOFTLY, SOFTLY, LITTLE CHILD. Softly, softly, little child ; Do not wear that angry brow ; Do not speak that naughty word : Angcl-steps are near thee now. Softly, softly, little child, Drive thy passions far away, And thy angel visitants Close will fold their wings and stay. Softly, softly, little child, Drop the penitential tear : Angels catch it ere it falls, — Bear it up to heaven from here. 60 INDUSTRY. Softly, softly, little child, Are the son^s of angels blent : © © Joyous are the strains above, O'er the child that doth repent. Julie Leoxakd INDUSTRY. How doth the little busy Bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower ! How skilfully she builds her cell ! How neat she spreads her wax ! And labors hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labor or of skill I would be busy too ; For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books or work or healthful play Let my first years be passed ; That I may give, for every day, Some good account at last. Isaac Watts. IF I WERE A SUNBEAM. 61 IF I WERE A SUNBEAM. "If I were a sunbeam, I know what I'd do : I would seek white lilies Rainy woodlands through. I would steal among them : Softest light I'd shed, Until every lily Raised its drooping head. "If I were a sunbeam, I know where I'd go, — Into lowliest hovels, Dark with want and woe ; Till sad hearts looked upward, I would shine and shine ! Then they'd think of heaven, Their sweet home and mine." "Art thou not a sunbeam, Child, whose life is glad With an inner radiance Sunshine never had ? Oh, as God hath blessed thee, Scatter rays divine ! For there is no sunbeam But must die or shine." Lucy Larcom 62 THE DIRTY OLD MAN. THE DIRTY OLD MAN. In a dirty old house lived a dirty old man : Soap, towel, or brushes were not in his plan ; For forty long years, as the neighbors declared, His house never once had been cleaned or repaired. 'Twas a scandal and shame to the business-like street, One terrible blot in a ledger so neat ; The shop full of hardware, but black as a hearse, And the rest of the mansion a thousand times worse. Outside, the old plaster, all spatter and stain, Looked spotty in sunshine, and streaky in rain ; The window-sills sprouted with mildewy grass, And the panes, from being broken, were known to be glass. On the rickety sign-board no learning could spell The merchant who sold, or the goods he'd to sell ; But for house and for man a new title took growth Like a fungus, — the Dirt gave its name to them both. Within there were carpets and cushions of dust, The wood was half rot, and the metal half rust ; Old curtains, half cobwebs, hung grimly aloof: 'Twas a spider's Elysium from cellar to roof. GENERAL WASHINGTON. $3 There, King of the Spiders, the dirty old man Lives busy and dirty as ever he can, With dirt on his fingers and dirt on his face ; For the dirty old man thinks the dirt no disgrace. William Allingham GENERAL WASHINGTON. WHEN General Washington was young, About as large as I, He never would permit his tongue To tell a wilful lie. Once, when he cut his father's tree, Pie owned it to his face ; And then his father ardently Clasped him in his embrace. He told his son it pleased him more To find him own the truth, Than if his tree were bendimr o'er With rich and golden fruit. Then like this good and noble youth, Whose virtues ever shone, III seek the paths of love and truth, And all my faults will own. 64 THE ROBIN'S SECRET. THE ROBIN'S SECRET. I'm little Robin Red-breast, sir; My nest is in the tree ; If you look up in yonder elm, My pleasant home you'll see. We made it very soft and nice, — My pretty mate and I ; And all the time we worked at it, We sang most merrily. The green leaves shade our little home From the hot, scorching sun; So many birds live in the tree, We do not want for fun. The light breeze gently rocks our nest, And hushes us to sleep ; We're up betimes to sing our song, And the first daylight greet. I have a secret I would like The little girls to know ; But I won't tell a single boy, — They rob the poor birds so. We have four pretty little nests, We watch them with great care ; Full fifty eggs are in this tree, — T)on't tell the boys they're here. THE CHERRY-TREE. 65 Joe Thomson robbed the nest last year, And year before, Tom Brown ; I'll tell it loud as I can sing, To every one in town. Swallow and sparrow, lark and thrush, Will tell you just the same : To make us all so sorrowful, Ah, isn't it a shame ! And did you hear the concert This morning from our tree ? We give it every morning, Just as the clock strikes three. "We praise our great Creator, Whose holy love we share : Dear children, learn to praise him too, For all his tender care. Penny Gazette. THE CHERRY-TREE. The good Lord to the Spring once said, "The little worm's table now spread." Then quick was a cherry-tree seen, Covered with leaves all fresh and irreen. The little worm waked from his lonji winter nijjht, And, rubbing his eyes at the sight of the light, G6 THE CHERRY-TREE. Placed himself at his table (needing no chair) , And with quick-tooth appetite gnawed here and there. " Oh, how sweet are these leaves ! " the little worm said ; " One would hardly go back to one's cold winter bed." The good Lord to the Spring then said, "The little bee's table now spread." A perfume sweet then filled the air, Tempting the bee with blossoms fair. The little bee wakes with the first morning light, And swift to the cherry-tree hastens his flight : K Ah ! here is my coffee in cups porcelain," Says the little bee, smelling and smelling again. Then he puts in his tongue, but could scarcely eat, It wagged so with talking : " How sweet ! oh, how sweet ! Sure sugar is cheap," says he, drinking his fill From the clean china cups, — then flew o'er the hill. The good Lord then to Summer said, " The small sparrow's table now spread." The good tree then her blossoms cast, And spread the sparrow's rich repast. In place of the flowers where the little bee fed, Came thousands of cherries, so fresh and so red ; And the sparrow said, "Is it so meant indeed? I'll be seated then soon, — no second call need. In marrow and bone will this fruit make me strong, And strengthen my throat for a new, sweeter song." THE TIRED BOY. 67 To Autumn, then the good Lord said, ft Clear off the table, — all are fed." Then hoar-frost came up from his icy abode ; And the rude autumn blasts on the storm-cloud rode ; And the wild winds moaned, as the leaves flew around, tr What comes from the dust must go back to the ground." Then to Winter, he said, to close up the scene, f ' Cover up what is left with a napkin clean ; " And he bade the storm-cloud, that doeth his will, And he spread his white robe on valley and hill. THE TIRED BOY. A boy went into the pleasant fields For the purpose of taking a walk ; But soon he grew tired, and this was the way That the urchin began to talk : "I can't stir another step," said he, " If something only would carry me ! " There flowed a little brook rippling along, And that took him up in a trice ; So right on the water he sat himself down, And said, "Xow, this is nice." C8 THE TIRED BOY. But what do you think? The brook was cold, lie felt half-frozen, and out he rolled ; And, "I'm sure I can't go so," said he, " If* something would but carry me ! " Then a nice little boat came sailing by, And the boy got into that ; lie sat himself down in the midst of the skiff, And said, "Now this comes pat." But what do you think? The boat was small, And the boy was afraid he should get a fall. So, "I'm sure I can't go so," said he, "If something only would carry me ! " Then a poor snail came creeping along, And the boy got upon his shell ; He sat himself down, and crossed his legs, And said, "This suits me well." But what do you think? The snail was slow, And the boy grew tired of creeping so ; And, "This is no way to go," said he, " If somebody only would carry me ! " Then came a horseman galloping by, And he to carry the boy would try : So the child sat down on the horse behind, And said, "This exactly suits my mind." But what came next? The horse went fast, Much too quick for the youngster's taste : CHOOSING A NAME. 'I'.' He was tossed about, now here, now there, Till half the time he was up in the air ; And, r Oh, I can't go so," cried he, t: If something only would carry me ! " Then a tree stuck its branches into his hair, And carried my gentleman up in the air. It hung him up on the highest bough, And there is the little bov hanomn now ; So to-morrow the children shall come with me, And we will go shake him down from the tree. From the German*. CHOOSING A NAME. I have seen my new-born sister ; I was nigh the first that kissed her. When the nursing-woman brought her To papa, — his infant daughter, — How papa's dear eyes did glisten ! She will shortly be to christen ; And papa has made the offer, I shall have the naming of her. Xow I wonder what would please her : Charlotte, Julia, or Louisa? Ann and Mary, they're too common ; Joan's too formal for a woman ; THE LITTLE TREE Jane's a prettier name beside, But we had a Jane that died. They would say, if 'twas Rebecca, That she was a little Quaker. Edith's pretty, but that looks Better in old English books ; Ellen's left off long ago ; Blanche is out of fashion now. None that I have named as yet Are so good as Margaret. Emily is neat and fine ; What do you think of Caroline ? How I'm puzzled and perplexed What to choose or think of next ! I am in a little fever Lest the name that I should give her Should disgrace her or defame her : I will leave papa to name her. Mary Lamb. THE LITTLE TREE. A little tree grew in a wood, The place itself was very good, But shrubs and trees grew round about, And many a bush beside : They grew so close, that they were pushed And squeezed on every side ; THE LITTLE TREE. 71 And our little tree was bowed, And pressed together in the crowd. The tree considered with itself, And came to this conclusion, " I shan't stay here another day, I don't like such confusion ! I mean to find a better place, Away from all these folks, Where not a beech nor birch tree grows, And neither pines nor oaks ; "Where I can plant myself at ease, And dance about just as I please." With these remarks, the tree set forth, And found out presently A nice place in the meadow-land Without a single tree ; And there it planted itself out, And danced its branches all about. If one were looking for a place, A better could not be : A charming little rivulet Ran right up to the tree ; And, if the tree was in a heat, The rippling water cooled its feet. If the tree was cold, the sunlight Shone warm upon the place, And a fresh wind blew round about This pleasant open space, 72 THE LITTLE TREE. And used its bellows merrily To help the dancing of the tree. All summer long our little friend Went dancing up and down, Till at last in a very lively dance It lost its leafy crown. Down fell the leaves, — a sight to see ; Not one was left upon the tree. Some fell into the water, And some flew into the sun ; And the wind blew off the rest of them, And scattered every one. When autumn came, and it grew cold, The tree began to freeze : It called the brook, and said, " Give back My leaves now, if you please ; For, in this keen and frosty air, I want a winter dress to wear." But the brook said, "I cannot give Your leaves back, little tree, I soon sucked in — in fact, I drowned — All those that fell on me." Then to the sunshine, said the tree, "Prithee, give back my leaves to me ! I'm freezing in this blast/' But the sun answered, " Not so fast. THE LITTLE TKEE. 73 Such of your leaves as fell to me Are gone, you understand ; For, as I held them for a while, They scorched in my hot hand." Then hastily the tree addressed The free wind blowing by, Saying, "Beseech you, give my leaves To me, or I shall die." But the wind answered, like the sun, " I'm sorry, but it can't be done ; For I blew all your leaves one day Over the hills and far away." Then softly said the little tree, " I know what I will do ! I'll go back to the wood again Where in old times I grew And, where the trees grow close together, Get shelter from this bitter weather." So off it set, and fast it ran Till to the wood it came ; It saw the trees stand close and thick, And longed to do the same. It asked the first tree it could see, " Pray, have you any room for me ? " K No : not a corner ! " said the tree. It asked the next tree standing there, But that had not an inch to spare. THE LITTLE TREE. It went from tree to tree in vain, — It could not find a place again ; In summer they stood close together, And closer still in the cold weather. Of no avail were pains and care, — Our tree could get no entrance there, And, without any clothes to wear, Went sorrowful away. Just then a peasant passed along With an axe upon his shoulder, Rubbing his hands as if he thought The davs were growing colder : " There ! " said our lively little tree, *' That is the very man for me ! He is a wood-cutter, I see, I hail him as a brother." Quickly it spoke, "My friend ! look you I'm freezing, and you're freezing too ; Now each of us can help the other, And do himself no harm : Up with your axe, and cut me down ; Then light your fire, and lay me on, And we shall both be warm." The wood-cutter was nowise slow To follow such advice : He heaved his axe, and dealt a blow That lay the trunk and branches low Before him in a trice. fathkbTs sioex. Ai : :^i: ir Ai" -A i: :■: A^ -m rl-r Til 11_"1~ lr fll'inl 7'r-'. .11 It . T.i-rn ::•: ^ i: i 11-:. — 111 :. . .: : ~ :::. He put it on the fire. Tir Ai_iin lir*:-^ :: A A- ::r: He chanced to bring 1 to os y too see : So put it on? "twifl make a blaze, And cook oar sapper many days. BE QeEX-lX. fatz.il s stilt. Ljttle one, come to mj knee ? Zi:V i- At :■•:- ■>• t7 :i.r ::•::'. 11 :i_r An: Ai --mi in Af ~ :•:•!= i :•. m: ! ni-.i. n _ ii i__i_*. in: — -i-ii : Then pa j fer the stoij with FiA-ei "- 1.« .:-! ii ii: - i.ii-Aia i._n. Ii ; i~: fill, i -::m 1.5 AA :- Ei,A 17 1 Av I1-A7 Where the wild men watched and waited: W >r- A : 1 1 :'.;■—'. mi ".eiir? 11 A-: Ai '. I 11 117 niii AA:A. 76 father's story. The rain and the night together Came down, and the wind came after, Bending the props of the pine-tree roof, And snapping many a rafter. I crept along in the darkness, Stunned and bruised and blinded, — Crept to a fir with thick-set boughs, And to a sheltering rock behind it. There, from the blowing and raining Crouching, I sought to hide me : Something rustled, two green eyes shone, And a wolf lay down beside me. Little one, be not frightened : I and the wolf together, Side by side, through the long, long night, Hid from the awful weather. His wet fur pressed against me ; Each of us warmed the other : Each of us felt, in the stormy dark, That beast and man was brother. And when the falling forest No longer crashed in warning, Each of us went from our hiding-place, Forth in the wild, wet morning. GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORNING. 77 Now, darling, kiss me in payment, And hark how the wind is roaring Surely home is a better place When stormy rain is pouring ! D Bayard Taylor GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORXING. A fair little girl sat under a tree, Sewing as long as her eyes could see ; Then smoothed her work, and folded it right, And said, "Dear work, good-night ! good-night ! Such a number of rooks came over her head, Crying, " Caw ! caw ! " on their way to bed ; She said, as she watched their curious flight, R Little black things, good night ! good night ! " The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed, The sheep's " Bleat ! bleat ! " came over the road, All seeming to say, with a quiet delight, " Good little oirl, p-ood-ni^ht ! pr>od-nio;ht ! " She did not say to the sun " Good-night ! " Though she saw him there, like a ball of light ; For she knew he had God's time to keep All over the world, and never could sleep. iO THE FIRST GRIEF. The tall pink foxglove bowed his head, The violets curtsied, and went to bed ; And good little Lucy tied up her hair, And said, on her knees, her favorite prayer. And, while on her pillow she softly lay, She knew nothing more till again it was day, And all things said to the beautiful sun, K Good-mornin