And one is strewn with roses,While one looks bleak and bare,With now and then a berry-bush,And a violet here and there;--{299}On one you'll find companionsWho but for pleasure seek,While friends along the other,Will words of wisdom speak.
Be careful in your choosing,For if you take theRight,You will travel in the shadowOf the Rock that shields at night;'T will lead through greenest pasturesWhere softest brooklets flow,And land you at a StationThat is full of cheer and glow.{300}On the other track, the rosesAre backed by sharpest thorns;While berries always nourish,And the violet but adorns;--You will stumble into sluices,And what is worse than all,Your self-respect and conscienceGrow weak with every fall.Yes, if you choose the otherThat looks so bright and gay,You'll find the bridges broken,And the road-bed washed away;And when you near the Station,You'll switch to a fearful leap,That will hurl you into darkness,And bury you in the deep.But those who choose the Right oneGrow manly, womanly, true;God's love-light shines upon them,And falls as heavenly dew;--They grieve at your wild folly,And will gladly help you back,If at any curve or turningYou seek the trusty track.
{301}
But ah! the scars you're wearing,From thorns that pierced you sore,--{302}And the ditches in which you've fallen,That were strewn with roses o'er;--And the joys you've lost, unnumbered,That spring from good deeds done;And the fruits you've missed, unmeasured,That by others have been won.Though friends may be indulgent,And loved ones even forget,Yourself can never banishThe memories that beset.You will wish you had never traveledThe way that leads to death;You will wish you had never reveledIn the viper's venomed breath.So beware which track you follow;And again I say, beware!TheFalseis strewn with roses,--TheTruelooks bleak and bare;But this, 't is plain, is onlyThat youthful, artless eyesAre open to show and glamour,But see not deep nor wise,{303}To Truth then, children, listen,And cultivate the seedThat in your hearts God planted,To serve your every need;--Yes, heed the voice within you,And follow it all the way,For it will help you choose the roadThat leads to endless day.
{304}
THE PHOEBE'S NEST IN THE OLD WELL-WHEEL.
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," why, 'tis a little bird,"Phoe-be, phoe-be," singing the pretty word;"Phoe-be, phoe-be," brown feathers cover him,Gray breast, with blackish stripes scattered all over him."Phoe-be, phoe-be," here comes his little mate,"Phoe-be, phoe-be," both on the garden gate,"Phoe-be, phoe-be," loving now they trill,Planning to build a nest in the old well-wheel."Phoe-be, phoe-be," now the nest is begun;"Phoe-be, phoe-be," now it is nearly done;"Phoe-be, phoe-be," how will the birdies feel,When the egg is dropped down, with turn of the wheel."Phoe-be, phoe-be," children are sorry now,"Phoe-be, phoe-be," birds are all a-worry now,"Phoe-be, phoe-be," laying eggs day by day,While the turn of the wheel ever drops them away.{305}"Phoe-be, phoe-be," never the lesson learned,"Phoe-be, phoe-be," year by year they returned,"Phoe-be, phoe-be," building persistently,Where the turn of the wheel dropped the eggs all away.Phoe-be, phoe-be, yet not in vain you wrought,Phoe-be, phoe-be, for, by your folly taught,Phoe-be, phoe-be, children plan so to build,That no eggs may be lost by the turn of life's wheel.
{306}
MABEL'S SNOW-FEATHERS.
Listen, children, while I tell youWhat our merry Mabel saidWhen she saw the feathery snow-flakesTumbling down about her head.Clapping hands and dancing gaily,"Mamma, mamma, come and see!Come and see the feathers, mamma,Soft and white as they can be!"{307}Standing then a moment, ponderingAs it were, whence came the snow,Little face so wise and thoughtful,Mabel cried: "Oh, now I know,"There are lots of eider duckletsUp in Heaven, above the blue,And they're dropping off their feathers,--And such downy feathers, too!"See them frolic with each other;See them kiss as fast they fly;See them make believe they are going to,Then go gaily flitting by."See them on the Spruce and Balsam,Pile up little soft, fat hands;See their many plump, white cushions;See them wave their fairy wands."See the showers of flying feathersWhisking 'round in merry moods;See, the telegraph their perch is,--Oh, I'm sure they're almost birds!"{308}Now she fancies she can hear themWhisper of their ducklet birth;--Hear their soft and wean-y quacklings,As they tumble down to earth.Now she listens for the jingleOf the sleigh-bells they will bring;Now she sees the flying horses,Prancing gaily at their ring.Lovely are these fleecy feathers,Dainty in each rare device;All unlike our ducklet feathers,--White and soft, but cold as ice.
{309}
Yet they cover, warmly coverMother Earth so bleak and brown;Cover her with feathery mantles,Comforters of eider-down.
{310}
FOREST TREES.
Children, have you seen the buddingOf the trees in valleys low?Have you watched it creeping, creepingUp the mountain, soft and slow?Weaving there a plush-like mantle,Brownish, grayish, red-dish green,Changing, changing, daily, hourly,Till it smiles in emerald sheen?Have you watched the shades so varied,From the graceful, little white birch,Faint and tender, to the balsam'sEvergreen, so dark and rich?Have you seen the quaint mosaicsGracing all the mountain-sides,Where they, mingling, intertwining,Sway like softest mid-air tides?{311}Have you seen the autumn frostingsSpread on all the leafage bright,Frostings of the rarest colors,Red and yellow, dark and light?Have you seen the glory paintedOn the mountain, valley, hill,When the landscape all illumined,Blazons forth His taste and skill?Have you seen the foliage dropping,Tender cling, as loth to leaveMother-trees that taught them deftly,All their warp and woof to weave?Have you seen the leafless branchesTossing wildly 'gainst the blue?Have you seen the soft gray beautyOf their wintry garments' hue?Have you thought the resurrectionSeen in Nature year by year,Is a symbol of our risingIn a higher, holier sphere?Children, ye are buds maturing;Make your autumn rich and grand,That your winter be a passageThrough the gates to Glory-land.
{312}
CHILDHOOD FANCIES.
The twilight gray is falling,Now list and you shall hearThe footsteps of the sylphid fays,--This is their hour of cheer.List to the gentle patterOn each wee blade of grass,As it is bent, and back again,Whene'er the fairies pass.{313}Upon the tips of grassesThey cross the meadows, lawn,And laugh and dance and play and sing,From twilight hour till dawn.They light their myriad lanterns,And hang them in the archOf blue that canopies o'erhead,And by their light they march.They sometimes miss a fairy,And take a lantern downTo search for her, and mortals say;"A fire-fly flits around."On leaves they hang their diamonds,Their pearls in every flower;Their gauzy veils upon the grass,They spread for fairy bower.Their slender wings are hangingOn every shrub, across;Their seats are dainty cushion-bedsOf green and springy moss.{314}Their shrubbery of coralIs gray and scarlet-tipped;Their hair upon the maize is hungEach Summer, when 'tis clipped.The mushroom forms their table,Their dishes, acorn cups;The ant-hills are their barracks high;Their cannon, "hemlock pops."Their scarfs of plush are lyingOn ripening grape and peach;Their sea-shells 'neath the apple trees,Each Spring bestrew their beach.They paint the leaves in Autumn;They make a tiny rinkOf every puddle, fen, and dike,And skate from nave to brink.They brown the nuts in forests,The burrs they open wide;They lure the feathers from the clouds.And pile them up, to slide.
{315}
They build along the way-sideTheir fairy palisades,--The "hoar-frost" some have christened it,--And hold West Point parades.They sketch upon the windowsSuch pictures as no powerOf man can ever execute,And on them pearl-dust shower.{316}All these and myriad fanciesThat never can be told,My childhood days so new and sweet,In memory infold.But mother softly whispers,"Tis not the Fays, my dears,Tis old Dame Nature's song of songs,The 'Music of the Spheres.'"List ever for it, children,Twill bring you close to God;Each sound but echoes Him who made,Each motion is His nod."* * * * *
"Waste not, want not," be your motto,--Little things bring weal or woe;Save the odds and ends, my children,Some one wants them, if not you.
{317}
LIZZIE AND THE ANGELS.
Little Lizzie, thoughtful, earnest,Springing up at break of day,Thinks she heard the angels whisperSoftly, as she knelt to pray.{318}"Yes, they whispered to me, mamma,And they told me lots of things,--And they said, 'O Lizzie, Lizzie,'Tis your temper trouble brings!'"Then they said: You, child, can neverBe a woman good and true,If you let your fiery temperAnd your own will govern you;And they told me 'even JesusSaid, 'Thy will, not mine, be done,'And that if I grew up wilful,All my life I can but mourn.And they told me, too, dear mamma,That if I were called to die,I could not be glad in heaven,For no heaven in me would lie.Now, what shall I do, dear mamma,That I may be good and true?How shall I my temper govern,And my wicked will subdue?"
"Lizzie, darling, if you listen,You will hear a voice within,{319}That will tell you every moment,What is Right, and what is Sin.But you must not disobey it,Or it will grow faint and weak;You must watch to catch its whispers,Hurry when you hear it speak.
{320}
"For if you should linger waiting,There's another voice will say:Never mind, nobody'll know it,Even though you disobey.'And this other voice, this Tempter,Sure will lead you to the wrong,While the voice of the good angelFills your life with cheer and song."In your play and in your working,You the Golden Rule must heed;Do by others as you'd have themDo by you, if in their stead.Better far tobearandsufferThan todoa wrong, my child;Better give up every pleasure,Than to be by sin beguiled."In your eating, in your drinking,In your clothing, in your talk,You can glorify the Father,Or in wickedness can walk.For your little body, Lizzie,God has said, 'Keep holy, pure,'{321}Tis His 'temple' He has lent you,Keep its every gate secure,"What you eat and drink makes muscles,Bones and nerves, and brain, and thought;And by food and drink improper,Fearful evils may be wrought.Much of meat and spice and candies,Makes your blood impure, and thenAll your body's in a jangle,And your temper's wild again."And your clothes if tight or heavy,Help to make your blood impure;Help to make you weak and wicked,Into evil ways to lure.Foul air, too, your blood will poisonSitting up too late at night;All these things will make it harderFor you, child, to do the right."Bad companions also lead youTo the wrong, and tempt you soreTo defy the voice within youTill it, grieved, will speak no more,--{322}Do not hesitate to tell themYou cannot their ways approve.Do not yield to their enticements;Tell them 'No!' with firmness, love."Do not ever let a singleWord unkind, nor coarse, impure,Pass your lips; for these will lead youToward the bad, you may be sure.Do not let a playmate tell youAnything that must be keptAs a secret from your mother;--Something's wrong, so don't accept."Always tell a thing preciselyAs it is; don't try to makeIt more fine and entertaining;Tell the truth for Truth's dear sake.Never lay a finger, darling,On what is not quite your own,Lest temptation overtake you,And your honesty be gone."In the silence of your chamber,When no human being's nigh,{323}Don't forget that God is with you,Watching with all seeing-eye;Don't forget that He will know itIf you do a thing that's wrong;Keep yourself so pure and perfect,That your life shall be His song."Now, dear child, the blessed JesusAlways, when you wish it, hears,Giving help to those who ask it,Lightening woes, and lessening fears.Follow always His example;Take His precepts for your guide;Learn to trust Him, for He's walkingEver loving at your side."
{324}
CHILD-MEMORIES.
Was ever so sweet the clover,Was ever so clear the brook,As my child-days, over and over,Found fresh in the dear home-nook?{325}Was ever such grace of motion,Or ever such trills of song.As the birds in mid-air ocean,Poured childhood's plays among?Were ever so bright the noondays,Were ever the skies so blue,Or so soft the slanting moon-rays,As stole my childhood through?Was ever so dear a mother,Or a child so sweet, I pray,As my blue-eyed baby-brother,In the time so far away?Was ever so true boy-lover,--O, ever such pictures bright,As my child-days, over and over,Reflect by memory's light!
{326}
NELLY AND NED.
"I'M twelve years old to-day," says Ned,"And wish I were twelve more, sir,--And Nelly Warner's almost twelve,So we'd be twenty-four, sir.""'And what of that!' Why, Nelly 'n' IHave always played together;And then I draw her on my sled,To school in stormy weather."And all the goodies that we get,We share them half and half, sir;And O, we have such lots of fun,I'm sure 'twould make you laugh, sir!"Now Nelly lives in Cottage Square,While I live 'round the corner,And all the boys would laugh and shout,'Ned Jarrett loves Nell Warner.'
{327}
{328}
"I didn't care for this, you know,But O, I couldn't bear itWhen they began to laugh at her,And say, 'Nell loves Ned Jarrett!'"And so I thought I'd have to fight,--And though I was the smallestOf all the party, I's so madI'd easy beat the tallest."But Nelly coaxed and comforted,And said, 'Why would I do it,When they had only told the truth,And everybody knew it!'"
{329}
THE CLAMBERERS.
All you babiesPerched in air,Careful how youCaper there!Careful lest theLittle feetOr the littleHands so sweet,Lose their holdAnd babies fall,--Careful, careful,Babies all.
{330}
THE NEW WHITE JATTET.
I never seen such naughty dirlsAs Susy Jones and Ellen;They laughed, O desht as hard's they touldWhen I twipped up and fell inThe old toal-hole. And see, mamma,I tore my new white jattet;And when I twied, they laughed and laughed,And said, "O, what a wattet!"The bid dirls talled them most untind,And said they surely knew it,The teaching of the Dolden Wule,And then how tould they do it!I duess they'd twy if they was me,I duess they'd mate a wattet,If they should fall in a toal-hole,And tear their new white jattet.
{331}
REMEMBER THE POOR.
"SWEET, my darling, come and seeWhat mamma has brought for thee;Garments soft and ribbons bright,Hat and coat, a pretty sight;Sweet, my child, what shall we doWith the old, now you've the new?""Why, mamma, this frock and frill,These are good and pretty still.But as they are quite too small,Give them, please, to Lillie BallIn the cottage by the hill,She'll be glad, I know she will;For mamma, they're very poor,And 'tis cold to cross the moorIn their tattered garments few;Mamma, may I give the new?""No, my child, and yet you maySometimes give new things away.Keep your pennies, and they'll beDollars, by and by, two, three;Thus you now and then may haveSomething new and fresh to give."
{332}
THE LITTLE STREET-SWEEPER.
Look at that little girl sweeping the crossing;See how the mud her bare legs is embossing!And her feet are so slippered with mud, that it seemsAs though from the ground she grew up 'mongst the teams;And why she's not run over surely's a wonder,Standing there sweeping, the horses' feet under.See her close curls and her bright, beaming eye;Though fearless, the glance, you perceive, is half shy,{333}As so lightly she swings her wet broom, and so true,--Let us cross, and we'll give her a penny or two.But wait, now a passer-by hands her a penny;Just see her bright glance twinkle over to Benny,The little hunchback sitting there on the curb-stone,Close up to the lamp-post, that he may disturb none.His crutches beside him a sorry tale tell;But see, he's a basket of knick-nacks to sell;And a lady has bought for her child a toy whip,And now from her port-monaie gives him the scrip,But refuses the change,--and with tears in his eyes,He thanks her and blesses, with grateful surprise;--And the glance the boy now flashes over to Jenny,Is as bright as she gave him when she got the penny.O, I've seen them so many times! always together,Always happy and cheery, in bright or dull weather;For though he makes the most when it's fair, as they show me,Yet she does the best when it's muddy and stormy.Watch, now, her quick smile of such pleased recognition:--To win it I oft come this way on my mission.But see, she draws back as I offer the penny,{334}And modestly says, "Madam, please keep the money,For you know 'tis a pleasure to me to be sweepingThe path for you, lady;" and, all the time keepingHer broom just before us to brush the least speck,The sweet smiles in her eyes her whole being bedeck.So I keep it, for she has as good claim as ITo the right to do favors and none will denyThat "It is more blessed to give than receive,"And her sweep is far more than my pennies to give.But we'll stop and see Benny, and make it up there,For in all that each gets they will both have a share.A nice little bib for my baby at home,--A patent tape-measure, a mother-pearl comb;And Benny's pale face lightens up with a glowSuch as angels rejoice in;--now, Maud, we must go.But to Benny: "I'm thinking to-night I may comeAnd bring my friend with me, to see your new home.""O, if you will!" says the child with delightRippling over his face like a sunbeam--and quiteAs joyously, Jenny: "O, madam, please do,For we've something at home that we want to show you!"So when 'tis near night-fall we take the short car{335}That off through West Fourth Street goes winding afar,And away to the Hudson, almost, we shall findA lone-seeming tenement cuddled behindHuge heaps of fresh lumber so piney and sweet,While everything round there is charmingly neat.--Yes, the children are home and as gay as a lark,While the good mother greets us with pleasure;--but hark!A baby-cry comes from the bedroom beyond,And Jenny brings forth a sweet, sunny-haired blonde,Saying: "This is the something we wanted to show you,This two-years-old baby-girl--why, does she know you?She holds out her hands to go to you so soon!""Ah! she feels we are friendly;--hear now her soft croon.But how came she here, child?" "We found her just overThe lumber-yard fence, with a board for a cover,Wrapped up in a blanket marked Bertha." "But whyDo you not to the charity mission apply?""O, we want her ourselves! And the good Lord, through you,{336}Has given us this home, so what else should we do,Than to keep what He sends? And we're sure He sent Berty,In place of our baby that died, little Myrtie!"And here these poor people, so poor they were starvingWhen I found them a few months ago, were now halvingTheir food and their home with this waif and with Benny--For he was an orphan child left by his granny,Who died in an attic just over their room,In the tumble-down house they before-time called home;Though they've four of their own, and the eldest is Jenny,The little street-sweep who would not take the penny,Yet they say, "Benny seems quite as much to belong here,And be one of our children, as if he were born here."O, how many rich homes where no child is given,Might be made, for poor orphans, an opening to Heaven!{337}And how many, poorer, might seem to be rich,With a benny or Bertha to fill up the nicheThat is left 'neath the hundreds of home-roofs all over.Which the Lord has designed some poor orphan shall cover;For He makes His home where His children are moored,--And brings in His wealth where they live by His word;And the meal and the oil there shall never be spent;--What we give to the poor, to the Lord we have lent.A baby to feed, is a baby to love,A child in the house, "a well-spring" from above,--And never forsaken, and ne'er begging bread,Shall be those who take care that His lambs are well fed.
{338}
THE HERE, THERE AND EVERYWHERE FAMILY.
ZI am always in a buzz,Though I'm never in a fret,But I'm ever with a zealot in his zeal;I am in the zephyr-breath,Yet with zest have often metThe zero mark that brings the ice-man weal.
YI've to do with the yoke, but not with the ox;I help every priest in his prayer;I am new every year, and in four months appear,While I yield to the yeoman a share.
XI live in a Lexicon,I mark half a score;I ride with a Mexican,In Texas, for lore,{339}
WI am in every wing, yet I'm not in a dove;I wait in the swing to be tossed up above.I live in the woods, and I perch on the wall;I am in the wild waves, though I sail in a yawl.
VI am mingled with your victuals, yet 'm never in your mouth;I always lead the van and must forever stem the wave;I grow in every gravel bed, East, West, or North, or South,And although I'm with the living, you will find me in the grave.
UI live in the urn, but not in the vase,I always can run, but I never can race.I tumble and jump, but I can't hop nor skip;I hide in your mouth, but I ne'er touch your lip.
TI'm doubled up in a patty-pan,Yet I never saw a pie;I hide in the boy's first pair of boots,Nor pass his mittens by.{340}
SI am always in sadness, yet never know grief;Then, too, I'm in gladness, which gives me relief.I know not the ocean, but swim in the sea,And the stars and the sunshine were not, but for me.
RI live at both ends of a river,My home is the center of art;I am found in both arrows and quiverYet I quietly rest in your heart.
QI lead the queen, yet never walkWithout you (u) at my heels;I laugh at every question queer,And joy in piggy's squeals.
PI perch on every pepper-pod,I peer in every place;I prance with every palfrey gay,Yet never run nor race.{341}
OListen, children, and you'll hear me in the cooing of the dove;In the lowing of the kine and the crowing of the cocks;I am in your joy and sorrow, and I come to you in love,And you will find me safely hidden in the middle of your box.
NI live in the moon, yet I visit the sun,I've twice blest the noon, and I've twice kissed the nun;I was in the beginning, yes, double and treble,And wherever's an end I am always in the middle.
MI, too, live in the moon, yet I ne'er saw the sun;I ne'er blessed the noon, and I ne'er kissed a nun.I'm one of the many, and in at each mess,Though I've never a penny, I'm not in distress.
LI sing in every lullaby,I'm out in every squall;I ring in every shilling piece,And roll in every ball.{342}
KI am baked in a cake, but I never see bread,I can fork hay, and rake, but I can't lie in bed;I can like, but not love; though no doe, I'm with the buck;I'm in kite, but not in dove; and I'm always in luck.
JI'm in a baby-jumper, and with joy I laugh and sing,But I quickly find myself shut up in jail,Where I pass my time in jokes, or perhaps in conjuring,Till I lead the Judge, who says I'm "out on bail."
II live in an Inn, yet I never taste beer,I never smoke, chew, or use snuff;I am seen in high life, yet I'm true to my wife,And now I have told you enough.
HAt the door of a hut I must stand, it is true,Yet of the king's household I'm one;I revel in heather all wet with the dew,And yet I am never in fun.{343}
GI grow in grace, yet gayetyWould have no place except for me;I greet the gardener with a grin,E'en though I lie the grave within.I'm with the King, yet shun the Queen;I walk in grey, ah! yes in green;I gleam in gold, yet live in gloom,And at a wedding kiss the groom.
FI am in the farmer's field,I am fresh in all his fruits;I'm in all his forests wide,But I'm not in his pursuits.
ETwice told, I'm in Eternity,And yet I live in time;I eat and sleep in every place,Yet soar in the sublime.
DI darken your doors and your windows,And if you are deaf, dumb, or blind,You may know I am always quite ready,Your duds or your dainties to find.{344}
CThough I live in the ocean so blue,Yet I never am seen in the sea;I can cast a sheet-anchor, 't is true,And captains depend upon me.
BI grow in the bean,And to beauty I lean,And when buttercups bloom I am there;I bend the boy's bow,And the bugle I blow,Till I wake the Kamtchatcadale bear.
AI lead out the ape, and I'm seen in the glass;I hide in the grape, and I'm found in the grass.I was there in the garden when Adam was made,Not to help them to sin, though I stood in their shade.You can not have an apple, an orange, a pear,But in each and in all, I must have my full share.You can not eat nor speak, nay, nor hear, without me;That I'm chief among my fellows, you all must agree.
{345}
QUIRKS.
A little word of letters fiveThat means bound fast together;Transpose but two, and you will findA scattering yon and hither.UNITE--UNTIE.* * * * *And now a word of letters fourFive perfect words will make,If you transpose and rightly place'Tis true and no mistake.LEVI--LIVE--VILE--EVIL--VEIL.* * * * *Now five are found,With spring and boundA twist or turn to take,And ere we know,All in a row,Five other words they make.The times are bad,The items sad,The mites must meet their fate;To smite the rockEmits a shockThat hurls us from the gate.TIMES--ITEMS--MITES--SMITE--EMITS.
{346}
SOMEBODY'S BOY.
List to the ring of the midnight song!'Tis somebody's boy;The winds give to every wild echo a tongue.Yes, somebody's boy;The witch of the revel has waved her wandOver somebody's boy;And the spirit of evil has clasped the handOf somebody's boy.Comes now a yell on the midnight airFrom somebody's boy;Reckless, defiant, and devil-may-care,Is somebody's boy.Foul is the bed, madly dark the dank cell,Where somebody's boyIs writhing in torture, the veriest hell,Yet, somebody's boy.Waiting and watching, a mother's eyes weepFor somebody's boy;The vigil, dear Father, O help her to keep!For somebody's boy.{347}Throw round him, and over, thy Spirit to save,--This somebody's boy,Ere fiends for his lost soul shall hollow the graveOf somebody's boy.Fill with thy Spirit, too, our hearts we pray,That somebody's boyWe may watch for, and snatch from the death-trodden way,Yes, somebody's boy.
{348}
THE LADDIE-AND-LASSIE BIRDS.
Come sit with me in the green-wood bower,While I sing you a song of love;--'Tis the song of the birdsIn the deep, wild woods,'Tis the song of the sweet ring-dove.The laddie-bird says, "I have come to woo;"And the lassie-bird, "Ah! coo, coo, coo, coo."{349}The laddie-bird says, "With a hope to win,"--And the lassie-bird, "Coo, coo, that is no sin."The laddie-bird says, "Together we'll dwell,"And the lassie-bird says, "In the Linden dell."The laddie-bird says, "And build our nest,"And the lassie-bird says, "In the tree to the West."The laddie-bird says, "And raise our brood,"And the lassie-bird says, "In the sweet solitude."The laddie-bird says, "Till they're fit to fly,"And the lassie-bird, "Yes, to the blue, blue sky."The laddie-bird says, "Let us hie away;"--And the lassie-bird, "Yes, and begin to-day."The laddie-bird says, "I will take this moss,"--And the lassie-bird says, "And I, this floss."
{350}
The laddie-bird says, "And we'll love so true;"And the lassie-bird, "Ah, yes, coo, coo, coo."'Tis the old-new song that the birds have sung,Aye, the birds of every race,Since the world was planned,And came forth from the handOf the Maker, aglow with grace.'Tis the song they will sing till time is o'er,--'Tis the stream that from Paradise gushed;And the music that flowsWhen the love-light glows,Will never, no, never be hushed.
{351}
{352}
[Footnote: "The great watchful I is over US through TIME and ETERNITY.]