The weary wheel to a spinnet turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned,

And for him who sat by the chimney lug,
Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug,

A manly form at her side she saw,
And joy was duty and love was law.

Then she took up her burden of life again,
Saying only, "It might have been!"

Alas! for Maiden, alas! for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudge!

God pity them both! and pity us all,
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall.

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes;

And, in the hereafter, angels may
Roll the stone from its grave away!

WHITTIER.

CONTEST BETWEEN THE NOSE

AND EYES.

BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong;
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.

So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause
With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning,
While chief-baron Ear sat to balance the laws,

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So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.

In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,

And your Lordship," he said," will undoubtedly find, That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear, Which amounts to possession time out of mind."

Then holding the spectacles up to the court

Your Lordship observes they are made with a straddle As wide as the ridge of the Nose is,-in short, Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.

"Again, would your Lordship a moment suppose ('Tis a case that has happened, and may be again), That the visage or countenance had not a Nose,

Pray who would or who could wear spectacles then?

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On the whole it appears, and my argument shows, With a reasoning the court will never condemn, That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, And the Nose was as plainly intended for them."

Then shifting his side, as a lawyer knows how,
He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes;
But what were his arguments few people know,
For the court did not think they were equally wise.

So his Lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone,
Decisive and clear, without one if or but,
That whenever the Nose put his spectacles on,
By day-light or candle-light-Eyes should be shut.

COWPER.

THE SALE OF THE PET LAMB.

OH! poverty is a weary thing, 'tis full of grief and pain; It boweth down the heart of man, and dulls his cunning

brain;

It maketh even the little child with heavy sighs com

plain.

The children of the rich man have not their bread to

win;

They scarcely know how labour is the penalty of sin; E'en as the lilies of the field they neither toil nor spin.

And year by year, as life wears on, no wants have they to bear;

In all the luxury of the earth they have abundant share; They walk along life's pleasant ways, where all is rich and fair.

The children of the poor man, though they be young each one,

Must rise betime each morning, before the rising sun; And scarcely when the sun is set their daily task is done.

Few things have they to call their own, to fill their hearts with pride,

The sunshine, and the summer flowers upon the highway side,

And their own free companionship on heathy commons wide.

Hunger, and cold, and weariness, these are a frightful

three;

But another curse there is beside, that darkens poverty; It may not have one thing to love, how small soe'er it be.

A thousand flocks were on the hills, a thousand flocks and more,

Feeding in sunshine pleasantly, they were the rich

man's store:

There was the while one little lamb, beside a cottage

door;

A little lamb that rested with the children 'neath the

tree,

That ate, meek creature, from their hands, and nestled to their knee;

That had a place within their hearts, one of the family.

But want, even as an arméd man, came down upon their shed,

The father labour'd all day long that his children might be fed,

And, one by one, their household things were sold to buy them bread.

That father, with a downcast eye, upon his threshold

stood,

Gaunt poverty each pleasant thought had in his heart

subdued.

"What is the creature's life to us?" said he; "'twill buy us food.

"Ay, though the children weep all day, and with downdrooping head

Each does his small task mournfully, the hungry must be fed ;

And that which has a price to bring must go to buy us bread."