O no! I wish I were a Robin,

A Robin or a little Wren, everywhere to go,
Through forest, field, or garden,
And ask no leave or pardon,

Till winter comes with icy thumbs
To ruffle up our wing!

Well-tell! Where should I fly to,

Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell?

Before a day was over,

Home comes the rover,

For mother's kiss-sweeter this

Than any other thing.

William Allingham.

SONGS OF SEVEN.

SEVEN TIMES ONE. EXULTATION.

There's no dew left on the daisies and clover,
There's no rain left in heaven;

I've said my 66

""
seven times over and over,

Seven times one are seven.

I am old, so old, I can write a letter;
My birthday lessons are done;

The lambs play always, they know no better;
They are only one times one.

O moon! in the night I have seen you sailing

And shining so round and low;

You were bright! ah bright! but your light is failing— You are nothing now but a bow.

You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven,
That God has hidden your face?

I hope if you have you will soon be forgiven,
And shine again in your place.

O velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow,
You've powdered your legs with gold!
O brave marsh-mary buds, rich and yellow,
Give me your money to hold!

O columbine, open your folded wrapper,
Where two twin turtle doves dwell!
O cuckoo-pint, toll me the purple clapper !
That hangs in your clear green bell.

And show me your nest with the young ones in it;
I will not steal them away;

I am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet—

I am seven times one to-day.

.7.

Jean Ingelow.

BEAUTIFUL GRANDMAMMA.

Grandmamma sits in her quaint arm-chair;
Never was lady more sweet and fair;
Her gray locks ripple like silver shells,
And her own brow its story tells
Of a gentle life and peaceful even,

A trust in God, and a hope in heaven.

Little girl Mary sits rocking away

In her own low seat, like some winsome fay;
Two doll babies her kisses share,

And another one lies by the side of her chair;
May is as fair as the morning dew,

Cheeks of roses, and ribbons of blue.

"Say, Grandmamma," says the pretty elf,
"Tell me a story about yourself.

When you were little, what did you play?
Were you good or naughty the whole long day?
Was it hundreds and hundreds of years ago?

And what makes your soft hair as white as snow?

Did you have a mamma to hug and kiss?
And a dolly like this, and this, and this?
Did you have a pussy like my little Kate?
Did you go to bed when the clock struck eight?
Did you have long curls, and beads like mine?
And a new silk apron with ribbons fine?"

Grandmamma smiled at the little maid,
And laying aside her knitting, she said;
"Go to my desk, and a red box you'll see;
Carefully lift it, and bring it to me."
So May put her dollies away, and ran,
Saying, "I'll be careful as ever I can."

The Grandmamma opened the box, and lo!
A beautiful child with throat like snow,
Lip just tinted like pink shells rare,
Eyes of hazel, and golden hair,

Hand all dimpled, and teeth like pearls,-
Fairest and sweetest of little girls.

"Oh! who is it?" cried winsome May,
"How I wish she were here to-day!
Wouldn't I love her like everything;
Wouldn't I with her frolic and sing!
Say, dear Grandmamma, who can she be?"
Darling," said grandmamma, “I was she."

66

May looked long at the dimpled grace,
And then at the saint-like, fair old face :

"How funny!" she cried, with a smile and a kiss,

"To have such a dear little grandma as this!

Still," she added with smiling zest,

"I think, dear Grandma, I like you best."

So May climbed on the silken knee,
And grandmamma told her history:

What plays she played, what toys she had,
How at times she was naughty, or good, or sad.

"But the best thing you did," said May, "don't you see? Was to grow a beautiful grandma for me."

Anon.

*8*

VAGRANT PANSIES.

They are all in the lily-bed, cuddled close together-
Purples, Yellow Cap and little Baby Blue:

How they ever got there, you must ask the April weather,
The morning and the evening winds, the sunshine and the dew.

Why they should go visiting the tall and haughty lilies
Is very odd, and none of them will condescend to say:
They might have made a call upon the jolly daffodillies;
They might have come to my house any pleasant day.

They don't have a good time, I think, their little faces
Look so very solemn underneath each velvet hood.

I wonder, don't they feel among the garden's airs and graces
That shy cousin Violet is happier in the wood?

Ah, my pretty pansies, it's no use to go a-seeking;
There isn't any good time waiting anywhere;
I fancy even Violet is troubled-mildly speaking—
When somebody plucks her, finding her so fair.

There's nothing left for you, my pets, but just to do your duty

Bloom, and make the world sweet-that's the best for you;
There isn't much that's lovelier than
your bashful beauty,
My purples, my Yellow Cap, my little Baby Blue.

Nelly M. Hutchinson.

*9* *

NURSERY SONG.

As I walked over the hill 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 eyes so bright,

And his wool so white

Oh, he is my darling, my heart's delight."
And the mother-sheep and the little one,
Side by side lay down in the sun,

And they went to sleep on the hillside 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 with her kittens three!
I heard her whispering soft; said she,
"My kittens with tails 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 rocking-chair;

I love my kittens with all my might,

I love them at morning, noon, and night;

Now I'll take up my kitties, the kitties I love,

And we'll lie down together beneath the warm stove." Let the kittens sleep under the stove so warm,

While my little kitten lies here on my arm.

I went to the yard, and saw the old hen

Go clucking about with her chickens ten.

She clucked, and she scratched, and she bustled away, And what do you think I heard the hen say?

I heard her say, "The sun never did shine

On anything 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.
My dear downy darlings, my sweet little things,
Come, nestle now cosily under my wings."

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 lies here on my arm.

Mrs. Carter.