“And tell her, you pretty white-winged dove, That I send her a kiss, and I send her

my

love;

And tell her I wish she would come and see
The new little baby, and Mary, and me."

MRS. HAWTREY.

“FATHER WILLIAM'S OLD AGE," AND WHY HE ENJOYED IT.

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried,

"The few locks that are left you are grey; You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man : Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," Father William replied, "I remember'd that youth would fly fast, And abused not my health and my vigour at first, That I never might need them at last."

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried,

"And pleasures with youth pass away,

And yet you lament not the days that are gone: Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," Father William replied, "I remember'd that youth could not last; I thought of the future whatever I did, That I never might grieve for the past."

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried,

"And life must be hastening away;

You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death: Now tell me the reason, I pray."

“I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied,

"Let the cause thy attention engage

In the days of my youth I remember'd my God,
And He hath not forgotten my age."

SOUTHEY.

THE MOUSE'S PETITION.

Oi, hear a pensive prisoner's prayer,
For liberty that sighs;

And never let thine heart be shut
Against the wretch's cries!

For here forlorn and sad I sit

Within the wiry grate;

And tremble at the approaching morn,
Which brings impending fate.

If e'er thy breast with freedom glow'd,
And spurn'd a tyrant's chain,
Let not thy strong, oppressive force
A freeborn mouse detain.

K

Oh, do not stain with guiltless blood
Thy hospitable hearth;

Nor triumph that thy wiles betray'd
A prize so little worth.

The scatter'd gleanings of a feast
My frugal meals supply;
But if thine unrelenting heart
That slender boon deny,

The cheerful light, the vital air,
Are blessings widely given;
Let Nature's commoners enjoy
The common gifts of Heaven.

The well-taught, philosophic mind
To all compassion gives;
Casts round the world an equal eye,

And feels for all that lives.

MRS. BARBauld.

THE LITTLE SLAVE'S WISH.

I WISH I was that little bird

Up in the bright blue sky,
That sings and flies just where he will,
And no one asks him why,

I wish I was that little brook

That runs so swift along,

Through pretty flowers, and shining stones, Singing a merry song.

I wish I was a butterfly,

Without a fear or care,
Spreading my many-colour'd wings,
Like a flower in the air.

I wish I was that wild, wild deer,
That I saw the other day,
Who through the dark green forest flew,
Like an arrow far away.

I wish I was that little cloud

By the gentle south-wind driven, Floating along so calm and bright Up to the gates of heaven.

I'd rather be a savage beast,

And dwell in a gloomy cave,
And shake the forest when I roar'd,
Than what I am,—a slave.

My mother calls me her good boy,
My father calls me brave;
What wicked action have I done
That I should be a slave ?

They tell me God is very good,
That His right arm can save ;
Oh, is it can it be His will
That I should be a slave ?

Oh, how much better 'tis to die,
And lie down in the grave,
Than 'tis to be what I am now,—
A little negro slave!

MRS. FOLLEN.

THE CREATION OF THE WORLD.

GOD first created heav'n and earth,
With light to cheer the way;
To day and night he then gave birth,
Which ended the first day.

The firmament God next creates,
Now deck'd in grand array;

The waters, too, he separates,

Then closed the second day.

He drain'd the earth, form'd rich display
Of herbs, and plants, and trecs,
And closed his work on this third day,
By forming lakes and seas