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The lark's singing gaily; it loves the bright sun,
Get up; for when all things are merry and glad,
LADY F. HASTINGS.
’T was the night before Christmas, and all through the
house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In the hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads, And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap; When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash,
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now,
Vixen ! On, Comet ! on, Cupid ! on, Dunder and Blixen ! To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, Now dash away ! dash away! dash away, all !” As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky, So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each tiny hoof; As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys was flung on his back, And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack. His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry ! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry ;
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
THE BLIND BOY AT PLAY.
The blind boy's been at play, mother,
The merry games we had;
And every step was glad ;
And praised its varied hue,
Just like a drop of dew.
THE BLIND BOY AT PLAY.
We took him to the mill, mother,
Where falling waters made
As golden sun-rays played:
And hailed the clear, blue sky,
And breathed a long, long sigh.
We asked him why he wept, mother,
When e're we found the spots Where periwinkles crept, mother,
O'er wild forget-me-nots. “ Ah me!” he said, while tears ran down
As fast as summer showers“ It is because I cannot see
The sunshine and the flowers.”
Oh! that poor, sightless boy, mother,
He taught me that I'm blest;
On all I love the best;
And daisies red and white,
And THANK MY God for sight.
LITTLE streams, in light and shadow
Summer music is their flowing ;
Little streams have flowers a many