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LITTLE STREAMS.

189

Blue eye'd grass, and green bur-reed;
Willow-herb with cotton-seed,
Arrow-head with eye of jet,
And the water-violet;
There the flowering rush you meet,
And the plumy meadow-sweet;
And in places deep and stilly,
Marble-like the water-lily.
Little streams, their voices cheery
Sound forth welcomes to the weary,
Flowing on from day to day-
Without stint and without stay.
Here, upon their flowery bank,
In the old times Pilgrims drank;
Here, have seen, as now, pass by
King-fisher and dragon-fly;
Those bright things that have their dwelling
Where the little streams are welling.

Down in valleys green and lowly,
Murmuring not and gliding slowly;
Up in mountain-hollows wild,
Fretting like a peevish child;
Through the hamlet, where all day
In their waves the children play,-
Running west, or running east,
Doing good to man and beast,
Always giving, weary never,
Little streams, I love you ever.

BALLAD.

FROM THE GERMAN OF HERDER.

AMONG green pleasant meadows,

All in a grove so mild, Was set a marble image

Of the Virgin and the Child.

There oft on summer evenings,

A lovely boy would rove, To play beside the image That sanctified the

grove.

Oft sat his mother by him,

Among the shadows dim, And told how the LORD JESUS,

Was once a child like him.

" And now from highest heaven

He doth look down each day, And sees whate'er thou doest,

And hears what thou dost say.”

Thus spake his tender mother;

And on an evening bright, When the red round sun descended

Mid clouds of crimson light,

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Again the boy was playing;

And earnestly said he, “O beautiful LORD JESUS,

Come down and play with me.

“I will find thee flowers the fairest,

And weave for thee a crown;
I will get thee ripe red strawberries,

If thou wilt but come down.

“O holy, holy mother,

Put him down from off thy knee; For in these silent meadows

There are none to play with me.”

Thus spake the boy so lovely;

The while his mother heard; But on his prayer she pondered,

And spake to him no word.

That self same night she dreamed

A lovely dream of joy;
She thought she saw young JESUS,

There playing with the boy.

" And for the fruits and flowers

Which thou hast brought to me, Rich blessings shall be given,

A thousand-fold to thee.

" For in the fields of heaven

Thou shalt roam with me at will, And of bright fruits celestial

Shall have, dear child, thy fill.”

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Thus tenderly and kindly

The fair Child JEsus spoke; And full of careful musings,

The anxious mother woke.

And thus it was accomplished;

In a short month and day, That lovely boy, so gentle,

Upon his death-bed lay.

And thus he spoke in dying:
“O mother dear, I see
The beautiful Child JESUS

A-coming down to me;

66 And in his hand he beareth

Bright flowers as white as snow, And red and juicy strawberries :

Dear mother, let me go."

He died-but that fond mother

Her sorrow did restrain; For she knew he was with JESUS,

And she asked him not again!

EPITAPH ON A HARE.

193

EPITAPH ON A HARE.

HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,

Nor swifter greyhound follow, Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,

Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo:

Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,

Who, nursed with tender care, And to domestic bounds confined,

Was still a wild Jack-hare.

Though duly from my hand he took

His pittance every night, He did it with a jealous look,

And, when he could, would bite.

His diet was of wheaten bread,

And milk, and oats, and straw; Thistles, or lettuces instead,

With sand to scour his maw.

On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,

On pippins' russet peel,
And, when his juicy salads failed,

Sliced carrot pleased him well.

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