The first pond they came nigh, But the ducks did not know For they liked it right well What on earth ailed her daughters. So she spread out her wings, And went screaming about, Till the fat little things The poor hen did not know, And she never understood So she thought her little brood Proud was the hen, and fond, For down into the pond She made the young ones go. When she saw they could not dive, For she thought she ought to drive The poor little timid things, But she beat them with her wings; They knew not what she meant; And there her chickens drowned. Poor little Biddy could n't think Before they learnt to dive. It was a pity she did n't know As if it were a duck. MRS. CHILD. "WHAT IS THAT, MOTHER?" "What is that, Mother?" "The lark, my child! The morn has just looked out and smiled, When he starts from his humble grassy nest, And is up and away, with the dew on his breast, And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure bright sphere, To warble it out on his Maker's ear. 66 WHAT IS THAT, MOTHER?" Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays Tuned, liked the lark's, to thy Maker's praise." "What is that, Mother?" "The Dove, my son! Ever, my son, be thou like the dove, In friendship as faithful, as constant in love." "What is that, Mother?" "The eagle, boy! Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt defying, Live so, my love, that when death shall come, BISHOP DOANE. 235 EACH MOTHER'S LOVE'S THE BEST. As I walked over the hills 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 eye so bright, And his wool so white; Oh, he is my darling, my heart's delight. That sings on the tree, Dearly may dote on his darlings four; And they went to sleep on the hill-side warm, I went to the kitchen, and what did I see And the old ewe, she, May love their babies exceedingly; But I love my kittens from morn to night; |