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74

GUESS WHAT I HAVE HEARD.

Ye have been very kind and good
To me, since I've been in the wood;
Ye have gone nigh to fill my heart;
But good by, kind friends, every one,
I've far to go ere set of sun;
Of all good things I would have part,
The day was high ere I could start,
And so my journey's scarce begun.

Heaven help me! how could I forget
To beg of thee, dear violet!

Some of thy modesty,

That blossoms here as well, unseen,
As if before the world thou 'dst been,
O give, to strengthen me.

GUESS WHAT I HAVE HEARD.

DEAR mother, guess what I have heard!

O, it will soon be spring!
I'm sure it was a little bird,
Mother I heard him sing.

J. R. LOWELL.

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GUESS WHAT I HAVE HEARD.

And O, come here, come here and look!
How fast it runs along! -

Here is a cunning little brook;
O, hear its pretty song!

I know 't is glad the winter 's gone
That kept it all so still,

For now it merrily runs on,
And goes just where it will.

I feel just like the brook, I know;
It says, it seems to me,
"Good by, cold weather, ice, and snow;
Now girls and brooks are free."

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I love to think of what you said,
Mother, to me last night,

Of this great world that God has made,
So beautiful and bright.

And now it is the happy Spring
No naughty thing I'll do ;
I would not be the only thing
That is not happy, too.

75

MRS. FOLLEN.

"Be kind to all you chance to meet,
In field, or lane, or crowded street;
Anger and pride are both unwise—
Vinegar never catches flies."

76

WHAT THEY ARE DOING.

WHAT THEY ARE DOING.

"LITTLE Sparrow, come and say
What you 're doing all the day?"

66

"O, I fly over hedges and ditches to find

A fat little worm, or a fly to my mind;
And I carry it back to my own pretty nest
And the dear little pets that I warm with my breast;
For until I can teach them the way how to fly,

If I were not to feed them, my darlings would die :
How glad they all are when they see me come home!
And each of them chirps, 'Give me some! Give me
some!'"

"Little Lamb, come here and say
What you're doing all the day?"

"Long enough before you wake,
Breakfast I am glad to take,
In the meadow eating up
Daisy, cowslip, buttercup;
Then about the fields I play,
Frisk and scamper all the day;
When I'm thirsty I can drink
Water at the river's brink;
When at night I go to sleep,
By my mother I must keep;
I am safe enough from cold
At her side within the fold."

WHAT THEY ARE DOING.

"Little Bee, come here and say
What you 're doing all the day?"

"O, every day, and all day long,
Among the flowers you hear my song:
I creep in every bud I see,

And all the honey is for me;

I take it to the hive with care

And give it to my brothers there,
That when the winter time comes on,
And all the flowers are dead and gone,
And when the wind is cold and rough,
The busy bees may have enough.'

99

"Little Fly, come here and say
What you're doing all the day?"

"O, I am a gay and merry fly,
I never do anything
no, not I.
I go where I like, and I stay where I please,
In the heat of sun, or the shade of the trees;
On the window-pane, or the cupboard shelf;
And I care for nothing except myself:
I cannot tell, it is very true,

When the winter comes what I mean to do;
And I very much fear, when I'm getting old,
I shall starve with hunger, or die of cold."

RHYMES FOR LITTLE ONES.

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77

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78

THE GLADNESS OF NATURE.

THE GLADNESS OF NATURE.

Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,
When our mother Nature laughs around;
When even the deep blue heavens look glad,
And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren,
And the gossip of swallows through all the sky ;
The ground-squirrel gayly chirps by his den,
And the wilding bee hums merrily by.

The clouds are at play in the azure space,
And their shadows at play on the bright green vale;
And here they stretch to the frolic chase,
And there they roll on the easy gale.

There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower;
There's a titter of wind in that beechen tree;
There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,
And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.

And look at the broadfaced sun, how he smiles
On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray,
On the breaking waters and gay young isles ;-
Ay, look! and he'll smile thy gloom away.

BRYANT.

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