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النشر الإلكتروني

THE SONG OF THE GRASS.

WHAT I WOULD BE.

I WOULD not be an eagle fierce,
With nest upon a rock,
Stealing the harmless little lambs
From the poor shepherd's flock.

I would not be a moping owl,
Snoring in bed all day,

And pouncing on the mice at night,
When they come out to play.

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No I would be a lark, and mount
From the daisy-spangled sod,
With twinkling wings to Heaven's gate,
Singing the praise of God.

SONGS FROM THE GERMAN.

THE SONG OF THE GRASS.

HERE I come, creeping, creeping everywhere:

By the dusty road-side,

On the sunny hill-side,

Close by the noisy brook,

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In every shady nook,

I come creeping, creeping everywhere.

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THE SONG OF THE GRASS.

Here I come, creeping, creeping everywhere :
All around the open door,

Where sit the aged poor,
There where the children play,

In the bright and merry May,

I come creeping, creeping everywhere.

Here I come, creeping, creeping everywhere :

In the noisy city street

My pleasant face you'll meet,
Cheering the sick at heart,

Toiling his busy part,
Silently creeping, creeping everywhere.

Here I come, creeping, creeping everywhere :
You cannot see me coming,

Nor hear my low sweet humming,

For in the starry night,

And the glad morning light,

I come quietly, creeping everywhere.

Here I come, creeping, creeping everywhere:
More welcome than the flowers,

In summer's pleasant hours.

The gentle cow is glad,

And the merry bird not sad

To see me creeping, creeping everywhere.

Here I come, creeping, creeping everywhere:
When you're numbered with the dead,
In your still and narrow bed,

BIRDS.

In the happy Spring I'll come,
And deck your silent home,
Creeping, silently creeping everywhere.

Here I come, creeping, creeping everywhere:
My humble song of praise

Most gratefully I raise

To Him at whose command

I beautify the land,
Creeping, silently creeping everywhere.

BIRDS.

JOHN S. DWIGHT.

O, THE sunny summer time!
O, the leafy summer time!
Merry is the bird's life,

When the year is in its prime!
Birds are by the waterfalls

Dashing in the rainbow spray;
Everywhere, everywhere,

Light and lovely there are they!
Birds are in the forest old,

Building in each hoary tree;
Birds are on the green hills;
Birds are by the sea!

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On the moor and in the fen,
'Mong the whortleberries green;
In the yellow furze-bush,
There the joyous bird is seen;
In the heather, on the hill;

All among the mountain thyme ;
By the little brook-sides,

Where the sparkling waters chime;
In the crag; and on the peak,

Splintered, savage, wild, and bare,
There the bird with wild wing
Wheeleth through the air.

Wheeleth through the breezy air,
Singing, screaming in his flight,
Calling to his bird-mate,

In a troubleless delight!

In the green and leafy wood,

Where the branching ferns up-curl, .
Soon as is the dawning,

Wakes the mavis and the merle;
Wakes the cuckoo on the bough;

Wakes the jay with ruddy breast;
Wakes the mother ringdove
Brooding on her nest!

O, the sunny summer-time!

O, the leafy summer-time!
Merry is the bird's life

When the year is in its prime !

SUMMER WOODS.

Some are strong and some are weak;
Some love day and some love night;
But whate'er a bird is,

Whate'er loves-it has delight
In the joyous song it sings;

In the liquid air it cleaves; In the sunshine, in the shower, In the nest it weaves!

SUMMER WOODS.

COME

ye into the summer woods;
There entereth no annoy;
All greenly wave the chestnut leaves,
And the earth is full of joy.

I cannot tell you half the sights
Of beauty you may see,
The bursts of golden sunshine,
And many a shady tree.

MARY HOWITT.

There, lightly swung, in bowery glades,
The honeysuckles twine;

There blooms the rose-red campion,
And the dark-red columbine.

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