The Wood-Mouse. And though it keeps no calendar, It knows when flowers are springing; And waketh to his summer life When nightingales are singing. Upon the boughs the squirrel sits; In the hedge-sparrow's nest he sits I saw a little wood-mouse once, Like Oberon in his hall, With the green, green moss beneath his feet, I saw him sit, and his dinner eat, His dinner of chestnut ripe and red, And he ate it heartily. I wish you could have seen him there, To see the small thing God had made I saw that he regardeth them,— 87 MARY HOWITT. THE SPARROW'S NEST. EHOLD, within the leafy shade, Those bright blue eggs together laid! On me the chance-discovered sight. Gleamed like a vision of delight.— I started-seeming to espy The home and sheltered bed,— The sparrow's dwelling, which, hard by She looked at it as if she feared it; She gave me eyes, she gave me ears; And love, and thought, and joy. WORDSWORTH. THE PARROT. PARROT from the Spanish main, Full young and early caged came o'er, With bright wings to the bleak domain Of Mulla's shore. The Nightingale and Glowworm. To spicy groves where he had won His plumage of resplendent hue, For these he changed the smoke of turf, But petted in our climate cold, He lived and chattered many a day : At last when blind, and seeming dumb, To Mulla's shore; He hailed the bird in Spanish speech, 89 T. CAMPBELL THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOWWORM. NIGHTINGALE, that all day long Had cheered the village with his song, Nor yet at eve his note suspended, Nor yet when eventide was ended, When, looking eagerly around, Harangued him thus, right eloquent— You would abhor to do me wrong That brother should not war with brother, And worry and devour each other; But sing and shine by sweet consent, Till life's poor transient night is spent, The gifts of nature and of grace. Those Christians best deserve the name Who studiously make peace their aim; Peace both the duty and the prize Of him that creeps and him that flies. Cowper. The Romance of the Swan's Nest. THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST. ITTLE Ellie sits alone 'Mid the beaches of a meadow, By a stream-side on the grass; And the trees are showering down Doubles of their leaves in shadow She has thrown her bonnet by; Little Ellie sits alone, And the smile she softly useth Fills the silence like a speech: While she thinks what shall be done, And the sweetest pleasure chooseth Little Ellie in her smile That swans' nest among the reeds. And the steed it shall be red-roan, With an eye that takes the breathi 91 |