You talk of wond'rous things you see;

You say the sun shines bright: I feel him warm, but how can he Or make it day or night?

My day or night myself I make
Whene'er I sleep or play;

And could I always keep awake
With me 'twere always day.

With heavy sighs I often hear
You mourn my hapless woe;
But sure with patience I can bear
A loss I ne'er can know.

Then let not what I cannot have

My cheer of mind destroy;

While thus I sing, I am a king,

Although a poor Blind Boy.

THE ROBIN'S PETITION.

"A suppliant to your window comes,
Who trusts your faith and fears no guile,
He claims admittance for your crumbs,
And reads his passport in your smile.

For cold and cheerless is the day,

And he has sought the hedges round; No berry hangs upon the spray,

Nor worm nor ant-egg can be found.

Secure his suit will be preferr'd,

No fears his slender feet deter, For sacred is the household bird,

That wears the scarlet stomacher."

Lucy the prayer assenting heard,

The feather'd suppliant flew to her, And fondly cherish'd was the bird, That wears the scarlet stomacher.

Embolden'd then, he'd fearless perch
Her netting or her work among,
For crumbs among her drawings search
And add his music to her song;

And warbling on her snowy arm,
Or half entangled in her hair,

Seem'd conscious of the double charm
Of freedom and protection there.

A graver moralist, who used

From all some lesson to infer,

Thus said, as on the bird she mus'd,
Pluming his scarlet stomacher-

"Where are his gay companions now,
Who sung so merrily in Spring?
Some shivering on the leafless bough,
With ruffled plume, and drooping wing.

Some in the hollow of a cave,

Consign'd to temporary death;

And some beneath the sluggish wave
Await reviving nature's breath.

The migrant tribes are fled away

To skies where insect myriads swarm, They vanish with the Summer day,

Nor bide the bitter northern storm.

But still is this sweet minstrel heard,
While lowers December dark and drear,

The social, cheerful, household bird,
That wears the scarlet stomacher.

And thus in life's propitious hour,
Approving flatterers round us sport,
But if the faithless prospect lower,
They the more happy fly to court.

Then let us to the selfish herd

Of fortune's parasites prefer

L