Play on! play on! I am with you there, I am willing to die when my time shall come, For the world at best is a weary place, But the grave is dark, and the heart will fail And it wiles my heart from its dreariness ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION. Do you ask what the birds say ? The sparrow, the dove, The linnet, and thrush say, "I love, and I love ;” In the winter they're silent-the wind is so strong, What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud song. But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, And singing, and loving, all come back together; But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, The green fields below him, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings; and for ever sings he, "I love my love, and my love loves me." COLERIDGE. COMMON THINGS. THE sunshine is a glorious thing The moonlight is a gentle thing, It shines upon the fisher's boat Or where the little lambkins lie, The dewdrops on the summer morn The village children brush them off, There are no gems in monarchs' crown Poor Robin on the pear-tree sings, Beside the cottage door; The heath-flower fills the air with sweets, There are as many lovely things, For those who sit by cottage hearths, As those who sit on thrones. MRS. HAWKSHAWE. DUTIFUL JEM. THERE was a poor widow, who lived in a cot, Poor Susan was old, and too feeble to spin, Her forehead was wrinkled, her hands they were thin ; And bread she'd have wanted, as many have done, If she had not been blessed with a good little son. But he loved her well, like a dutiful lad, And thought her the very best friend that he had; For he was quite healthy, and active, and stout, While his poor mother hardly could hobble about; And he thought it his duty and greatest delight, To work for her living from morning till night. So he started each morning as gay as a lark, And, oh! how she loved him! how great was her joy! To think her dear Jem was a dutiful boy; Her arm round his neck she would tenderly cast, And kiss his red cheek, while the tears trickled fast. Oh, then, was not little Jem happier far JANE TAYLOR. MY LITTLE SISTER. I HAVE a little sister here—a very little one, I nurse her every day, because she cannot go alone; I think she has the sweetest voice that I have ever heard, So I try to understand her, though she cannot speak a word. O, you should only look at her, my playthings when I bring, thing; "Give them me," as plain as any And when I call out, "Ellen, dear, I want a pretty kiss," She smiles, and stretches out her arms, and so she answers "Yes." She cannot go alone just yet, but when she runs about, It will be such a pleasant thing for me to take her out; In the garden, or the orchard, we can pass the summer hours, How soon she'll learn to know the names of all the fruits and flowers! We have a shady arbour, too; and there, in sunny weather, On birthdays, and on holidays, we all take tea together; |