Is a brick out of place by your window ?-don't send For the man with the trowel the fracture to mend, Through the dry months of summer, just leave it alone, For the poor little Titmouse has made it his own.

Peep in now, and look at that wonderful labour;
And be glad to have near you so merry a neighbour;
His work unto him is no trouble-behold

For one moment his motions, so tricksy and bold.

How he twists, how he turns with a harlequin grace!
He can't lift a feather without a grimace;

He carries the moss in his bill with an air;
And he laughs at the spider he robs of his lair.

See his round, burley head, that is like a Friar Tuck,
And his glancing black eye that is worthy of Puck;
Saw
you ever a merrier creature than he?
Oh, no!-make him welcome, as welcome can be!

His nest now is finished with fine cobweb thread,
And the eggs are laid in it, white, speckled with red;
Now knock at the wall, or rap loud on the pane,
Hark! what is that rapping so briskly again!

'Tis the blithe mother-bird, all alive and alert,

As her mate, every whit, is she comic and pert;
Rap you once, she raps twice ;-she has nothing to do,
But to keep her eggs warm, and be neighbourly too!

Oh, what! did you say that the Titmouse was stealing, That he ate your pear-buds while he shammed to be reeling; And nipped off the apricot-bloom in his fun?

And that shortly you'll end his career with a gun!

Oh! hold back your hand,-'twere a deed to repent;
Of your blame the poor fellow is quite innocent,—
Stand back for one moment- -anon he'll be here,
He believes you his friend, and he thinks not of fear.

Here he comes!-See how drolly he looketh askew ;And now hangs head downward; now glances on you ! Be not rash, though he light on your apricot-bough,— Though he touches a bud,—there, he touches it now!

There, he's got what he wanted, and off he has flown!-
Now look at the apricot bud,-is it gone?
Not the apricot bud,—but the grub that was in it!—
You may thank him, he does you a service each minute.

Then love the poor Titmouse, and welcome him too,
Great beauty is there in his yellow and blue;

He's a fine cheerful fellow-so let him be free

Of your garden-to build in your wall or your tree!

MONTGOMERY.

EAST, nimblest, merriest bird of Albion's isle,
I cannot look on thee without a smile.
-I envy thee the sight, for all my glee
Could never yet extort a smile from me;

Think what a tiresome thing my life must be.