"In the days of my youth," father William replied, "I remember'd that youth could not last; I thought of the future whatever I did, That I never might grieve for the past."
"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"And life must be hastening away;
You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death: Now tell me the reason, I pray."
"I am cheerful, young man," father William replied,
"Let the cause thy attention engage;
In the days of my youth I remember'd my God, And He hath not forgotten my age."
THE APRIL SHOWER.
PATTER, patter! let it pour,
Patter, patter! let it roar;
Down the steep roof let it rush,
Down the hill-side let it gush:
"Tis the welcome April shower,
Bringing forth the sweet May flower.
Patter, patter! let it pour,
Patter, patter! let it roar;
Soon the clouds will burst away,
Soon will come a bright spring day:
'Tis the welcome April showers
Will bring forth the sweet May flowers.
THE SWALLOWS AND REDBREAST.
THE Swallows, at the close of day,
When autumn shone with fainter ray,
Around the chimney circling flew,
Ere yet they bade a long adieu
To climes where soon the winter drear
Should close the unrejoicing year.
Then one, disdainful, turn'd his eye
Upon a redbreast twittering nigh;
And thus began with taunting scorn:
"Thou household imp, obscure, forlorn,
Through the deep winter's dreary day,
Here, dull and shivering, shalt thou stay;
Whilst we, who make the world our home,
To softer climes impatient roam,
Where summer still on some green isle
Rests with her sweet and lovely smile.
Thus, speeding far and far away,
We leave behind the shortening day."
""Tis true," the redbreast answer'd meek,
"No other scenes I ask or seek;
To every change alike resign'd,
I fear not the cold winter's wind:
When spring returns, the circling year
Shall find me still contented here.
But whilst my warm affections rest
Within the circle of my nest,
I learn to pity those that roam,
And love the more my humble home."
I'm a strange contradiction, I'm new and I'm old;
I am often in tatters, and oft deck'd with gold.
Though I never could read, yet letter'd I'm found:
Though blind, I enlighten; though loose, I am
bound.
I am always in black, and I'm always in white;
I am grave and I'm gay, I am heavy and light.
In form too I differ,-I'm thick and I'm thin;
I've no flesh and no bone, yet I'm cover'd with skin:
I've more points than the compass, more stops than
the flute;
I sing without voice, without speaking confute:
I'm English, I'm German, I'm French, and I'm
Dutch.
Some love me too fondly; some slight me too much.
I often die soon, though I sometimes live ages;
And no monarch alive has so many pages.
THE FISH AND THE FLY.
"DEAR mother," said a little fish,
"Pray is not that a fly?
I'm very hungry, and I wish
You'd let me go and try."
"Sweet innocent," the mother cried,
And startled from her nook,
"That horrid fly is but to hide
The sharpness of the hook."
Now, as I've heard, this little trout.
Was young, and foolish too;
And so he thought he'd venture out,
To see if it were true.
And round about the hook he play'd,
With many a longing look;
And, "Dear me," to himself he said,
"I'm sure that's not a hook.
I can but give one little pluck :
Let's see; and so I will."
So on he went; and, lo, it stuck
Quite through his little gill.
And as he faint and fainter grew,
With hollow voice he cried,
"Dear mother, had I minded you,
I need not now have died."
THE ANT AND THE CATERPILLAR.
As an Ant, of his talents exceedingly vain,
Was trotting with consequence over the plain,
A Worm, in his progress remarkably slow,
Cried, "Bless your good worship wherever you go;
I hope your great mightiness won't take it ill;
I pay my respects with a hearty goodwill."
With a look of contempt and impertinent pride,
"Begone, you vile reptile," his antship replied;
"Go, go and lament your contemptible state.
But first look at me, see my limbs how complete;
I guide all my motions with freedom and ease,
Run backward and forward, and turn when I please:
Of nature (grown weary) you shocking essay,
I spurn you thus from me-crawl out of my way."
The reptile, insulted and vex'd to the soul,
Crept onwards, and hid himself close in his hole;
But nature, determined to end his distress,
Soon sent him abroad in a butterfly's dress.
Ere long the proud Ant, as, repassing the road
(Fatigued from the harvest, and tugging his load),
The beau on a violet-bank he beheld,-
Whose vesture, in glory, a monarch's excell'd:
His plumage expanded 'twas rare to behold,
So lovely a mixture of purple and gold.
The Ant, quite amazed at a figure so gay, Bow'd low with respect, and was trudging away. "Stop, friend," says the Butterfly, "don't be surprised,
I once was the reptile you spurn'd and despised; But now I can mount, in the sunbeams I play, While you must for ever drudge on in your way."
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