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ALL HAVE A WORK TO DO.
"STOP, little stream, and tell me why
Thou 'rt running on so fast,
For ever gliding swiftly by,
And yet thou 'rt never past.
"I love to look into thy face,
Although I'm but a child,
And watch thy dimpling eddies play,
And hear thy music wild.
“Thou must be very happy here,
With nothing else to do
But running by these mossy banks,
Beneath the green wood too.
"The pretty robin sings to thee
His cheerful matin-song,
While 'mid the leaves the squirrel peeps,
And frolics all day long."
"The little streamlet heeded not
The prattling child's request, But, while it still ran swiftly on, The laughing boy address'd:
"'Tis true I've squirrels, birds, and flowers, To cheer me on my way; And very pleasant is my lot:
But, still, I must not stay.
"Like Truth, I have my work to do,
My errand to fulfil :
I cool the weary traveller's lips,
And help the sea to fill.
"If I should stop, and idly lie Upon my pebbly bed,
Soon all my freshness would be gone, My verdant banks be dead.
"Our heavenly Father gives to all
His blessings most profuse,
And, not the least, in wisdom gives
The kindly law of use.
So, little child, your duty do
In cheerfulness all day;
you, like me, shall then be bless'd With flowers upon your way."
JANUARY brings the snow,
Makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes loud and shrill,
Stirs the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet;
Scatters daisies at our feet.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs,
Skipping by their fleecy dams.
June brings tulips, lilies, roses,
Fills the children's hands with posies.
Hot July brings cooling showers,
Apricots, and gilliflowers.
August brings the sheaves of corn,
Then the harvest home is borne.
Warm September brings the fruit,
Sportsmen then begin to shoot.
Fresh October brings the pheasant,
Then to gather nuts is pleasant.
Dull November brings the blast,
Then the leaves are whirling fast.
Chill December brings the sleet,
Blazing fire and Christmas treat.
WE had a pleasant walk to-day
Over the meadows and far away,
Across the bridge by the water-mill,
By the woodside, and up the hill;
And if you listen to what I say,
I'll tell you what we saw to-day.
Amid a hedge, where the first leaves
Were peeping from their sheaths so sly,
We saw four eggs within a nest,
And they were blue as a summer sky.
An elder-branch dipp'd in the brook,
We wonder'd why it moved, and found
A silken-hair'd smooth water-rat
Nibbling, and swimming round and round.
Where daisies open'd to the sun,
In a broad meadow, green and white, The lambs were racing eagerly—
We never saw a prettier sight.
We saw upon the shady banks
Long rows of golden flowers shine, And first mistook for buttercups
The star-shaped yellow celandine.
Anemones and primroses,
And the blue violets of spring,
We found, while listening by a hedge
To hear a merry ploughman sing.
And from the earth the plough turn'd up
There came a sweet refreshing smell,
Such as the lily of the vale
Sends forth from many a woodland dell.