"Father, when people die, "No! they will never come; Do ye know the little Wood-mouse, That sits among the forest leaves, Its fur is red as the red chestnut, It leads a life most innocent Within the forest dim. 'Tis a timid, gentle creature, And seldom comes in sight; It has a long and wiry tail, And eyes both black and bright. It makes its nest of soft, dry moss, And though it keeps no calendar, It knows when flowers are springing; Upon the boughs the Squirrel sits, In the Hedge-Sparrow's nest he sits, I saw a little Wood-Mouse once, Like Oberon in his hall, With the green, green moss beneath his feet, Sit under a mushroom tall. I saw him sit and his dinner eat, All under the forest tree; His dinner of chestnut ripe and red, I wish you could have seen him there; To see the small thing God had made I saw that He regardeth them- CHARITY. Do you see that old beggar that stands at the door? Go set near the fire a table and seat: And Betty shall bring him some bread and some meat. I hope my dear children will always be kind, Whenever they meet with the aged and blind. THE ROBIN. WHO would fancy this December, How the snow lay cold and white; That poor robin ventured boldly Now I hear him in the laurels With his quick and glancing eye; Still his cheerful carol keeping Christmas by its minstrelsy. Look now! he is venturing nearer- I am sure he still remembers All the crumbs we gave last year, And will many more Decembers Ask from us his Christmas cheer. |