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FLOWERS.

I

WILL not have the mad Clytie,

Whose head is turn'd by the sun;
The Tulip is a courtly quean,
Whom therefore I will shun;
The Cowslip is a country wench,
The Violet is a nun ;-
But I will woo the dainty Rose,
The
queen

of

every one.

The Pea is but a wanton witch,
In too much haste to wed,
And clasps her rings on every hand;
The Wolfsbane I should dread;
Nor will I dreary Rosemarye,
That always mourns the dead ;-
But I will woo the dainty Rose,
With her cheeks of tender red.

а

The Lily is all in white, like a saint,
And so is no mate for me-
And the Daisy's cheek is tipp'd with a blush,
She is of such low degree;
Jasmin is sweet, and has many loves,
And the Broom's betroth'd to the Bee ;-
But I will plight with the dainty Rose,
For fairest of all is she !

HOOD.

FABLE.

TI

a

THE Mountain and the Squirrel

Had a quarrel, And the former call’d the latter “ Little Prig :” Bun replied, “ You are doubtless very big, But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together To make up a year, And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I'm not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry: I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel-track; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put ; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nut.”

EMERSON.

AS I LAY A-THINKING.

A

SI lay a-thinking, a-thinking, a-thinking,
Merry sang the Bird as she sat upon the

spray ;
There came a noble Knight
With his hauberk shining bright,

And his gallant heart was light,

Free, and gay;
And as I lay a-thinking, he rode upon

his

way.

As I lay a-thinking, a-thinking, a-thinking,
Sadly sang the Bird as she sat upon the tree ;

There seem'd a crimson plain,
Where a gallant Knight lay slain,
And a steed with broken rein

Ran free ;
As I lay a-thinking--most pitiful to see.

As I lay a-thinking, a-thinking, a-thinking,
Merry sang the Bird as she sat upon the bough;

A lovely Maid came by,
And a gentle Youth was nigh,
And he breathed many a sigh

And a vow;

As I lay a-thinking-her heart was gladsome now.

As I lay a-thinking, a-thinking, a-thinking,
Sadly sang the Bird as she sat upon the thorn ;

No more a Youth was there,
But a Maiden rent her hair,
And cried in sad despair,

66 That I was born!
As I lay a-thinking-she perished forlorn.

As I lay a-thinking, a-thinking, a-thinking,
Sweetly sang the Bird as she sat upon the briar;

There came a lovely Child,
And his face was meek and mild,
Yet joyously he smiled

On his sire;
As I lay a-thinking--a cherub might admire.

But as I lay a-thinking, a-thinking, a-thinking,
And sadly sang the Bird as it perch'd upon a bier;

That joyous smile was gone,
And the face was white and wan,
As the down upon the swan

Doth appear;

As I lay a-thinking-oh, bitter flow'd the tear !

а

As I lay a-thinking, the golden sun was sinking,
O merry sang that Bird as it glitter'd on her

breast
With a thousand gorgeous dyes,
While soaring to the skies
'Mid the stars she seem'd to rise

As to her nest;
As I lay a-thinking, her meaning was exprest :

Follow, follow me away!
It boots not to delay,"-
('Twas so she seem'd to say)
5. Here is rest!"

RICHARD H. BARHAM.

A MAN'S REQUIREMENTS.

OVE me, sweet, with all thou art,

Feeling, thinking, seeing,
Love me in the lightest part,

Love me in full being.

Love me with thine open youth

In its frank surrender;
With the vowing of thy mouth,

With its silence tender.

Love me with thine azure eyes

Made for earnest granting ;Taking colour from the skies,

Can Heaven's truth be wanting ?

Love me with their lids that fall

Snow-like at first meeting : Love me with thine heart, that all

The neighbours then see beating.

Love me with thy hand stretch'd out

Freely-open-minded :
Love me with thy loitering foot,-

Hearing one behind it.

Love me with thy voice that turns

Sudden faint above me ;
Love me with thy blush that burns

When I murmur - Love me!"

Love me with thy thinking soul

Break it to love-sighing; Love me with thy thoughts that roll

On through living-dying.

Love me in thy gorgeous airs,

When the world has crown'd thee: Love me, kneeling at thy prayers,

With the angels round thee.

Love me pure, as musers do,

Up the woodlands shady : Love me gaily, fast, and true,

As a winsome lady.

Through all hopes that keep us brave,

Further off or nigher,

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