And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.

I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,

And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

HOW DOTH THE LITTLE BUSY BEE.

How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower.

How skilfully she builds her cell;
How neat she spreads her wax,
And labors hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.

In works of labor or of skill,

I would be busy too;

For Satan finds some mischief still

For idle hands to do.

In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be passed;
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.

ISAAC WATTS.

TRY AGAIN.

'Tis a lesson you should heed,
Try, try, try again;

If at first you don't succeed,
Try, try, try again.

Once or twice though you should fail,
Try again;

If you would at last prevail,
Try again.

If we strive, 't is no disgrace

Though we may not win the race;

What should you do in that case?
Try again.

If you find your task is hard,
Try again;

Time will bring you your reward,
Try again.

All that other folks can do,

With your patience should not you?

Only keep this rule in view

Try again.

ANONYMOUS.

GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD MORNING.

A FAIR little girl sat under a tree

Sewing as long as her eyes could see;

Then smoothed her work and folded it right,
And said, "Dear work, good night, good night!"

Such a number of rooks came over her head,
Crying, "Caw, caw!" on their way to bed,
She said, as she watched their curious flight,
"Little black things, good night, good night!"

The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed,
The sheep's" Bleat! bleat!" came over the road;
All seeming to say, with a quiet delight,
"Good little girl, good night, good night!"

She did not say to the sun, Good night!"
Though she saw him there like a ball of light;
For she knew he had God's time to keep
All over the world and never could sleep.

The tall pink foxglove bowed his head;
The violets courtesied, and went to bed;
And good little Lucy tied up her hair,
And said, on her knees, her favorite prayer.

And, while on her pillow she softly lay,
She knew nothing more till again it was day;
And all things said to the beautiful sun,

"Good morning, good morning! our work is begun."

RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES,

LORD HOUGHTON.

THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.

"WILL you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly;

""T is the prettiest little parlor that ever you did

spy.

The way into my parlor is up a winding stair, And I have many curious things to show when you are there."

"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "to ask me is in

vain,

For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high.

Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly.

"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,

And if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you in!

“Oh no, no,” said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said,

They never, never wake again who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning spider to the fly: "Dear friend, what can I do

To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?

I have within my pantry good store of all that's

nice;

I'm sure you're very welcome-will you please to take a slice?"

"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "kind sir, that cannot be:

I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!" said the spider, "you 're witty and you're wise;

How handsome are your gauzy wings; how brilliant are your eyes!

I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf; If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."

“I thank you, gentle sir," she said, for what you 're pleased to say,

And, bidding you good-morning now, I'll call another day."

The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,

For well he knew the silly fly would soon come back again:

So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready to dine upon the fly;
Then came out to his door again, and merrily did
sing:

"Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with pearl and silver wing;

Your robes are green and purple; there's a crest upon your head;

Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly,

Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;

With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,

Thinking only of her brilliant eyes and green and purple hue,