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He has no thought of any wrong,

He scans me with a fearless eye; Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong,

The little sandpiper and I.

Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night,

When the loosed storm breaks furiously? My drift-wood fire will burn so bright!

To what warm shelter canst thou fly ? I do not fear for thee, though wroth

The tempest rushes through the sky; For are we not God's children both,

Thou, little sandpiper, and I?

THE SKYLARK.

James Hogg.

BIRD of the wilderness,

Blithesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!

Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place, 0 to abide in the desert with thee!

Wild is thy lay and loud

Far in the downy cloud,
Love gives it energy,

love
gave

it birth.
Where, on thy dewy wing,

Where art thou journeying ?
Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.

O’er fell and fountain sheen,

O'er moor and mountain green, O’er the red streamer that heralds the day,

Over the cloudlet dim,

Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!

Then, when the gloaming comes,

Low in the heather blooms, Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!

Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place,
O to abide in the desert with thee!

ROBIN REDBREAST.

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

GOODBY, goodby to Summer!

For Summer's nearly done;
The garden smiling faintly,

Cool breezes in the sun ;
Our thrushes now are silent,

Our swallows flown away,
But Robin's here in coat of brown,

And scarlet breast-knot gay.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,

0 Robin dear!
Robin sings so sweetly

In the falling of the year.
Bright yellow, red, and orange,

The leaves come down in hosts;
The trees are Indian princes,

But soon they'll turn to ghosts ;
The leathery pears and apples

Hang russet on the bough;
It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late,

'Twill soon be Winter now.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,

0 Robin dear!
And what will this poor Robin do?

For pinching days are near.
The fire-side for the cricket,

The wheat-stack for the mouse,
When trembling night-winds whistle

And moan all round the house.
The frosty ways like iron,

The branches plumed with snow, —
Alas! in winter dead and dark,

Where can poor Robin go?
Robin, Robin Redbreast,

0 Robin dear!
And a crumb of bread for Robin,

His little heart to cheer.

WHEN daffodils begin to peer, with heigh! the doxy

over the dale, Why then comes in the sweet o' the year, for the

red blood reigns in the winter's pale.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

THE BIRD.

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

“ BIRDIE, Birdie, will you, pet ?
Summer is far and far away yet.
You'll have silken quilts and a velvet bed,
And a pillow of satin for your head.”
“I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall:
No rain comes through, though I hear it fall;
The sun peeps gay at dawn of day,
And I sing, and wing away, away!”
“O Birdie, Birdie, will you, pet ?
Diamond stones and amber and jet
We'll string on a necklace fair and fine,
To please this pretty bird of mine.”
“Oh! thanks for diamonds, and thanks for jet;
But here is something daintier yet,
A feather necklace, round and round,
That I would not sell for a thousand pound !
“O Birdie, Birdie, won't you, pet ?
We'll buy you a dish of silver fret,
A golden cup and an ivory seat,
And carpets soft beneath
“Can running water be drunk from gold?
Can a silver dish the forest hold ?
A rocking twig is the finest chair,
And the softest paths lie through the air :
Goodby, goodby, to my lady fair.”

your feet.”

THE OWL.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

WHEN cats run home and light is come,

And dew is cold upon the ground,
And the far-off stream is dumb,

And the whirring sail goes round;
And the whirring sail goes round;

Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.

When merry milkmaids click the latch,

And rarely smells the new-mown hay, And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch

Twice or thrice his roundelay,
Twice or thrice his roundelay;

Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.

FLOWER IN THE CRANNIED WALL.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

FLOWER in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies ;-
Hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower - but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.

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