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LITTLE BIRD! LITTLE BIRD! "LITTLE bird! little bird! come to me! I have a green cage ready for thee; I'll bring thee flowers, both red and blue, And fresh, ripe cherries all wet with dew."
"Thanks, little maiden, for all thy care, But I dearly love the clear, cool air; And my snug little nest in the old oak tree." "Little bird! little bird stay with me.
Nay, little damsel; away I'll fly To greener fields and a warmer sky; When spring returns with pattering rain You will hear my merry song again."
"Little bird, little bird! who'll guide thee Over the hills, and over the sea? Foolish one, come, and with me stay; For I'm sure you'll never find your way."
"Ah, no, little maiden! God guides me
How proud we are, how fond to show
The tulip and the butterfly,
Then will I set my heart to find
WHAT a sharp little fellow is Mister Fly, He goes where he pleases, low or high, And can walk just as well with his feet to the sky,
As I can on the floor;
And, o'er the smooth glass
Or through the keyhole of the door.
He eats the sugar and goes away,
And comes and plunges his head in the
Then on the edge of the jug he stands, And cleans his wings with his feet and hands.
This done, through the window he hurries away,
And gives a buzz, as if to say,
"At present I haven't a minute to stay, But I'll peep in again in the course of the day."
Then away he'll fly,
Where the sunbeams lie,
Such a strange little fellow is Mister Fly,
A fear of tumbling down "sky high."
MINE be a cot beside the hill;
The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch
And share my meal, a welcome guest.
The village-church among the trees,
With merry peals shall swell the breeze And point with taper spire to Heaven.
LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.
TOLL for the Brave!
The brave that are no more!
Fast by their native shore!
Eight hundred of the brave
A land-breeze shook the shrouds
Down went the Royal George,
Toll for the brave!
It was not in the battle;
His sword was in its sheath,
Weigh the vessel up
Once dreaded by our foes!