And when the holidays are o'er

We'll have a joyous meeting;

When teachers, schoolmates, back shall come With each a happy greeting.

* 47 *

WISHING.

RING-TING! I wish I were a Primrose,
A bright yellow Primrose blowing in the spring!
The stooping bough above me,

The wandering bee to love me,
The fern and moss to creep across,
And the Elm-tree for our king!

Nay, stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree,

A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay!
The winds would set them dancing,

The sun and moonshine glance in,
And birds would house among the boughs,
And sweetly sing.

Oh, no! I wish I were a Robin,

A Robin, or a little Wren, everywhere to go,
Through forest, field, or garden,

And ask no leave or pardon,
Till winter comes with icy thumbs
To ruffle up our wing!

Well, tell! where should I fly to,

Where go sleep in the dark wood or dell?

1 house, make their nests.

Before the day was over,
Home must come the rover,
For mother's kiss, sweeter this

Than any other thing.

* 48 *

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

THANKSGIVING-DAY.

OVER the river, and through the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way

To carry the sleigh

Through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river, and through the wood;
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes,

And bites the nose,

As over the ground we go.

Over the river, and through the wood,
And straight through the barnyard gate;
We seem to go
Extremely slow;

It is so hard to wait!

Over the river, and through the wood;
Now grandmother's cap I spy!

Hurrah for the fun!

Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin-pie!

LYDIA MARIA CHILD.

* 49 *

THE 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 the 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.

* 50 *

THE BEE.

I LOVE to see

The busy bee;

I love to watch the hive;
When the sun's hot,

They linger not:

It makes them all alive.

God gave them skill,
And with good will

They to their work attend:
Each little cell

Is shaped so well,

That none their work can mend.

Now in, now out, They move about, Yet all in order true:

Each seems to know

Both where to go And what it has to do.

Midst summer heat,

The honey sweet It gathers while it may, In tiny drops,

And never stops

To waste its time in play.

I hear it come;

I know its hum:

It flies from flower to flower,

And to its store

A little more

It adds each day and hour.

Just so should I

My heart apply
My proper work to mind;

Look for some sweet
In all I meet,

And store up all I find.

* 51 *

THE MAIDEN AND THE BIRD.

"LITTLE bird, little bird, come to me!
I have a green cage all ready for thee;
Beauty-bright flowers I'll bring anew,
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,1 away I'll fly
Το greener fields and a warmer sky:
When spring returns with pattering rain,
You'll hear my merry song again."

"Little bird, little bird, who'll guide thee
Over the hills and over the sea?
Foolish one, come, in the house to stay;
For I'm very sure you'll lose your way."

“Ah, no, little maiden! God guides me
Over the hills and over the sea:
I will be free as the rushing air,
And sing of sunshine everywhere."

1 damsel, girl, maiden.

LYDIA MARIA CHILD.