That after their bewildering,

Covered with leaves the little children,

So painfully in the wood?

What ailed thee, robin, that thou couldst pursue

A beautiful creature,

That is gentle by nature?

Beneath the Summer sky,

From flower to flower let him fly;

'Tis all that he wishes to do.

The cheerer, Thou, of our indoor sadness,
He is the friend of our Summer gladness:
What hinders, then, that ye should be
Playmates in the Summer weather,
And fly about in the air together?
His beautiful wings in crimson are drest,
A crimson as bright as thy own:
Wouldst thou be happy in thy nest,
Oh, pious bird! whom man loves best,
Love him, or leave him alone!

THE REVERY OF POOR SUSAN

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

T the corner of Wood Street, when daylight

AT

appears,

Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three

years:

Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard

In the silence of morning the song of the Bird.

'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;

Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.

Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale,
Down which she so often has tripped with her pail;
And a single small Cottage, a nest like a dove's,
The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.

She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade,
The mist and the river, the hill and the shade:
The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,
And the colours have all passed away from her eyes.

THE COTTAGER TO HER INFANT

DOROTHY WORDSWORTH

HE days are cold, the nights are long,
The north-wind sings a doleful song;

Then hush again upon my breast;
All merry things are now at rest,
Save thee, my pretty Love!

The kitten sleeps upon the hearth,
The crickets long have ceased their mirth;
There's nothing stirring in the house
Save one wee, hungry, nibbling mouse,
Then why so busy thou?

Nay! start not at that sparkling light,
'Tis but the moon that shines so bright
On the window-pane bedropped with rain:
There, little darling! sleep again,

And wake when it is day.

A SUNNY SHAFT DID I BEHOLD

A

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

SUNNY shaft did I behold,

From sky to earth it slanted:

And poised therein a bird so bold-
Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted!

He sunk, he rose, he twinkled, he trolled
Within that shaft of sunny mist;
His eyes of fire, his beak of gold,
All else of amethyst!

And thus he sang: "Adieu! adieu!
Love's dreams prove seldom true.
The blossoms they make no delay:
The sparkling dew-drops will not stay.
Sweet month of May.

We must away;

Far, far away!
To-day! to-day!"

HUNTING SONG

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

JP, up! ye dames and lasses gay!

UP

To the meadows trip away.

'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,

And scare the small birds from the corn. Not a soul at home may stay:

For the shepherds must go

With lance and bow

To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.

Leave the hearth and leave the house
To the cricket and the mouse:
Find grannam out a sunny seat,
With babe and lambkin at her feet.
Not a soul at home may stay:
For the shepherds must go
With lance and bow

To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.