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The nodding plants they bowed their heads

As if in heartsome cheer: They spake unto these little things, "'Tis merry living here!"

Oh, how my heart ran o'er with joy!
I saw that all was good,

And how we might glean up delight
All round us, if we would!

And many a wood-mouse dwelleth there,
Beneath the old wood shade,
And all day long has work to do,
Nor is of aught afraid.

The green shoots grow above their heads, And roots so fresh and fine

Beneath their feet; nor is there strife 'Mong them for mine and thine.

There is enough for every one,
And they lovingly agree;
We might learn a lesson all of us,
Beneath the green-wood tree.

VIOLETS

JOHN MOULTRIE

[NDER the green hedges after the snow,

UN

There do the dear little violets grow, Hiding their modest and beautiful heads Under the hawthorn in soft mossy beds.

Sweet as the roses, and blue as the sky,

Down there do the dear little violets lie;

Hiding their heads where they scarce may be seen,
By the leaves you may know where the violet hath been

N

THE BABIE

HUGH MILLER

AE shoon to hide her tiny taes,

Nae stockings on her feet; Her supple ankles white as snow, Or early blossoms sweet.

Her simple dress of sprinkled pink
Her double, dimpled chin;
Her pucker'd lip and bonny mou',
With nae ane tooth between.

Her een sae like her mither's een,
Twa gentle, liquid things;
Her face is like an angel's face-
We're glad she has nae wings.

W

WILLIE WINKIE

WILLIAM MILLER

EE Willie Winkie rins through the town,

Up stairs and doon stairs, in his nicht-gown,

Tirlin' at the window, cryin' at the lock,

"Are the weans in their bed?-for it's now ten o'clock."

Hey, Willie Winkie! are ye comin' ben?

The cat's singin' gay thrums to the sleepin' hen,
The doug's spelder'd on the floor, and disna gie a cheep;
But here's a waukrife laddie, that winna fa' asleep.

Ony thing but sleep, ye rogue! - glow'rin' like the

moon,

Rattlin' in an airn jug wi' an airn spoon,

Rumblin', tumblin' roun' about, crawin' like a cock,
Skirlin' like a kenna-what, wauknin' sleepin' folk!

Hey, Willie Winkie! the wean's in a creel!
Waumblin' aff a body's knee like a vera eel,

Ruggin' at the cat's lug, and ravellin' a' her thrums:
Hey, Willie Winkie! See, there he comes!

THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE

CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH NORTON (LADY STIRLING

MAXWELL)

WORD was brought to the Danish King
(Hurry!)

That the love of his heart lay suffering,

And pin'd for the comfort his voice would bring; (Oh! ride as though you were flying!)

Better he loves each golden curl

On the brow of that Scandinavian girl
Than his rich crown jewels of ruby and pearl;

And his rose of the isles is dying!

Thirty nobles saddled with speed,

(Hurry!)

Each one mounting a gallant steed

Which he kept for battle and days of need;
(Oh! ride as though you were flying!)

Spurs were struck in the foaming flank;
Worn-out chargers stagger'd and sank;
Bridles were slacken'd and girths were burst:
But ride as they would, the king rode first,
For his rose of the isles lay dying!

His nobles are beaten, one by one;

(Hurry!)

They have fainted, and falter'd, and homeward gone;

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