Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little English Robin;

The bird that comes about our doors
When autumn winds are sobbing?
g.

WORDSWORTH-The Redbreast Chasing
the Butterfly.

Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,

And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with one desire

Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire, Poor Robin is yet flowerless; but how gay With his red stalks upon this sunny day! WORDSWORTH-Poor Robin.

h.

Across the narrow beach we flit, One little sand-piper and I; And fast I gather, bit by bit,

L. 756.

The scattered drift-wood, bleached and dry. The wild waves reach their hands for it, The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, As up and down the beach we flit, One little sand-piper and I.

Up and down! Up and down!

From the base of the wave to the billow's

crown;

And amidst the flashing and feathery foam
The Stormy Petrel finds a home,-

A home, if such a place may be,

For her who lives on the wide, wide sea,
On the craggy ice, in the frozen air,
And only seeketh her rocky lair

To warm her young and to teach them spring At once o'er the waves on their stormy wing! a. BARRY CORNWALL-The Stormy Petrel. Between two seas the sea-bird's wing makes halt,

Wind-weary; while with lifting head he waits For breath to reinspire him from the gates That open still toward sunrise on the vault High-domed of morning.

e. WM. CARTWRIGHT-Lesbia and the

Sparrow.

The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud

Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be.
f. LONGFELLOW-Tales of a Wayside Inn.
The Poet's Tale. The Birds of
Killingworth. St. 2.

And in thy own sermon, thou
That the sparrow falls dost allow,
It shall not cause me any alarm;
For neither so comes the bird to harm,
Seeing our Father, thou hast said,
Is by the sparrow's dying bed;
Therefore it is a blessed place,
And the sparrow in high grace.

The swallow follows not summer more willing than we your lordship.

p. Timon of Athens. Act III. Sc. 6.

L. 31.

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings;

Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures

kings.

q. Richard III. Act V. Sc. 2. L. 23.

T.

RICH. MONCKTON MILNES-The Men of
Old. St. 7.

The blest to-day is as completely so,
As who began a thousand years ago.
8. POPE-Essay on Man. Ep. I. L. 75.
Jove bless thee, master Parson.
t.

Twelfth Night. Act IV. Sc. 2. L. 14. The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew!

น. Cymbeline. Act V. Sc. 5. L. 350. Amid my list of blessings infinite, Stands this the foremost, "That my heart has bled."