For Memorizing

Bob-'o-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

Brood, kind creature, you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee.

Modest and shy as a nun is she;
One weak chirp is her only note;
Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he,
Pouring boasts from his little throat,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

Never was I afraid of man,

Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can.
Chee, chee, chee.

Six white eggs on a bed of hay,
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight:

There as the mother sits all day,

Robert is singing with all his might,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

Nice, good wife that never goes out,
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee.

Soon as the little ones chip the shell,
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood:

For Memorizing

Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,

This new life is likely to be

Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee.

Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work, and silent with care,

Off is his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

Nobody knows but my mate and I,
Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee.

Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows,
Robert of Lincoln's a hum-drum drone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again,

Chee, chee, chee.

- Bryant.

For Memorizing

66

CASABIANCA.

The boy stood on the burning deck,
Whence all but him had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck,
Shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,

A proud, though child-like form.

The flames rolled on he would not go,
Without his father's word;

That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud-"Say, father, say,

If yet my task is done?"

He knew not that the chieftain lay,

Unconscious of his son.

Speak, father!" once again he cried,

“If I may yet be gone?"

And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames roll'd on.

For Memorizing

Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waving hair,

And looked from that lone post of death,

In still, yet brave despair.

And shouted but once more aloud,

"My father! must I stay?"

While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made away.

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part-

But the noblest thing which perished there,
Was that young, faithful heart.

Mrs. Hemans.

For Memorizing

WHAT I LIVE FOR.

I live for those who love me,

Whose hearts are kind and true;
For the heaven that smiles above me,
And awaits my spirit, too;
For all human ties that bind me,
For the task my God assigned me,
For the bright hopes left behind me,
And the good that I can do.

I live to learn their story,
Who suffered for my sake;

To emulate their glory,

And follow in their wake;

Bards, patriots, martyrs, sages,
The noble of all ages,

Whose deeds crown History's pages,

And Time's great volume make.

I live to hail that season,
By gifted minds foretold,
When man shall live by reason,
And not alone by gold;
When man to man united,
And every wrong thing righted,
The whole world shall be lighted

As Eden was of old.