Said the cunning spider to the fly, "Sweet creature," said the spider, If you'll step in one moment, dear, "I thank you, gentle sir," she said, The spider turned him round about, For well he knew the silly fly Would soon be back again; So he wove a subtle web In a little corner sly, And set his table ready To dine upon the fly. He went out to his door again, "Come hither, hither, pretty fly, Alas, alas! how very soon Hearing his wily, flattering words, With buzzing wings she hung aloft, He dragged her up his winding stair, Into his dismal den Within his little parlor but She ne'er came out again! And now, dear little children Who may this story read, To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you, ne'er give heed. Unto an evil counselor Close heart and ear and eye; And take a lesson from this tale Of the spider and the fly. - Mary Howitt. O LARK OF THE SUMMER MORNING. LOVE to lie in the clover, I to With the lark like a speck in the sky, While its small, sweet throat runneth over O lark of the summer morning, Teach, teach me the song that you sing, O lark of the summer morning! Give, give me of praying the key, And I'll learn without lightness or scorning As I did at my own mother's knee. - From the Japanese. COM THE PEACOCK. OME, come, Mister Peacock, you must not be proud, For many a bird far more highly endowed Is not half so conceited and vain. Let me tell you, gay bird, that a suit of fine clothes Is a sorry distinction at most, And seldom much valued, excepting by those Who such graces only can boast. The nightingale certainly wears a plain coat, The hawk cannot boast of a plumage so gay, And while you are strutting about all the day, The dove may be clad in a plainer attire, And her love and affection more pleasure inspire, So you see, Mister Peacock, you must not be proud, For many a bird is more highly endowed, - Songs for the Little Ones at Home. A NURSERY SONG. S I walked over the hill one day, I listened, and heard a mother-sheep say, In all the green world there is nothing so sweet my little lammie, with his nimble feet; As With his eyes so bright, And his wool so white, Oh! he is my darling, my heart's delight," And the mother-sheep and her little one And they went to sleep on the hillside warm, I went to the kitchen, and what did I see And the old ewe - she, May love their babies exceedingly, Under the rocking chair. I love my kittens with all my might, I love them at morning, noon, and night, Now I'll take up my kitties, the kitties I love, And we'll lie down together beneath the warm stove." I went to the yard, and I saw the old hen Go clucking about with her chickens ten; She clucked and she scratched and she bustled away, On anything like to these chickens of mine! You may hunt the full moon and the stars if you please, |