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Her grandson, playing at marbles, stopped,

And cruel in sport, as boys will be, Tossed a stone at the bird, who hopped

From bough to bough in the apple-tree.

Filling youths' and maidens' dreams
With inysterious, pleasing themes ;
Then, amid the sunlight clear
Floating in the fragrant air,
Thou dost fill each heart with pleasure
By thy glad ecstatic measure.

“Nay!” said the grandmother; “have you not

heard, My poor bad boy! of the fiery pit, And how, drop by drop, this merciful bird

Carries the water that quenches it ?

“He brings cool dew in his little bill,

And lets it fall on the souls of sin ; You can see the mark on his red breast still

Of fires that scorch as he drops it in.

A single note, so sweet and low,
Like a full heart's overflow,
Forms the prelude ; but the strain
Gives us no such tone again ;
For the wild and saucy song
Leaps and skips the notes among,
With such quick and sportive play,
Ne'er was madder, merrier lay.

"My poor Bron rhuddyn! my breast-burned bird,

Singing so sweetly from limb to limb, Very dear to the heart of our Lord

Is he who pities the lost, like him!”

“Amen!" I said to the beautiful myth;

“Sing, bird of God, in my heart as well ; Each good thought is a drop wherewith

To cool and lessen the fires of hell.

Gayest songster of the spring!
Thy melodies before me bring
Visions of some dream-built land,
Where, by constant zephyrs fanned,
I might walk the livelong day,
Embosomed in perpetual May.
Nor care nor fear thy bosom knows;
For thee a tempest never blows;
But when our northern summer's o'er,
By Delaware's or Schuylkill's shore
The wild rice lifts its airy head,
And royal feasts for thee are spread.
And when the winter threatens there,
Thy tireless wings yet own no fear,
But bear thee to more southern coasts,
Far beyond the reach of frosts.

“Prayers of love like rain-drops fall,

Tears of pity are cooling dew, And dear to the heart of our Lord are all Who suffer like him in the good they do!"

JOHN G. WHITTIER,

THE BOBOLINK.

Bobolink! still may thy gladness
Take from me all taints of sadness;
Fill my soul with trust unshaken
In that Being who has taken
Care for every living thing,
In summer, winter, fall, and spring.

THOMAS HILL

THE O'LINCOLN FAMILY.

A Flock of merry singing-birds were sporting in

BOBOLINK ! that in the meadow,
Or beneath the orchard's shadow,
Keepest up a constant rattle
Joyous as my children's prattle,
Welcome to the north again !
Welcome to mine ear thy strain,
Welcome to mine eye the sight
Of thy buff, thy black and white !
Brighter plumes may greet the sun
By the banks of Amazon ;
Sweeter tones may weave the spell
Of enchanting Philomel;
But the tropic bird would fail,
And the English nightingale,
If we should conipare their worth
With thine endless, gushing mirth.
When the ides of May are past,
June and summer nearing fast,
While from depths of blue above
Comes the mighty breath of love,
Calling out each bud and flower
With resistless, secret power,
Waking hope and fond desire,
Kindling the erotic fire, --

the grove :

Some were warbling cheerily, and some were mak

ing love : There were Bobolincon, Wadolincon, Wintersee

ble, Conquedle, A livelier set was never led by tabor, pipe, or

fiddle, Crying, “Phew, shew, Wadolincon, sce, see,

Bobolincon, Down among the tickletops, hiding in the but

tercups ! I know the saucy chap, I see his shining cap Bobbing in the clover there, see, see, see!"

Up flies Bobolincon, perching on an apple-tree, Swinging low on a slender limb,
Startled by his rival's song, quickened by his The sparrow warbled his wedding hymn,
raillery,

And, balancing on a blackberry-brier, Soon he spies the rogue afloat, curveting in the The bobolink sung with his heart on fire, — air,

“Chink? If you wish to kiss her, do ! And merrily he turns about, and warns him to Do it, do it! You coward, you ! beware!

Kiss her! Kiss, kiss her! Who will see? “'T is you that would a-wooing go, down among Only we three ! we three! we three !"

the rushes 0 ! But wait a week, till flowers are cheery, - wait Under garlands of drooping vines, a week, and, ere you marry,

Through dim vistas of sweet-breathed pines, Be sure of a house wherein to tarry!

Past wide meadow-fields, lately mowell, Wadolink, Whiskodink, Tom Denny, wait, wait,

Wandered the indolent country road. wait!”

The lovers followed it, listening still,

And, loitering slowly, as lovers will, Every one's a funny fellow ; every one's a little Entered a low-roofed bridge that lay, mellow;

Dusky and cool, in their pleasant way. Follow, follow, follow, follow, o'er the hill and Under its arch a smooth, brown stream in the hollow!

Silently glided, with glint and gleam, Merrily, merrily, there they hie ; now they rise Shaded by graceful elms that spread and now they fly;

Their verdurous canopy overhead, They cross and turn, and in and out, and down the stream so narrow, the boughs so wide, in the middle, and wheel about,

They met and mingled across the tide. With a “Phew, shew, Wadolincon ! listen to Alders loved it, and seemed to keep me, Bobolincon !

Patient watch as it lay asleep, Happy 's the wooing that 's speedily doing, that's Mirroring clearly the trees and sky speedily doing,

And the flitting form of the dragon-fly, That's merry and over with the bloom of the Save where the swift-winged swallow played clover!

In and out in the sun and shade, Bobolincon, Wadolincon, Winterseeble, follow, And darting and circling in merry chase, follow me!

Dipped, and dimpled its clear dark face.
Fluttering lightly from brink to brink

Followed the garrulous bobolink,
THE TELLTALE.

Rallying loudly, with mirthful din,

The pair who lingered unseen within. ONCE, on a golden afternoon,

And when from the friendly bridge at last
With radiant faces and hearts in tune,

Into the road beyond they passed,
Two fond lovers in dreaming mood
Threaded a rural solitude.

Again beside them the tempter went,

Keeping the thread of his argument -Wholly happy, they only knew

“Kiss her! kiss her! chink-a-chee-chee! That the earth was bright and the sky was blue, I'll not mention it! Don't mind me ! That light and beauty and joy and song

I'll be sentinel - I can see Charmed the way as they passed along :

All around from this tall birch-tree !" The air was fragrant with woodland seents;

But ah! they noted - nor deemed it strange --The squirrel frisked on the roadside fence;

In his rollicking chorus a trifling change : And hovering near them, “Chee, chee,

“Do it ! do it!" with might and main chink?”

Warbled the telltale —- “Do it again !" Queried the curious bobolink, Pausing and peering with sidelong head, As saucily questioning all they said ; While the ox-eye danced on its slender

ROBERT OF LINCOLN. stem,

And all glad nature rejoiced with them. MERRILY swinging on brier and weed, Over the odorous fields were strown

Near to the nest of his little dame, Wilting windrows of grass new-mown,

Over the mountain-side or mead, And rosy billows of clover bloom

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name: Surged in the sunshine and breathed per

Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, fume.

Spink, spank, spink;

WILSON FLAGG.

ANONYMOUS.

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Up flies Bobolincon, perching on an apple-tree, Swinging low on a slender limb),
Startled by his rival's song, quickened by his The sparrow warbled his wedding hymn,
raillery,

And, balancing on a blackberry-brier, Soon he spies the rogue afloat, curveting in the The bobolink sung with his heart on fire, – air,

“Chink? If you wish to kiss her, do! And merrily he turns about, and warns him to Do it, do it! You coward, you ! beware!

Kiss her! Kiss, kiss her! Who will see? “'T is you that would a-wooing go, down among Only we three ! we three ! we three !"

the rushes 0 ! But wait a week, till flowers are cheery, - wait Under garlands of drooping vines, a week, and, ere you marry,

Through dim vistas of sweet-breathed prinies, Be sure of a house wherein to tarry!

Past wide meadow-fields, lately mowell, Wadolink, Whiskodink, Tom Denny, wait, wait, Wandered the indolent country road. wait !”

The lovers followed it, listening still,

And, loitering slowly, as lovers will, Every one's a funny fellow ; every one's a little Entered a low-roofed bridge that lay, mellow;

Dusky and cool, in their pleasant way. Follow, follow, follow, follow, o'er the hill and Under its arch a smooth, brown stream in the hollow!

Silently glided, with glint and gleam, Merrily, merrily, there they hie; now they rise Shaded by graceful elms that spread and now they fly;

Their verdurous canopy overhead, They cross and turn, and in and out, and down The stream so narrow, the boughs so wide, in the middle, and wheel about,

They met and mingled across the tide. With a “Phew, shew, Wadolincon ! listen to Alders loved it, and seemed to keep me, Bobolincon !

Patient watch as it lay asleep, Happy 's the wooing that 's speedily doing, that's Mirroring clearly the trees and sky speedily doing,

And the flitting form of the dragon-fly, That's merry and over with the bloom of the Save where the swift-winged swallow played clover!

In and out in the sun and shade, Bobolincon, Wadolincon, Winterseeble, follow, And darting and circling in merry chase, follow me!

Dipped, and dimpled its clear dark face.
Fluttering lightly from brink to brink

Followed the garrulous bobolink,
THE TELLTALE.

Rallying loudly, with mirthful din,
ONCE, on a golden afternoon,

The pair who lingered unseen within.

And when from the friendly bridge at last
With radiant faces and hearts in tune,

Into the road beyond they passed,
Two fond lovers in dreaming mood
Threaded a rural solitude.

Again beside them the tempter went,

Keeping the thread of his argument -
Wholly happy, they only knew
That the earth was bright and the sky was blue, I'll not mention it! Don't mind me !

Kiss her! kiss her! chink-a-chee-chee!
That light and beauty and joy and song

I'll be sentinel - I can see Charmed the way as they passed along:

All around from this tall birch-tree !" The air was fragrant with woolland scents;

But ah! they noted — nor deemed it strange The squirrel frisked on the roadside fence;

In his rollicking chorus a trifling change : And hovering near them, “Chee, chee, chink?"

“Do it ! do it!" with might and main

Warbled the telltale — “Do it again!Queried the curious bobolink,

ANONYMOUS. Pausing and peering with sidelong head, As saucily questioning all they said ; While the ox-eye danced on its slender

ROBERT OF LINCOLN. stem,

And all glad nature rejoiced with them. MERRILY swinging on brier and weed, Over the odorous fields were strown

Near to the nest of his little dame, Wilting windrows of grass new-mown,

Over the mountain-side or mead, And rosy billows of clover bloom

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name: Surged in the sunshine and breathed per

Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, fume.

Spink, spank, spink;

WILSON FLAGG.

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