8

A PRETTY THING.

Who am I with noble face,
Shining in a clear blue place?
If to look at me you try,
I shall blind your little eye.

When my noble face I show
Over yonder mountains blue,
All the clouds away do ride,
And the dusky night beside.

Then the clear wet dews I dry,
With the look of my bright eye,
And the little birds awake,
Many a merry tune to make.

Cowslips then and harebells blue, And lily leaves their cups undo, For they shut themselves up tight All the dark and foggy night.

Then the busy people go,

Some to plough and some to sow;
When I leave, their work is done.
Guess-if I am not the sun.
J. Taylor.

9

APPLES.

Down! down! down!
Down under the tree,
See the apples falling,
As ripe as they can be.

Beautiful golden apples,
Yellow, brown, and red,
Down, down they fall in showers,
And over the green grass spread.

Come, little boys and girls,
Leave your books and play,
Help to gather the apples,
No more school to-day.

Fill your

hats and aprons,

Shake the tree again;

See, they fall around you,

Like the summer rain.

10

NURSE'S SONG.

When the voices of children are heard on

the green,

And laughing is heard on the hill,

My heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.

Then come home, my children, the sun is gone

down,

And the dews of night arise,

Come, come, leave off play,

And let us away,

Till the morning appears in the skies.

No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,
And we cannot go to sleep;

Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,
And the hills are all covered with sheep.
Well, well, go and play,

Till the light fades away,

And then go home to bed.

The little ones leaped, and shouted, and

laughed,

And all the hills echoed.

W. Blake.

11

BILLY AND ME.

Where the pools are bright and deep,
Where the grey trout lies asleep,
Up the river and over the lea,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the blackbird sings the latest,
Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,
Where the nestlings chirp and flee,

That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the mowers mow the cleanest,
Where the hay lies thickest and greenest,
There to trace the homeward bee,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the hazel bank is steepest,
Where the shadow falls the deepest,
Where the clustering nuts fall free,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Why the boys should drive
away
Little maidens in their play,

Or love to banter and fight so well,
That's a thing I never can tell.

But this I know, I love to play
Through the meadow among the hay;
Up the meadow and over the lea,

That's the way for Billy and me.

James Hogg.

12.

THE ROOK.

There was a young rook, and he lodged in a nook

Of Grandpapa's tallest elm-tree;

There came a strong wind, not at all to his mind,

All out of the north-west countree.

With a shrill piping sound, this wind whistled round,

The boughs they all danced high and low; Rock, rock went the nest, where the birds were at rest,

Till over and over they go.

Uncle John, walking round, saw the rook on the ground,

And smoothed it, and wished it revive; Anne, Robert, and Bill, they all tried their skill

In vain; the poor rook would not live.

And if in your fun, round the orchard you run, You really would wonder to see

How sticks, moss, and feather are strewed by the weather,

Beneath each old racketing tree.

'Tis a very bad wind, as in proverbs we find, The wind that blows nobody good;

I have read it in books, but sure the young rooks

Would deny it to-day if they could.

They sure would deny, but they cannot well try,

Their cawing not yet have they learned; And 'tis just as well not, for a fancy I've got, How the wind to some use may be turned.