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"He who went in was there no more than I." "All that is true, but he has married been, And so on earth has suffered for all sin." "Married? "Tis well; for I have been married twice!"

"Begone! We'll have no fools in Paradise.


THE royal feast was done; the King
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried, "Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!"

The jester doffed his cap and bells,

And stood the mocking court before; They could not see the bitter smile

Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the monarch's silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: "O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"No pity, Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin: but Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

""Tis not by guilt the onward sweep Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay; 'Tis by our follies that so long

We hold the earth from heaven away.

"These clumsy feet, still in the mire,

Go crushing blossoms without end; These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust Among the heart-strings of a friend.

"The ill-timed truth we might have keptWho knows how sharp it pierced and stung! The word we had not sense to say

Who knows how grandly it had rung!

"Our faults no tenderness should ask,

The chastening stripes must cleanse them all; But for our blunders-oh, in shame Before the eyes of heaven we fall.

"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;

Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool That did his will; but Thou, O Lord, Be merciful to me, a fool!"

The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
"Be merciful to me, a fool!"

Ed. R. Sill.

WHAT does little birdie say
In her nest at peep of day?
"Let me fly," says little birdie,
Mother, let me fly away."
"Birdie, rest a little longer,
Till the little wings are stronger."
So it rests a little longer,
Then it flies away.

What does little baby say
In her bed at peep of day?
Baby says, like little birdie,
"Let me rise and fly away."
"Baby, sleep a little longer,
Till the little wings are stronger.
If she sleeps a little longer,
Baby too shall fly away.




SAID the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out;

You stare

In the air

Like a ghost in a chair,

Always looking what I am about

I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."

The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon,
So deep

On a heap

Of cloudless sleep,

Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon,
Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."

He turned in his bed; she was there again!
On high,

In the sky,

With her ghost eye,

The Moon shone white and alive and plain;
Said the Wind, "I'll blow you out again."

The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim: "With my sledge, And my wedge,

I have knocked off her edge!

If only I blow right fierce and grim,

The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."

He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread; "One puff More's enough

To blow her to snuff!

One good puff more where the last was bred,
And glimmer, glum will go the thread."

He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone
In the air;

Was a moonbeam bare;

Far off and harmless the sky stars shone-
Sure and certain the Moon was gone!

The Wind he took to his revels once more;

On down

In town,

Like a merry-mad clown,

He leaped and halloed with whistle and roar: "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!

He flew in a rage—he danced and blew;

But in vain

Was the pain

Of his bursting brain;

For still broader the moon-scrap grew,

The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew.

Slowly she grew-till she filled the night,

And shone

On her throne

In the sky alone,

A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,
Radiant and lovely, the queen of night.

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