LITTLE BY LITTLE

"LITTLE by little," an acorn said

As it slowly sank in its mossy bed.

"I am improving every day,
Hidden deep in the earth away."

Little by little, each day it grew,
Little by little, it sipped the dew;
Downward it sent out a thread-like root,
Up in the air sprung a tiny shoot.

Day after day, and year after year,
Little by little, the leaves appear,

And the slender branches spread far and wide,
Till the mighty oak is the forest's pride.

"Little by little," said a thoughtful boy, "Moment by moment I'll well employ; Learning a little every day,

And not spending all my time in play;
And still this rule in my mind shall dwell—
'Whatever I do, I'll do it well.'

"Little by little, I'll learn to know
The treasured wisdom of long ago,
And one of these days perhaps we'll see
That the world will be the better for me."
And do you not think that this simple plan
Made him a wise and useful man?

ANONYMOUS.

OLD CHRISTMAS

NOW he who knows old Christmas,

He knows a carle of worth;

For he is a good fellow

As any upon earth.

He comes warm-cloaked and coated,
And buttoned up to the chin,
And soon as he comes a-nigh the door
We open and let him in.

We know that he will not fail us,
So we sweep the hearth up clean;
We set him in the old armchair,
And a cushion whereon to lean.

And with sprigs of holly and ivy
We make the house look gay,
Just out of an old regard to him,
For it was his ancient way.

He must be a rich old fellow:
What money he gives away!
There is not a lord in England
Could equal him any day.

Good luck unto old Christmas,
And long life, let us sing,

For he doth more good unto the poor

Than many a crowned king!

MARY HOWITT.

OVER AND OVER AGAIN

OVER and over again,

No matter which way I turn, I always find in the book of life, Some lesson I have to learn.

I must take my turn at the mill,

I must grind out the golden grain,

I must work out my task with a resolute will, Over and over again.

We cannot measure the need

Of even the tiniest flower,

Nor check the flow of the golden sands
That run through a single hour;
But the morning dews must fall,
And the sun and the summer rain

Must do their part, and perform it all
Over and over again.

Over and over again

The brook through the meadow flows,

And over and over again

The ponderous mill-wheel goes.

Once doing will not suffice,

Though doing be not in vain;

And a blessing failing us once or twice,

May come if we try again.

206

OVER AND OVER AGAIN

The path that has once been trod,
Is never so rough to the feet;
And the lesson we once have learned,
Is never so hard to repeat.
Though sorrowful tears must fall,

And the heart to its depths be driven
With storm and tempest, we need them all

To render us meet for Heaven.

ANONYMOUS.

ROBERT OF LINCOLN*

MERRILY swinging on brier and weed,

Near to the nest of his little dame,

Over the mountain-side or mead,

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name:

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

Spink, spank, spink;

Snug and safe in this nest of ours,
Hidden among the summer flowers.
Chee, chee, chee."

Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed,
Wearing a bright black wedding coat;
White are his shoulders and white his crest,
Hear him call in his merry note:
"Bob-o'-link, Bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

Look what a nice new coat is mine,

Sure, there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee."

Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife,

Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings,

Passing at home a patient life,

Broods in the grass while her husband sings:

* Used by permission of D. Appleton & Co.