Little Annie, on his knee,
Talks away most merrily.
Robert asks if he may go,
Skating, if it does not snow.
Mary has a tale to tell

Of a bird once sick, now well.
Nelly clasps her Father's knee,
Not one little word speaks she.

66

When mamma, who sits close by, Asks her girl the reason why; Nelly answers, “I don't know; Perhaps, because I love him so." Pleasant chatter, funny ways, Cheer papa through weary days; But I think, among the rest, Nelly's silent love is best.

HAT are you gathering there
I pray?
Can you tell, sweet maiden, say?
Yes, kind Sir, I'm plucking roses,
All to make some pretty posies.

Shall I help you, maiden, say?
Shall I pick the rose so gay

That has bloomed close to the wall?
I can reach it; I am tall.

No, kind sir, that rose you see
Grows for others, not for me;
For the birds have built a nest,
Close unto the rose's breast.
And no doubt that rose so fine,
Mingled with the eglantine,
Makes within their cosy room
A delicious sweet perfume.
Lots of flowers grow for me
On each bush and brier and tree;
Do not rob the birdies gay
Of their one rose: come away.
Little maiden, may you be
Ever kind and fair to see;
Ever thoughtful, ever mild,
As befits a Christian child.

No more the little chickens hide
Beneath their anxious mother's side.

No more we fear to lose the best,
The duckling plumper than the rest;
His long and cruel work is o'er,
And he will trouble us no more.

The hawk was cruel, fierce and strong;
His beak was sharp, his claws were long.
Many a little bird ate he;

Many a sad loss did we see.

William nails him to the door,
As a warning; and no more
Other hawks will come and steal
From our fowls an evening meal.