THE SPARROW. GLAD to see you, little bird, 'Twas your pretty chirp I heard : That I will, and plenty, too; Frost and snow have made you bold; Thomas says you steal his wheat, Shocking tales I hear of you; Yet you seem an honest bird; So I will not try to know T TO THE SNOWDROP. PRETTY firstling of the year! Art still here, alive and blithe? Though the stormy Night hath fled, And the frost hath passed his scythe O'er thy small, unshelter'd head! Ah !—some lie amidst the dead, (Many a giant, stubborn tree,— Many a plant, its spirit shed,) That were better nursed than thee! What hath saved thee? Thou wast not 'Gainst the arrowy winter furred,— Armed in scale,- but all forgot When the frozen winds were stirred. Nature, who doth clothe the bird, Should have hid thee in the earth, Till the cuckoo's song was heard, And the Spring let loose her mirth. Nature, deep and mystic word! Mighty mother, still unknown! Thou didst sure the snowdrop gird With an armour all thine own! Thou, who sent'st it forth alone To the cold and sullen season, (Like a thought at random thrown,) Sent it thus for some grave reason! If 'twere but to pierce the mind With a single gentle thought, On the ground or in the skies! Barry Cornwall. THE LITTLE BOY'S GOOD NIGHT. THE sun is hidden from our sight, The birds are sleeping sound; 'Tis time to say to all, "Good night!" And give a kiss all round. Good night, my father, mother dear, Now kiss your little son; Good night! my friends, both far and near, Good night! ye merry, merry birds, You would have said, "Good night!" To all my pretty flowers, good night! And all the stars that shine so bright, The moon is lighting up the skies, The stars are sparkling there; "Tis time to shut our weary eyes, And say our evening prayer.-Eliza Lee Follen. |