Many a thorn and breezy bush ; When the redbreast and the thrush Gaily raised their early lay, Thankful for returning day.

Every thicket, bush, and tree
Swelled the grateful harmony:
As it mildly swept along,
Echo seemed to catch the song;
But the plain was wide and clear,
Echo never whispered near.
From a neighboring mocking-bird
Came the answering notes I heard.

Soft and low the song began:
I scarcely caught it as it ran
Through the melancholy trill
Of the plaintive whip-poor-will,
Through the ringdove's gentle wail,
Chattering jay and whistling quail,
Sparrow's twitter, catbird's cry,
Redbird's whistle, robin's sigh;
Blackbird, bluebird, swallow, lark,
Each his native note might mark.

Oft he tried the lesson o'er,
Each time louder than before;
Burst at length the finished song,-
Loud and clear it poured along ;
All the choir in silence heard,
Hushed before this wondrous bird.
All transported and amazed,
Scarcely breathing, long I gazed.

Now it reached the loudest swell;
Lower, lower, now it fell,

Lower, lower, lower, still,
Scarce it sounded o'er the rill,
Now the warbler ceased to sing;
Then he spread his russet wing,
And I saw him take his flight

Other regions to delight.

-Joseph Rodman Drake

THE BEAVER:

P in the north if thou sail with me,

UP in

A wonderful creature I'll show to thee; As gentle and mild as a lamb at play, Skipping about in the month of May; Yet wise as any old learned sage Who sits turning over a musty page!

Come down to the lonely river's bank,
See driven-in stake and riven plank;
'Tis a mighty work before thee stands
That would do no shame to human hands.
A well-built dam to stem the tide

Of this northern river so strong and wide;

Look! the woven bough of many a tree,
And a wall of fairest masonry.

The waters cannot o'erpass this bound,
For a hundred keen eyes watch it round;
And the skill that raised can keep it good
Against the peril of storm and flood.

And yonder the peaceable creatures dwell,
Secure in their watery citadel!

They know no sorrow, have done no sin;
Happy they live 'mong kith and kin,
As happy as living things can be,
Each in the midst of his family!

Ay, there they live, and the hunter wild.
Seeing their social nature mild,

Seeing how they were kind and good,
Hath felt his stubborn soul subdued;

And the very sight of their young at play
Hath put his hunter's heart away;

And a mood of pity hath o'er him crept,

As he thought of his own dear babes and wept.

- Mary Howitt.

GREEK MOTHER'S LULLABY.

LEEP, my child; no care can cumber

Thy young heart, nor break thy slumber, Love doth all thy moments number;

Let thy sleep

Be sweet and deep!

While thy mother's arms caress thee,
May great Zeus protect and bless thee!

Gentle zephyrs woo and kiss us,

Sweet with breath of dear Cephisus,
Soft with music of Ilissus.

Zephyr's wings

Are downy things.

While thy mother's lips caress thee, May great Zeus protect and bless thee!

Sleep, and see Olympus shining, —
Where the gods, in bliss reclining,
Know not pain nor mortal pining;
Heavenly beams

Shall light thy dreams.

While thy mother's hopes caress thee, May great Zeus protect and bless thee!

Rest, and in thy dreaming follow,—
Through the flow'ry glade and hollow, -
In the chase, with swift Apollo ;
Ne'er so fleet

Are mortal feet.

While thy mother's smiles caress thee,
May great Zeus defend and bless thee!

Dream, and see bright Eros springing
Through the air, his arrows flinging,
Keenest joy and sorrow bringing.
Ah, his wings

Hide cruel stings!

While thy mother's tears caress thee,
May great Zeus defend and bless thee!

Soft as summer breezes calling,
Light as summer roses falling,

Slumber woos to dear enthralling.
Sweet and deep

My darling's sleep;

Love and joy and hope caress thee!

Zeus will guard thee, Zeus will bless thee!

-"A Doric Reed" — Zitella Cocke.

HOMEWARD.

HE day dies slowly in the western sky;

THE

The sunset splendor fades, and wan and cold. The far peaks wait the sunrise; cheerily

The goatherd calls his wanderers to their fold. My weary soul, that fain would cease to roam, Take comfort; evening bringeth all things home.

Homeward the swift-winged seagull takes its flight;
The ebbing tide breaks softly on the sand;
The sunlit boats draw shoreward for the night;
The shadow deepens over sea and land;
Be still, my soul, thine hour shall also come;
Behold, one evening God shall lead thee home.