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The Leaves and the Wind.

GEORGE COOPER.

“;

OME, little leaves," said the wind one day,

Come o’er the meadows with me and play; Put on your dresses of red and gold, Summer is gone and the days grow cold."

Soon as the leaves heard the wind's loud call
Down they came fluttering, one and all;
Over the brown fields they danced and flew,
Singing the soft little songs that they knew.

“Cricket, good-bye, we've been friends so long!
Little brook, sing us your farewell song!
Say you are sorry to see us go;
Ah! you will miss us, right well we know.

“Dear little lambs, in your fleecy fold,
Mother will keep you from harm and cold;
Fondly we've watched you in vale and glade,
Say, will you dream of our loving shade?"

Dancing and whirling, the little leaves went;
Winter had called them, and they were content.
Soon fast asleep in their earthy beds,
The snow laid a coverlet over their heads.

Calling the Flowers.

S. W. BROOKS.

WAK

AKE! daffy-down-dilly, tucked under the snow:

Turn softly, I pray, on your pillow of down; Come! stretch your sweet limbs now, my pretty, and

growGrow fast, to the size of your yellow spring gown.

Little crocus, asleep 'mid the roots of the grass,

Come up for your mantle of purple or gold; And, my dear, give the snowdrop a nudge as you pass,

'Tis time for her white frock, in spite of the cold.

The woodpecker plumes in the orchard his crest;

And there is a bluebird this minute! The dear! Wake up, little blossom! 'tis time to be dressed,

Hurry up now, my pretties, the Spring is right here!

The Fairy Life.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

WHE

HERE the bee sucks, there suck I:

In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch, when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

Come unto these yellow sands
And then take hands:
Courtsied when you have and kiss'd
The wild waves whist,
Foot it featly here and there:
And sweet sprites, the burthen bear.

Hark, hark!

Bow-wow.
The watchdogs bark:

Bow-wow.
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow!

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When the Little Boy Ran Away.

ANONYMOUS.

WHEN

HEN the little boy ran away from home,

The birds in the tree top knew,
And they all sang, “Stay!" but he wandered away

Under the skies of blue.
And the wind came whispering from the tree,
"Follow me, follow me!"
And it sang him a song that was soft and sweet
And scattered the roses before his feet

That day, that day
When the little boy ran away.

The violets whispered, “Your eyes are blue

And lovely and bright to see,
And so are mine, and I'm kin to you,

So dwell in the light with me."
But the little boy laughed, while the wind in glee
Sang, “Follow me, follow me!''
And the wind called the clouds from their home in the

skies,
And said to the violet, "Shut your eyes!"

That day, that day
When the little boy ran away.

Then the wind played leapfrog over the hills

And twisted each leaf and limb;

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