The Nightingale and the Glow-Worm.

WILLIAM COWPER.

A

NIGHTINGALE that all day long

Had cheered the village with his song,
Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
Nor yet when eventide was ended,
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite;
When looking eagerly around,
He spied far off, upon the ground,
A something shining in the dark,
And knew the glow-worm by his spark;
So stooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop.
The worm, aware of his intent,
Harangued him thus, right eloquent:
"Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,
“As much as I your minstrelsy,
You would abhor to do me wrong,
As much as I to spoil your song;
For 'twas the selfsame Power Divine
Taught you to sing, and me to shine;
That you with music, I with light,
Might beautify and cheer the night."
The songster heard this short oration,
And warbling out his approbation,
Released him, as my story tells,
And found a supper somewhere else.

To a Butterfly.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

'VE watch'd you now a full half hour,

Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless! not frozen seas

More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Has found you out among the trees,

And calls you forth again!

This plot of orchard ground is ours;
My trees they are, my sister's flowers;
Here rest your wings when they are weary,
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;

Sit near us on the bough!
We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days when we were young;
Sweet childish days that were as long

As twenty days are now.

R

-RHUDRHA, r-rhudrha, keep it up;

R-rhudrha, r-rhudrha, dip a dup; R-rhudrha, r-rhudrha, run along, Hear thee now the car-wheel's song.

R-rhudrha, r-rhudrha, moon or sun,
Round and round I ever run,
R-rhudrha, r-rhudrha, heat or cold,
Faster than the clouds are rolled.

R-rhudrha, r-rhudrha, thus I bear,
North and South and everywhere,
Hogs and cattle from the plains,
Corn and wheat and all the grains;

Fruits and flowers from softer climes,
Bells to ring the vesper chimes,
Lumber, stone, and lime, and sand,
Homes to build and rivers span;

Hearts a'weary, hearts a'glad,
Bonnie lass and lusty lad,
Men with minds on gold intent,
Holy men on missions sent.

R-rhudrha, r-rhudrha, on I sweep,
Over hills and glens I leap,
R-rhudrha, r-rhudrha, never tired,
For
my

feet with steel are wired.

Fare thee well, my little chick,
Do well thy tasks and do them quick,-
R-rhudrha, r-rhudrha, keep it up,
R-rhudrha, r-rhudrha, dip a dup.

The Butterfly and the Snail.

JOHN GAY.

AS

S in the sunshine of the morn

A butterfly (but newly born) Sat proudly perking on a rose, With pert conceit his bosom glows; His wings (all glorious to behold) Bedropt with azure, jet and gold, Wide he displays; the spangled dew Reflects his eyes and various hue. His now forgotten friend, a snail, Beneath his house, with slimy trail, Crawls o'er the grass, whom when he spies, In wrath he to the gardener cries: “What means yon peasant's daily toil, From choking weeds to rid the soil? Why wake you to the morning's care? Why with new arts correct the year? Why grows the peach's crimson hue? And why the plum's inviting blue? Were they to feast his taste design'd, That vermin of voracious kind! Crush then the slow, the pilfering race, So purge thy garden from disgrace." “What arrogance!" the snail replied; “How insolent is upstart pride! Hadst thou not thus, with insult vain Provoked my patience to complain,