OUR POOR HARRY.

We were six sturdy brothers

When I was a child at home;
Always in mischief, always at play,
We danced in and out the whole summer day-
All but our youngest, Harry.

He scarcely seemed one of us,

As he sat in his little low chair;
We had hard red cheeks, like cherries,
And sharp eyes, black as berries;

He was pale, and had long golden hair—
So we called him the girl, poor Harry.

When we fell out, as boys will do,

Our Harry would set us right.

"Remember you're brothers, dear lads," he would say, "Such quarrels should end with the setting day"We never resisted our Harry.

Always rough and ready of speech,
Though fond of each other were we;

But we never gave him harsh word or thought;
Whatever was given, whatever was bought,
We shared with our crippled Harry.

There was Sam, and Dick, and curly Tom,
And Jem, and that noisy boy Garry ;
But none of us grumbled when book or toy
Was given to bring a bright flush of joy
On the face of our gentle Harry.

THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY.

THE moon was shady, and soft airs
Swept Ouse's silent tide;
When, 'scaped from literary cares,
I wandered on his side.

My spaniel, prettiest of his race,
And high in pedigree

(Two nymphs adorned with every grace
That spaniel found for me).

Now wantoned lost in flags and reeds,

Now starting into sight,

Pursued the swallow o'er the meads
With scarce a slower flight.

It was the time when Ouse displayed
His lilies newly blown;
Their beauties I intent surveyed,
And one I wished my own.

With cane extended far, I sought
To steer it close to land;
But still the prize, though nearly caught,
Escaped my eager hand.

Beau marked my unsuccessful pains
With fixed considerate face,
And puzzling set his puppy brains
To comprehend the case.

But, with a chirrup clear and strong,
Dispersing all his dream,

I thence withdrew, and followed 'long
The windings of the stream.

My ramble ended, I returned;
Beau trotted far before,

The floating wreath again discerned,
And, plunging, left the shore.

I saw him with that lily cropped,
Impatient swim to meet

My quick approach, and soon he dropped
The treasure at my feet.

Charmed with the sight, "The world," I cried, "Shall hear of this thy deed;

My dog shall mortify the pride
Of man's superior breed ;

"But chief myself I will enjoin,
Awake at duty's call,

To show a love as prompt as thine

To Him who gives me all."

W. COWPER.

TO A YOUNG ASS.

POOR little foal of an oppressèd race!
I love the languid patience of thy face;
And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread,
And clap thy ragged coat, and pat thy head,
But what thy dulled spirits hath dismayed,
That never thou dost sport along the glade?
And (most unlike the nature of things young),
That earthward still thy moveless head is hung?
Do thy prophetic fears anticipate,

Meek child of misery! thy future fate?
The starving meal, and all the thousand aches,
"Which patient merit of the unworthy takes?"
Or is thy sad heart thrilled with filial pain
To see thy wretched mother's shortened chain?
An 1 truly very piteous is her lot,

Chained to a log within a narrow spot,