But when we shouted at the scene,
And hail'd the clear blue sky,
He stood quite still upon the bank,
And breathed a long, long sigh.

We ask'd him why he wept, mother,
Whene'er we found the spots
Where periwinkles crept, mother,
O'er wild forget-me-nots.

"Ah me!" he said, while tears ran down

As fast as summer showers,

"It is because I cannot see

The sunshine and the flowers."

Oh! that poor, sightless boy, mother,
He taught me that I'm blest;
For I can look with joy, mother,
On all I love the best.

And when I see the dancing stream,
And daisies red and white,
I kneel upon the meadow sod,
And thank my God for sight.

ELIZA COOK.

BIRDIE, birdie, quickly come!
Come and take this little crumb;
Go and fetch your little brother,
And be kind to one another.

Birdie, sing a song to me,
I will very quiet be;
Yes, my birdie-yes, I will
Be so quiet, and so still.

Oh! so still, you shall not hear me ; Fear not, birdie, to come near me. Tell me, in your pleasant song, What you're doing all day long:

How you pass the rainy days-
Tell me all about your plays.
Have you lessons, birdie ? tell-
Do you learn to read and spell?

Or just fly from tree to tree,
Where you will, at liberty-
Far up in the clear blue sky,
Very far, and very high?

Or in pleasant summer hours,
Do you play with pretty flowers ?
Birdie, is this all you do?
Then I wish that I were you.

ELIZA LEE FOLLEN.

PUSS,

"COME, my pretty pussy, And sit upon my knee,

I will give you buns so sweet, And a cup of tea!" "Thank you, ma'am!" said pussy,

In her dress of silk,

"I don't care for buns and tea,

I'd rather have some milk."

INFANT'S MAGAZINE.

A GOOD-NIGHT SONG.

To bed, to bed, my curly head,
To bed, and sleep so sweetly;
Merry and bright with the morning light,
Be up and dress'd so neatly.

Then for a walk, and a pleasant talk,
About the birds and flowers;
And all the day, in work and play,
We'll pass the happy hours.

And then to bed, to rest the head,
And sleep until the morrow;
May every day thus glide away,

Without a shade of sorrow.

ANON.

THE CHILDREN'S HOUR.

BETWEEN the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the children's hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,

The sound of a door that is open'd,
And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see, in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall-stair,
Grave Alice and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence;
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,

A sudden raid from the hall, By three doors left unguarded, They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret

O'er the arms and back of my chair; If I try to escape they surround me; They seem to be everywhere.