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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.

!” he said, while tears ran down As fast as summer showers, " It is because I cannot see

The sunshine and the flowers."

Ah me

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.

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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.

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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 ball-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 ball,
By three doors left unguarded,

They enter my castle wall ! They climb up into my turret O'er the arms and back of

my If I try to escape they surround me;

They seem to be everywhere.

chair;

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