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This dog only crept and crept
Next a languid cheek that slept,

Sharing in the shadow.
Other dogs of loyal cheer
Bounded at the whistle clear,

Up the wood-side hieing ;
This dog only watched in reach
Of a faintly utter'd speech,

Or a louder sighing.
And if one or two quick tears
Dropp'd upon his glossy ears,

Or a sigh came double ;
Up he sprang in eager haste,
Fawning, fondling, breathing fast,

In a tender trouble.
This dog, if a friendly voice
Call him now to blither choice

Than such chamber-keeping,
“Come out!” praying from the door,
Presseth backward as before,

Up against me leaping.
Therefore to this dog will I,
Tenderly, not scornfully,

Render praise and favor:
With my hand upon his head,
Is my benediction said
Therefore and for ever.

E. B. Browning.

I HAD a dove, and the sweet dove died;

And I have thought it died of grieving;
Oh, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied

With a silken thread of my own hands' weaving;
Sweet little red feet! why should you die-
Why would you leave me, sweet bird ! why?
Jou lived alone in the forest tree,
Vhy, pretty thing! would you not live with me?

kiss'a you oft and gave you white peas; W hy not live sweetly, as in the green trees ?

J. Keals.


INVITATION TO BIRDS. YE gentle warblers ! hither fly,

And shun the noontide heat,
My shrubs a cooling shade supply,

My groves a safe retreat.
Here freely hop from spray to spray,

And weave the mossy nest;
Here rove and sing the live-long day,

At night here sweetly rest.
Amid this cool transparent rill,

That trickles down the glade,
Here hathe your plumes, here drink your fill,

And revel in the shade.
No schoolboy rude, to mischief prone,

Here shows his ruddy face,
Or twangs his bow, or hurls a stone

In this sequestered place.
Hither the vocal thrush repairs ;

Secure the linnet sings;
The goldfinch dreads no slimy snares

To clog her painted wings.
Sweet nightingale ! oh, quit thy haunt,

Yon distant woods among, .
And round my friendly grotto chant

Thy sadly-pleasing song.
Let not the harmless redbreast fear,

Domestic bird, to come
And seek a safe asylum here,

With one that loves his home.
My trees for you, ye artless tribe,

Shall store of fruit preserve;
Oh! let me thus your friendship bribe-

Come, feed without reserve.
For you these cherries I protect,

To you these plums belong;
Sweet is the fruit that you have pecked,
But sweeter far your song.

Graces. THE PARROT. The deep affections of the breast.,

That Heaven to living things imparts, Are not exclusively possessed

By human hearts.

A Parrot from the Spanish main,

Full young, and early caged, came o'er, With bright wings, to the bleak domain

Of Mulla's shore.

To spicy groves, where he had won

His plumage of resplendent hue, His native fruits, and skies, and sun,

He bade adieu.

For these he changed the smoke of turf,

A heathery land and misty sky, And turned on rocks and raging surf

His golden eye.

But, petted, in our climate cold

He lived and chatted many a day;
Until with age, from green and gold,

His wings grew grey.
At last, when blind and seeming dumb,

He scolded, laughed, and spoke no more,
A Spanish stranger chanced to come

To Mulla's shore.

He hailed the bird in Spanish speech,

The bird in Spanish speech replied, Flapped round his cage with joyous screech, Dropt down, and died.


In Scotland's realm, forlorn and bare,

The history chanced of late The history of a wedded pair,

A chaffinch and his mate.

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The spring drew near, each felt a breast

With genial instinct filled; They paired, and would have built a nest,

But found not where to build.

The heaths uncovered, and the moors,

Except with snow and sleet,
Sea-beaten rocks, and naked shores,

Could yield them no retreat.

Long time a breeding-place they sought,

Till both grew vexed and tired ; At length a ship arriving brought

The good so long desired.

A ship! could such a restless thing

Afford them place of rest ?
Or was the merchant charged to bring

The homeless birds a nest ?

Hush !-silent readers profit most

This racer of the sea
Proved kinder to them than the coast,

It served them with a tree,

But such a tree! 'twas shaven deal,

The tree they call a mast; And had a hollow with a wheel,

Through which the tackle passed.

Within that cavity, aloft,

Their roofless home they fixed; Formed with materials neat and soft,

Bents,* wool, and feathers mixed.

* Bents, a kind of creeping grass.

Four ivory eggs soon pave its floor,

With russet specks bedight :*
The vessel weiglis,t forsakes the shore,

And lessens to the sight.

The mother-bird is gone to sea,

As she had changed her kind; But goes the male? Far wiser, he

Is doubtless left behind.

No:—soon as from the shore he saw

The winged mansion move, He flew to reach it, by a law

Of never-failing love;

Then perching at his consort's side,

Was briskly borne along;
The billows and the blasts defied,

And cheered her with a song.

The seaman, with sincere delight,

His feathered shipmate eyes ; Scarce less exulting in the sight

Than when he tows a prize.

For seamen much believe in signs

And from a chance só new,
Each some approaching good divines;

And may his hopes be true !

Hail, birds ! who, rather than resign

Your matrimonial plan,
Were not afraid to plough the brine,

In company with man.

Be it your fortune, year by year,

The same resource to prove;
And may ye, sometimes landing here,
Instruct us how to love!


* Bedight, covered.

Weighs, set sail.

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