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From me this friendly warning take'-
My thanks for your discourse are due ;
The storm had fallen upon the Oak,
SONG FOR THE SPINNING WHEEL
Founded upon a Belief prevalent among the Pastoral Vales of
Disasters, do the best we can,
Swiftly turn the murmuring wheel !
Even such as his may be my lot.
Now, beneath the starry sky,
THE REDBREAST AND BUTTERFLY,
The Butterfly, all green and gold,
Art thou the Bird whom Man loves best,
Our little English Robin;
Their Thomas in Finland,
And Russia far inland ?
ller voice was blithe, her heart was light;
wy, or murmur here.
If the Butterfly knew but his friend,
me misht, my Children! from the North
* See Paradise Lost, Book XI., where Adam points out to Eve the ominous sion of the Eagle chasing “two Birds of gayes
! plume,' and
!Isrt and Hind pursued by their enemy
What ailed thee, Robin, that thou could'st pursue
A beautiful Creature,
That way look, my Infant, lo!
- But the Kitten, how she starts,
Now she works with three or four,
'T is a pretty Baby-treat ;
- Where is he that giddy Sprive,
look to vale or hill,
Vainly glitter hill and plain, And the air is calm in vain; Vainly Morning spreads the lure Of a sky serene and pure; Creature none can she decoy Into open sign of joy : Is it that they have a fear Of the dreary season near ? Or that other pleasures be Sweeter even than gaiety ?
Yet, whate'er enjoyments dwell
Pleased by any random toy ;
A FLOWER GARDEN.
That me ye Zephyrs ! that unfold,
Say, when the moving Creatures saw
Or peeped they often from their beds
All Summer long the happy Eve
Yet, where the guardian Fence is wouuni,
And, though the jealous turf refuse
And hither throngs of birds resort ;
Apt emblem (for reproof of pride)
Thus spake the moral Muse - her wing
A little Cyclops, with one eye
The freak is over,
In fight to cover !
Up with me! up with me into the clouds !
For thy song, Lark, is strong ;
Lift me, guide me till I find
I see thee glittering from afar;
In heaven above thee!
Who shall reprove thee'
Sweet Flower! for by that name at last,
Sweet silent Creature!
Joyous as morning, Thou art laughing and scorning; Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest, And, though little troubled with sloth, Drunken Lark! thou wouldst be loth To be such a Traveller as I. Happy, happy Liver, With a soul as strong as a mountain River, Pouring out praise to the Almighty Giver, Joy and jollity be with us both!