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THE BIRD'S NEST.

ARK it well, within, without!

M No tool had he that wrought,

No nail to fix, no bodkin to insert,
No glue to join; his little beak was all,
And yet how neatly finished! What nice hand,
With every implement and means of art,

Could make me such another?

Hurdis.

L

March 19th.

LITTLE FLorence.

ITTLE Florence, fond and free,

Playing by the apple-tree,

Laughing at her mother's knee.
Fast and faster go her feet

Where the grass and sunshine me :

Joyful Florence !-life is sweet.

David Raeside.

I

March 20th.

THE OLD HOUSE.

REMEMBER, I remember

The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon
Nor brought too long a day;
But now I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.

T. Hood.

FAIRIES.

OME, follow, follow me,

Ce fairy elves that be,

Light tripping o'er the green,
Come follow Mab your Queen ;
Hand in hand we'll dance around,
For this place is fairy ground.

Shakespeare.

March 22d.

VULGAR CHARLOTTE.

JT, mamma, now," said Charlotte, "pray don't you

"BUT, believe

That I'm better than Jenny, my nurse?

Only see my red shoes, and the lace on my sleeve;

Her clothes are a thousand times worse."

"Gentility, Charlotte," her mother replied,
"Belongs to no station or place;

But nothing's so vulgar as folly and pride,
Though dressed in red slippers and lace."

Miss Taylor.

March 230.

DAISIES.

AISIES, ye flowers of lowly birth,

ᎠᏎ

Embroid❜rers of the carpet earth,

That stud the velvet sod;

Open to spring's refreshing air,

In sweetest smiling bloom declare

Your Maker and my God.

John Clare.

"GOD KNOWS, MAMMA !”

"N"Lay me," lisped the tiny lips

OW I lay," say it darling;

Of my daughter, kneeling, bending,
O'er her folded finger-tips.
But the dewy eyes half opened
When I clasped her to my breast,
And the dear voice softly whispered,
"Mamma, God knows all the rest."

Anon.

TH

March 25th.

GREEN TREES.

HE green trees whispered low and mild-
It was a sound of joy!

They were my playmates when a child,

And rocked me in their arms so wild!

Still they looked at me and smiled.
As if I were a boy.

Longfellow.

March 26th.

GENIE'S BIRTHDAY.

HOU art plucking spring roses, Genie,

THOU
And a little red rose art thou,

Thou hast unfolded to-day, Genie,
Another bright leaf, I trow;

But the roses will live and die, Genie,

Many and many a time,

Ere thou hast unfolded quite, Genie

Grown into maiden prime.

Miss Jewsbury.

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