Quoth the boy, "My senses whirl; Until now I never heard Of the wisdom of a girl, Or the feelings of a bird. Pretty Mrs. Solomon, Tell me what you reckon on Quoth the girl, "I watch them talk, They are very fond and kind. And the little robin bird (Nice brown, black and crimson breast) All the conversation heard, Sitting, trembling in his nest. "What a world," he cried, "of bliss, Full of birds and girls, were this; MY BROTHER JIM. I loved him then, because he was The fear of getting soundly licked- Whenever I got in a fuss แ With some boy ready for a muss," I'd always call for brother Jim; How very proud was I, and bold, To keep the sun out of my eyes) Of every fight I had on hand Than do't myself; the loss, I own, Was something that I well could stand. And he, I'm very proud to note, My most original essays wrote- And did my work while I would play. I used to let him saw the wood, Allowed him all the fires to make; I never growled because he did I was so good to brother Jim. I used to let him take my place I shared his joys and cakes with him- ROBERT OF LINCOLN. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. Merrily swinging on briar and weed, Over the mountain side or mead, Robert of Lincoln is telling his name→ Spink, spank, spink, Snug and safe is this nest of ours, Robert of Lincoln is gaily dressed, Wearing a bright, black wedding coat; White are his shoulders and white his crest, Hear him call in his merry note, "Bob-o-link, bob-o-link, Spink, spank, spink, Look what a nice new coat is mine! Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passes at home a patient life, Broods in the grass while her husband sings, "Bob-o-link, bob-o-link, Spink, spank, spink, Brood, kind creature, you need not fear Modest and shy as a nun is she; Spink, spank, spink, Never was I afraid of man, Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can, Six white eggs on a bed of hay, Flecked with purple, a pretty sight; There, as the mother sits all day, Robert is singing with all his might, "Bob-o-link, bob-o-link, Spink, spank, spink, Nice good wife, that never goes out, Soon as the little ones chip the shell Spink, spank, spink, This new life is likely to be Hard for a gay young fellow like me, Robert of Lincoln at length is made Sober with work and silent with care Spink, spank, spink, Nobody knows but my mate and I Summer wanes; the children are grown; Spink, spank, spink, When you can pipe that merry old strain, THE AFTERNOON NAP. CHARLES G. EASTMAN. [Tenderly and expressively.] The farmer sat in his easy chair, Smoking his pipe of clay, While his hale old wife, with busy care, A sweet little girl, with fine blue eyes, The old man laid his hand on her head, With a tear on his wrinkled face; He thought how often her mother, dead, Had sat in the self-same place; And the tear stole down from his half shut eye: "Don't smoke!" said the child; "how it makes you cry." |