THE moments fly-a minute's gone;
The minutes fly-an hour is run;
The day has fled-the night is here:
Thus flies a week, a month, a year.
A year, alas, how soon 'tis past!
Who knows but this may be my last.
A few short years, how soon they're fled,
And we are number'd with the dead!

SUMMER-MORNING'S SONG.

UP, sleeper! dreamer, up! for now
There's gold upon the mountain's brow;
There's light on forests, lakes, and meadows,
The dewdrops shine on floweret-bells,
The village-clock of morning tells.
Up, men! out, cattle! for the dells
And dingles teem with shadows.

Up, out, o'er furrow and o'er field!
The claims of toil some moments yield
For morning's bliss, and time is fleeter
Than thought: so out! 'tis dawning yet;
Why twilight's lovely hour forget?
For sweet though be the workman's sweat,
The wanderer's sweat is sweeter.

Up, to the fields, through shine and stour!
What hath the dull and drowsy hour
So blest as this, the glad heart leaping
To hear morn's early songs sublime,
See earth rejoicing in its prime!
The summer is the waking time,
The winter time for sleeping.

The

very beast that crops the flower Hath welcome for the dawning hour; Aurora smiles, her beckonings claim thee. Listen! look around!-the chirp, the hum, Song, low, and bleat,-there's nothing dumb,All love, all life! Come, slumberers, come! The meanest thing shall shame thee.

Anon.

WE ARE SEVEN.

A SIMPLE child,

That lightly draws its breath, That feels its life in ev'ry breathWhat should it know of death?

I met a little cottage-girl,

She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl, That cluster'd round her head.

She had a rustic woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair-
Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?"

How many ? seven in all," she said
And, wondering, look'd at me.

"And where are they? I

pray you

She answer'd, "Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea;

tell."

Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And in the churchyard-cottage I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea;

Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be."

с

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath the churchyard-tree."

“You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then are ye only five."

"Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied;

"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.

My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sit and sing to them.

And often after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

The first that died was little Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God releas'd her of her pain,
And then she went away.

So in the churchyard she was laid;
And when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we play'd,
My brother John and I.