IV. CHARACTERISTICS Of a Child three Years old. LOVING she is, and tractable, though wild; To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes; Not less if unattended and alone Than when both young and old sit gathered round And take delight in its activity, Even so this happy Creature of herself Is all sufficient: solitude to her Is blithe society, who fills the air With gladness and involuntary songs. Light are her sallies as the tripping Fawn's Forth-startled from the fern where she lay couched; Unthought-of, unexpected as the stir Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadow flowers; Or from before it chasing wanto, The many-coloured images impre ed Upon the bosom of a placid lake. V. ADDRESS TO A CHILD, During a boisterous Winter Evening. WHAT way does the Wind come? What way does he go? He rides over the water, and over the snow, Through wood, and through vale; and o'er rocky height Which the goat cannot climb takes his sounding flight. He tosses about in every bare tree, As, if you look up, you plainly may see; But how he will come, and whither he goes There's never a Scholar in England knows. He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook, And softer than if it were covered with silk. Sometimes he'll hide in the cave of a rock, Then whistle as shrill as the buzzard cock; -Yet seek him,—and what shall you find in the place? Nothing but silence and empty space, Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves, That he's left for a bed for beggars or thieves! As soon as 'tis daylight, to-morrow, with me And cracked the branches, and strewn them about; Studded with apples, a beautiful show! Hark! over the roof he makes a pause, And growls as if he would fix his claws -But let him range round; he does us no harm Books have we to read,-hush! that half-stifled knell, Methinks 'tis the sound of the eight o'clock bell. -Come, now we'll to bed! and when we are there He may work his own will, and what shall we care? He may knock at the door,-we'll not let him in, May drive at the windows,—we'll laugh at his din Let him seek his own home wherever it be; Here's a cozie warm House for Edward and me. ; VI. THE MOTHER'S RETURN. BY THE SAME. A MONTH, Sweet Little-ones, is passed Since your dear Mother went away,➡ And she to-morrow will return; O blessed tidings! thought of joy! Louder and louder did he shout With witless hope to bring her near; Nay, patience! patience, little Boy! Your tender Mother cannot hear." I told of hills, and far-off towns, |