HE flowers are blooming everywhere,

On every hill and dell;

And oh! how beautiful they are,

How sweetly too they smell!

The little birds they spring along,
And look so glad and gay;

I love to hear their pleasant song,
I feel as glad as they.

The young lambs bleat and frisk about,

The bees hum round their hive;

The butterflies are coming out;

'Tis good to be alive!

M

The trees that looked so stiff and gray,
With green wreaths now are hung;
O mother! let me laugh and play,
I cannot hold my tongue.

See, yonder bird spreads out his wings,
And mounts the clear blue skies;
And hark! how merrily he sings,
As far away he flies.

Go forth, my child, and laugh and play,
And let your cheerful voice,

With birds, and brooks, and merry May,
Cry out, Rejoice, rejoice!

I would not check your bounding mirth,
My happy little boy;

For He who made this blooming earth,
Smiles on an infant's joy.

2

THE STAR.

WINKLE, twinkle, little star;
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the sky.

7's.

When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveller in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark;
He could not tell which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.

In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep;
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveller in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

JANE TAYLOR.

D

3

THE VIOLET.

OWN in a green and shady bed
A modest violet grew ;

Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,

As if to hide from view.

C.M.

And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its colours bright and fair;
It might have graced a rosy bower,
Instead of hiding there.

Yet there it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;

And there diffused a sweet perfume,
Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go,
This pretty flower to see;
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility.

4

A MOTHER'S LOVE.

HO fed me from her gentle breast, W And hushed me in her arms to rest,

And on my cheek sweet kisses pressed?

My mother.

When sleep forsook my open eye,

Who was it sung sweet hushaby,
And rocked me that I should not cry?

My mother.

Who sat and watched my infant head,
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?

My mother.

P.M.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My mother.

Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?

My mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray,
And love God's Holy Book and Day,
And walk in wisdom's pleasant way?

My mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me?

My mother.

Ah no! the thought I cannot bear;
And if God please my life to spare,
I hope I shall reward thy care,

My mother.

When thou art feeble, old, and gray,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My mother.
And when I see thee hang thy head,
'Twill be my turn to watch thy bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed,

My mother.