Be gan to cry ; b ut God, ever nigh,
Appea r ed like his father i n white
He kiss ed the chi ld, an d by the ha nd l e d,
And to hi s m other br ought,
Who , i n sorr ow pal e, thr ough the l onely dal e ,
He r littl e boy weeping so ught.
ON THE VOWELS.
W e ar e littl e ai r y cr eatur es,
All Of diff erent voice an d featur e s ;
On e Of us in gl ass i s s e t ,
On e of us yo u ’ ll fin d In jet .
T ’ other yo u may se e in tin ,
And the fourth a box within .
If the fifth yo u should purs ue ,
It can never fly fr om yo u .
LETTERS.
Every day brings a ship,
Every ship bri n gs a wor d ;
Well f o r thos e who have no fear ,
Looki n g seawar d well assur ed
Tha t the wor d the vess el brings
Is the w or d they wish to hear .
N A CIRCLE.
I
I’m up an d down, an d r ou nd about,
Yet all the worl d ca n ’ t fin d m e o ut ;
Though hu ndr eds have empl oyed thei r l ei s ure,
They never yet coul d fin d my mea sur e .
I ’ m found almost in every gar den,
Nay, in the compass of a farthing.
Ther e ’ s neither char iot, coach, n o r mi ll ,
Can move an inch except I will .
ARIEL’S SONG.
Wher e the bee s ucks , the r e suck I
In a cowsl ip ’ s bell I lie
Ther e I co uch, when owl s do cry.
On the bat’ s ba ck I do fly,
After summ er , mer ri ly
Merri ly, merri ly, shall I live now
Under the blossom , that hangs on the
Forgive an d forget.
Fort une helps them that help themse lve s .
Give a thief r ope enough, an d he ’ ll han g
Give him an inch, an d he ’ 11 take an e ll .
GO far ther an d far e wor se .
Good wine needs no bush .
Ha nds ome is that hands ome does .
Happy as a king .
Has te m akes waste, an d waste makes wa nt, an d want makes str ife between the good- m an an d hi s wife .
He cannot say boo to a goose .
He knows on which side hi s br ead is butte r e d . SONG.
Ther e is dew f o r the flo we re t ,
And honey f o r the bee,
And bower s fo r the wi ld bi r d,
Ahd l ove f o r yo u an d me .
Ther e ar e tears fo r the m any,
And pl ea sur e f o r the . few
But l e t the worl d pa ss on, dear,
Ther e ’ s l ove fo r m e an d yo u .
Y OUTH AND AGE.
Impatient of hi s chi ldhood,
Ah me excl aims young Ar thur,
Whi l st r oving i n the wi l d wood,
I wis h I wer e my father