So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree, To you and to me, to you and to me;

And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy, "Oh, the world's running over with joy!

But long it won't be,

Don't you know?

Don't you see?

-Lucy Larcom.

Unless we are as good as can be."

XIX. A LITTLE GIRL'S FANCIES.

O LITTLE flowers! you love me so,
You could not do without me;
O little birds that come and go!
You sing sweet songs about me;
O little moss, observed by few,

That round the tree is creeping!
You like my head to rest on you,
When I am idly sleeping.

O rushes by the river side!

You bow when I come near you;
O fish! you leap about with pride,
Because you think I hear you;
O river! you shine clear and bright,
To tempt me to look in you;
O water-lilies, pure and white!
You hope that I shall win you.

60 GRADED SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING.

O pretty things! you love me so,
I see I must not leave you;
You'd find it very dull, I know,-

I should not like to grieve you.
Don't wrinkle up, you silly moss;

My flowers, you need not shiver;
My little buds, don't look so cross;
Don't talk so loud, my river!

I'm telling you I will not go,
It's foolish to feel slighted;
It's rude to interrupt me so,-
You ought to be delighted.
Ah! now you're growing good, I see,
Though anger is beguiling:
The pretty blossoms nod at me;—
I see a robin smiling.

And I will make a promise, dears,
That will content you, may be:
I'll love you through the happy years,
Till I'm a nice old lady!

True love (like yours and mine), they say,
Can never think of ceasing,

But year by year, and day by day,

Keeps steadily increasing.

--Poems written for a child.

GRADED SELECTIONS.

FOURTH YEAR.

I.

A DREARY place would be this earth,
Were there no little people in it;
The song of life would lose its mirth,
Were there no children to begin it;

No little forms, like buds to grow,

And make the admiring heart surrender; No little hands on breast and brow,

To keep the thrilling love-chords tender.

The sterner souls would grow more stern,
Unfeeling nature more inhuman,

And man to stoic coldness turn,

And woman would be less than woman.

Life's song, indeed, would lose its charm,
Were there no babies to begin it;
A doleful place this world would be,
Were there no little people in it.

-John G. Whittier.

II.

OVER and over again,

No matter which way I turn,
I always find in the book of life
Some lesson that I must learn;
I must take my turn at the mill,

I must grind out the golden grain,

I must work at my task with a resolute will
Over and over again.

III.

THERE'S an odd little voice ever speaking within,
That prompts us to duty and warns us from sin;
And, what is most strange, it will make itself heard,
Though it gives not a sound and says never a word.

It is sure to upbraid if we tell but a lie,
Nor will let the least evil pass silently by;
Nor is it less slow to commend than reprove,
But praises each action of goodness and love.

IV.

BEAUTIFUL faces are they that wear
The light of a pleasant spirit there;
It matters little if dark or fair.

Beautiful hands are they that do

Deeds that are noble, good, and true;
Busy with them the long day through.

Beautiful feet are they that go
Swiftly to lighten another's woe,
Through summer's heat or winter's snow.

Beautiful children, if, rich or poor,

They walk the pathways sweet and pure That lead to the mansion strong and sure.

V.

THOUGH but a trifle, something give
To help the poor along:

'Tis not how much, it is the will
That makes the virtue strong.

You have but little? Never say
"Tis of no use to give:"
A penny, if you give to-day,
May make the dying live.

Then give a trifle cheerfully
From out thy little store,
And it will all return to thee

When thou wilt need it more.