THE SCHOOL. "LITTLE girl, where do you go to school, You and the cat jump here and there, You and the robins sing; But what do you know in the spelling-book? Have you ever learned any thing?" Thus the little girl answered, Only stopping to cling To my finger a minute, As a bird on the wing Catches a twig of sumach, And stops to twitter and swing, "When the daisies' eyes are a-twinkle And the kiss of the wind is cool; "My school-roof is the dappled sky; And the bells that ring for me there Are all the voices of morning Afloat in the dewy air. Kind Nature is the Madame ; And the book whereout I spell Is dog's-eared by the brooks and glens Thus the little girl answered, In her musical out-door tone: She was up to my pocket, I was a man full-grown ; But the next time that she goes to school, "MOLLY, and Maggie, and Alice, Three little maids in a row, At play in an arbor palace, Where the honeysuckles grow, "Six dimpled palms pressed together, Even and firm, two by two, -- Three eager, upturned faces, Bonny brown eyes and blue. "Which shall it be, O you charmers? Alas! I am sorely tried, I, a hard-hearted old hermit, Who the question am set to decide. "Molly, the sprite, the darling, Shaking her shower of curls, Whose laugh is the brook's own ripple, 66 Gayest and gladdest of girls? Maggie, the wild little brownie, Every one's plaything and pet, Who leads me a chase through the garden For a kiss, the wicked coquette ? "Or Alice?ah! shy-eyed Alice, Looking so softly down Under her long, dark lashes And hair so golden brown, Alice, who talks with the flowers, "There, there, at last I am ready To go down the bright, eager row; So, up with your hands, my Graces, Close, nobody else must know. "Hold fast what I give you,' Molly! (Poor little empty palms!) Hold fast what I give you,' Maggie! (A frown steals over her charms.) "Hold fast what I give you,' Alice! You smile, do you so much care? "But do you know, sweet Alice, You, a glad little maiden, How old are you? Only nine, - "No matter, you'll be my true-love, For nobody else must know." Lily Warner. GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORNING. A FAIR little girl sat under a tree, Sewing as long as her eyes could see; Then smoothed her work and folded it right, Such a number of rooks came over her head, The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed, She did not say to the sun, "Good-night!" The tall pink foxglove bowed his head; And, while on her pillow she softly lay, She knew nothing more till again it was day; "Good-morning, good-morning! our work is begun." -Lord Houghton. |