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" What ails thee, young one? what? why pull so at
thy cord ? Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and
board ? Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be ; Rest, little, young one, rest; what is 't that aileth
“ What is it thou wouldst seek ? what is wanting to
thy heart? Thy limbs are they not strong ? and beautiful thou
art. This grass is tender grass ; these flowers they have
no peers, And that green corn all day long is rustling in thy ears! “ If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen
chain, This birch is standing by, its covert thou canst gain ; For rain and mountain storms, — the like thou need'st
not fear, The rain and storm are things that scarcely can
“ Rest, little, young one, rest ; thou hast forgot the
day When my father found thee first, in places far away; Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned
by none, And thy mother from thy side for evermore was
“ He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee
O blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou
A faithful nurse thou hast, the dam that did thee yean
“Thou knowest that twice a day I have brought thee
in this can Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran; And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with
dew, I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is, and
new. 6. Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they
are now, Then I 'll yoke thee to my cart, like a pony in the
plough ; My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is
cold Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy
“ Alas! the mountain-tops that look so green and
fair, I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come
there; The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play, When they are angry roar like lions for their prey.
6. Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky;
As homeward through the lane I went, with lazy feet,
And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line, That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was
Again, and once again, did I repeat the song : “ Nay,” said I,“ more than half to the damsel must
belong, For she looked with such a look, and she spoke with
such a tone, That I almost received her heart into my own."
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY. – Blake.
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
My mother taught me underneath a tree,
" Look on the rising sun, — there God does live,
66 And we are put on earth a little space,
" For when our souls have learnt the heat to bear, The clouds will vanish, we shall hear his voice, Saying, Come from the grove, my love and care, And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.' "
Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;
I'll shade him from the heat till he can bear
THE SPARTAN BOY. - Miss Lamb.
WHEN I the memory repeat
Or would the scorching ember shake
MY BIRTHDAY. - Miss Lamb. A DOZEN years since, in this house what commotion, What bustle, what stir, and what joyful ado; Every soul in the family at my devotion When into the world I came, twelve years ago.