HIAWATHA'S BROTHERS. When he heard the owls at midnight, "What is that?" he cried in terror; "What is that? he said, "Nokomis?" Learned of every bird its language, Of all beasts he learned the language, Why the rabbit was so timid, Talked with them whene'er he met them, Then Iagoo, the great boaster, He the marvellous story-teller, From a branch of ash he made it, From an oak-bough made the arrows, Tipped with flint, and winged with feathers, And the cord he made of deer-skin. Then he said to Hiawatha: "Go, my son, into the forest, Where the red deer herd together, Kill for us a famous roebuck, Kill for us a deer with antlers!" Forth into the forest straightway All alone walked Hiawatha Proudly, with his bow and arrows; And the birds sang round him, o'er him, "Do not shoot us, Hiawatha! Sang the robin, the Opechee, Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa, "Do not shoot us, Hiawatha! " Up the oak-tree, close beside him, And the rabbit from his pathway But he heeded not, nor heard them, For his thoughts were with the red deer; To the ford across the river, And as one in slumber walked he." H. W. LONGFELLOW: Hiawatha. UNOFFENDING CREATURES. The Being that is in the clouds and air, For the unoffending creatures whom he loves. One lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide, Taught both by what He shows, and what conceals, Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels. WORDSWORTH. SEPTEMBER. And sooth to say, yon vocal grove Albeit uninspired by love, By love untaught to ring, May well afford to mortal ear An impulse more profoundly dear Than music of the spring. But list! though winter storms be nigh There lives Who can provide, For all his creatures and in Him, Even like the radiant Seraphim, These choristers confide. WORDSWORTH. THE LARK. Happy, happy liver, With a soul as strong as a mountain river, WORDSWORth. THE SWALLOW. When weary, weary winter Hath melted into air, Hath clothed the branches bare, Far on the billowy ocean A thousand leagues are we, Dear old familiar swallow, What gladness dost thou bring: Here rest upon our flowing sail Thy weary, wandering wing. MRS. HOWITT. RETURNING BIRDS. Birds, joyous birds of the wandering wing THE BIRDS. With elegies of love Make vocal every spray. MRS. HEMANS. CUNNINGHAM. THRUSH. Whither hath the wood thrush flown Bid him come! for on his wings BARRY CORNWALL. LINNET. Within the bush her covert nest She soon shall see her tender brood The pride, the pleasure o' the wood, Among the fresh green leaves bedewed, Awake the early morning. NIGHTINGALE. But thee no wintry skies can harm Who only needs to sing To make even January charm BURNS. Cowper. SONGSTERS. Little feathered songsters of the air In woodlands tuneful woo and fondly pair. |