It makes its nest of soft dry moss, And though it keeps' no calendar, Upon the boughs' the squirrel sits, In the hedge-sparrow's nest he sits, I saw a little Wood-mouse once, With the green, green moss' beneath his feet, I saw him sit' and his dinner eat, His dinner of chestnut ' ripe and red, I wish you could have seen him there; To see the small thing' God had made | I saw that He regarded them- VI-The Squirrel. The pretty red Squirrel | lives up in a tree, But small as he is, he knows he may want | And there makes his nest, and lays up his store; In his warm little nest, with his nuts on his shelf. O, wise little Squirrel! no wonder that he, In the green summer woods is as blithe as can be! VII.-The Monkey. Monkey, little merry fellow, י Look now at his odd grimaces! How you leaped' and frisked about | How you sate and made a din | Look now at him! Slyly peep, Now that posture is not right, Ha! he is not half asleep! Monkey, though your eyes were shut, You shall have it, pigmy brother! There, the little ancient man Cracks as fast as crack he can ! Now good bye, you merry fellow, Nature's primest punchinello! THE END. ANDREW JACK, PRINTER, |