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Quoth the boy, "My senses whirl;
Until now I never heard

Of the wisdom of a girl,

Or the feelings of a bird. Pretty Mrs. Solomon,

Tell me what you reckon on
When you prate in such a strain?

If I wring their necks anon,
Certainly they might feel pain!"
Quoth the girl, "I watch them talk,
Making love and making fun,
In the pretty ash tree walk,

When my daily task is done.
In their little eyes I find

They are very fond and kind. Every change of song and voice

Plainly proveth to my soul They can suffer and rejoice."

And the little robin bird

(Nice brown, black and crimson breast)

All the conversation heard,

Sitting, trembling in his nest.

"What a world," he cried, "of bliss,
Full of birds and girls, were this;
Blithe we'd answer to their call;
But a great mistake it is
Boys were ever made at all."

MY BROTHER JIM.
[In a lively, humorous manner.]
My brother Jim, my brother Jim,
How well do I remember him!
He was my senior by two years,
And I his junior nearly ten,
So much inferior I was then

I loved him then, because he was
The only boy that I could sauce,
Or boldly quarrel with, without

The fear of getting soundly lickedSometimes I would, without a doubt,

Go much too far and theu get kicked

Whenever I got in a fuss
With some boy ready for a "muss,"
Who was almost my very size,

I'd always call for brother Jim;
He'd take the job from off my hands,
And very good it was in him.

How very proud was I, and bold,
To stand in safety off, and hold
(Behind some very handy tree

To keep the sun out of my eyes)
His coat and hat, and gladly see

That boy get polished in a trice! Indeed, such was my modesty, That I would much prefer that he Should win the honor and renown Of every fight I had on hand

Than do't myself; the loss, I own,

Was something that I well could stand.

And he, I'm very proud to note,
My most original essays wrote-
Did my hard sums in Algebra-
Translated all my Latin dim,
And did my work while I would play.
Oh, how I loved my brother Jim*

I used to let him saw the wood,
Just like a kindly brother should;
Permitted him to bear it in;

Allowed him all the fires to make;
I'd let him keep the garden clean;
I'd do most anything for his sake.

I never growled because he did
The work to do which I was bid;
I shared with all I had to share-
Divided all my chores with him;
I helped him eat his oranges-
I was so good to brother Jim.

I used to let him take my place

In staying home of nights, and days

In which there was no school to bother;

I shared his joys and cakes with him—
There's nothing like a bigger brother,
If you had one like brother Jim !

ROBERT OF LINCOLN.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

Merrily swinging on briar and weed,

Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain side or mead,

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name—
"Bob-o-link, bob-o-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

Snug and safe is this nest of ours,
Hidden among the Summer flowers,
Chee, chee, chee."

Robert of Lincoln is gaily dressed,

Wearing a bright, black wedding coat; White are his shoulders and white his crest, Hear him call in his merry note,

"Bob-o-link, bob-o-link,
Spink, spank, spink,

Look what a nice new coat is mine!
Sure there was never a bird so fine,
Chee, chee, chec."

Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife,

Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passes at home a patient life,

Broods in the grass while her husband sings,
"Bob-o-link, bob-o-link,
Spink, spank, spink,

Brood, kind creature, you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here,
Chee, chee, chee."

Modest and shy as a nun is she;

One weak chirp is her only note; Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he, Pouring boasts from his little throat, "Bob-o-link, bob-o-link.

Spink, spank, spink,

Never was I afraid of man,

Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can,
Chee, chee, chee."

Six white eggs on a bed of hay,

Flecked with purple, a pretty sight;
There, as the mother sits all day,
Robert is singing with all his might,
"Bob-o-link, bob-o-link,
Spink, spank, spink,

Nice good wife, that never goes out,
Keeping house while I frolic about,
Chee, chee, chee."

Soon as the little ones chip the shell
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood.
"Bob-o-link, bob-o-link,
Spink, spank, spink,

This new life is likely to be

Hard for a gay young fellow like me,
Chee, chee, chee."

Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work and silent with care
Off his holiday garment is laid,
Half forgotten that merry air,
"Bob-o-link, bob-o-link,
Spink, spank, spink,

Nobody knows but my mate and I
Where our nest and our nestlings lie,
Chee, chee, chee."

Summer wanes;
the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows;
Robert of Lincoln's a hum-drum crone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes,
"Bob-o-link, bob-o-link,
Spink, spank, spink,

When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again,
Chee, chee, chee,"

THE AFTERNOON NAP.

CHARLES G. EASTMAN.

[Tenderly and expressively.]

The farmer sat in his easy chair,

Smoking his pipe of clay,

While his hale old wife, with busy care,
Was clearing the dinner away;

A sweet little girl, with fine blue eyes,
On her grandfather's knee was catching flies.

The old man laid his hand on her head,
With a tear on his wrinkled face;

He thought how often her mother, dead,
Had sat in the self-same place;

And the tear stole down from his half shut eye:

"Don't smoke!" said the child; "how it makes you cry."

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