THE SPARROW'S NEST.

BEHOLD, within the leafy shade,

Those bright blue eggs together laid!

On me the chance-discovered sight
Gleamed like a vision of delight.
I started-seeming to espy

The home and sheltered bed,

The Sparrow's dwelling, which, hard by
My Father's house, in wet or dry
My sister Emmeline and I
Together visited.

She looked at it and seerned to fear it
Dreading, tho' wishing, to be near it:
Such heart was in her, being then
A little Prattler among men.
The blessing of my later years

Was with me when a boy:

She gave me eyes, she gave me ears;
And humble cares, and delicate fears;
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears;
And love, and thought, and joy.

S

BEGGARS.

HE had a tall man's height or more;

Her face from summer's noontide heat

No bonnet shaded, but she wore

A mantle, to her very feet

Descending with a graceful flow,

And on her head a cap as white as new-fallen snow.

Her skin was of Egyptian brown:
Haughty, as if her eye had seen
Its own light to a distance thrown,

She towered, fit person for a Queen
To lead those ancient Amazonian files;

Or ruling Bandit's wife among the Grecian isles.

Advancing, forth she stretched her hand
And begged an alms with doleful plea
That ceased not; on our English land
Such woes, I knew, could never be ;
And yet a boon I gave her, for the creature
Was beautiful to see a weed of glorious feature.

I left her, and pursued my way;
And soon before me did espy
A pair of little Boys at play,

Chasing a crimson butterfly;

The taller followed with his hat in hand, [the land. Wreathed round with yellow flowers the gayest of

The other wore a rimless crown

With leaves of laurel stuck about; And, while both followed up and down, Each whooping with a merry shout, In their fraternal features I could trace Unquestionable lines of that wild Suppliant's face.

Yet they, so blithe of heart, seemed fit

For finest tasks of earth or air:

Wings let them have, and they might flit

Precursors to Aurora's car,

Scattering fresh flowers; though happier far, I ween, To hunt their fluttering game o'er rock and level green.

They dart across my path-but lo,
Each ready with a plaintive whine!
Said I, "Not half-an-hour ago

Your mother has had alms of mine."

"That cannot be," one answered-" she is dead "I looked reproof-they saw-but neither hung his head.

"She has been dead, sir, many a-day."

'Hush, boys! you're telling me a lie ;

It was your Mother, as I say!

And, in the twinkling of an eye,

"Come! come!" cried one, and without more ado, Off to some other play the joyous Vagrants flew !

MY

THE RAINBOW.

Y heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man ;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die !

The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

WRITTEN IN MARCH,

WHILE RESTING ON THE BRIDGE AT THE FOOT OF

THE

BROTHER'S WATER.

HE Cock is crowing,
The stream is flowing,

The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter,

The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest

Are at work with the strongest ;
The cattle are grazing,

Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!
Like an army defeated

The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill

On the top of the bare hill;
The Ploughboy is whooping-anon-anon :
There's joy in the mountains;
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing ;

The rain is over and gone!

TO THE SMALL CELANDINE.

PA

ANSIES, lilies, kingcups, daisies,
Let them live upon their praises;
Long as there's a sun that sets,
Primroses will have their glory;

TO THE SMALL CELANDINE.

Long as there are violets,
They will have a place in story:
There's a flower that shall be mine,
'Tis the little Celandine.

Eyes of some men travel far,
For the finding of a star;

Up and down the heavens they go,
Men that keep a mighty rout!
I'm as great as they, I trow,
Since the day I found thee out,
Little Flower!—I'll make a stir,
Like a sage astronomer.

Modest, yet withal an Elf
Bold, and lavish of thyself;

Since we needs must first have met
I have seen thee, high and low,
Thirty years or more, and yet
'Twas a face I did not know;
Thou hast now, go where I may,
Fifty greetings in a day.

Ere a leaf is on a bush,

In the time before the thrush
Has a thought about her nest,
Thou wilt come with half a call,
Spreading out thy glossy breast
Like a careless Prodigal;
Telling tales about the sun,

When we've little warmth, or none.

Poets, vain men in their mood!

Travel with the multitude;

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