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"And there,' said they, 'the
Away from every horn;
And those shall clear the mildew dank
From the blind old widow's corn!

merry winds

"O, the poor, blind old widow, —
Though she has been blind so long,
She'll be merry enough when the mildew's gone,
And the corn stands stiff and strong!'

"And some they brought the brown lint-seed,
And flung it down from the Low:
'And this,' said they, 'by the sunrise,
In the weaver's croft shall grow!

"O the poor, lame weaver,

How he will laugh outright
When he sees his dwindling flax-field
All full of flowers by night!'

"And then upspoke a brownie,

With a long beard on his chin: 'I have spun up all the tow,' said he, 'And I want some more to spin.

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"I've spun a piece of hempen cloth,
And I want to spin another,-
A little sheet for Mary's bed,
And an apron for her mother!'

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"And with that I could not help but laugh,
And I laughed out loud and free;
And then on the top of the Caldon-Low
There was no one left but me.




"And all on the top of the Caldon-Low
The mists were cold and
And nothing I saw but the mossy stones
That round about me lay.

"But as I came down from the hill-top,
I heard a jar below;

How busy the jolly miller was,

And how merry the wheel did go!

"And I peeped into the widow's field,
And, sure enough, were seen

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The yellow ears of the mildewed corn
All standing stiff and green.

"And down by the weaver's croft I stole,
To see if the flax were high;
But I saw the weaver at his gate,
With the good news in his eye!

"Now, this is all I heard, mother,
And all that I did see;

So, prythee, make my bed, mother,
For I'm tired as I can be!"

TO THE LADY-BIRD.- Mrs. Southey.

LADY-BIRD! lady-bird! fly away home,-
The field-mouse is gone to her nest,
The daisies have shut up their sleepy red eyes,
And the bees and the birds are at rest.



Lady-bird! lady-bird! fly away home,-
The glow-worm is lighting her lamp,
The dew's falling fast, and your fine speckled wings.
Will flag with the close-clinging damp.


Lady-bird! lady-bird! fly away home, -
Good luck if you reach it at last!
The owl's come abroad, and the bat's on the roam,
Sharp set from their Ramazan fast.

Lady-bird lady-bird! fly away home,-
The fairy bells tinkle afar!
Make haste, or they'll catch ye,
With a cobweb to Oberon's car.


and harness ye fast

Lady-bird! lady-bird! fly away home,-
To your house in the old willow-tree,
Where your children, so dear, have invited the ant
And a few cosey neighbors to tea.

Lady-bird! lady-bird! fly away home,-
And, if not gobbled up by the way,
Nor yoked by the fairies to Oberon's car,
You're in luck, and that's all I've to say.


A LITTLE boy with crumbs of bread
Many a hungry sparrow fed.
It was a child of little sense
Who this kind bounty did dispense;
For suddenly it was withdrawn,
And all the birds were left forlorn,



In a hard time of frost and snow,
Not knowing where for food to go.
He would no longer give them bread,
Because he had observed (he said)
That sometimes to the window came
A great black bird, a rook by name,
And took away a small bird's share :
So foolish Henry did not care
What became of the great rook
That from the little sparrows took,
Now and then, as 't were by stealth,
A part of their abundant wealth,
Nor evermore would feed his sparrows.
Thus ignorance a kind heart narrows.
I wish I had been there; I would
Have told the child rooks live by food
In the same way that sparrows do.
I also would have told him, too,
Birds act by instinct, and ne'er can
Attain the rectitude of man.
Nay, that even when distress
Does on poor human nature press,
We need not be too strict in seeing
The failings of a fellow-being.

TO A REDBREAST.-Langhorne.

LITTLE bird with bosom red,
Welcome to my humble shed!
Courtly domes of high degree
Have no room for thee or me;
Pride and pleasure's fickle throng
Nothing mind an idle song.


Daily near my table steal,
While I pick my scanty meal
Doubt not, little though there be,
But I'll cast a crumb to thee,
Well rewarded if I spy
Pleasure in thy glancing eye;
See thee, when thou 'st eat thy fill,
Plume thy breast, and wipe thy bill.
Come, my feathered friend, again,
Well thou know'st the broken pane.

MARINER'S HYMN.- Mrs. Southey.

LAUNCH thy bark, mariner!

Christian, God speed thee;
Let loose the rudder bands,
Good angels lead thee!
Set thy sails warily,

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