94 ROBERT OF LINCOLN. ROBERT OF LINCOLN. MERRILY singing on brier and weed, Robert of Lincoln is telling his name: Spink, spank, spink ; Snug and safe in that nest of ours, Robert of Lincoln is gayly drest, Wearing a bright-black wedding-coat; White are his shoulders, and white his crest; 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; Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passing at home a patient life, Broods in the grass while her husband sings, Bob-o'-link, Bob-o'-link; Brood, kind creature, you need not fear Thieves and robbers while I am here; Chee, chee, chee. ROBERT OF LINCOLN. Modest and shy as a nun is she; Catch me cowardly knaves, if you can. Six white eggs on a bed of hay, Freckled with purple, a pretty sight! There as the mother sits all day, Robert is singing with all his might, Nice good wife, that never goes out, Keeping house while I frolic about. Soon as the little ones chip the shell, Hard for a young fellow like me. Robert of Lincoln at length is made. Sober with work, and silent with care; Oft is his holiday garment laid Half forgotten that merry air, Nobody knows but my mate and I Summer wanes, the children are grown: Fun and frolic no more he knows, 95 Robert of Lincoln 's a humdrum crone ; Off he flies, and we sing as he goes,- W. C. BRYANT. THANKFULNESS. WHEN thou hast truly thanked thy God For every blessing sent, But little time will then remain For murmur or lament. THE WIND. WHAT way does the wind come? what way does he go? He rides over the water, and over the snow; Through wood, and through vale, and o'er rocky height, Which the goat cannot climb, takes his sounding flight; He tosses about in every bare tree, As, if you look up, you plainly may see; But how he will come, and whither he goes, He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook, And rings a sharp 'larum ; — but, if you should look, There's nothing to see but a cushion of snow, THE WIND. Round as a pillow, and whiter than milk, - 97 -Yet seek him, and what shall you find in the place? Nothing but silence and empty space; Save in a corner, a heap of dry leaves, That he's left, for a bed, to beggars or thieves! As soon as 't is daylight, to-morrow with me, Hark! over the roof he makes a pause, But let him range round; he does us no harm, Untouched by his breath, see the candle shines bright, And burns with a clear and steady light; Books have we to read, but that half stifled knell, Come, now we'll to bed! and when we are there 98 THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES. He may knock at the door, we 'll not let him in ; May drive at the windows, we 'll laugh at his din; Let him seek his own home wherever it be ; Here's a cosey warm house for Edward and me. MARY LAMB. THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES. SEE the kitten on the wall, Withered leaves, one two- and three, From the lofty elder-tree! Through the calm and frosty air In his wavering parachute. But the kitten, how she starts, |