THE CAMEL'S NOSE.
ONCE in his shop a workman wrought,
With languid hand and listless thought,
When, through the open window's space,
Behold, a camel thrust his face!
"My nose is cold," he meekly cried;
Oh, let me warm it by thy side!"
Since no denial word was said,
In came the nose, in came the head-
As sure as sermon follows text,
The long and scraggy neck came next;
And then, as falls the threatening storm,
In leaped the whole ungainly* form.
Aghast the owner gazed around,
And on the rude invader frowned,
Convinced, as closer still he prest,
There was no room for such a guest;
Yet more astonished heard him say,
"If thou art troubled go away,
For in this place I choose to stay."
O youthful hearts, to gladness born,
Treat not this Arab lore with scorn!
To evil habit's earliest wile †
Lend neither ear, nor glance, nor smile,-
Choke the dark fountain ere it flows
Nor e'en admit the camel's nose!
MRS. SIGOURNEY,
THE FOOLISH MOUSIKIN.
MOUSIKIN came to the mother mouse,
And said, "I have found such a pretty house
The sides are of wood, with a window before,
That's made of wire, and a great wide door;
And besides, I can smell there is cheese on the shelf
And I'm old enough now to set up for myself."
+ Trick.
"Mousikin," gravely said mother mouse,
"If you venture to enter that nice little house,
And taste of the cheese, with a sudden clap
The door will close, and you'll be in a trap.
Your silly words prove, you foolish elf,
You're not old enough yet to set up for yourself."
Mousikin laughed at the mother mouse;
She ventured into the nice little house.
Bang! went the door when she touched the cheese.
"O mother!" she cried, "let me out, if you please."
"Alas!" cried the mother, "your love of pelf
Has condemned you to stop there, shut up by yourself."
WHEN icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail ;
When blood is nipt and ways be foul,*
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whoo!
Tu-whit! tu-whoo! a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel† the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drown the parson's saw,‡
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marion's nose looks red and raw;
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whoo!
Tu-whit! tu-whoo! a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
SHAKSPEARE, 1564-1616.
Dirty. Cool. Talk; it here means sermon.
THE rose had been washed, just washed by a shower,
Which Mary to Anna conveyed ;
The plentiful moisture encumbered the flower,
And weighed down its beautiful head.
The cup was all filled, the leaves were all wet,
And it seemed, to my fanciful view,
To weep for the buds it had left with regret
On the flourishing bush where it grew.
I hastily seized it, unfit as it was
For a nosegay, so dripping and drowned;
And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas!
I snapped it,-it fell to the ground.
And such, I exclaimed, is the pitiless part
Some act by the delicate mind;
Regardless of wringing or breaking a heart,
Already to sorrow resigned.
This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,
Might have bloomed with its owner awhile; And the tear that is wiped with a little address Might be followed, perhaps, by a smile.
WILLIAM COWPER, 1731-1800.
I MET a fairy child, whose golden hair
Around her sunny brow in clusters hung;
And as she wove her kingcup chain, she sung
The household melodies; those strains which bear
The hearer back to Eden ;-surely ne'er
A brighter vision blessed my dreams. "Whose child
Art thou ?" I said. Sweet child! in accents mild
She answered," Mother's." When I questioned where
Her dwelling was, again she answered, “Home."
Mother and home-O blessed ignorance,
Or, rather, blessed knowledge; what advance
Further than this shall all the years to come,
With all their lore, effect? There are but given
Two names of higher note-Father and Heaven.
WORDSWORTH.
THE ORPHAN BOY.
STAY, lady, stay, for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless orphan's tale!
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake,-
'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride,
And my brave father's hope and joy;
But in the Nile's proud fight he died,
And I am now an orphan boy.
Poor foolish child-how pleased was I
When news of Nelson's victory came,
Along the crowded streets to fly,
And see the lighted windows flame!
To force me home my mother sought,-
She could not bear to see my joy;
For with my father's life 'twas bought,
And made me a poor orphan boy!
The people's shouts were long and loud,
My mother, shuddering, closed her ears;
"Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried the crowd;
My mother answered with her tears.
"Why are you crying so," said I,
"While others laugh and shout with joy?"
She kissed me and with such a sigh!
She called me her poor orphan boy.
"What is an orphan boy?" I cried,
As in her face I looked and smiled;
My mother through her tears replied,
"You'll know too soon, ill-fated child!"
And now they've tolled my mother's knell,
And I'm no more a parent's joy ;
O lady, I have learned too well
What 'tis to be an orphan boy!
"BIRDIE, birdie, will you pet?
Summer is long a-coming yet;
You'll have silken quilts and a violet bed,
And a pillow of satin for your head."
"There's a prettier bed in the ivy wall,
Where I live with my brothers and sisters and all,
And every day some garden tree
Brings a message from summer to me."
"O birdie, birdie! will you pet?
Diamond stones and amber and jet,
We'll string in a necklace fair and fine,
To deck this pretty bird of mine."
"Thanks for your diamonds and amber and jet,
But there's a necklace far better yet;
A ring of feathers of changing hue,
Lighter, and smoother, and warmer too."
"O birdie, birdie! won't you pet?
We'll bring you a dish of silver fret,
A golden cup and an ivory seat,
And carpets soft beneath your feet."
"There's no running water in cups of gold,
Free food a silver dish can't hold ;
A rocking twig beats an ivory chair,
And the softest paths lie through the air.
So adieu, fair lady, adieu!
SPEAK GENTLY.
SPEAK gently! it is better far
To rule by love than fear:
Speak gently! let no harsh words mar
The good we might do here.
* Inserted, together with "Before Breakfast," p. 105, by permission of the Author,
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