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In and out, he darts about;
Can this be the Bird, to man so good,
That, after their bewildering,
Covered with leaves the little children,
So painfully in the wood?

What ailed thee, Robin, that thou could'st pursue A beautiful Creature, That is gentle by nature? Beneath the summer sky From flower to flower let him fly; Tis all that he wishes to do. The Cheerer Thou of our in-door sadness, He is the Friend of our summer gladness: What hinders, then, that ye should be Phymates in the sunny weather, All fly about in the air together! He beautiful wings in crimson are drest, A crimson as bright as thine own: lithou would'st be happy in thy nest, 0 pious Bird! whom man loves best, love him or leave him alone!



That way look, my Infant, lo: What a pretty baby show ! See the Kitten on the Wall, Soting with the leaves that fall, "*" leaves—one-two—and three– From the lossy Elder-treet Through the calm and frosty air, of his morning bright and fair, Bllying round and round they sink &lly, slowly: one might think, on the motions that are made, Every little leaf conveyed Sylph or Faery hither tending, — To this lower world descending, oth invisible and mute, In his wavering parachute. -But the Kitten, how she starts, Couches stretches, paws, and darts: * At one, and then its fellow Just as light and just as yellow; * * many now—now one — Now *y top and there are none; What intensenes of desire her upward eye of fire! wo * tiger-leap half way OW se meets the coming prey, Lets t go as fast, and then " in her power again:

Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian Conjoiror;
Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of heart.
Were her antics played in the eye
Of a thousand Standers-by,
Clapping hands with shout and stare,
What would little Tabby care
For the plaudits of the Crowd!
Over happy to be proud,
Over wealthy in the treasure
Of her own exceeding pleasure!

'T is a pretty Baby-treat; Nor, I deem, for me unmeet; Here, for neither Babe nor me, Other Play-mate can I see. Of the countless living things, That with stir of feet and wings (In the sun or under shade, Upon bough or grassy blade) And with busy revellings, Chirp and song, and murmurings, Made this Orchard's narrow space, And this Vale so blithe a place; Multitudes are swept away, Never more to breathe the day: Some are sleeping; some in Bands Travelled into distant Lands; Others slunk to moor and wood, Far from human neighbourhood; And, among the Kinds that keep With us closer fellowship, With us openly abide, All have laid their mirth aside. – Where is he that giddy Sprue, Blue cap, with his colours bright, Who was blest as bird could be, Feeding in the apple-tree; Made such wanton spoil and rout, Turning blossoms inside out; Hung with head towards the ground, Fluttered, perched, into a round Bound himself, and then unbound; Lithest, gaudiest Harlequin Prettiest Tumbler ever seen . Light of heart and light of limb; What is now become of Him? Lambs, that through the mountains went Frisking, bleating merriment, When the year was in its prime, They are sobered by this time. If you look to vale or hill, If you listen, ai. 's still, Save a little neighbouring Rill, That from out the rocky ground Strikes a solitary sound.

Vainly glitter hill and plain,
And the air is calm in vain;
Wainly Morning spreads the lure
Of a sky serene and pure;
Creature none can she decoy
Into open sign of joy:
Is it that they have a fear
Of the dreary season near !
Or that other pleasures be
Sweeter even than gaiety

Yet, whate'er enjoyments dwell
In the impenetrable cell
Of the silent heart which Nature
Furnishes to every Creature;
Whatsoe'er we feel and know
Too sedate for outward show,
Such a light of gladness breaks,
Pretty Kitten from thy freaks,—
Spreads with such a living grace
O'er my little Laura's face;
Yes, the sight so stirs and charms
Thee, Baby, laughing in my arms,
That almost I could repine
That your transports are not mine,
That I do not wholly fare
Even as ye do, thoughtless Pair!
And I will have my careless season
Spite of melancholy reason,
Will walk through life in such a way
That, when time brings on decay,
Now and then I may possess
Hours of perfect gladsomeness.
— Pleased by any random toy;
By a Kitten's busy joy,
Or an Infant's laughing eye
Sharing in the ecstasy;
I would fare like that or this,
Find my wisdom in my bliss;
Keep the sprightly soul awake,
And have faculties to take,
Even from things by sorrow wrought,
Matter for a jocund thought,
Spite of care, and spite of grief,
To gambol with Life's falling Leaf.


TELL me, ye Zephyrs that unfold,
While fluttering o'er this gay Recess,
Pinions that fanned the teeming mould
Of Eden's blissful wilderness,
Did only softly-stealing Hours
There close the peaceful lives of flowers?

Say, when the moving Creatures saw
All kinds commingled without fear,
Prevailed a like indulgent law
For the still Growths that prosper here"
Did wanton Fawn and Kid forbear
The half-blown Rose, the Lily spare :

Or peeped they often from their beds
And prematurely disappeared,
Devoured like pleasure ere it spreads
A bosom to the Sun endeared
If such their harsh untimely doom,
It falls not here on bud or bloom.

All Summer long the happy Eve
Of this fair Spot her flowers may bind,
Nor e'er, with ruffled fancy, grieve,
From the next glance she casts, to find
That love for little Things by Fate
Is rendered vain as love for great.

Yet, where the guardian Fence is wound,
So subtly is the eye beguiled
It sees not nor suspects a Bound,
No more than in some forest wild;
Free as the light in semblance — cros
Only by art in nature lost.

And, though the jealous turf refuse By random footsteps to be prest, And feeds on never-sullied dews, Ye, gentle breezes from the West, With all the ministers of Hope, Are tempted to this sunny slope :

And hither throngs of birds resort; Some, inmates lodged in shady nests, Some, perched on stems of stately port That nod to welcome transient guests; While Hare and Leveret, seen at play, Appear not more shut out than they.

Apt emblem (for reproof of pride)
This delicate Enclosure shows
Of modest kindness, that would hide
The firm protection she bestows;
Of manners, like its viewless fence,
Ensuring peace to innocence.

Thus spake the moral Muse — her wing
Abruptly spreading to depart,
She left that farewell offering,
Memento for some docile heart;
That may respect the good old age
When Fancy was Truth's willing Page;
And Truth would skim the flowery glade
Though entering but as Fancy's Shade.

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