THE SCHOOL.

"LITTLE girl, where do you go to school,
And when do you go, little girl?
Over the grass, from dawn till dark,
Your feet are in a whirl:

You and the cat jump here and there,

You and the robins sing;

But what do you know in the spelling-book? Have you ever learned any thing?"

Thus the little girl answered,

Only stopping to cling

To my finger a minute,

As a bird on the wing Catches a twig of sumach,

And stops to twitter and swing, —

"When the daisies' eyes are a-twinkle
With happy tears of dew;
When swallows waken in the eaves,
And the lamb bleats to the ewe;
When the lawns are golden-barred,
And the kiss of the wind is cool;
When morning's breath blows out the stars,
Then do I go to school!

"My school-roof is the dappled sky;

And the bells that ring for me there

Are all the voices of morning

Afloat in the dewy air.

Kind Nature is the Madame;

And the book whereout I spell

Is dog's-eared by the brooks and glens
Where I know the lesson well."

Thus the little girl answered,

In her musical out-door tone:

She was up to my pocket,

I was a man full-grown ;

But the next time that she goes to school,

She will not go alone!

-Fitz-Hugh Ludlow.

"HOLD FAST WHAT I GIVE YOU."

"MOLLY, and Maggie, and Alice,

Three little maids in a row,

At play in an arbor palace,

Where the honeysuckles grow,—

"Six dimpled palms pressed together, Even and firm, two by two,—

Three eager, upturned faces,

Bonny brown eyes and blue.

"Which shall it be, O you charmers? Alas! I am sorely tried,

I, a hard-hearted old hermit,

Who the question am set to decide.

"Molly, the sprite, the darling,
Shaking her shower of curls,
Whose laugh is the brook's own ripple,
Gayest and gladdest of girls?

"Maggie, the wild little brownie,

Every one's plaything and pet,

Who leads me a chase through the garden
For a kiss, the wicked coquette?

"Or Alice?-ah! shy-eyed Alice,
Looking so softly down

Under her long, dark lashes
And hair so golden brown,-

"Alice, who talks with the flowers,

And says there are none so wise, Who knows there are elves and fairies, For has n't she seen their bright eyes?

"There, there, at last I am ready

To go down the bright, eager row ; So, up with your hands, my Graces, Close, nobody else must know.

"Hold fast what I give you,' Molly!
(Poor little empty palms !)
'Hold fast what I give you,' Maggie !
(A frown steals over her charms.)

"Hold fast what I give you,' Alice!
You smile, - do you so much care?
Unclasp your little pink fingers:

Ah ha! the button is there!

"But do you know, sweet Alice,
All that I give you to keep?
For into my heart you have stolen,
As sunbeams to shadows creep.

"You, a glad little maiden,

How old are you? Only nine,-
With your bright, brown hair all shining,
While the gray is coming to mine.

"No matter, you'll be my true-love,
And come to my old arms so;

And hold fast what I give you,' Alice,
For nobody else must know.”

Lily Warner.

THE TREE.

THE Tree's early leaf-buds were bursting their brown ;

"Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down. "No, leave them alone

Till the blossoms have grown," Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown.

GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORNING.

A FAIR little girl sat under a tree,

Sewing as long as her eyes could see;
Then smoothed her work and folded it right,
And said, "Dear work, good-night, good-night!”

Such a number of rooks came over her head,
Crying "Caw! Caw!" on their way to bed,
She said, as she watched their curious flight,
"Little black things, good-night, good-night!"

The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed,
The sheep's "Bleat! Bleat!" came over the road;
All seeming to say, with a quiet delight,
"Good little girl, good-night, good-night!"

She did not say to the sun, "Good-night !"
Though she saw him there like a ball of light;
For she knew he had God's time to keep
All over the world, and never could sleep.

The tall pink foxglove bowed his head;
The violets curtsied, and went to bed;
And good little Lucy tied up her hair,
And said, on her knees, her favorite prayer.

And, while on her pillow she softly lay,

She knew nothing more till again it was day;
And all things said to the beautiful sun,

"Good-morning, good-morning! our work is begun."

-Lord Houghton.