When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,

And keep them from the sheep.

But if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.

And there the lion's ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold:

And pitying the tender cries,

And walking round the fold:

Saying Wrath by his meekness,
And by His health, sickness,

Are driven away

From our immortal day.

'And now beside thee, bleating lamb,

I can lie down and sleep,

Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.

For wash'd in life's river,
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold,
As I guard o'er the fold.'

SPRING.

SOUND the flute !

Now 'tis mute;
Birds delight,

Day and night,

Nightingale

In the dale,

Lark in sky,

Merrily,

Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.

Little boy,

Full of joy;

Little girl,

Sweet and small;

Cock does crow,

So do you;

Merry voice,

Infant noise;

Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.

Little lamb,

Here I am;

Come and lick

My white neck;

Let me pull

Your soft wool;

Let me kiss

Your soft face;

Merrily, merrily we welcome in the year.

NURSE'S SONG.
RSE'S

WHEN the voices of children are heard on the green,

And laughing is heard on the hill,

My heart is at rest within my breast,

And everything else is still.

Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,

And the dews of night arise;

Come, come, leave off play, and let us away

Till the morning appears in the skies.

No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,
And we cannot go to sleep;

Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,

And the hills are all covered with sheep.

Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
And then go home to bed.

The little ones leap'd, and shouted, and laugh'd,
And all the hills echoèd.

INFANT JOY.

'I HAVE no name;

I am but two days old.'

What shall I call thee?

I happy am,

Joy is my name.'

Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!

Sweet joy, but two days old.

Sweet joy I call thee:

Thou dost smile.

I sing the while,

Sweet joy befall thee!

A DREAM.

ONCE a dream did weave a shade O'er my angel-guarded bed,

That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, 'wilder'd, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangled spray,
All heart-broke, I heard her say:

'O, my children! do they cry,
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see,
Now return and weep for me.'

Pitying, I dropp'd a tear:
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied, 'What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?

I am set to light the ground, While the beetle goes his round. Follow now the beetle's hum, Little wanderer, hie thee home!'