The Infant's Delight: Poetry. Unknown

lit-tle birds by God are fed

      But man must earn his dai-ly bread,

      And work that he may eat;

      Striv-ing his best, as John does now,

      The broad ten-acre field to plough,

      Where-in to sow the wheat.

      Old John, the plough-man, ne'er re-pines,

      Whe-ther it blows, or rains, or shines,

      But hap-py still does seem;

      And Dick, who leads the fore-most horse,

      Goes whist-ling as he walks across

      The field be-side the team.

      Let us per-form as glad-ly, too,

      The work our Mas-ter bids us do,

      And then we need not fear;

      But when from earth-ly toil we rest,

      We all shall meet a-mong the blest

      Who served Him tru-ly here.

      "HOW IS THE WEA-THER?"

      Cold win-ter has come,

      And the cru-el winds blow—

      The trees are all leaf-less and brown;

      These two pret-ty rob-ins,

      Oh, where shall they go

      To shel-ter their lit-tle brown heads from the snow?

      Just look at the flakes com-ing down.

      But see, they have found a snug shel-ter at last,

      And hark, how they talk, while the storm whis-tles past:

      Says Pol-ly to Dick-y,

      "You're near-est the door,

      And you are the gen-tle-man, too:

      Just peep out and see

      When the storm will be o'er;

      Be-cause, if the wea-ther's as bad as be-fore,

      I think we will stay, do not you?"

      NAUGH-TY NEL-LY AND HER NEW PA-RA-SOL

      "No, Nel-ly! not to-day, my child!

      I can-not let you take it;

      This cold March wind, so strong and wild,

      Your pa-ra-sol, 'twould break it!"

      So said Mam-ma; but Nel-ly thought,

      "I will take my new pre-sent:

      Tis mine; to please me it was bought;

      The wea-ther's bright and plea-sant."

      So naugh-ty Nel-ly sli-ly took

      What kind Mam-ma had bought her,

      And out she went—and, only look!

      The wild March wind has caught her!

      The silk tore up, the ribs broke out,

      In spite of Nel-ly's sway-ing;

      And peo-ple laugh-ed at her, no doubt—

      That comes of dis-o-bey-ing.

      "THE FLOW-ERS AP-PEAR ON THE EARTH."

(SONG OF SOLOMON, ii. 12.)

      Now the win-ter cold is past,

      And blithe March winds are blow-ing,

      In shel-ter-ed nooks we find at last

      Bright flow-ers of spring are grow-ing.

      Along the hedge-row's mossy bank,

      Where ivy green is creep-ing,

      We see through weeds and net-tles rank

      The dark-blue vi-o-let peep-ing.

      And in the sun-ny gar-den beds

      Gay a-co-nites are show-ing,

      And snow-drops bend their grace-ful heads,

      And cro-cus-es are glow-ing.

      God makes the buds and leaves un-fold,

      All flow-ers are of His giv-ing;

      He guards them through the win-ter's cold,

      He cares for all things liv-ing.

      JUMP! PUS-SY!

      Pus-sy, jump! for all the day

      You have time e-nough to play;

      Though at night, in barn and house,

      You must watch for rat or mouse.

      Pus-sy, jump! and if you do,

      We will pour some milk for you;

      Pus-sy, you shall be ca-ressed,

      If you try and jump your best.

      BLOW-ING BUB-BLES

      Har-ry and Tom, the o-ther day,

      Went out in-to the yard to play;

      Their great de-light, in wea-ther bright,

      Is blow-ing bub-bles with pipes of clay.

      Tom took a ba-sin deep and wide,

      And Har-ry brought his mug be-side;

      They fil-led them quite with soap-suds white,

      And each to blow the big-gest tried.

      Poor Tom, he blew with might and main,

      And so, of course, he blew in vain;