Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life and made thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,-
Softest clothing, woolly, bright?
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice;
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little lamb, I'll tell thee;
Little lamb, I'll tell thee;
He is callen by thy name,
For he calls himself a lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little lamb, God bless thee !
Little lamb, God bless thee!
one at least is safe. One sheltered hare
Has never heard the sanguinary yell
Of cruel man, exulting in her woes.
Innocent partner of my peaceful home,
Whom ten long years' experience of my care
Has made at last familiar, she has lost
Much of her vigilant instinctive dread,
Not needful here, beneath a roof like mine.
Yes-thou mayst eat thy bread, and lick the hand
That feeds thee; thou mayst frolic on the floor
At evening, and at night retire secure
To thy straw-couch, and slumber unalarmed;
For I have gained thy confidence, have pledged
All that is human in me to protect
Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love.
If I survive thee I will dig thy grave,
And when I place thee in it, sighing say,
I knew at least one hare that had a friend.
TURN THY HASTY FOOT ASIDE.
Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside,
Nor crush that helpless worm!
The frame thy wayward looks deride
Required a God to form.
The common lord of all that move,
From whom thy being flowed,
A portion of his boundless love
On that poor worm bestowed.
Let them enjoy their little day,
Their humble bliss receive;
Oh! do not lightly take away
The life thou canst not give!
I've despised you, old worm, for I think you
'll admit That you never were beautiful even in youth;
I've impaled you on hooks, and not felt it a bit;
But all's changed now that Darwin has told us the truth
Of your diligent life, and endowed you with fame:
You begin to inspire me with kindly regard.
I have friends of my own, clever worm, I could name, Who have ne'er in their lives been at work half so hard.
It appears that we owe you our acres of soil, That the garden could never exist without you, That from ages gone by you were patient in toil, Till a Darwin revealed all the good that you do. Now you 've turned with a vengeance, and all must confess
Your behavior should make poor humanity squirm; For there's many a man on this planet, I guess, Who is not half so useful as you, Mister worm.
GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET.
Green little vaulter in the sunny grass,
Catching your heart up at the feet of June,
Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon,
Whenever the bees lag at the summoning brass;
And you, warm little housekeeper, who class
With those who think the candles come too soon,
Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune
Nicks the glad silent moments as they pass.
O sweet and tidy cousins, that belong
One to the fields, the other to the hearth,
Both have your sunshine: both, though small, are
strong
your clear hearts; and both seem given to earth To ring in thoughtful ears this natural song Indoors and out, summer and winter, Mirth.
THE HONEY-BEES.
Therefore doth Heaven divide
The state of man in divers functions,
Setting endeavor in continual motion;
To which is fixed, as an aim or butt,
Obedience for so work the honey-bees;
Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king and officers of sorts:
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home;
Others, like soldiers, armèd in their stings,
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds ;
Which pillage they with merry march bring home
To the tent royal of their emperor:
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
THE SINGING MASONS BUILDING ROOFS OF GOLD;
The civil citizens kneading up the honey;
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate;
The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,
Delivering o'er to the executioner's pale
The lazy, yawning drone.
SHAKESPEARE: Henry V., Act 1, Sc. 2.
CUNNING BEE.
Said a little wandering maiden
To a bee with honey laden,
Bee, at all the flowers you work, Yet in some does poison lurk."
"That I know, my little maiden,"
Said the bee with honey laden ;
"But the poison I forsake,
And the honey only take."
"Cunning bee with honey laden, That is right," replied the maiden; "So will I, from all I meet,
Only draw the good and sweet."
Only an insect; yet I know
It felt the sunlight's golden glow,
And the sweet morning made it glad
With all the little heart it had.
It saw the shadows move; it knew
The grass-blades glittered, wet with dew;
And gayly o'er the ground it went ;
It had its fulness of content.
Some dainty morsel then it spied,
And for the treasure turned aside;
Then, laden with its little spoil,
Back to its nest began to toil.
An insect formed of larger frame,
Called man, along the pathway came.
A ruthless foot aside he thrust,
And ground the beetle in the dust.
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