﻿TO DAFFODILS. 



131 



above my uncle Henry's grave. And sometimes, when I listen, I 

 think he whispers to me from heaven, and tells me to be a good 

 child !" I now saw a tear stealing down her cheek, but, wiping it 

 away, she added, " It was not the pretty things, he said he would 

 bring, that I wished for, but to see my dear uncle Henry. He 

 never came, nor ever will come, but I shall see him some day, if I 

 listen to his whisper, which seems to tell me of heaven, arid to bid 

 me to be ready to go there." 



To Daffodils. 



FAIR Daffodils, we weep to see 



You haste away so soon : 

 As yet the early-rising sun 

 Has not attained his noon. 



Stay, stay, 



Until the hastening day 



Has run 



But to the even-song ; 

 And, having pray'd together, we 



Will go with you along ! 



We have short time to stay as you, 



We have as short a spring ; 

 As quick a growth to meet decay, 

 As you or anything. 

 We die, 



As your hours do, and dry 

 Away 



J 



Like to the summer's rain, 

 Or as the pearls of morning dew 

 Ne'er to be found again. 



The Story of a Little Lamb. 



IT was on a soft morning in May, when a certain little lamb was 

 called from sleep by the tinkling of the sheep-bell. Slowly he raised 

 his head, still keeping his fore feet bent under his bosom, and looked 

 with a sleepy eye after his mother, who had just trotted away from 

 his side. Again the bell sounded, and the pretty little lamb rose 



