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KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



" 'TIS A BEAUTIFUL WOELD ! 



BY W. GIBSOX. 



11 0, the world is a happy and beautiful world !" 



(Said a child that I met by the way,) 

 " For, hark ! how the wild winds rush through the 



pines ; 

 And see how the sunlight dances and shines 



Where the rippling waters stray. 

 0, the woodlands are filled with wonderful things — 

 There the woodpecker taps, and the storm-throstle 

 sings. 



And the squirrels are ever at play. 

 There the startled water-hen claps her wings, 

 And the dragon-fly airy summersaults flings ; 

 And the trout breaks the pool into sparkling rings ; 

 And the bulrush waves in the tangled springs, 



Where the white lily floats all day." 



11 Yes ; the world is a beautiful world," I said, 



u To a shadowless spirit like thine 1" 

 A s from forest and field, through the shining hours, 

 He heaped up his treasures of eggs and flowers, 



And fairy-stones rare and fine — 

 At times, from copse and hollow, hard by, 

 Rang out his blithe and exulting cry, 



Till the sunlight had ceased to shine : 

 When the blue veil of twilight covered the sky, 

 And the spirit-like stars came out on high, 

 And slumber fell soft on his weary eye, 

 Still he murmured — " How fast the hours do fly 



For a life so happy as mine !" 



" Oh, this world is a dark and wearisome 

 world !" 



(Said an old man I met by the way,) 

 " I look on my lifetime of fourscore years, 

 And alas ! what a picture of gloom it appears 



Scarce touched by a golden ray ! 

 What fearful phantasies fill my brain ; 

 For the past, with its visions of sorrow and pain, 



Still haunts me, by night and by day» 

 What is Life, when our pleasures so quickly 



wane — 

 When all that we toil for and hope for, is vain ? 

 Ah ! long in the dreary churchyard have lain 

 The friends of my youth ; and alone I remain — 



Oh, would that I, too, were away !" 



" Yes; this world is a wearisome world !" I said, 



" To a spirit forlorn as thine !" 

 As slowly he toiled through the shining hours, 

 He saw not the twinkling leaves and flowers, 



His tottering feet entwine ; 

 Dim shadows might waver, the rich light glow 

 On his wrinkled cheek, and the merry winds 

 blow — 



But his eyes with no pleasure would shine ; 

 When the round red sun was sinking low, 

 How sadly he shook his thin locks of snow, 

 And muttered — " ! would that I too might go — 



I long to be gone ; but the hours are too slow, 



For a life so weary as mine !" 



" 'Tis a wonderful world !" I say to myself, 

 As I thoughtfully walk by the way — 



II Time flies, and Eternity comcth up slow ; 



The Earth groweth old, and what more do we 

 know 

 To-day than we knew yesterday ? 



That if bom, we may live just a May fly's flight, 

 Or the raven's great circle span outright — ■ 



Then die, be our time what it may ; 

 That night follows morning ; and morning the 



night — 

 After spring-time and summer, the autumn-blight 

 Brings bleak winter in ; but will Death first smite 

 The branch that for years hath basked in the light, 



Or the blossom new-born to-day ?" 



Yes ; the world goeth round from sun to sun — 



Now moonlight — now starlight shine : 

 Surely wiser we grow — yet the"wherefore andwhy " 

 That this thing or that thing is first to die, 



Poor man hath no wit to divine. 

 The morning is breaking — the cock may crow ; 

 The rain and the wind may beat and blow, 



And the sky begin to shine ; 

 But the child so happy some hours ago 

 Is mute and blind, in death lying low I 

 WTiile the old man awakes, and rocks to and fro, 

 Still drearily moaning — " O, would I might go 1 



What a long, weary life is mine I" 



BIEDS OF SONG. 



THE BLACKBIRD. 



{Continued from Page 90.) 

 Stnce last we gossipped about this 

 lovely fellow, we have had changes in- 

 numerable. Eat fy in February he was sing- 

 ing bravely, and preparing to nest.* 'Then 

 came snow, wind, frost, sleet ; and all the 

 usual accompaniments of a severe winter. 

 These united, kept him for a season " pain- 

 fully" quiet. Still lie visited us, and came 

 to share in the bounties of out store. Nor 

 has he failed since, to indulge us with many 

 a song. He is all right now; and busy in 

 the discharge of his parental duties. We 

 see him early and late ; and listen to his 

 voice with a perfect ecstacy of delight. 



Much dispute exists as to the "proper 

 time" for the mating of our vernal songsters. 

 It is a " wise saw" with many, that February 

 14th ushers in with it the "pairing of birds." 

 We imagine this fond idea may have origi- 

 nated in a multitude of causes, — amongst 

 which, the increasing warmth of the sun, and 

 its consequent effect upon the physique of 

 the feathered tribe, is not the least " likely" 

 of the whole. 



It is a " pretty idea" to have it so laid down. 

 That the honor of the day should be accorded 

 to the good Saint — " Valentine," none, we 

 imagine, will take upon themselves to dispute. 

 We shall not. Certain is it, that from this 

 date a " change comes o'er the spirit" of all 

 Nature. The mornings get lighter ; the wea- 

 ther, for the most part, more genial ; the days 



* The Yorkshire Gazette, of this present year, 

 records the fact of a blackbird's nest with two 

 eggs, being found on the 3rd January. It was 

 discovered at Brompton, by D. Ferguson, Esq., 

 of Eedcar.— Ed. K. J. 



