










MARY HOWITT. 
‘Then take me on your knee, mother, 
And listen, mother of mine: 
A hundred fairies danced last night, 
And the harpers they were nine. 
‘ And merry was the glee of the harp-strings, 
And their dancing feet so small; 
But, oh, the sound of their talking 
’ Was merrier far than all !’ 
‘ And what were the words, my Mary, 
That you did hear them say ?’ 
‘Tl tell you all, my mother— 
But let me have my way! 
‘And some they played with the water, 
And rolled it down the hill ; 
“ And this,” they said, “ shall speedily turn, 
The poor old miller’s mill ; 
“ For there has been no water, 
Ever since the first of May ; 
And a busy man shall the miller be 
By the dawning of the day! 
“Oh, the miller; how he will laugh, 
When he sees the mill-dam rise ! 
The jolly old miller, how he will laugh, 
Till the tears fill both his eyes |” 


