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140 SONGS FOR THE

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I see you spread your pretty wings,
That sparkle in the sun:
I see your legs—what tiny things ;
And yet how fast they run!
You walk along the ceiling now,
And down the upright wall:
I'll ask mamma to tell me how
You walk and do not fall.

"T was God that taught you, little fly,
To walk along the ground,

And mount above my head so high,
And frolic round and round.

I'll near you stand, to see you play ;
But do not be afraid:
I would not lift my little hand
To hurt what God has made.
Mary Lundie Duncan.
WE ARE SEVEN.
I met a little cottage girl,
She was eight years old, she said ;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.

 

“ Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?”

“How many? seven in all,” she said,
And wondering looked at me.