SONGS FOR THE

With buzzing wings she hung aloft,

Then near and nearer drew—
Thought only of her brilliant eyes,
And green and purple hue ;
Thought only of her crested head—
Poor foolish thing! At last
Up jumped the cunning spider,
And fiercely held her fast.

He dragged her up his winding stair,
Into his dismal den
Within his little parlor—but
She ne’er came oul again !
And now, dear little children
Who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words,
I pray you, ne er give heed :
Unto an evil counsellor
Close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale
Of the spider and the fly. Mary Howitt.

 

THE LONELY CHILD.

They say 1 was but four years old
When father went away ; |

Yet I have never seen his face

Since that sad parting day.