FOR CHILDREN, 109

The bee hums o'er heather! and breeze-wooing
hill,*

And forgets in the sunshine his toil and his skill ;

The birds caro] gladly !—the lark mounts on high!

The swallows on wing make their tune to the eye,

And, as birds of good omen, that summer loves well,

Ever wheeling, weave-ever some magical spell.

The hunt is abroad :—hark! the horn sounds its
note,

And seems to invite us to regions remote.

The horse in the meadows is stirred by the sound,

And, neighing impatient, o’erleaps the low mound;

Then proud in his speed o’er the champaign’ he
bounds, .

To the whoop of the huntsmen, and tongue of the
hounds,

Then stay not within, for on such a blest day

We can never quit home, while with Nature we
stray, far away! far away! J. H. Green.

 

SOLILOQUY OF A WATER-WAGTAIL.

‘* Hea your sovereign’s proclamation,
- All good subjects, young and old !
I’m the Lord of the Creation,
I—a water-wagtail bold !
All around, and all you see,
All the world was made for mz !

1 Heather—heath.
? Breese-wooing hill—a hill which, as it were, courts o7
invites the wind to stay near it—high and exposed.
3 Champaign—open, flat country.
L