FOR CHILDREN. 111

“ Twas for my accommodation
Nature rose when I was born ;
Should I die—the whole creation
Back to nothing would return :
Sun, moon, stars, the world, you see,
Sprung—exist —will fall with mx.”
Here the pretty prattler, ending,
Spread his wings to soar away ;
But a cruel hawk, descending,
Pounced him up—a helpless prey.
Couldst thou not, poor wagtail, see
That the hawk was made for THEE ?

Montgomery.

 

THE FIRST GRIEF.

“Ou! call my brother back to me,
I cannot play alone;
The summer comes with flower and bee—
Where is my brother gone ?

«The butterfly is glancing bright
Across the sunbeam’s track ;
I care not now to chase its flight—
Oh! call my brother back.

“© The flowers run wild—the flowers we sowed
Around our garden-tree ;
Onur vine is drooping with its load—
Oh! call him back to me.” .
* He would not hear my voice, fair child !
He may not come to thee; ~

The face that once like spring-time smiled
On earth no more thou'lt see !