FOR CHILDREN. 151

« Come up, come up, for the world is fair,

Where the merry leaves dance in the summer air!”
And the birds below give back the cry,

“© We come, we come, to the branches high !”
How pleasant the life of a bird must be,

Flitting about in a leafy tree ;

And away through the air what joy to go,

And to look on the bright, green earth below.

How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Skimming about on the breezy sea,

Cresting the billows like silvery foam,

And then wheeling away to its cliff-built home !
What joy it must be to sail, upborne

By a strong free wing, through the rosy morn,
To meet the young sun face to face,

And pierce like a shaft the boundless space !

How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Wherever it listeth,! there to flee ;

To go, when a joyful fancy calls,

Dashing adown ‘mong the waterfalls,

Then wheeling about with its mates at play,
Above and below, and among the spray,
Hither and thither, with screams as wild
As the laughing mirth of a rosy child !

What joy it must be, like a living breeze,
To flutter about ’mong the flowering trees ;
Lightly to soar, and to see beneath

The wastes of the blossoming purple heath,

1 I isteth—chooses, pleases.