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swing on branch and tree.
Well, then, the mother said, you shall,
And straight the birdies all,

Perched on the edge of the high nest,
Beside the chestnuts tall.
Remember, said the mother bird,
You must not go beyond
That row
of trees that skirt the edge
Of the transparent pond.
For if you do you might get lost,
Or drowned, and die in pain,
And
never to our dear home nest
Return in joy again.

Well mind your orders, mother dear,
And will not disagree,
But do
just what you tell us now,
Said all the birdies three.
They hopped off on delighted wing,
To the next chestnut tree,

O'erjoyed and panting with delight,
The great, grand world to see.
Oh! what a bright, glad scene, they cried,
And what a wond'rous sky!

What joy 'twould be to kiss the Sun,
And be with him on high.
And I, said Downy, I should like
To sail on yonder sea,
And with
that pretty milk-white bird,
Skim o'er the waters free.
Said Twitter, you talk very large,
And do not seem to know
Our
little wings have not yet power
Beyond these trees to go.
Besides, said Chirrup, mother said
We must not go beyond,
But
only hop and fly about
The trees that skirt the pond.
But mother's gone to get us food,
And she will never know,
Said
Downy, so upon the pond
I am resolved to go.
O fie! exclaimed the birdies both,
To think of such a thing,
You
might get harm, and on us all
Sorrow and trouble bring.
Oh, I am not a bit afraid,
I feel so strong and free,
And will not
homeward go until
I float on yonder sea.
Ah, well, said both the other two,
We will not go with you,

Good-bye, we will not disobey
Our mother kind and true.
Off went the two obedient birds,
And safely reached their nest,
The
little birdies' happy home
Of sweet delight and rest.
Meanwhile, poor naughty Downy flew
From off the chestnut tree,

Away towards the milk-white bird
That skimmed the waters free.

But ah! his wings were much too weak
To bear him all the way,

And Downy fell imploring aid
From loved ones far away.
But no help came. The mother bird
Was far off gathering food,

From perfumed clover meadows round,
For her beloved brood.
And when she reached her nest and found
But two birds there alone,

And heard that Downy to the pond
So wilfully had flown,
Her heart, so lately full of joy,
Was rent with grief and pain,
For
fear lest she should never see
Her darling bird again.
Calling upon his name she flew,
In terror, far and near,
From tree to
pond, from pond to tree,
Seeking her birdie dear.
She called; alas, no answer came
To that poor mother's cry,
She
searched among the sweet, wild flowers,
And chestnut branches high.
At length she spied a tiny speck
Beside the waters clear,
It was, alas,
the lifeless form
Of her lost Downy dear.
She drew him on the soft green grass,
And chafed his lifeless form,

Opened his glassy eyes and mouth,
And tried his limbs to warm.
But all in vain, her darling bird
Was dead, and nevermore
Would he
into that mother's ear,
His pretty warblings pour.
Then in despair she buried him
Beside the chestnut tree,
And
covered him with twigs and leaves,
While weeping bitterly.
And then, with torn and sorrowing heart,
She flew back to her home,

Where Twit and Chirrup trembling staid,
Disconsolate and lone.
My little birdie dears, she said,
In bitterness and pain,
Our darling
Downy to his nest
Will never come again.

His wilful disobedience
To my direct commands,
Has brought its
own dire punishment,
Such as all sin demands.
I thought I could have trusted him,
For he, as you well know,

Promised me very faithfully
Not from these trees to go.
I want you both, my birdies dear,
To learn from this to see
How
lying disobedience
Will ever punished be.
So take a lesson from it, dears,
And be resolved that you
Will never
disobey or lie,
Whatever else you do.
O yes, we'll try our very best,
Your orders to obey,
And always
strive to tell the truth,
Whether at work or play.
Dear children who may hear this tale,
You, too, should also try
To
do whatever you are told,
And never tell a lie.

THE ANGEL ON WAR.
An angel spirit winging
Through aerial space her flight,
O'er
peaceful, sleep-bound nature
Thus sang one autumn night:
What are
those hosts advancing
In legions o'er the plain,
Through orchards
heavy laden
And fields of full-eared grain?
Eastward and westward come they
Shining like gems of light,

Beneath soft, silvery moonbeams
Of peaceful, silent night.
Surely
assembled nations
Are gathering for a fête
Of tournament, sham
fight or joist,
In pride of strength elate.
Or, may be, some grand meeting
On field of cloth of gold,
Attracts
those swarming legions
A peaceful tryst to hold;
For see, the steeds
caparisoned
In trappings rich and bright,
With noble, high-bred
men astride,

In transports of delight!

The flower of German fatherland,
In manhood's strength and pride,

Press on in measured marching,
By grey-haired veterans' side,
And
westward press the youth of France,
Whose ardour none can stay,

Thirsting for laurels in the tilts
And contests of the day.
Emperors, with marshals, generals,
And stalwart men, are there;

Flushed with excitement swift they come
The splendid sports to share,

Doubtless each wears the colours
Of some