The Keepsake | Page 3

blushes of morn. Then
carol, then carol the sweet strains of peace,
And never again may her
harmony cease;
May the dreams, may the dreams of ambition be o'er,

And the falchion of war be at rest evermore.
[Illustration: _to face pa. 19_
_Little Girl_]
THE BLIND BOY.
"Mamma, what a pretty new basket you've got,"
Little Emma

exclaim'd with delight;
"The straw-work below is so firm and so neat,

And the bag such a beautiful white."
"I am glad you approve it, my love: I myself
Think it pretty and neat,
I confess;
And when I have told you by whom it was made,
You
will not, I think, like it the less.
"You remember, no doubt, that blind boy on the green,
Whose father
and mother both died,
And left him in poverty, sickness, and grief,

Without a protector or guide.
"A kind and rich lady, who heard his sad case,
Restor'd him to life by
her aid,
Then plac'd him secure in the house for the blind,
And all
the expences defray'd.
"There they taught him these beautiful baskets to make, With
straw-work of every kind;
And now he's employ'd, and his living can
earn,
And is useful and happy, though blind."
"And may I believe it," cried Emma, "that Jem,
Who so helpless and
poor us'd to be,
Has made this nice basket without any help,
And as
neatly as if he could see?"
"As you doubt poor Jem's powers," her mother replied,
"What I've
said to be true I must prove;
So finish your work, get your bonnet and
coat,
And quickly come to me, my love."
[Illustration: _to face pa. 20_
_The Blind Boy_]
Her work was soon finish'd, her books all laid by,
Her coat and her
bonnet put on,
And joyfully taking mamma's ready hand,
To the
school for the blind she is gone.
With delight and amazement there Emma beheld
Poor Jem at his

daily employ;
As he platted his basket, he sung to his work,
And
smil'd with contentment and joy.
"Ah, mamma," exclaim'd Emma, as home they return'd,
"Ev'ry penny
you give me I'll save;
Neither gingerbread, comfit, nor nut will I buy,

Till a basket of Jem's I can have."
SPRING.
Wintry winds no longer blow,
Far away are frost and snow;

Peeping from its grassy bed,
The primrose rears its modest head;

And midst its leaves the violet blue,
Scents the air and morning dew.

Hark! the sky-lark, mounting high,
Carols in the clear blue sky;

The thrush and blackbird from the spray,
Chaunt their blithesome
roundelay;
The little lambkins, safe from harm,
In their snow-white
fleeces warm,
Gambol o'er the sunny mead,
And prove their
strength, and try their speed:
From yon grassy knoll they spring,

And chase each other round the ring.
[Illustration: _to face pa. 23_
_Spring_]
To the farm-yard we will go,
Where they milk the hornless cow;

Mamma will give us wine and cake,
And a syllabub we'll make.

Charles and Jane shall hold the bowl,
And Margaretta milk it full:

Each shall join to help the others,
Like good sisters and good
brothers.
SUMMER.
What does bounteous summer bring?
The lengthen'd day and
shorten'd night;
Milder breezes softly blowing,
Warmer suns, and
skies more bright.
Long and thick the grass is grown,
Ready for the mower's care,


When his scythe has laid it low,
To the hay-field we'll repair.
Each shall have a fork and rake,
To spread it widely to the sun:

Many hands together join'd,
Make the labour quickly done.
In the hedge, the woodbine twining,
Fills the air with sweet perfume;

The blushing rose, in gay profusion,
Joins its fragrance and its
bloom.
In the mossy hedge-row peeps,
The strawberry with lowly head;

We can quickly fill our baskets,
With its berries rosy red.
Little Anna dearly loves
Strawb'ries red, and milk so white:
We will
carry plenty home,
On them she can sup to-night.
[Illustration: _to face pa. 24_
_Summer_]
Anna loves to skip and play,
But she can also read and spell;
She
learns with careful hand to sew,
And she deserves her supper well.
AUTUMN.
Autumn comes, her prospects glow
With yellow fields of waving
corn;
The reaper with his sickle bright,
Hastes to work at early
morn.
Whilst the morning breezes blow,
Through the burning sultry noon,

And till evening dews descend,
Still he works and labours on.
Let us seek the harvest field,
There is work for you and me?
We can
help the sheaves to bind:
Idle hands we need not be.
When Maria's task is done,
We will to the nut-wood go;
Each a bag
and hooked stick,
Down to pull the cluster'd bough.

Oh! how tempting ripe they hang:
Softly, softly pull them down,

Lest the bright brown nuts should fall,
And leave the empty husk
alone.
Bags and pockets all are full,
And evening says we must not stay;

With heavy loads we'll hasten home,
And come again another day.
[Illustration: _to follow pa. 26_
_Autumn_]
[Illustration: _to follow Plate of Autumn_
_Winter_]
These shall be our winter store,
When Christmas holidays are come;

Then round the fire we'll social be,
And give our happy playmates
some.
WINTER.
Howling through the leafless trees,
Winter calls his northern breeze.

Do no flow'rets dare appear,
In this season of the year?
Yes,
amidst the wintry scene,
The daisy's lowly gem is seen;
And tho' it
boasts