The Youths Coronal | Page 4

cheek,?His garb was thin, and the winds were bleak.?He faintly uttered, while drawing near,?"Winter, the death of the short-lived year,?Can yield thee nought, as I downward tend?To the boundless sea, where the Seasons end!?But I trust from others, who've gone before,?Thou'st clothed thy form, and supplied thy store?And now, what tidings am I to bear?Of thee--for I shall be questioned there?"
I asked my mother, who o'er me bent,?What all this show of the Seasons meant??She said 'twas a picture of Life, I saw;?And the useful moral myself must draw!
I woke, and found that thy song was stilled,?And the sun's bright beams my room had filled!?But I think, my Cricket, I long shall keep?In mind the dream of my morning sleep!
=Fanny Spy=
Lucy, Lucy, come away!?Never climb for things so high.?Don't you know, the other day,?What fell out with Fanny Spy?
Fanny spied, a loaf of cake,?Wisely set above her reach;?Yet did Fanny think to make?In its tempting side a breach.
When she thought the family?Out of sight and hearing too,?Forth a polished table she?Quickly to the closet drew.
First, she stepped upon a chair;?Then the table--then a shelf;?Thinking she securely there?Might, unnoticed, help herself.
Then she seized a heavy slice,?Leaving in the loaf a cleft?Wider than a dozen mice,?Feasted there all night, had left.
Stepping backward, Fanny slid?On the table's polished face:--?Down she came, with dish and lid,?Silver--glass--and china vase!
In, from every room they rushed,?Father--mother--servants--all,?Thinking all the closet crushed,?By the racket and the fall.
'Mid the uproar of the house,?Fanny, in her shame and fright,?Wished herself indeed a mouse,?But to run and hide from sight.
Yet was she to learn how vain,?Poor and worthless, is a wish.?Wishing could not lull her pain,?Hide her shame, nor mend a dish.
There she lay, but could not speak;?For a tooth had made a pass?Through her lip; and to her cheek?Clung a piece of shivered glass.
From her altered features gushed?Rolling tears, and streaming gore;?While, untasted still, and crushed,?Lay her cake upon the floor.
Then the doctor hurried in:?Fanny at his needle swooned,?As he held her crimson chin,?And together stitched the wound.
Now her face a scar must wear,?Ever till her dying day!?Questioned how it happened there,?What can blushing Fanny say?
=Sudden Elevation; or The Empaled Butterfly=
"Ho!" said the Butterfly, "here am I,?Up in the air, who used to lie?Flat on the ground, for the passers by?To treat with utter neglect!?But none will suspect that I am the same;?With a bright, new coat, and a different name;?The piece of nothingness whence I came
In me they'll never detect.
"That horrible night in the chrysalis,?Which brought me at length to a day like this,?In a form of beauty--a state of bliss,?Was little enough to give?For freedom to range from bower to bower,?To flirt with the buds, and flatter the flower,?And bask in the sunbeams hour by hour,?The envy of all that live.
"Why, this is a world of curious things,?Where those who crawl, and those that have wings,?Are ranked in the classes of beggars, and kings,?No matter how much the worth?May be on the side of those who creep,?Where the vain, the light, and the bold will sweep,?Others from notice, and proudly keep?Uppermost on the earth!
"Many a one that has loathed the sight?Of the piteous worm, will take delight?In welcoming me, as I look so bright?In my new and beautiful dress.?But some I shall pass with a scornful glance,?Some, with an elegant nonchalance;?And others will woo me, till I advance?To give them a slight caress."
"Ha, ha!" said the Pin, "you are just the one?Through which I'm commissioned, at once, to run?From back to breast, till, your fluttering done,?Your form may be fairly shown.?And when my point shall have reached your heart,?'T will be as a balm to the wounded part,?To think how you're to be copied by art,?And your beauty will all be known!"
=The Stricken Bird=
Here's the last food your poor mother can bring!?Take it, my suffering brood.?Oh! they have stricken me under the wing;?See, it is dripping with blood!
Fair was the morn, and I wished them to rise,
Enjoying its beauties with me.?The air was all fragrance--all splendor the skies,?While bright shone the earth and the sea.
Little I thought, when so freely I went,?Employing my earliest breath,?To wake them with song, it could be their intent?To pay me with arrows and death!
Fear that my nestlings would feel them forgot,?Helped me a moment to fly;?Else I had given up life on the spot,?Under my murderer's eye.
Yet, I can never brood o'er you again,?Closing you under my breast!?Its coldness would chill you; my blood would but stain?And spoil the warm down of your nest.
Ere the night-coming, your mother will lie,?All motionless, under the tree;?Where, deafened, and silent, I still shall be nigh,?While you will be moaning for me!
=The Young Sportsman=
Harry had a dog and gun;?And he loved to set the one,?Barking, out upon the run,?While he held the other,?Often charged so heavily,?'Twas a