"Lock the dairy door!" Oh, hark, the c.o.c.k is crowing proudly!

"Lock the dairy door!" and all the hens are cackling loudly.

"Chickle, chackle, chee!" they cry; "we haven't got the key," they cry, "Chickle, chackle, chee! Oh, dear! wherever can it be?" they cry.

Up and down the garden walks where all the flowers are blowing, Out about the golden fields where tall the wheat is growing, Through the barn and up the road, they cackle and they clatter; Cry the children, "Hear the hens! Why, what can be the matter?"

What sc.r.a.ping and what scratching, what bristling and what hustling, The c.o.c.k stands on the fence, the wind his ruddy plumage rustling.

Like a soldier grand he stands, and like a trumpet glorious, Sounds his shout both far and near, imperious and victorious.

But to the Partlets down below who cannot find the key, they hear, "Lock the dairy door;" that's all his challenge says to them, my dear.

Why they had it, how they lost it, must remain a mystery; I that tell you, never heard the first part of the history.

But if you listen, dear, next time the c.o.c.k crows proudly "Lock the dairy door!" you'll hear him tell the biddies loudly: "Chickle, chackle, chee!" they cry; "we haven't got the key!" they cry; "Chickle, chackle, chee! Oh, dear! wherever can it be?" they cry.

--_Celia Thaxter._

[5] Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. Reprinted by permission of the publishers.

ROBIN OR I?[6]

Robin comes with early spring, Dressed up in his very best; Very pretty is his suit-- Brownish coat and reddish vest.

Robin takes my cherry tree For his very, very own; Never asking if he may-- There he makes his dainty home.

Robin eats my cherries, too, In an open, shameless way; Feeds his wife and babies three-- Giving only songs for pay.

Bolder thief than robin is Would be hard, indeed, to find; But he sings so sweet a tune That I really do not mind!

"Cheer up! Cheer up!" Robin sings; "Cheer up! Cheer up!" all day long; Shine or shower, all the same, "Cheer up! Cheer up!" is his song.

Eating, singing, Robin lives There within my cherry tree; When I call him "robber!" "thief!"

Back he flings a song to me!

"May I have some cherries, please?"

Robin never thinks to say; Yet, who has the heart--have you?

Saucy Rob to drive away?

--_Sarah E. Sprague._

[6] All rights reserved.

FOURTH GRADE

PSALM XXIII.

1. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

2. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters.

3. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.

4. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.

5. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

6. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

--_Bible._

THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SQUIRREL.

The Mountain and the Squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter "Little Prig."

Bun replied: "You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together, To make up a year, And a sphere;

And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place.

If I'm not so large as you, You're not so small as I, And not half so spry.

I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track.

Talents differ; all is well and wisely put: If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nut."

--_Ralph Waldo Emerson._

ABOU BEN ADHEM.

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold; Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."

"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then, Write me as one who loves his fellow-men."

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again, with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of G.o.d had blest; And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

--_James Henry Leigh Hunt._

BUGLE SONG.

The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory.

Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying; Blow, bugle; answer, echoes--dying, dying, dying!

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going!

O sweet and far, from cliff and scar, The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!

Blow! let us hear the purple glens replying; Blow, bugle; answer, echoes--dying, dying, dying!