I'm a blue bird. Don't you see Me sitting on this apple-tree, I left my nest an hour ago To look for bugs and worms, you know; And now I know the very thing-- That while I'm waiting I will sing, Oh! beautiful and balmy spring.

_The Woodp.e.c.k.e.r_--

I'm a woodp.e.c.k.e.r--a bird Whose sound through wood and dale is heard.

I tap, tap, tap, with noisy glee, To test the bark of every tree.

I saw a rainbow stretching gay, Across the sky, the other day; And some one said, "Good-bye to rain, The woodp.e.c.k.e.r has come again."

_The Lark_--

I'm the lark and early rise To greet the sun-G.o.d of the skies, And upright cleave the freshening air, To sail in regions still more fair.

Who could not soar on l.u.s.ty wing, His Maker's praises thus to sing?

_The Nightingale_--

In music I excel the lark, She comes at dawn, I come at dark, And when the stars are shining bright, I sing the praises of the night.

_In Concert_--

Oh! in a chorus sweet we'll sing, And wake the echoes of the spring."

LITTLE BY LITTLE.

"Little by little," the acorn said, As it slowly sank in its mossy bed, "I am improving every day, Hidden deep in the earth away."

Little by little each day it grew; Little by little it sipped the dew; Downward it sent out a threadlike root; Up in the air sprung a tiny shoot, Day after day, and year after year, Little by little the leaves appear; And the slender branches spread far and wide, Till the mighty oak is the forest's pride.

"Little by little," said the thoughtful boy, "Moment by moment, I'll well employ, Learning a little every day, And not misspending my time in play; Whatever I do I will do it well.

Little by little, I'll learn to know The treasured wisdom of long ago; And one of these days, perhaps, will see That the world will be the better for me."

--_Selected._

A LITTLE POLLYWOG.

"A tiny little pollywog, And little brothers three, Lived in the water near a log, As happy as could be.

A-swimming, swimming all the day, A-sleeping all the night, And trying, though they were so gay, To do just what was right; A-growing, growing all the while, Because they did their best; But I am afraid that you will smile When I tell you the rest.

One morning, sitting on the log, They looked in mute surprise; Four legs had every pollywog, Where two had met their eyes.

Their mother, letting fall a tear, Said, "Oh, my pollywogs, It can't be you that sitting here!"

For all of them were frogs.

And with their legs they've grown some lungs; So you just wait and see.

In summer time their little tongues Will sing 'Kac.h.i.n.k' with glee."

--_School Education._

AN ARBOR DAY TREE.

Dear little tree that we plant today What will you be when we're old and gray?

"The savings bank of the squirrel and mouse, For robin and wren an apartment house, The dressing-room of the b.u.t.terfly's ball, The locust's and katydid's concert hall, The school-boy's ladder in pleasant June, The school-girl's tent in the July noon.

And my leaves shall whisper them merrily, A tale of the children who planted me."

--_From The Intelligence._

THE ROBIN AND THE FLOWER.

A Robin once sat in the bright winter's sun, A foolish red robin was he, For he sang a sweet song that springtime had come When the day was as cold as could be.

So gay was his song of the warmth of the hour, So merrily babbled the sound, That it stole through the dream of a dear little flower Who was slumbering under the ground.

The sleeper awakened, soft lifted the sod And harkened the robin's sweet song, Full glad was her heart and thankful to G.o.d That winter so quickly had gone.

The robin still sang and the dear little flower Unfolded her petals of pink:-- "I'll hold up my chalice," she said, "for a shower That from me my robin may drink."

The singer flew quickly to welcome his love,-- His love that was faltering low:-- Oh, where was the warmth from the heaven above?

Instead of a shower there was snow.

Then robin quick covered her o'er with his wing, "Don't leave me, I love you," he cried: And he kissed her so tenderly, poor little thing, But the blossom, his loved one, had died.

Red robin still sits in the bright winter's sun, But a sorrowing robin is he; No longer he sings that the springtime has come When the day is as cold as can be.

--_Charles A. Myall._

Give fools their gold and knaves their power; Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall; Who sows a field, or trains a flower Or plants a tree is more than all.

For he who blesses most is blest; And G.o.d and man shall own his worth Who toils to leave as his bequest An added beauty to the earth.

--_Whittier._

BIRD PUZZLE.