SWEET PEAS.

A SELECTION.

Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight: With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.

Linger awhile upon some bending planks That lean against a streamlet's rushy banks, And watch intently Nature's gentle doings: They will be found softer than ringdove's cooings.

How silent comes the water round that bend!

Not the minutest whisper does it send To the o'erhanging sallows: blades of gra.s.s Slowly across the chequer'd shadows pa.s.s.

JOHN KEATS.

CA' THE YOWES.

Ca' the yowes to the knowes, Ca' them where the heather grows, Ca' them where the burnie rowes-- My bonnie dearie!

Hark the mavis' evening sang Sounding Cluden's woods amang!

Then a faulding let us gang, My bonnie dearie!

We'll gae down by Cluden side, Thro' the hazels spreading wide, O'er the waves that sweetly glide To the moon sae clearly.

Yonder Cluden's silent towers, Where at moonshine midnight hours, O'er the dewy bending flowers, Fairies dance so cheery.

Ghaist nor bogie shalt thou fear; Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear, Nocht of ill may come thee near, My bonnie dearie!

Fair and lovely as thou art, Thou hast stown my very heart; I can die--but canna part-- My bonnie dearie!

Ca' the yowes to the knowes, Ca' them where the heather grows; Ca' them where the burnie rowes-- My bonnie dearie!

ROBERT BURNS.

SELECTIONS FROM A RHYMED LESSON.

Shalt thou be honest? Ask the worldly schools, And all will tell thee knaves are busier fools; Prudent? Industrious? Let not modern pens Instruct "Poor Richard's" fellow citizens.

Be firm! one constant element in luck Is genuine, solid, old Teutonic pluck; See yon tall shaft; it felt the earthquake's thrill, Clung to its base, and greets the sunrise still.

Yet in opinions look not always back; Your wake is nothing, mind the coming track; Leave what you've done for what you have to do; Don't be "consistent," but be simply true.

Once more; speak clearly, if you speak at all; Carve every word before you let it fall; Don't, like a lecturer or dramatic star, Try over hard to roll the British R; Do put your accents in the proper spot; Don't,--let me beg you,--don't say "How?" for "What?"

And, when you stick on conversation's burrs, Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful _urs_.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.]

THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed;

And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England sh.o.r.e.

Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame;

Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear;-- They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free!

The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam; And the rocking pines of the forest roared-- This was their welcome home!

There were men with h.o.a.ry hair Amidst that pilgrim band; Why had they come to wither there Away from their childhood's land?

There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth.

What sought they thus afar?

Bright jewels of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?

They sought a faith's pure shrine!

Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod.

They have left unstained what there they found-- Freedom to worship G.o.d.

FELICIA HEMANS.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE WIVES OF BRIXHAM.