Said Winter, "Then I would have you learn, By me, my gay new-comer, To push off too, when it comes your turn, And yield your place to Summer!"

=Tom Tar=

I'll tell you now about Tom Tar, The sailor stout and bold, Who o'er the ocean roamed so far, To countries new and old.

Tom was a man of thousands! he Would ne'er complain nor frown, Though high and low the wind and sea Might toss him up and down.

Amid the waters dark and deep, He had the happy art, When all around was storm, to keep Fair weather in his heart.

Though winds were wild, and waves were rough, He'd always cast about, And find within he'd calm enough To stand the storms without.

"For nought," said Tom, "is ever gained By sighs for what we lack; Nor can it mend a vessel strained, To let our temper crack.

"And sure I am, the worst of storms, That any man should dread, Is that which in the bosom forms, And musters to the head."

Serene, and ever self-possessed, His mess-mates he would cheer, And often put their fears to rest, When dangers gathered near.

If on the rocks the ship was cast, And surges swept the deck, Tom Tar was ever found the last Who would forsake the wreck.

And when his only hat and shoes The waters plucked from him, Why, these, he felt, were small to lose, Could he keep up and swim!

Then through the billows, foam, and spray, That rose on every hand, He'd, somehow, always find a way Of getting safe to land.

The secret was, the fear and love Of Heaven had filled his soul: His trust was firm in One above, Howe'er the seas might roll.

And Tom had sailed to many a sh.o.r.e, And many a wonder seen: The stories he could tell would more Than fill a magazine.

He'd seen mankind in every state, Almost, that man can know; But envied not the rich and great, Nor scorned the poor and low.

The monarch in his sight had stood, Superb, in glittering vest; The savage, too, that roams the wood, In skins and feathers dressed.

The tribes of many an isle he knew; And beasts, and birds, and flowers, And fruits, of many a shape and hue, In lands remote from ours.

He'd seen the wide-winged albatros Her breast in ocean lave; And bold sea-lions, playing, toss Their heads above the wave.

He'd seen the dolphin, while his back Went flashing to the sun, A swarm of flying fish attack, And swallow every one!

The porpoise and the spouting whale Had sported in his view; And hungry sharks pursued his sail, As if they'd eat the crew.

And ever, when Tom Tar got home, The children, at their play, Were glad to have the Sailor come, And greet them by the way.

Then, oft, some curious stone, or sh.e.l.l, The laughing girls and boys Would find, upon their ap.r.o.ns fell, To put among their toys.

"These pearly sh.e.l.ls," said he, "I found Where gloomy waters roar: These polished stones, so smooth and round, Rough surges washed ash.o.r.e.

"Though small to us a pebble seems, 'Tis made and marked by One, Who gave the warmth, and lit the beams Of yon great shining sun.

"And when these pretty sh.e.l.ls I find, Along the ocean strand, Their beauteous finish brings to mind Their Maker's perfect hand.

"When on the wildest sh.o.r.e I'm thrown And far from human eye, I think of him who made the stone, And sh.e.l.l, and sea, and sky.

"For he's my Friend and I am his!

Though strong and cold the blast, My safest guide I know he is Where'er my lot is cast."

When Tom pa.s.sed on, the children said, "These treasures from afar He brought us! Blessings on his head!

For he's a good Tom Tar!"

=The Envious Lobster=

A FABLE

A Lobster from the water came, And saw another, just the same In form and size; but gayly clad In scarlet clothing; while she had No other clothing on her back Than her old suit of greenish black.

"So ho!" she cried, "'tis very fine!

Your dress was yesterday like mine; And in the mud below the sea, You lived, a crawling thing like me.

But now, because you've come ash.o.r.e, You've grown so proud, that what you wore-- Your strong old suit of bottle-green, You think improper to be seen.

"To tell the truth, I don't see why You should be better dressed than I.

And I should like a suit of red As bright as yours, from feet to head.

I think I'm quite as good as you, And might be clothed in scarlet too."

"Will you be _boiled_" her owner said, "To be arrayed in glowing red?

Come here, my discontented miss, And hear the scalding kettle hiss!

Will you go in, and there be boiled, To have your dress, so old and soiled, Exchanged for one of scarlet hue?"

"Yes," cried the Lobster, "that I'll do, And twice as much, if needs must be, To be as gayly clad as she."

Then, in she made a fatal dive, And never more was seen alive!

Now, if you ever chance to know, Of one as fond of dress and show As that vain Lobster, and withal As envious you'll perhaps recall To mind her folly, and the plight In which she reappeared to sight.

She had obtained a bright array, But for it, thrown her life away!

Her life and death were best untold, But for the moral they unfold!

=The Crocus' Soliloquy=

Down in my solitude, under the snow, Where nothing cheering can reach me-- Here, without light to see how I should grow, I trust to nature to teach me.

I'll not despair, nor be idle, nor frown; Though locked in so gloomy a dwelling!

My leaves shall shoot up, while my root's running down, And the bud in my bosom is swelling.

Soon as the frost will get off from my bed, From this cold dungeon to free me, I will peer up, with my bright little head; All will be joyful to see me!