"I know I'm now among the things Uncomely to your sight; But by and by on splendid wings You'll see me high and light!

"And then, perhaps, you may be glad To watch me on the flower; And that you spared the worm you had To-day within your power!"

Then Caterpillar went and hid In some secreted place, Where none could look on what he did To change his form and face.

And by and by, when Charles had quite Forgotten what I've told, A b.u.t.terfly appeared in sight, Most beauteous to behold.

His shining wings were trimmed with gold, And many a brilliant dye Was laid upon their velvet fold, To charm the gazing eye!

Then, near as prudence would allow, To Charles's ear he drew And said, "You may not know me, now My form and name are new!

"But I'm the worm that once you raised Your ready foot to kill!

For sparing me, I long have praised, And love and praise you still.

"The lowest reptile at your feet, When power is not abused, May prove the fruit of mercy sweet, By being kindly used!"

=The Mocking Bird=

A Mocking Bird was he, In a bushy, blooming tree, Imbosomed by the foliage and flower.

And there he sat and sang, Till all around him rang, With sounds, from out the merry mimic's bower.

The little satirist Piped, chattered, shrieked, and hissed; He then would moan, and whistle, quack, and caw; Then, carol, drawl, and croak, As if he'd pa.s.s a joke On every other winged one he saw.

Together he would catch A gay and plaintive s.n.a.t.c.h, And mingle notes of half the feathered throng.

For well the mocker knew, Of every thing that flew, To imitate the manner and the song.

The other birds drew near, And paused awhile to hear How well he gave their voices and their airs.

And some became amused; While some, disturbed, refused To own the sounds that others said were theirs.

The sensitive were shocked, To find their honors mocked By one so pert and voluble as he; They knew not if 't was done In earnest or in fun; And fluttered off in silence from the tree.

The silliest grew vain, To think a song or strain Of theirs, however weak, or loud, or hoa.r.s.e, Was worthy to be heard Repeated by the bird; For of his wit they could not feel the force.

The charitable said, "Poor fellow! if his head Is turned, or cracked, or has no talent left; But feels the want of powers, And plumes itself from ours, Why, we shall not be losers by the theft."

The haughty said, "He thus.

It seems, would mimic us, And steal our songs, to pa.s.s them for his own!

But if he only quotes In honor of our notes, We then were quite as honored, let alone."

The wisest said, "If foe Or friend, we still may know By him, wherein our greatest failing lies.

So, let us not be moved, Since first to be improved By every thing, becomes the truly wise."

=The Silk-Worm's Will=

On a plain rush-hurdle a silk-worm lay, When a proud young princess came that way.

The haughty child of a human king Threw a sidelong glance at the humble thing, That received with a silent grat.i.tude From the mulberry-leaf her simple food; And shrunk, half scorn, and half disgust, Away from her sister child of the dust; Declaring she never yet could see Why a reptile form like this should be;-- And that she was not made with nerves so firm, As calmly to stand by a _crawling worm_!

With mute forbearance the silk-worm took The taunting words and the spurning look.

Alike a stranger to self and pride, She'd no disquiet from aught beside; And lived of a meekness and peace possest Which these debar from the human breast.

She only wished, for the harsh abuse, To find some way to become of use To the haughty daughter of lordly man; And thus did she lay her n.o.ble plan To teach her wisdom, and make it plain That the humble worm was not made in vain;-- A plan so generous, deep and high, That to carry it out, she must even die!

"No more," said she, "will I drink or eat!

I'll spin and weave me a winding-sheet, To wrap me up from the sun's clear light, And hide my form from her wounded sight.

In secret then, till my end draws nigh, I will toil for her; and when I die, I'll leave behind, as a farewell boon To the proud young princess, my whole coc.o.o.n, To be reeled, and wove to a shining lace, And hung in a veil o'er her scornful face!

And when she can calmly draw her breath Through the very threads that have caused my death; When she finds at length, she has nerves so firm, As to wear the shroud of a _crawling worm_, May she bear in mind that she walks with pride In the winding-sheet where the silk-worm died!"

=Dame Biddy=

Dame Biddy abode in a coop, Because it so chanced that dame Biddy Had round her a family group Of chicks, young, and helpless, and giddy.

And when she had freedom to roam, She fancied the life of a ranger; And led off her brood, far from home, To fall into mischief or danger.

She'd trail through the gra.s.s to be mown, And call all her children to follow; And scratch up the seeds that were sown, Then, lie in their places and wallow.

She'd go where the corn in the hill, Its first little blade had been shooting, And try, by the strength of her bill, To learn if the kernel was rooting.

And when she went out on a walk Of pleasure, through thicket and brambles, The covetous eye of a Hawk Delighted in marking her rambles.

"I spy," to himself he would say, "A prize of which I'll be the winner!"

So down would he pounce on his prey, And bear off a chicken for dinner.

The poor frighted matron, that heard The cry of her youngling in dying, Would scream at the merciless bird, That high with his booty was flying.

But shrieks could not ease her distress, Nor grief her lost darling recover.

She now had a chicken the less, For acting the part of a rover.

And there lay the feathers, all torn.

And flying one way and another, That still her dear child might have worn, Had she been more wise as a mother.

Her owner then thought he must teach Dame Biddy a little subjection; And cooped her up, out of the reach Of hawking, with time for reflection.

And, throwing a net o'er a pile Of brush-wood that near her was lying, He hoped to its meshes to wile The fowler, that o'er her was flying.

For Hawk, not forgetting his fare, And having a taste to renew it, Sailed round near the coop, high in air, With cruel intention, to view it.

The owner then said, "Master Hawk, If you love my chickens so dearly, Come down to my yard for a walk, That you may address them more nearly."

But, "No," thought the sharp-taloned foe Of Biddy, "my circuit is higher!

If I to his premises go.