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1802.

V.

God has given a kindlier power

But how he will come, and whither he goes,
To the favoured strawberry-flower.

There's never a scholar in England knows.
Hither soon as spring is fled
You and Charles and I will walk ;

He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook,
Lurking berries, ripe and red,

And ring a sharp 'larum ;-but, if you should look,
Then will hang on every stalk,

There is nothing to see but a cushion of snow
Each within its leafy bower ;

Round as a pillow, and whiter than milk,
And for that promise spare the flower ! And softer than if it were covered with silk.

Sometimes he 'll hide in the cave of a rock,
Then whistle as shrill as the buzzard cock ;
- Yet seek him,--and what shall you find in the

place!

Nothing but silence and empty space ;
CHARACTERISTICS OF A CHILD THREE

Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves,
YEARS OLD.

That he's left, for a bed, to beggars or thieves !
Loving she is, and tractable, though wild ;
And Innocence hath privilege in her

As soon as 'tis daylight tomorrow, with me To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes ;

You shall go to the orchard, and then you will see And feats of cunning ; and the pretty round That he has been there, and made a great rout, Of trespasses, affected to provoke

And cracked the branches, and strewn them about ; Mock-chastisement and partnership in play. Heaven grant that he spare but that one upright And, as a faggot sparkles on the hearth,

twig Not less if unattended and alone

That looked up at the sky so proud and big Than when both young and old sit gathered round

All last summer, as well you know,
And take delight in its activity ;

Studded with apples, a beautiful show!
Even so this happy Creature of herself
Is all-sufficient ; solitude to her

Hark! over the roof he makes a pause,
Is blithe society, who fills the air

And growls as if he would fix his claws With gladness and involuntary songs.

Right in the slates, and with a huge rattle Light are her sallies as the tripping fawn's Drive them down, like men in a battle : Forth-startled from the fern where she lay couched; -But let him range round; he does us no harm, Unthought-of, unexpected, as the stir

We build up the fire, we ’re snug and warm ; Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadow-flowers, Untouched by his breath see the candle shines bright, Or from before it chasing wantonly

And burns with a clear and steady light; The many-coloured images imprest

Books have we to read, - but that half-stifled knell, Upon the bosom of a placid lake.

Alas ! 'tis the sound of the eight o'clock bell.
-Come now we 'll to bed ! and when we are there
He may work his own will, and what shall we care ?
He may knock at the door,-we'll not let him in ;
May drive at the windows, we'll laugh at his din ;

Let him seek his own home wherever it be ;
ADDRESS TO A CHILD,

Here's a cozie warm house for Edward and me.
DE RING A BOISTEROUS WINTER EVENING.

1811.

VI.

1806.

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