"No Children Run to Lisp their Sire's Return". 54 "As a Reed with the Reeds of the River" -132 Bingen on the Rhine 148 Musical Cherub Soar Singing Away....... 164 Minnehaha Falls. "And the Cataract Leaps in Glory" 176 GEMS OF POETRY. THE POET'S SONG. A. TENNYSON. HE rain had fallen, the Poet arose, He passed by the town and out of the street, And chanted a melody low and sweet, The swallow stopt as he hunted the bee, The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak, And stared with his foot on the prey, And the nightingale thought, "I have sung many songs, But never a one so gay, For he sings of what the world will be When the years have died away." THE WHISTLER. "You have heard," said a youth to his sweetheart who stood, While he sat on a corn-sheaf at daylight's decline— "You have heard of the Danish boy's whistle of wood; I wish that Danish boy's whistle was mine." "And what would you do with it? Tell me," she said, While an arch smile played over her beautiful face, "I would blow it," he answered, "and then my fair maid Would fly to my side and there take her place." "Is that all you wish for? That may be yours Without any magic," the fair maiden cried; "A favor so light, one's good nature secures," And she playfully seated herself by his side. "I would blow it again," said the youth, "and a charm Would work so that not even modesty's check Would be able to keep from my neck your fine arm !” "Yet once more would I blow, and the magic divine The maiden laughed out in her innocent glee— "What a fool of yourself with a whistle you'd make; For only consider how silly 'twould be To sit there and whistle for--what you might take.” -Northwestern Agriculturist. |