A RAM REFLECTED IN THE WATER.

The hasty rivulet, where it lay becalm'd
In a deep pool, by happy chance we saw
A two-fold image on a grassy bank
A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood
Another and the same! Most beautiful,
On the green turf, with his imperial front
Shaggy and bold, and wreathed horns superb,
The breathing creature stood; as beautiful,
Beneath him, show'd his shadowy counterpart.
Each had his glowing mountains, each his sky,
And each seem'd centre of his own fair world:
Antipodes unconscious of each other,
Yet, in partition, with their several spheres,
Blended in perfect stillness, to our sight!

WORDSWORTH.

THE REDBREAST.

WEET social bird, with breast of red,

How prone 's my heart to favour thee!

Thy look oblique, thy prying head,

Thy gentle affability;

Thy cheerful song in Winter's cold,
And, when no other lay is heard,
Thy visits paid to young and old,
Where fear appals each other bird.

Thy friendly heart, thy nature mild,
Thy meekness and docility,
Creep to the love of man and child,
And win thine own felicity.

The gleanings of the sumptuous board,
Convey'd by some indulgent fair,

Are in a nook of safety stored,

And not dispensed till thou art there.

In stately hall and rustic dome,

The gaily robed and homely poor
Will watch the hour when thou shalt come,
And bid thee welcome to the door

The herdsman on the upland hill,

The ploughman in the hamlet near,

Are prone thy little paunch to fill,

And pleased thy little psalm to hear.

THE REDBREAST.

The woodman, seated on a log,

His meal divides atween the three, And now himself, and now his dog, And now he casts a crumb to thee.

For thee a feast the schoolboy strews
At noontide, when the form's forsook;

A worm to thee the delver throws,

And angler when he baits the hook.

At tents where tawny gipsies dwell,

In woods where hunters chase the hind,

And at the hermit's lonely cell,

Dost thou some crumbs of comfort find.

Nor are thy little wants forgot

In beggar's hut or Crispin's stall;

The miser only feeds thee not,

Who suffers ne'er a crumb to fall.

The youth who strays, with dark design, To make each well-stored nest a prey,

If dusky hues denote them thine,

Will draw his pilfering hand away.

The finch a spangled robe may wear,
The nightingale delightful sing,

The lark ascend most high in air,

The swallow fly most swift on wing;

CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS.

The peacock's plumes in pride may swell,

The parrot prate eternally;

But yet no bird man loves so well

As thee with thy simplicity.

JOHN JONES.

CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS.

ROM under the boughs in the snow-clad wood
The merle and the mavis are peeping,
Alike secure from the wind and the flood,
Yet a silent Christmas keeping.

Still happy are they,

And their looks are gay,

And they frisk it from bough to bough;

Since berries bright red

Hang over their head,

A right goodly feast, I trow.

There, under the boughs, in their wintry

dress,

Haps many a tender greeting,

Blithe hearts have met, and the soft caress
Hath told the delight of meeting.