O Moon, why dost thou wander,
So brightly forth at night;
When the stars are beaming round thee,
Oh! 'tis a lovely sight.
I always think of glory,
When I sit and look at thee;
You raise my thoughts to Him above,
Who watchest all aud me.
Yet but for him who reigns above,
Thou couldst not shine at all;
The stars like thee would fade
And have no power at all.
Then shine and bless the name of Him,
Who makest thee so bright;
'Tis well that everything should bow,
To his all-powerful might.
Adieu! sweet moon! adieu !
Keep sweetly shining on;
The stars are in thy company,
And I am left alone.
Alone! Oh, no! I'm not alone;
My God is with me still,-
And always will be, while I do
The works which meet his will.
THE NINE PARTS OF SPEECH.
Three little words we often see,-
An ARTICLE, a, an, and the.
A NOUN's the name of any thing,
As school or garden, hoop or swing.
ADJECTIVES tell the kind of noun,
As great, small, pretty, white or brown.
Instead of nouns the PRONOUNS stand,
John's head, his face, my arm, your hand.
VERBS tell of something being done,
To read, write, count, sing, jump, or run.
How things are done the ADVERBS tell,
As slowly, quickly, ill or well.
A PREPOSITION stands before
A noun, as in or through the door.
CONJUNCTIONS join nouns together,
As men and children, wind and weather.
The INTERJECTION shows surprise,
As-Oh, how pretty! Ah, how wise!
Life is like a fleeting dream
Like the rapid summer stream-
Like the flashing meteors' ray-
Like the shortest winters' day-
Like the fitful breeze that sighs-
Like the wavering flame that dies-
Darting, dazzling on the eye-
Fading in eternity.
Come, come, Mr. Peacock, you must not be proud,
Although you can boast such a train;
For many a bird is more highly endow'd,
And not half so conceited and vain.
Let me tell you, gay bird, that a suit of fine clothes
Is a sorry distinction, at most:
And seldom much valued, excepting by those
Who only such graces can boast.
The Nightingale certainly wears a plain coat,
But she cheers and delights with her song;
While you, though so vain, cannot utter a note
To please by the use of your tongue.
The Hawk cannot boast of a plumage so gay,
But more piercing and clear is her eye;
And while you are strutting about all the day,
She gallantly soars in the sky.
The Dove may be clad in a plainer attire,
But she is not so selfish and cold;
And her love and affection more pleasure inspire
Than all your fine purple and gold.
So you see, Mr. Peacock, you must not be proud,
Although you can boast such a train ;
For many a bird is more highly endowed,
And not half so conceited and vain.
"Will you walk into my parlour ?"
Said a spider to a fly;
،، Tis the prettiest little parlour,
That ever you did spy.
into my parlour
Is up a winding stair;
And I've many a curious thing
To show you when you're there."
Oh, no, no!" said the little fly,
،، To ask me is in vain ;
For who goes up your winding stair,
Can ne'er come down again!"
"I'm sure you must be weary, dear,
With soaring up so high;
you rest upon my little bed ?”
Said the spider to the fly.
"And if you like to rest awhile,
I'll snugly tuck you in."
Oh, no, no!" said the little fly;
،، For I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again,
Who sleep upon your bed." Said the cunning spider to the fly, ،، Dear friend, what can I do,
To show the warm affection
I've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry
Good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome,
Will you please to take a slice!"
"Oh, no, no!" said the little fly,
"Kind sir, that cannot be;
I've heard what's in your pantry,
And I do not wish to see.'
"Sweet creature !" said the spider,
"You're witty and you're wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings!
How brilliant are your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass,
Upon my parlour shelf;
If you'll step in one moment, dear,
You shall behold yourself!"
"I thank you, gentle sir," said she,
"For what you're pleas'd to say;
And, bidding you, Good morning now,
I'll call another day."
The spider then turn'd round about,
And went into his den;
For well he knew the silly fly
Would soon come back again.
So he wove a subtle web,
In a little corner sly;
And set his table ready,
To dine upon the fly.
He then came to his door again,
And merrily did sing-
"Come hither, hither, pretty fly,
With the pearl and silver wing;
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