"And I see," said Brownie Snow-bird, 66 With clustering curls, And eyes as bright as a star." And I," said his brother Bright-Eyes, "See a man of ice and snow; He wears a queer hat, His large nose is flat The little boys made him, I know." "I see some sleds," said Mother Brown, They laugh and sing, And I like the cheerful noise.” Then the snow-birds all said, "Cheep and chee, For the girls and boys, Who drop us crumbs, As away to their sport they go ! "Hurrah for the winter, clear and cold, When the dainty snowflakes fall! We will sit and sing, On our oaken swing, For God takes care of us all!" -Selected. OUR SIR ROBIN. HEN icicles shine so bright, WH Telling of cold weather, Rich in scarlet feather. Sharp brown eyes, and sober suit, Pretty winter Robin! When the rosebuds are in bloom, Then we hear the voice of Robin Of all wildwood birds, the best, Selected. THE CHRISTMAS SILENCE. [USHED are the pigeons cooing low, HUS On dusty rafters of the loft; And mild-eyed oxen, breathing soft, Sleep on the fragrant hay below. Dim shadows in the corner hide; The glimmering lantern's rays are shed Where one young lamb just lifts his head, Then huddles against his mother's side. Strange silence tingles in the air; No sound the mother, kneeling, lays Her cheek against the little face. Oh, human love! Oh, heavenly grace! 'Tis yet in silence that she prays! Ages of silence end to-night; Then to the long-expectant earth Glad angels come to greet His birth In burst of music, love, and light! - Margaret Deland. MERRY CHRISTMAS. N the hush of early morning, IN When the red burns through the gray, And the wintry world lies waiting For the glory of the day, Are they Christmas fairies stealing Are they angels floating hither With their message of good-will? What sweet spells are these elves weaving, Rosy feet upon the threshold, Well we know them, never weary -Selected. HOLLY. OT one pretty flower would stay, NOT When old Autumn nipped the grass; For she had a cruel way, Though as red-cheeked as a lass. Winter had our Northland taken, Her white flags by wind outshaken. What then was there bright enough "What are posies in the gleam Of my beautiful white frost?" How their scarlet brightness shone She knows what a picture lacks. Christmas laughed to see the holly. Since that hour, now far away, Gleams the blush of Christmas holly. Susan Hartley. |