JACK FROST.

THE Frost looked forth on a still, clear night,
And whispered, "Now, I shall be out of sight;
So, through the valley, and over the height,

In silence I'll take my way.

I will not go on like that blustering train,
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
That make such a bustle and noise in vain ;
But I'll be as busy as they!"

So he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest.
He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed
With diamonds and pearls; and over the breast
Of the quivering lake, he spread

A coat of mail, that it need not fear
The glittering point of many a spear

Which he hung on its margin, far and near,
Where a rock could rear its head.

He went to the window of those who slept,
And over each pane like a fairy crept:
Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped,

By the morning light were seen

Most beautiful things! there were flowers and trees,
There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees;
There were cities and temples, and towers; and these
All pictured in silvery sheen!

But he did one thing that was hardly fair

He peeped in the cupboard and finding there

:

I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he,
"This costly pitcher I'll burst in three !
And the glass of water they've left for me,
Shall 'tchick' to tell them I'm drinking."

KITTY.

Hannah F. Gould.

ALAS! little Kitty

do give her your pity!

Had lived seven years, and was never called pretty!
Her hair was bright red and her eyes were dull blue,
And her cheeks were so freckled,

They looked like the speckled

Wild-lilies, which down in the meadow-lands grew
If her eyes had been black, if she'd only had curls
She had been, so she thought, the most happy of girls.

Her cousins around her, they pouted and fretted,
But they were all pretty and they were all petted;
While poor little Kitty, though striving her best
To do her child's duty,

Not sharing their beauty,

Was always neglected and never caressed.

All in vain, so she thought, was she loving and true,
While her hair was bright red, and her eyes were dull blue.

But one day, alone 'mid the clover-blooms sitting,

She heard a strange sound, as of wings round her flitting; A light not of sunbeams, a fragrance more sweet

Than the wind's, blowing over

The red-blossomed clover,

Made her thrill with delight from her head to her feet; And a voice, sweet and rare, whispered low in the air, "See that beautiful, beautiful child sitting there!”

Thrice blessed little Kitty! She almost looked pretty!
Beloved by the angels, she needed no pity!

O juvenile charmers! with shoulders of snow,
Ruby lips, sunny tresses,

Forms made for caresses,

There's one thing, my beauties! 'tis well you should know : Though the world is in love with bright eyes and soft hair, It is only good children the angels call fair.- Marian Douglas.

WHAT?

WHAT was it that Charlie saw, to-day,
Down in the pool where the cattle lie?
A shoal of the spotted trout at play?
Or a sheeny dragon-fly?

The fly and the fish were there, indeed

;

But as for the puzzle,
-guess again!
It was neither a shell, nor flower, nor reed,
Nor the nest of a last year's wren.

Who knows but a bee had fallen down?
Or a spider, swung from his broken thread,
Was learning the way to drown?

You have not read me the riddle yet.
Not even the wing of a wounded bee,
Nor the web of a spider, torn and wet,
Did Charlie this morning see.

Now answer, you who have grown so wise,
What could the wonderful sight have been,
But the dimpled face and great blue eyes
Of the rogue who was looking in?

- Kate Putnam Osgood.

ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST.

LITTLE Ellie sits alone

Mid the beeches of the meadow,
By a stream-side on the grass:
And the trees are showering down
Doubles of their leaves in shadow,
On her shining hair and face.

She has thrown her bonnet by
And her feet she has been dipping
In the shallow water's flow.
Now she holds them nakedly
In her hands, all sleek and dripping
While she rocketh to and fro.

Little Ellie sits alone,

And the smile she softly uses,

Fills the silence like a speech;

While she thinks what shall be done, And the sweetest pleasure chooses,

For her future within reach.

Little Ellie in her smile

Chooseth . . . . . “I will have a lover,
Riding on a steed of steeds!

He shall love me without guile :
And to him I will discover

That swan's nest among the reeds.

"And the steed it shall be red-roan, And the lover shall be noble,

With an eye that takes the breath;
And the lute he plays upon,
Shall strike ladies into trouble,

As his sword strikes men to death!

"And the steed it shall be shod

All in silver, housed in azure,

And the mane shall swim the wind: And the hoofs, along the sod, Shall flash onward and keep measure, Till the shepherds look behind.

66 But my lover will not prize
All the glory that he rides in,
When he gazes in my face:
He will say, 'O Love, thine eyes
Build the shrine my soul abides in;
And I kneel here for thy grace.'

66 Then, ay, then - he shall kneel low, With the red-roan steed anear him,

Which shall seem to understand -
Till I answer, Rise, and go !'
For the world must love and fear him
Whom I gift with heart and hand.

"Then he will arise so pale,
I shall feel my own lips tremble
With a yes I must not say -
Nathless maiden-brave, Farewell,'

I will utter and dissemble

"Then he'll ride among the hills
To the wide world past the river,
There to put away all wrong:
To make straight distorted wills,
And to empty the broad quiver

Which the wicked bear along.