class="c10">To delight them.

'Tis the very crowning art
Of a happy, grateful heart
To others to impart
Of its pleasure.
Thus its joys can never cease,
For it brings an inward peace,
Like an every day increase
Of a treasure.

The Shoemaker

"Honor and shame from no condition rise.
Act well your part:—there all the honor lies."
The shoemaker sat amid wax and leather,
With lapstone over his knee;
Where, snug in his shop, he defied all weather,
A-drawing his quarters and sole together:
A happy old man was he!

This happy old man was so wise and knowing,
The worth of his time he knew.
He bristled his ends, and he kept them going;
And felt to each moment a stitch was owing,
Until he got round the shoe.

Of every deed that his wax was sealing,
The closing was firm and fast.
The prick of his steel never caused a feeling
Of pain to the toe, and his skill in heeling
Was perfect, and true to the last!

Whenever you gave him a foot to measure.
With gentle and skilful hand,
He took its proportions, with looks of pleasure,
As if you were giving the costliest treasure,
Or dubbing him lord of the land.

And many a one did he save from getting
A fever, or cold or cough:
For many a sole did he save from wetting,
When, whether in water or snow 'twas setting,
His shoeing would keep them off

And when he had done with his making and mending,
With hope and a peaceful breast,
Resigning his awl, as his thread was ending,
He slid from his bench, to the grave descending,
As high as a king to rest!

The Snow-Storm

It snows! it snows! from out the sky
The feathered flakes, how fast they fly,
Like little birds, that don't know why
They're on the chase, from place to place,
While neither can the other trace!
It snows, it snows! a merry play
Is o'er us, on this sombre day.

As dancers in time's airy hall,
That not a moment holds them all,
While some keep up, and others fall,
The atoms shift; then, thick and swift,
They drive along to form the drift,
That weaving up, so dazzling white,
Is rising like a wall of light.

But now the wind comes, whistling loud,
To snatch and waft it, as a cloud,
Or giant phantom in a shroud.
It spreads,—it curls,—it mounts and whirls;
At length a mighty wing unfurls;
And then, away!--but where, none knows,
Or ever will.—It snows! it snows!

To-morrow will the storm be done;
Then out will come the golden sun!
And we shall, we shall see, upon the run
Before his beams, in sparkling streams,
What now a curtain o'er him seems.
And thus, with life it ever goes;—
'Tis shade and shine! It snows, it snows!

The Whirlwind

Whirlwind, Whirlwind, whither art thou hieing,
Snapping off the flowers young and fair;—
Setting all the chaff and the withered leaves a-flying,—
Tossing up the dust in the air?

"I," said the Whirlwind, "cannot stop for talking!
Give me up your cap, my little man;
And the polished stick, that you will not need for walking.
While you run to catch them, if you can!

"You, pretty maiden—none has time to tell her
I am coming, ere I shall be there.
I will twirl her zephyr—snatch her light umbrella,
Seize her hat, and snarl her glossy hair!"

On went the Whirlwind, showing many capers
One would hardly deem it meet to tell;—
Dusting Judge and Parson—flirting gown and papers,—
Discomposing matron, beau and belle.

"Whisk!" from behind came the long and sweeping feather,
Round the head of old Chanticleer:—
Plumed and plumeless biped felt gust together,
In a way they wouldn't like to hear.

Snug in his arbor sat a scholar, musing
Calmly o'er the philosophic page:
"Flap!" went the leaves of the volume he was using,
Cutting short the lecture of the sage.

"Hey!" said the bookworm, "this I think is taking
Rather too much liberty with me!
Yet I'll not resent it; being bent on making
Use of every thing I hear and see.

"Many, I know, will not their anger stifle,
When as little cause as this, they find
To let it kindle up; but minding every trifle
Is profitless as quarrels with the wind.

"Forth to his business when the Whirlwind sallies,
He is all alive to get it done;—
He on his pathway never lags nor dallies;
But is ever up, and on the run.

"Though ever whirling, never growing dizzy;
Motion gives him buoyancy and power.
All who have known him own that he is busy,
Doing much in half a fleeting hour.

"Oh! there is nothing—when our work's before us,—
Like despatch; for, while our time is brief,
Some sweeping blast may suddenly come o'er us,
Lose our place, and turn another leaf!

"Whirlwind, Whirlwind, though you're but a flurry,
And so odd the business you pursue;—
Though you come on, and are off, in such a hurry,
I have caught a hint; and now adieu!"

The Disobedient Skater Boys

Said William to George, "It is New-Year's day!
And now for the pond and the merriest play!
So, on with your cap; and away, away,
We'll off for a frolic and slide,
Be quick—be quick, if you would not be chid
For doing what father and mother forbid;
And under your coat let the skates be hid;
Then over the ice we'll glide."

They're up, and they're off; on their run-away feet
They fasten the skates, when, away they fleet,
Far over the pond, and beyond retreat,
Unconscious of danger near.
But lo! the ice is beginning to bend—
It cracks—it cracks—and their feet descend!
To whom can they look as a helper—a friend?
Their faces are pale with fear.

In their flight to the pond, they had caught the eye
Of a neighboring peasant, who, lingering nigh,
Aware of their danger, and hearing their cry,
Now hastens to give them aid.
As home they are brought, all dripping and cold,
To all who their piteous plight behold,
The worst of the story is plainly told—
Their parents were disobeyed!

Winter and Spring

"Adieu!" Father Winter sadly said
To the world, when about