XX.

BAD I CAN'T.

AUTHOR NOT KNOWN.

LEAVE our school-room,

Bad I Can't;

Leave it now forever!

We will try, and try again,
And listen to you NEVER.

Leave us, leave us,

Bad I Can't;

You have naughty brothers -

Will, and Shall, and Won't, and Sha'n't,
And too many others.

Good-by, good-by,

Bad I Can't;

Shut the door behind you.

In this school-room never more
Shall our teacher find you.

XXI.

MARJORIE'S ALMANAC.

T. B. ALDRICH.

[Copyright by J. B. Lippincott Company.]

ROBINS in the tree-top, blossoms in the grass : Green things a-growing everywhere you pass;

MARJORIE'S ALMANAC.

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Sudden little breezes; showers of silver dew;
Black bough and bent twig budding out anew!
Pine tree and willow tree, fringed elm and larch,
Don't you think that May-time's pleasanter than
March?

Apples in the orchard, mellowing one by one;
Strawberries upturning soft cheeks to the sun;
Roses faint with sweetness; lilies fair of face;
Drowsy scents and murmurs haunting every place;
Lengths of golden sunshine; moonlight bright as
day,

Don't you think that Summer's pleasanter than
May?

Roger in the corn-patch, whistling negro songs;
Pussy by the hearth-side, romping with the tongs;
Chestnuts in the ashes, bursting through the rind;
Red leaf and gold leaf, rustling down the wind;
Mother "doin' peaches" all the afternoon, —
Don't you think that Autumn's pleasanter than
June?

Little fairy snow-flakes dancing in the flue;
Old Mr. Santa Claus, what is keeping you?

Twilight and firelight; shadows come and go;
Merry chime of sleigh-bells, tinkling through the

snow;

Mother knitting stockings, pussy has the ball!

Don't you think that Winter's pleasanter than all?

XXII.

LITTLE BY LITTLE THE TIME GOES BY.

AUTHOR NOT KNOWN.

LITTLE by little the time goes by,

Short if you sing it, long if you sigh;

Little by little an hour, a day,

Gone with the years that have vanished away;

Little by little the race is run,

Trouble and waiting and toil are done.

Little by little the skies grow clear;

Little by little the sun comes near;
Little by little the days smile out,
Gladder and lighter on pain and doubt.
Little by little the seed we sow
Into a beautiful yield will grow.

Little by little the world grows strong,
Fighting the battles of right and wrong;
Little by little the wrong gives way;
Little by little the right has sway;
Little by little all longing souls
Struggle up near the shining goals.

Little by little the good in men
Blossoms to beauty for human ken;
Little by little the angels see
Prophecies better of good to be;
Little by little the God of all

Lifts the world nearer the pleading call.

SEVEN TIMES ONE.

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XXIII.

SEVEN TIMES ONE.

JEAN INGELOW.

THERE'S no dew left on the daisies and clover,
There's no rain left in heaven;
I've said my "seven times" over and over,
Seven times one are seven.

I am old, so old I can write a letter;
My birthday lessons are done;

The lambs play always, they know no better —
They are only one times one.

O Moon! in the night I have seen you sailing
And shining so round and low;

You were bright! ah, bright! but your light is fail

You are nothing now but a bow.

You, Moon, have you done something wrong in heaven,

That God has hidden your face?

I hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven,
And shine again in your place.

O velvet bee! you're a dusty fellow,
You've powdered your legs with gold!
O brave marshmary-buds! rich and yellow,
Give me your money to hold!

O columbine! open your folded wrapper,
Where two twin turtle doves dwell!
O cuckoo-pint! toll me the purple clapper
That hangs in your clear green bell!

And show me your nest with young ones in it, -
I will not steal them away;

I am old! You may trust me, linnet, linnet,
I am seven times one to-day.

I'm sorry it is true

Who doesn't mind when spoken to;

Is it? It isn't you!

Oh, no, it can't be you!

I know a child—a boy or girl —

I'm loath to say I do

Who struck a little playmate once;
Was it? It wasn't you!

I hope it wasn't you!

I know a child-a boy or girl-
I hope that such are few-
Who told a lie; yes, told a lie!