s around."
On leaves they hang their diamonds,
Their pearls in every flower;
Their gauzy veils upon the grass,
They spread for fairy bower.
Their slender wings are hanging
On every shrub, across;
Their seats are dainty cushion-beds
Of green and springy moss.
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Their shrubbery of coral
Is gray and scarlet-tipped;
Their hair upon the maize is hung
Each Summer, when 'tis clipped.
The mushroom forms their table,
Their dishes, acorn cups;
The ant-hills are their barracks high;
Their cannon, "hemlock pops."
Their scarfs of plush are lying
On ripening grape and peach;
Their sea-shells 'neath the apple trees,
Each Spring bestrew their beach.
They paint the leaves in Autumn;
They make a tiny rink
Of every puddle, fen, and dike,
And skate from nave to brink.
They brown the nuts in forests,
The burrs they open wide;
They lure the feathers from the clouds.
And pile them up, to slide.
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They build along the way-side
Their fairy palisades,--
The "hoar-frost" some have christened it,--
And hold West Point parades.
They sketch upon the windows
Such pictures as no power
Of man can ever execute,
And on them pearl-dust shower.
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All these and myriad fancies
That never can be told,
My childhood days so new and sweet,
In memory infold.
But mother softly whispers,
"Tis not the Fays, my dears,
Tis old Dame Nature's song of songs,
The 'Music of the Spheres.'
"List ever for it, children,
Twill bring you close to God;
Each sound but echoes Him who made,
Each motion is His nod."
* * * * *
"Waste not, want not," be your motto,--
Little things bring weal or woe;
Save the odds and ends, my children,
Some one wants them, if not you.
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_LIZZIE AND THE ANGELS._
Little Lizzie, thoughtful, earnest,
Springing up at break of day,
Thinks she heard the angels whisper
Softly, as she knelt to pray.
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"Yes, they whispered to me, mamma,
And they told me lots of things,--
And they said, 'O Lizzie, Lizzie,
'Tis your temper trouble brings!'
"Then they said: You, child, can never
Be a woman good and true,
If you let your fiery temper
And your own will govern you;
And they told me 'even Jesus
Said, 'Thy will, not mine, be done,'
And that if I grew up wilful,
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