“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.