A little spring had lost its way
      Amid the grass and fern;
    A passing stranger scooped a well
      Where weary men might turn. 
    He walled it in, and hung with care
      A ladle on the brink;
    He thought not of the deed he did,
      But judged that Toil might drink. 
    He passed again; and lo! the well,
      By summer never dried,
    Had cooled ten thousand parched tongues,
      And saved a life beside.

    A nameless man, amid the crowd
      That thronged the daily mart,
    Let fall a word of hope and love,
      Unstudied from the heart,
    A whisper on the tumult thrown,
      A transitory breath,
    It raised a brother from the dust,
      It saved a soul from death. 
    O germ!  O fount!  O word of love! 
      O thought at random cast! 
    Ye were but little at the first,
      But mighty at the last.

CHARLES MACKAY.

FAIRY SONG.

Shed no tear!  O shed no tear! 
The flower will bloom another year. 
Weep no more!  O, weep no more! 
Young buds sleep in the root’s white core. 
Dry your eyes!  Oh! dry your eyes! 
For I was taught in Paradise
To ease my breast of melodies—­

                Shed no tear.

Overhead! look overhead! 
’Mong the blossoms white and red—­
Look up, look up.  I flutter now
On this flush pomegranate bough. 
See me! ’tis this silvery bell
Ever cures the good man’s ill. 
Shed no tear!  O, shed no tear! 
The flowers will bloom another year. 
Adieu, adieu—­I fly, adieu,
I vanish in the heaven’s blue—­

                Adieu, adieu!

JOHN KEATS.

A BOY’S SONG

“A Boy’s Song,” by James Hogg (1770-1835), is a sparkling poem, very attractive to children.

Where the pools are bright and deep,
Where the gray trout lies asleep,
Up the river and o’er the lea,
That’s the way for Billy and me.

    Where the blackbird sings the latest,
    Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,
    Where the nestlings chirp and flee,
    That’s the way for Billy and me.

    Where the mowers mow the cleanest,
    Where the hay lies thick and greenest,
    There to trace the homeward bee,
    That’s the way for Billy and me.

    Where the hazel bank is steepest,
    Where the shadow falls the deepest,
    Where the clustering nuts fall free. 
    That’s the way for Billy and me.

    Why the boys should drive away,
    Little sweet maidens from the play,
    Or love to banter and fight so well,
    That’s the thing I never could tell.

    But this I know, I love to play,
    Through the meadow, among the hay;
    Up the water and o’er the lea,
    That’s the way for Billy and me.