The Youth's Coronal Part 7

Then from my heart will young petals diverge, Like rays of the sun from their focus; When I from the darkness of earth shall emerge, All complete, as a beautiful CROCUS!

Gayly arrayed in gold, crimson, and green, When to their view I have risen; Will they not wonder how one so serene Came from so dismal a prison?

Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower A wise little lesson may borrow:-- If patient to-day through the dreariest hour, We shall come out the brighter to-morrow!

=The Bee, Clover, and Thistle=

A bee from the hive one morning flew, A tune to the daylight humming; And away she went o'er the sparkling dew, Where the gra.s.s was green, the violet blue, And the gold of the sun was coming.

And what first tempted the roving Bee, Was a head of the crimson clover.

"I've found a treasure betimes!" said she, "And perhaps a greater I might not see, If I travelled the field all over.

"My beautiful Clover, so round and red, There is not a thing in twenty, That lifts this morning so sweet a head Above its leaves, and its earthy bed, With so many horns of plenty!"

The flow'rets were thick which the Clover crowned, As the plumes in the helm of Hector; And each had a cell that was deep and round, Yet it would not impart, as the Bee soon found, One drop of its precious nectar.

She cast in her eye where the honey lay, And her pipe she began to measure; But she saw at once it was clear as day, That it would not go down one half the way To the place of the envied treasure.[1]

Said she, in a pet, "One thing I know,"

As she rose, and in haste departed, "It is not those of the _greatest show,_ To whom for a favor 'tis best to go, Or that prove most generous-hearted!"

A fleecy flock came into the field; When one of its members followed The scent of the clover, till between Her nibbling teeth its head was seen, And then in a moment swallowed.

"Ha, ha!" said the Bee, as the Clover died, "Her fortune's smile was fickle!

And now I can get my wants supplied By a homely flower, with a rough outside.

And even with scale and p.r.i.c.kle!"

Then she flew to one, that, by man and beast Was shunned for its stinging bristle; But it injured not the Bee in the least; And she filled her pocket, and had a feast, From the bloom of the purple Thistle.

The generous Thistle's life was spared In the home where the Bee first found her, Till she grew so old she was h.o.a.ry-haired, And her snow-white locks with the silk compared, As they shone where the sun beamed round her.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: The clover-floret is so small and deep in its tube, that the bee cannot reach the honey at the bottom.]

=Poor Old Paul=

Poor old Paul! he has lost a foot; And see him go hobbling along, With the stump laced up in that clumsy boot, Before the gathering throng!

And now, as he has to pa.s.s so many, And suffer the gaze of all, If each would only bestow a penny, 'Twere something for poor old Paul.

His cheek is wan, and his garb is thin; His eye is sunken and dim; He looks as if the winter had been Making sad work with him.

While he is trying to hide the tatter, Mark how his looks will fall!

n.o.body needs to ask the matter With poor, old, hungry Paul.

All that he has in his dingy sack Is morsels of bread and meat,-- The leavings, to burden his aged back, Which others refused to eat.

So now I am sure, you will all be willing To part with a sum so small As each will spare, who makes up a s.h.i.+lling To comfort him--Poor old Paul!

=The Sea-Eagle's Fall=

An Eagle, on his towering wing, Hung o'er the summer sea; And ne'er did airy, feathered king Look prouder there than he.

He spied the finny tribes below, Amid the limpid brine; And felt it now was time to know Whereon he was to dine.

He saw a n.o.ble, s.h.i.+ning fish So near the surface swim, He felt at once a hungry wish To make a feast of him.

Then straight he took his downward course; A sudden plunge he gave; And, pouncing, seized, with murderous force, His tempter in the wave.

He struck his talons firm and deep, Within the slippery prize, In hope his ruffian grasp to keep, And high and dry to rise.

But ah! it was a fatal stoop, As ever monarch made; And, for that rash--that cruel swoop, He soon most dearly paid!

The fish had too much gravity To yield to this attack.

His feet the eagle could not free From off the scaly back.

He'd seized on one too strong and great; His mastery now was gone!

And on, by that preponderant weight, And downward, he was drawn.

Nor found he here the element Where he could move with grace; And flap, and dash, his pinions went, In ocean's wrinkled face.

They could not bring his talons out, His forfeit life to save; And planted thus, he writhed about Upon his gaping grave.

He raised his head, and gave a shriek, To bid adieu to light: The water bubbled in his beak-- He sank from human sight!

The children of the sea came round, The foreigner to view.

To see an airy monarch drowned, To them was something new

Some gave a quick, astonished look, And darted swift away; While some his parting plumage shook, And nibbled him for prey.

O! who that saw that bird at noon So high and proudly soar, Could think how awkwardly--how soon, He'd fall to rise no more?

Though glory, majesty, and pride Were his an hour ago, Deprived of all, that eagle died, For stooping once too low!

Now, have you ever known or heard Of biped, from his sphere Descending, like that silly bird To buy a fish so dear?

=The Two Thieves=