I used to wake with the birds-- The little birds wake early, For the sunshine leaps and plays On the mother's head and wing; And the clouds were white as curds; The apple trees stood pearly; I always think of the child's days As one unending spring. I knew where all flowers grew. I used to lie in the meadow Ere reaping-time and mowing-time And carting home the hay. And, oh, the skies were blue! Oh, drifting light and shadow! It was another time and clime-- The little child's sweet day. And in the long days waning The skies grew rose and amber And palest green and gold, With a moon's white flame. And if came wind and raining, Gray hours I don't remember; Nor how the warm year waxed cold, And deathly autumn came. Only of that young time The bright things I remember: How orchard bows were laden red, And blackberries so brave Came ere the frost and rime-- Ere the dreary, dark November, With dripping black boughs overhead, And dead leaves on a grave. The years have come and gone, And brought me many a pleasure, And many a gift and gain From near and from afar, And dear work gladly done, And dear love without measure, And sunshine after rain, And in the night a star. The years have come and gone, And one hath brought me sorrow; Yet I shall sing to ease my pain For the hours I must stay. They are passing one by one, And I wait with hope the morrow; But indeed I am not fain Of a long, long day. It is well for a little child Whose heart is blithe and merry To find too short its golden day-- Long morn and afternoon. So many flowers grow wild, And many a fruit and berry: Long day, too short for work and play,-- The night comes too soon. It was well for that little child; But its day is gone forever, And a wounded heart will ache In the sunlight gold and gay. Oh, the night is cool and mild To all things that smart with fever! The older heart had time to break In the little child's long day. KATHARINE TYNAN, in _Merry England_. * * * * * WHEN little Willie L. first heard the braying of a mule in the South, he was greatly frightened; but, after thinking a minute, he smiled at his fear, saying, "Mamma, just hear that poor horse with the whooping-cough!" A LITTLE grammar is a dangerous thing: "Johnny, be a good boy, and I will take you to the circus next year."--"Take me now, pa; the circus is in the present tents." THE CHRISTMAS TURKEY. Grandfather Patrick lived a long time ago; in the days when all the grandfathers wore white wigs with little tails sticking out behind. One day he went into the back yard where an old Turkey Gobbler lived, and said to him: