There is roguish little Harry, With his eyes as black as sloes, Flashing, leaping, snapping, dancing, And a sweet face like a rose; There is laughing Sue, whose tresses Are as bright as shining gold— Happy Sue, whose life is joyous, For she is but ten years old. Here is little, timid Bessie, Quietest of all the three, Fair as any snow-white lily And as sweet as she can be; With her ringlets brown and shining Falling o’er her smiling face, Bessie is a pretty picture As she moves with gentle grace. Now, of all these little children, Which does grandma love the best? Listen to her quiet answer: “If you put me to the test, I am sure I cannot tell you, For each one is dear to me: Harry is my pride and pleasure, And I love his boyish glee: Sue is wild and sometimes reckless, And she does not always mind What her gentle mother tells her— To such faults I am not blind; But I know that she is thoughtless, And these faults will be outgrown; Susie is my darling madcap, And no brighter child I’ve known. Bessie is a precious baby, And for her I often fret If she’s from my side an hour— So perhaps _she_ is my pet: But I love them _all_—the darlings— And I pray the Holy One To preserve them pure and spotless, Till their life on earth is done.” TWO BIRDIES. Down in a cool and mossy glen Two little birdies sing, One hath a flaming crimson breast, And one a speckled wing; They chirp and talk and sing away, As birdies often do, And fill the sunny air of day With music sweet and true. They have a cunning little nest, Safe hidden in a tree, Where four wee birdlings snugly rest In happiness and glee; And not a shadow flits across The sunshine of their way, And so they sit and sing in joy Through all the summer day.