THE MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM, BY GEORGE J. WEBB. [Music:] Vivace. Goldfinch, pride of woodland glade, In thy jet and gold ar-rayed; Gentle bird, that lov’st to feed On the thistle’s downy seed; Freely frolic, lightly sing, In the sunbeams spread thy wing; Spread thy plumage trim and gay, Glitt’ring in the noontide ray. Freely frolic, lightly sing, In the sunbeams spread thy wing; Spread thy plumage trim and gay, Glitt’ring in the noontide ray. Fickle bird, forever roaming, Endless changes ever loving, Now in orchards gaily sporting, Now to flowery fields resorting; Chasing now the thistle’s down, By the gentle zephyr blown, Lightly on thou wing’st thy way, Always happy, always gay. MERRY’S MUSEUM. Vol. VII. JUNE, 1844. No. 6. [Illustration: (Farmers reaping crop)] [Illustration: J]une, the first of the summer months, presents us with many interesting things. The meadows are now covered with flowers in full bloom: the forests have put on their beautiful garments of green: the birds are busy in tending their young; the mornings are ushered in with silvery dews, and the evenings come like a soft veil thrown over the cradle of her children, by the gentle hand of nature, to make their slumbers sweet and secure. The farmer is now busy in gathering his crop of hay,――though, as he swings his scythe, he unhappily disturbs many a pretty nest of the meadow lark, the sparrow, and the boblink. How the latter does sing “Get out o’ the way old Dan Tucker,”――as the mowers intrude upon his dominion! However, it is better that Bob should be disturbed now and then, than that the cattle should starve, and every body go without milk and meat. But let us go to some field, where the mower has not yet appeared. Let us stop and listen to Bob――with his white nightcap on. What a set of names he has got――boblink――bob o’ lincoln――skunk black bird――and rice bird. He seems to have as many names as those rascals who are sent to the state’s prison, yet he has no other quality in common with pick-pockets and counterfeiters. He is no thief, for what he takes he takes in open day; he is no pick-pocket, for while the cat-bird filches cherries, strawberries, raspberries, and grapes, Bob is content with the waste seeds of the meadows. He is no counterfeiter,――no, he is a downright fellow, and is never ashamed of his name. Meet him where you will, he springs into the air, and seems to give you a challenge in the following words―― “Jem Richardson, Jem Richardson,――get away――yet away: it’s very disagreeable of you to trouble us: get away! get away!”