Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth; While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though, in solemn silence, all Move round the dark terrestrial ball? What though no _real_ voice or sound Amid their radiant orbs be found? In _Reason's_ ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice, Forever singing, as they shine, "_The Hand that made us is divine!_" JOSEPH ADDISON. GREEN FIELDS AND MEADOWS GAY NATURE'S SONG There is no rhyme that is half so sweet As the song of the wind in the rippling wheat; There is no meter that is half so fine As the lilt of the brook under rock and vine; And the loveliest lyric I ever heard Was the wildwood strain of a forest bird. MADISON CAWEIN. THE GIFT OF FLAX (NORSE LEGEND) In a beautiful valley surrounded by mountains there once lived a shepherd with his wife and children. They were very poor, indeed, and were obliged to work hard in order to earn the scantiest living. The good wife was most helpful to her husband. She kept the cottage spotlessly clean, and mended the children's clothes with patient skill. Every day the shepherd took his small flock of sheep to pasture on the side of a mountain, whose tall, white summit was hidden in the clouds. He often carried a crossbow, and sometimes he brought home some mountain game, which provided a fine meal for his family. One day, while he was watching his sheep, he saw, a short distance above him, a fine reindeer drinking from a pool in the basin of a rock. The shepherd seized his crossbow and took aim to shoot the quarry, but before he could speed an arrow, the deer scented danger and leaped away up the steep slope of the mountain-side. The shepherd pursued his game with eager haste, climbing up the dangerous paths with a sureness of foot which comes only to those whose lives are spent among the mountain fastnesses. It grew bitterly cold as the shepherd pressed on and on, and he saw the glittering ice-fields near the mountain top. "'Tis the most fleet-footed quarry I ever followed," said the hunter, stopping for a moment's rest. "After this hard chase, I'm afraid I must give up the game."