I've found a crib where they won't find me, Though they're crying "Kitty!" all over the house. Hunt for the Slipper! and riddle-my-ree! A cat can keep as still as a mouse. It's rather unwise perhaps to purr, But they'll never think of the wardrobe-shelves. I'm happy in every hair of my fur; They may keep the hamper and hay themselves. [Illustration] THE MILL STREAM. One of a hundred little rills-- Born in the hills, Nourished with dews by the earth, and with tears by the sky, Sang--"Who so mighty as I? The farther I flow The bigger I grow. I, who was born but a little rill, Now turn the big wheel of the mill, Though the surly slave would rather stand still. Old, and weed-hung, and grim, I am not afraid of him; For when I come running and dance on his toes, With a creak and a groan the monster goes. And turns faster and faster, As he learns who is master, Round and round, Till the corn is ground, And the miller smiles as he stands on the bank, And knows he has me to thank. Then when he swings the fine sacks of flour, I feel my power; But when the children enjoy their food, I know I'm not only great but good!" Furthermore sang the brook-- "Who loves the beautiful, let him look! Garlanding me in shady spots The Forget-me-nots Are blue as the summer sky: Who so lovely as I? My King-cups of gold Shine from the shade of the alders old, Stars of the stream!-- At the water-rat's threshold they gleam. From below The Frog-bit spreads me its blossoms of snow, And in masses The Willow-herb, the flags, and the grasses, Reeds, rushes, and sedges, Flower and fringe and feather my edges. To be beautiful is not amiss, But to be loved is more than this; And who more sought than I, By all that run or swim or crawl or fly? Sober shell-fish and frivolous gnats, Tawny-eyed water-rats; The poet with rippling rhymes so fluent, Boys with boats playing truant, Cattle wading knee-deep for water; And the flower-plucking parson's daughter. Down in my depths dwell creeping things Who rise from my bosom on rainbow wings, For--too swift for a school-boy's prize-- Hither and thither above me dart the prismatic-hued dragon-flies. At my side the lover lingers, And with lack-a-daisical fingers, The Weeping Willow, woe-begone, Strives to stay me as I run on."