[Ad Infinitum.]

THE BIRD.

"BIRDIE, Birdie, will you pet? Summer-time is far away yet, You'll have silken quilts and a velvet bed, And a pillow of satin for your head!"

"I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall; No rain comes through, tho' I hear it fall; The sun peeps gay at dawn of day, And I sing, and wing away, away!"

"O Birdie, Birdie, will you pet? Diamond-stones and amber and jet We'll string for a necklace fair and fine To please this pretty bird of mine!"

"O thanks for diamonds, and thanks for jet, But here is something daintier yet,-- A feather-necklace round and round, That I wouldn't sell for a thousand pound!"

"O Birdie, Birdie, won't you pet? We'll buy you a dish of silver fret, A golden cup and an ivory seat, And carpets soft beneath your feet!"

"Can running water be drunk from gold? Can a silver dish the forest hold? A rocking twig is the finest chair, And the softest paths lie through the air,-- Good-bye, good-bye to my lady fair!"

WISHING.

RING-TING! I wish I were a Primrose, A bright yellow Primrose blowing in the Spring! The stooping boughs above me, The wandering bee to love me, The fern and moss to creep across, And the Elm-tree for our king!

Nay--stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree, A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay! The winds would set them dancing, The sun and moonshine glancing, The Birds would house among the boughs, And sweetly sing!

O--no! I wish I were a Robin, A Robin or a little Wren, everywhere to go; Through forest, field, or garden, And ask no leave or pardon, Till Winter comes with icy thumbs To ruffle up our wing.

Well--tell! Where should I fly to, Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell? Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For Mother's kiss,--sweeter this Than any other thing!

I SAW A LITTLE BIRDIE FLY.

I SAW a little Birdie fly, Merrily piping came he; "Whom d'ye sing to, Bird?" said I; "Sing?--I sing to Amy!"

"Very sweet you sing," I said; "Then," quoth he, "to pay me, Give one little crumb of bread, A little smile from Amy."

"Just," he sings, "one little smile; O, a frown would slay me! Thanks, and now I'm gone awhile,-- Fare-you-well, dear Amy!"

A MOUNTAIN ROUND.

(Tyrol.)

TAKE hands, merry neighbours, for dancing the round! Moonlight is fair and delicious the air; From valley to valley our music shall sound, And startle the wolf in his lair. From summits of snow to the forest below, Let vulture and crow hear the echoes, O-ho! (O-ho!) While shadow on meadow in dancing the round Goes whirligig, pair after pair!

THE LEPRACAUN;

OR,

FAIRY SHOEMAKER.

I.

LITTLE Cowboy, what have you heard, Up on the lonely rath's green mound? Only the plaintive yellow bird Sighing in sultry fields around, Chary, chary, chary, chee-ee!-- Only the grasshopper and the bee?-- "Tip-tap, rip-rap, Tick-a-tack-too! Scarlet leather sewn together, This will make a shoe. Left, right, pull it tight; Summer days are warm; Underground in winter, Laughing at the storm!" Lay your ear close to the hill. Do you not catch the tiny clamour, Busy click of an Elfin hammer, Voice of the Lepracaun singing shrill As he merrily plies his trade? He's a span And a quarter in height. Get him in sight, hold him tight, And you're a made Man!

II.

You watch your cattle the summer day, Sup on potatoes, sleep in the hay: How would you like to roll in your carriage, Look for a Duchess's daughter in marriage? Seize the Shoemaker--then you may! "Big boots a-hunting, Sandals in the hall, White for a wedding-feast, Pink for a ball. This way, that way, So we make a shoe; Getting rich every stitch, Tick-tack-too!" Nine-and-ninety treasure-crocks This keen miser-fairy hath, Hid in mountains, woods, and rocks, And where the cormorants build; From times of old Guarded by him; Each of them fill'd Full to the brim With gold!

III.

I caught him at work one day, myself, In the castle-ditch where foxglove grows,-- A wrinkled, wizen'd, and bearded Elf, Spectacles stuck on his pointed nose, Silver buckles to his hose, Leather apron-shoe in his lap-- "Rip-rap, tip-tap, Tack-tack-too! (A green cricket on my cap! Away the moth flew!) Buskins for a fairy prince, Brogues for his son,-- Pay me well, pay me well, When the job is done!" The rogue was mine, beyond a doubt. I stared at him, he stared at me; "Servant, Sir!" "Humph!" says he, And pull'd a snuff-box out. He took a long pinch, look'd better pleased, The queer little Lepracaun; Offer'd the box with a whimsical grace, Pouf! he flung the dust in my face, And, while I sneezed, Was gone!

Raths, very ancient forts or entrenched dwelling-places, usually on hills; the remains of these are common in Ireland, and resemble what are called "Rings" in England.

Yellow bird, the yellow bunting, or "yorlin."