Think not of failure or success;
      He fails who has a low desire. 
    Up to the highest ever press,
      Still onward, upward, higher! higher!

    Make such thy purpose, such thy aim,
      That they who watch thy spirit’s flight
    Shall look to heaven from whence it came,
      And loose thee in celestial light.

SONGS.

THE LITTLE SPRING.

    Beneath a green and mossy bank
      There flows a clear and fairy stream;
    There the pert squirrel oft has drank,
      And thought, perhaps, ’twas made for him.

    Their pitchers there the laborers fill,
      As drop by drop the crystals flow,
    Singing their silvery welcome still
      To all who to the fountain go.

    Then to the river on it glides,
      Its tributary drop to bear,
    Its modest head a moment hides,
      Then rises up and sparkles there.

    The touching lesson on my heart
      Falls like the gentle dews of heaven,
    Bids me with humble love impart
      The little treasure God has given.

    For from a source as small as this
      Full many a cup of joy may flow,
    And on the stream of human bliss
      Its little ray of gladness throw.

THE LITTLE BOY’S MAY-DAY SONG.

    “The flowers are blooming everywhere,
      On every hill and dell,
    And O, how beautiful they are! 
      How sweetly, too, they smell!

    “The little brooks, they dance along,
      And look so glad and gay;
    I love to hear their pleasant song,
      I feel as glad as they.

    “The young lambs bleat and frisk about,
      The bees hum round their hive,
    The butterflies are coming out,—­
      ’Tis good to be alive.

    “The trees that looked so stiff and gray
      With green wreaths now are hung;
    O mother! let me laugh and play,
      I cannot hold my tongue.

    “See yonder bird spread out his wings,
      And mount the clear blue skies;
    And hark! how merrily he sings,
      As far away he flies.”

    “Go forth, my child, and laugh and play,
      And let your cheerful voice,
    With birds, and brooks, and merry May,
      Cry loud, Rejoice! rejoice!

    “I would not check your bounding mirth,
      My little happy boy,
    For He who made this blooming earth
      Smiles on an infant’s joy.”

GUESS WHAT I HAVE HEARD.

    Dear mother, guess what I have heard! 
      O, it will soon be spring! 
    I’m sure it was a little bird,—­
      Mother, I heard him sing.

    Look at this little piece of green
      That peeps out from the snow,
    As if it wanted to be seen,—­
      ’Twill soon be spring, I know.