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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 111 pages of information about Parker's Second Reader.
pass, With my bonnet that’s put by to wear To meeting and Sunday-school class.
10.  “I love to go there, where I’m taught, Of One who’s so wise and so good, He knows every action and thought, And gives e’en the raven his food.
11.  “For He, I am sure, who can take Such fatherly care of a bird, Will never forget or forsake The children who trust to his word.
12.  “And now, if I only can sell The matches I brought out to-day, I think I shall do very well, And mother’ll rejoice at the pay.”
13.  “Fly home, little bird,” then I thought, “Fly home, full of joy, to your nest!” For I took all the matches she brought, And Mary may tell you the rest.

LESSON XLVI.

It Snows.—­H.F.  GOULD.

1.  It snows! it snows! from out the sky, The feathered flakes, how fast they fly!  Like little birds, that don’t know why They’re on the chase, from place to place, While neither can the other trace.  It snows! it snows! a merry play Is o’er us, on this heavy day!
2.  As dancers in an airy hall, That hasn’t room to hold them all, While some keep up and others fall, The atoms shift; then, thick and swift, They drive along to form the drift, That, weaving up, so dazzling white, Is rising like a wall of light.
3.  But now the wind comes whistling loud, To snatch and waft it, as a cloud, Or giant phantom in a shroud; It spreads, it curls, it mounts and whirls, At length a mighty wing unfurls, And then, away! but where, none knows, Or ever will.—­It snows! it snows!
4.  To-morrow will the storm be done; Then out will come the golden sun, And we shall see, upon the run Before his beams, in sparkling streams, What now a curtain o’er him seems.  And thus with life it ever goes, ’Tis shade and shine!—­It snows! it snows!

LESSON XLVII.

The Dissatisfied Angler Boy.—­H.F.  GOULD.

[Illustration]

1.  I’m sorry they let me go down to the brook, I’m sorry they gave me the line and the hook, And I wish I had stayed at home with my book.  I’m sure ’twas no pleasure to see That poor, little, harmless, suffering thing, Silently writhe at the end of the string; Or to hold the pole, while I felt him swing In torture, and all for me!
2.  ’Twas a beautiful speckled and glossy trout, And when from the water I drew him out On the grassy bank, as he floundered about, It made me shivering cold, To think I had caused so much needless pain; And I tried to relieve him, but all in vain; O! never, as long as I live, again May I such a sight behold!
3.  O, what would I give once more to see The brisk little swimmer alive and free, And darting about, as he used to be, Unhurt, in his native brook!  ’Tis strange how people can love to play, By taking innocent lives away; I wish I had stayed at home to-day, With sister, and read my book.

LESSON XLVIII.

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