Volume Iii Part 11 (1/2)

But her dog whined low; on the doorway sill, With his cane to his chin, The old man sat; and the ch.o.r.e-girl still Sung to the bees stealing out and in.

And the song she was singing ever since In my ears sounds on:-- ”Stay at home, pretty bees, fly not hence!

Mistress Mary is dead and gone!”

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

THE LAND OF SONG: Book III.

_PART II_.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: SHAKESPEARE'S BIRTHPLACE.]

PART TWO.

THE MAN THAT HATH NO MUSIC IN HIMSELF.

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

_From ”The Merchant of Venice.”_

ADVERSITY.

Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life exempt from public haunt Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

_From_ ”_As You Like It._”

[Ill.u.s.tration]

TO THE DAISY.

In youth from rock to rock I went, From hill to hill in discontent Of pleasure high and turbulent, Most pleased when most uneasy.

But now my own delights I make,-- My thirst at every rill can slake, And gladly Nature's love partake, Of thee, sweet daisy!

Thee winter in the garland wears That thinly decks his few gray hairs; Spring parts the clouds with softest airs That she may sun thee; Whole summer fields are thine by right: And autumn, melancholy wight!