No. 4.
CHARADE—(To Rip Van Winkle).
In shady woods and sunny fields
My first is often found.
As lithe and fleet as any bird,
Yet never leaves the ground.
Of life and death my second tells,
Of sorrow and of mirth;
It dwells with stately pomp, and by
The simplest household hearth.
My whole, a graceful, modest flower,
By lonely way-sides grows,
And trembles on its slender stem
With every wind that blows.
Owlet.