MY WINDOW BIRDS.
My window birds, I love to strew
With punctual hands the crumb for you,
Flying for comfort day by day
From frozen woodland and highway,
And bringing Christmas bills now due!
Fair creditors of every hue
Crimson and yellow, brown and blue,
Whate'er your thoughts, your coats are gay,
My window birds.
Your claims are neither small nor few,
Dated, when May-flowers drank the dew,
And on sweet pipes ye used to play,
Scattering full many a golden lay;
Now ye for wages mutely sue,
My window birds.
Rev. Richard Wilton, M.A.
SNOWDROPS AND ACONITES.
Silver and gold! The snowdrop white
And yellow blossomed aconite,
Waking from Winter's slumber cold,
Their hoarded treasures now unfold,
And scatter them to left and right.
Ah, with how much more rare delight
Upon my sense their colours smite
Than if my fingers were to hold
Silver and gold.
They bear the superscription bright
Of the great King of love and might,
Who stamped such beauty there of old
That men might learn, as ages rolled,
To trust in God, nor worship quite
Silver and gold.