My fairest child, I have no song to give you;

No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;

Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you

For every day.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;

Do noble things, not dream them all day long

And so make life, death, and that vast forever,

One grand, sweet song.

Charles Kingsley.

THE LANGUAGE OF THE BIRDS.