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"I will protect her

From all kinds of harm,
Feed her with nectar,

Shelter her warm.

"Whate'er the weather,
Let it go by;

We'll hold together,
Daisy and I.

"I'll ne'er give in,—no!
Nothing I fear:

All that I win, O!

I'll keep for my dear."

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GREEN THINGS GROWING.

O the green things growing, the green things growing,

The faint sweet smell of the green things growing!

I should like to live, whether I smile or grieve, Just to watch the happy life of my green things growing.

O the fluttering and the pattering of those green things growing!

How they talk each to each, when none of us are knowing;

In the wonderful white of the weird moonlight Or the dim dreamy dawn when the cocks are crowing.

I love, I love them so-my green things growing: And I think that they love me, without false showing;

For by many a tender touch, they comfort me so much,

With the soft mute comfort of green things
growing.

And in the rich store of their blossoms glowing
Ten for one I take they're on me bestowing:
Oh, I should like to see, if God's will it may be,
Many, many a summer of my green things
growing!

But if I must be gathered for the angels' sowing,
Sleep out of sight awhile, like the green things
growing,

Though dust to dust return, I think I'll scarcely

mourn,

If I may change into green things growing.

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I love, I love them so my green things growing.-Page 16

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THE OLD ARM CHAIR.

ELIZA COOK.

I love it, I love it, and who shall dare

To chide me for loving the old arm chair?
I've treasur'd it long as a holy prize,

I've bedew'd it with tears, and embalm'd it with

sighs;

"Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart;
Not a tie will break, not a link will start,
Would ye learn the spell?—a mother sat there,
And a sacred thing is that old arm chair.

In childhood's home, I lingered near
The hallow'd seat with list'ning ear;
And gentle words would mother give,
To fit me to die, and teach me to live.
She told me shame would never betide,
With truth for my creed, and God for my guide;
She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer
As I knelt beside that old arm chair.

I sat and watched her many a day,

When her eyes grew dim, and her locks were gray.
And I almost worship'd her when she smiled,
And turn'd from her bible to bless her child.

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