CHILDHOOD PLEASURES.
OH, the blissful days of childhood,
When we rambled in the wildwood;
Pulling grape-vines down to swing in;
Waking echoes with our singing;
Putting teeters through the fence;
Playing maple boughs were tents;
Taking rides on fallen logs;
Catching little pollywogs;
Going Maying in the spring,
Seeing who most flowers could bring;
All the long, bright summer day,
Helping father make the hay;
Going fishing in the autumn,
Proud as kings when we had caught 'em;
But the best time, I remember,
Came with Christmas and December.
Oh, such blissful, happy days,—
Would that they might last always!
MARY STEWARD