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x " And we, yet again descending To become the least of all, Take our name as ' only sparrows ! ' And are slighted till we fall ; " Still we're happy, happy, happy, Never minding what we be ; For we have a work and do it, Therefore very blithe are we. " We enliven sombre winter, And we're loved while it doth last, And we're not the only creatures Who must live upon the past. " With a chirrup, chirrup, chirrup, We let all the slights go by, And we do not find they hurt us Or becloud the summer sky. " We are happy, happy, happy, Never minding what we be ; For we know the good Creator Even cares for such as we."

" ' O thou, my mother ! dead so long ago, Who never to my childish joy or woe Didst say, "That's trifling ;" mother, hear me now ; Allay the throbbing of my burning brow, And help me in the problem of my life, That I may conquer in this vital strife —