CROSSING THE BROOK WITH HARRY.

Now, Harry, don't fear, I will carry you, dear: So keep very quiet and steady: The brook is not wide, Nor swift is the tide: Now, for it, my pet—are you ready? So over the stones we will go, With step very careful and slow. I never have slipped As o'er them I tripped; But then I had nothing to carry: Now I must take heed, The more haste, the worse speed; For I bear in my arms little Harry: So over the stones we will go, With step very careful and slow.

Almost every bird That ever I heard, On the bank there seems now to be singing; And I smell the sweet hay From the field by the way; The wind all its odor is bringing: So over the stones we will go, With step very careful and slow.