A York Music Box.

A York Music Box

Just out of the window,

Tipped fine with a feather,

Stands a droll little box

Put compactly together.

From May till October

On the boughs it is swaying,

Making happy the heart

With the songs it is playing,

Keeping quick time and tune,

With quaver and quiver,

To the rustle of leaves

And the flow of the river.

No handicraft is finer

From Munich or Zurich,

Than this by the window

Where floats the sweet music,

When the elm branches wave,

And the blue sky discloses

The little red box,

In York's garden of roses.

With the thoughts of God in it,

Its warm breast is throbbing,--

For the droll music-box

Is a gay little robin.

by Sarah D. Clark.