ILLUSTRATED

COLLECTED AND ED ITED B Y

H E L E N K E N D R I C K JO H N S O N

l

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS ,L IM ITED

. N EW YORK : 9 LAFAY ETTE PLACE

L O N D O N A N D M A N C H E S T E R

N D 5

P E OPLE

THE NEW YORK

K’HELIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOXANDTILDEN FOUNDATIONS

Copyrigh t , 1884,

B y JOSEPH L . B LAM IRE .

P O E M S AN D SO N G S

V0UN G PE OPLE .

A s I l ook i nto the pi c tu red vol umes Of poem s fo r young peop l e , i t seem s to methat the fai ry-stori es of my ch i l dhood were no t u ntrue

,bu t on ly p rophet i c . The

two eyes o f my l i tt l e daugh ter, wh i l e sh e l ook s over my shou lder, spark l e as thoseof l i tt l e Two Eyes” mus t have done when she sai d

Little k id , milk !

" 9

Table , appear

and al l t he dai n t i es the land afforded were spread befo re her. When I was a l i t t l e

girl, fou r p i c tu res i n a book o f poet ry made i t an unu sual t reasu re ; whi le , as aru l e , I had on l y th e front i sp i ece . I had the rhymes Of Jane and An n Taylo r ; bu twhat shou l d I have though t at see ing them adorned wi th Kate G reenaway

’

s quain tand art i s t ic p i c t u res?And the poetry

,too -how the feast has been add ed to in that respec t ! There

were few m en and women o f gen i u s who wro te for ch i ld ren . We had to read

grown -up poet ry, o r confin e ourse l ves to a very l im i ted se l ec t i on . There was noAn n i e D . Green , no r M rs . Thaxter, n o r M rs . Dodge , wri t ing who l e vo l umes , no t

of ch i l d i sh bu t of you th fu l poet ry—poet ry w i th the freshn ess and fro l i c o f gi r l s andboys in i t. I tu rned to the O ld Engl i sh bal l ad s—“ The Chi l d of E l l e ,

” “ ChevyChase

,

” and The B l ind Beggar ’ s Daugh te r Of Bethnal Green .

”Poor enough

they were,bu t they to ld a sto ry

,and I u nde rstood them . I remember tak ing my

l i t t l e si s ter,winte r even ings

,by the fi re in the deserted k i tchen , to read to her

“ TheLady of the Lake .

”TO my d i smay

,sh e fel l as l eep every even ing, bu t I read r ight

on . A t l ast,on e n igh t

,she happened to be awak e when I reached the th ri l l ing

l inesI

M idst furs and silks and jewe l sheen ,

H e stood, in sim ple Lincoln green ,

The centre of the glittering ring ,

And Snowdon’

s Knight is Scotland’

s K ing

What, Fi tz-James was the K i ng ?” c ri ed my si ster. Then I began a t the begi n

n ing, and read the who l e to a most attent i ve l i stener.

8 P OEM S AN D SON GS P 0P YOUN G P E OP LE .

I wel l remember when M r . Fi nch’ s “ Nathan Hale fi rst fel l upon my ear. I t

came i n to schoo l i n manu scrip t , and evqy pup i l cop i ed i t . Whi l e my el der s i ste rwas

~

doing so,I begged her to read i t t o me carefu l ly. I cou l d n o t c l ose my eyes

that n ight u n t i l I cou ld repeat to mysel f every l i ne of i t. I fel t as the o l d bardsu sed to

,before the i nven t i on of p ri n t ing

'—that paper m igh t tear or bu rn,and that

the memory was the safest receptac l e. The hope Of hav ing the poem i n a prl ntedbook was too far d i stant .I t wou ld seem a p i ty i f the i ncrease of poetry for the you ng shou ld cau se them

to commi t l ess to memory ; for a poem learned in ch i l dhood becomes a port i on Of

the ch i ld . St i l l,i t may be that the reverse O f the O ld adage i s t rue

,and there i s n o

great gai n wi thou t some smal l l oss . Certain l y i t i s bet ter to have some acquaintance wi th poems l ik e Jean I ngel ow ’ s t rue story of Wi n stan l ey ,

” than an i n t imacywi th such bal l ad s as The Chi l d Of El l e .

”

I t seem s to me that more p rac t i cal gen i a l i ty and mora l i ty i s con veyed i n suchpoem s as “ Lett i ng the O ld Cat Die ,

” and \Vhat wi l l B ecom e of Me ?” tham‘i nMother Goose’ s Melod ies and Watts

’

s Hymn s .

One e lem ent I have carefu l ly exc l uded from m y co l l ec t i o n—the sent im en ta l lyso rrowfu l ; al though , i f human nature i s the same that i t was l ess than a hundredyears ago

,the gi rl s o f fourteen may m i ss i t. I remember the period and the poem s

wel l,too wel l , an d I hope to do someth ing toward fi l l ing i t w i th more wholesome

l i teratu re . The probab i l i ty i s,that the gi rl s wi l l search stray n ewspaper corners

for the poems they wan t,and then paste them i n to a sc rap -book . I t i s the t ime

when they fee l that nobody love s them , that they are d i sagreeabl y p l ai n , that the i rschoolmates are fal se

,and even the i r homes and thei r mothers l ess p l easant and

k ind than those o f other gi rl s . A t such a t im e there i s no fr iend l ik e a poem whichtel l s of the hol l own ess of the world , wh ich t reats of unapprec i ated affec t i on ,

an du ncared -for pain . The poet ry that re l ates an early death -bed scen e i s cop i ed andrepeated wi th tears. Happ i ly, th i s peri od i s genera l ly short , and to make i t st i l lshorter shou ld be one Obj ec t Of a book l i ke th i s .

The notes attached to a few of the poems are given because I k now how muchl igh t they wou ld have th rown for me upon poems Wh ich I adm i red bu t d id n ot fu l lycomprehend .

My thanks are cord ial ly retu rned fo r k ind perm i ssi on to u se copyrigh ted poemspub l i shed by Messrs . Hough ton , Mifil in 8L CO .

,D .App leton CO .

,Harp er 8:

Bro thers, James R . O sgood 8: CO . , Robert s B rothers, Bradl ey CO .,and Charl es

Scribner’ s Son s , and al so to the variou s au thors.

H . K. I.NEW Y ORK , j anuary, 1884.

TH E POET’

S SONG .

TH E ra in had fa l l en ; the poe t arose ;

H e passed by the town and ou t of the street ;

A l ight w ind b l ew from the gates of the sun ,

And w ave s of shadow w en t ove r the wheat,And he sat him down in a l one ly p lace ,

And chanted a m e lody loud and sw ee t,

That made the w ild sw an pause in he r c l oud

And the lark d rop dow n at his fee t.

The sw a l l ow s top p ed as he hun ted the bee ,

The snake s l i pp ed unde r a spray,

The w i ld hawk stood w ith the dow n on h is beak,

And stared ,w i th h is foo t o n the p rey,

And the n ightingale thought,“ I have sung m any songs ,

B ut never a one so gay,

Fo r he sing s of what the wo rl d w i l l be

Whe n the years have d i ed away.

ALFRED TENNYSON .

THE CH ILD AND TH E B OATMAN .

MART I N,I W onde r who mak es a l l the

so ngs .”

You do,s i r ?

Yes,I wonder how they come .

Wel l,boy

,I wonder what you ’ l l won

der n ext 1”

Bu t somebody must make them ?

Su re e n ough .

Does you r w ife k n ow ?”

She never sai d she d i d .

You to l d m e that she k new so many

thi ngs . ”

I sai d sh e was a Lo ndon woman , s i r,And a fi ne scho la r

,bu t I never sai d

She k new about the songs .”

I wi sh she d id .

“ A nd I w i sh no such th i ng ; she k n ows

en oughSh e k nows too mu ch al ready . Look

you n ow ,

Th i s ves se l ’s Off t he s tock s , a t i dy craft .

A schooner,Mart in

N O ,boy , no a brig ,

O n lv she ’ s a schooner rigged ,—a l ovely

c raft .”

I s she for me ? O,thank you

,Mart i n

dear .

What shal l I cal l her ?Wel l

,s i r

,what you p lease .

“ Then wri te on her,

‘The Eagl e .

’

“ B less the ch i l dEagle ! why you k now naugh t o f eagl e s ,

you .

When we l ay Off th e coast,up Canada

way ,And chanced to be ashore whe n twi l ight

fe l l ,That was the pl ace fo r eag l e s ; bald they

were ,With eyes as ye l l ow as go l d .

'

0 ,Mart i n dear

,

Tel l m e abou t them .

Tel l ? there ’ s n augh t to tel l ,O n ly they s n ored O

’

n ights and frigh ted

u s .S nored

Ay, I te l l you , snored ; they s lept up

righ tI n the great oak s by score s ; as t rue as

t im e ,If I ’d had augh t upon my m i nd j u st then ,I w ou ld n

’

t have wal ked that wood for

unk n own go l d ;I t was most awfu l . When the moo n was

fu l l,

I ’ ve seen th em fi sh at n igh t,i n the m id

d l e watch ,

1 2 TH E B ALD -H E ADED T I P /IN T.

When she got l ow . I ’ ve se en th empl unge l i k e s ton es

,

And come up fight i ng wi th a fi sh as long ,Ay,l o nger than my arm and they wou ldsai l

When they had struck i ts l i fe ou t—theywou ld sai l

O ver the deck , and show thei r fel l , fierceeyes

And croon for p leasu re,hug the prey,

and speedGran d as a frigate on th e wi nd

My sh i p,

She mu st be cal l ed ‘The Eag l e ’ after theseAnd ,Martin ,

ask you rw ife abou t the songsWhen you go in at d i n ner t ime .

”B u t h i s abj ec t sl aves they turned on me ;

Not I Li ke the bears i n Scriptu re, they’d rend

JEAN INGELOW . me there,

THE BALD-HEADED TYRANT

O TH E qu i etest home on earth had I,

N O thought o f t roubl e,n o h i n t o f care ;

L i ke a d ream O f p l easu re the days fl ed by,

And P eace had folded her p i n i o n sthere .

Bu t one day there j o i n ed in ourhou sehold band

A bal d—headed tyran t from Noman ’ s - l and .

Oh , the despot came in the dead of

n ight,

A nd no on e v en tu red to a sk h imwhy ;

L i k e sl aves we t remble befo re h i sm ight

,

Ou r heart s s tood st i l l whe n weheard h im cry ;

For never a sou l c ou l d h is pow er

w i th stan d,

That ba ld -headed tyran t from N O ~

man ’ s- l and .

He ordered u s he re , and he sen tu s there

Though never a word cou l d h i ssmal l l i p s speak

With h i s tooth l ess gums an d h i s vacan tstare

,

And his h e l p l e ss l im bs so fra i l an d

w eak ,Ti l l I c r ied

,i n a voice of s tern command

,

G O up ,thou bald-head from N O -man ’ s

l an d I”

TH E N E W COM E/6.

The whi l e they worsh i pped w i th bended

kneeTh i s ru th l ess wretch w i th the m i ss i ng

hai rFo r he ru l e s them al l w i th re lent l e ss hand

,

Thi s bal d -headed tyran t from N O -man ’ sl and .

Then I searched fo r he l p i n every c l ime,

For peace had fl ed from my dwel l ing

now ,

Ti l l I fi n al ly thought of O ld Father Tim e,

And l ow before h im I made my bow .

Wi l t thou del ive r me ou t Of h i s hand,

Th i s ba l d -headed tyran t from No -man ’s

l and

O ld T ime he l ooked wi th a puz z l ed sta re,

A nd a sm i l e came over h i s featu resgrim .

“ I ’ l l tak e the tyran t u nde r my careWatch what my hou r—g l ass does to h im .

The ver iest h umbug that ever wasp lann ed

I s th i s same ba ld -head from No-m an ’ sl an d .

”

O ld Time i s d o i ng h i s work fu l l we l lM uch l e ss of migh t does the ty ran t

W i e l d ;Bu t

,ah ! wi th sorrow my hear t wi l l swe l l ,

And sad tears fal l as I see h im y ie ld .

Cou l d I s tay the touch of tha t shr i vel l edhand

,

I wou l d keep the bal d-head from N O

man ’ s- l an d .

”

For the l o ss o f peac e l have ceased to ca re ;L i k e o ther vassal s

,I 've l earned

,fo r

soo th,

13

To l ove the wretch who fo rgot h i s ha i rA nd hu rri ed a l ong w i t h ou t a too th

,

A nd he ru l es m e too wi th h i s t iny hand,

Th i s ba l d -headed tyran t from N O -man ’ sl and .

MARY E. VAN I)Y NE.

THE NEW COMER .

Lancash i re D ia l e c t .

TH A’

rt welcome,l i t t l e bon ny brid ,

Bu t shou ldn ’ t ha ’ come j us t when thad i dTo im e s are bad .

We ’re short 0 ’ pobbie s fo r eaw r J oe ,Bu t that , Of cou rse , tha d id n

’ t k n ow ,

D id ta,l ad ?

Aw’ve often yeard m i feythe r te l l

’

At when aw coom i ’ th worl d m i se lTrade wur s l ack

A n ’

neaw i t ’ s hard wark poo in’

throo

B ut aw munna fear thee , i v aw doTha ’ l l go back .

Cheer up ! th e se to im e s’

l l aw te r soon ;Aw

’

m beawu to he igh anothe r spoo n

On e fo r theeA n as tha ’ s i ch a p rat ty face

,

Aw l l l e t thee have eaw r Charl ey’

s p lace

O n m i k nee .

Hush ! hush tha mu n no cry th i s way ,But get th i s sope O

’

c i n der tayWhi l e i t ’s warm ;

Mi moth e r u sed to g ive i t me ,When aw wur sich a lad as thee ,

I n he r arm .

H ush a nanny, h usn a b e e

Oh ,what a temper ! dear a me,

H eaw tha sk ro ik e s !

Here ’s a bi t 0 ’ sugar,s i thee

How ’ d th i n o i se,an ’ then aw

’l l g i e t hee

Owt tha lo ikes

We ’ n n obbut getten coarsi sh fare ,Bu t eaw t 0 ’ th i s tha ’ l l ha’ th i share ,

Never fear .

Aw hope tha ’ l l never wan t a meal ,Bu t al l u s fi l l th i bal ly wee l

Whi le tha ’

rt here .

And tho ’ we ’ n ch i l der two o r th ree ,We ’ l l make a bi t 0 ’

reawm for thee

B less thee,l ad !

Tha ’ rt th ’

prattiest br id we han 1 th’ nest ;

Come,hutch up cl o ser to m i breast;

Aw ’

m th i dad .

SAMUEL LAYCOCK .

ONLY A BABY SMALL .

O N LY a baby sma l l ,Dropped from the sk i es ;

O n ly a l augh i ng face ,Two sunny eyes .

O n ly two Cherry l ip s,

One chubby nose ;O n ly two l i t t l e hands

,

Ten l i t t l e toes.

O n ly a go ld e n head,

Curly and soft ;O n ly a tongue that wagsLoud ly and o ft .

O n ly a l i t t l e brai n,

Empty of thought ;

a . I L L L L U L l U H ! U

Troubl ed wi th naught .

O n ly a tende r flowerSen t u s to rear

On ly a l ife to l ove,

Whi l e we are here .

O n ly a baby smal l,

Never at res t ;Smal l

,bu t how dear to u s ,

God k nowe th best .

MATTH IAS B ARR .

WEIGH ING THE BABY.

How many pounds does the babyWeigh

Baby who came bu t a mon th ago PH ow many pou nds , from the c rown ing

curlTo the ro sy po in t of the rest l e s s toe ?

Grandfather t i es the ’kerch i ef ’ s k no t,

Tenderly gu ides the swinging weigh t ,And carefu l ly over h i s gl asses peersTo read the record , On l y e ight .”

Soft ly the echo goes around ;The father l aughs at the t iny gi rl

,

The fai r young mo ther s i ngs the words.Whi l e grandmother smoo th s the go ld

en cu rL

A nd stoop ing above the prec iou s thi ng,

Nest l es a k i s s wi th in a p rayer ,Murmu ring

'

soft ly,

L i t t l e one ,Grandfather d id no t we igh you fai r.

Nobody weighed the baby ’ s sm i l e,

Or t he l ove that came wi th th e hel pl es s one ;

B AB Y MA Y .

Nobody weighed th e th reads of careFrom wh ich a woman ’ s l ife i s spu n .

N O index te l l s the m ighty worth

Of l i t t l e Baby’ s qu iet b reath ,

A soft,u nceas ing metronome ,

Pat ien t an d fa i thfu l u n to death .

Nobody weighed the baby ’ s sou l,

For here on earth n o weight may beThat cou l d avai l God on l y k nows

I ts val ue i n e tern i ty .

O n l y e igh t p oun ds to ho l d a sou lThat seek s no angel ’ s s i l ve r w ing

,

Bu t sh i n e s beneat h th i s human gu i se ,Wi th i n so smal l and fra i l a th i ng !

O mother,l augh you r merry no te

B e gay and glad , bu t don’ t fo rget

From baby eyes l ook s ou t a sou lTha t c la im s a hom e i n Eden ye t .

ETHEL LYNN B EERs.

BABY MAY .

C H E EKS as soft as Ju ly peaches ,L i p s whose ve l ve t scarl et teachesPopp i e s pa l eness—rou nd large eyesEve r great wi th new su rpri se ,Mi nu tes fi l l ed wi th shade l ess gl ad ness

,

Minu tes ju s t a s br i mmed w i th sadness ,Happy sm i l es a n d wai l i ng cri es ,C rows , and l aughs , and tearfu l eyes ,L igh t s and shadows swi fter born

Than on wi nd - swep t au tum n co rn ,

I S

Ever some n ew t iny not i on THE BAB I E

Mak ing eve ry l imb al l m o t i on N AE shoon to h ide her t i ny taes,Catch ings u p of l egs and arms , Nae stock i ngs on her feet,Throw ings back and smal l a l a rms

,Her supp l e ank l es wh i te as sn aw

C l u tch i ng fingers—st ra igh ten i ng j erk s , Of early b lo ssom s sweet .

Twi n i ng fee t whose each toe work s,

K ic k ings up and stra i n ing ri s i ngs,Mother ’ s ever-new surp ri si ngs

,

Hands al l wan t s and l ook s al l wonderAt al l t h ings the heaven s u nde r

,

Tiny sco rn s O f sm i l ed rep rovi ngs

That have m ore o f love than l ovi ngs,

M i sch i efs don e wi th such a w in n i ng

A rch ness , tha t we p riz e s uch si n n i ng ;Break i ngs d i re Of p late s and glasses

,

G rasp ings smal l at al l that passes,Pu l l i ngs O ff o f a l l that ’ s ab l eTO be caught f rom t ray or tabl eS i l e n ces—smal l med i tat i on sDeep as t hought s Of cares for nat i o n s

,

Break ing in to w i ses t SpeechesI n a tongue that no th ing teaches ,A l l the though ts of whose posse ss ingMus t be wooed t o l ight by guessi ng ;Sl umbers—such sweet ange l - seem ings

,

That we ’ d ever have such d ream i ngs,

Ti l l from s l eep we see thee break i ng,

And we ’

d always have thee wak ingWeal th fo r wh ich we k n ow no measu re

,

Pleasu re h igh above al l p l easu re,

G l adness br imm ing ove r gladness,

Joy i n care , del igh t i n sadness,Love l in ess bey ond comp leteness ,Sweetness d i stanc ing al l sweetness ,Beau ty al l that beau ty m ay be

That ’ s May Bennett,that ’ s my baby .

W ILL IAM C . B ENNETT.

Her simpl e d ress of sp ri n k led p i n k ,Her doubl e

,d imp led ch i n

Her puckered l ip and baumy mou’

,

Wi t h nae ane too th between .

Her een sae l i ke her m i ther’s een,

Twa gent l e,l iqu id th ings ;

Her face i s l i k e an ange l ’ s faceWe ’ re glad she has nae wi ngs

H UGH M ILLER .

CHICKEN L I TTLE ’S DUTY.

LOOK and see !Undern eath the l i l ac -t reeMother Ban tam wal k s wi th sixL i t t l e dow ny , ye l l ow ch ick sO

,how pre tty ! O ,

how smal l !Thi s on e i s the l east of al l .

Ch icken L i t t l e, Ch icken L i t t l e

G i ve to me an an swer t rueWhat i s you r idea of duty ?How does l i fe appear to you ?

Peep,peep

,peep

,says Ch ick en Lit

t l e ,That i s what I cannot te l l

’Ti s fo r m e too hard a quest i on ;I am j ust ou t of t he shel lI f I l ive to be a hen

,

I perhaps can an swer then .

Peep , peep , peep ! you shou l d no t ask me ,A l l that I ca n d o to day

I s to m i n d my mother Ban tam,

What she tel l s m e to Obey .

Peep, peep , peep I k now so l i t t l e !Peep , peep , peep ! I am so smal l !

What i s my idea of duty ?I have n o ideas at al l .

Ch icke n L i t t l e ! Ch icken L i t tl e !You are smal l

,bu t you are true

Just to mind your mother Ban tam ,

I s the best th i ng you can doThat ’ s the righ t idea o f du tyFo r a l i t t l e ch ick l i k e you .

C l uck , c l uck , c l uck says MotherBan tam

,

Underneath th e l i l ac-t ree ;Peep

,peep , peep ,

” says Ch ick en L i t t le,

As she hurr i es Off’

from me .

MAR IAN DOUGLAS.

PHIL I P , MY KING.

Who bears upon h is baby brow the round and

top Of sovere ignty.

”

[The baby for whom th is poem was wri tten is now Ph i l ipB ourke Marston, the b l ind poe t.]

LOOK at me wi th thy large brown eyes ,Phi l i p

,my King !

For round thee the pu rpl e shadow l ie s

Of babyhood’ s regal dign i t i e s.

Lay on my neck thy t iny hand ,Wi th l ove ’ s inv i s ib l e scept re l aden ;

I am th i ne Esther,t o command ,

Ti l l thou shal t fi nd thy queen -handm ai den

,

Ph i l i p,my K ing !

Oh , the day when thou goest a-woo i ng,Phi l i p

,my K ing !

When tho se beau t i fu l l i p s are su ing,And

,some gen t l e heart ’ s bars u ndo i ng

,

Thou dost en te r,l ove-c rowned , and there

S i ttes t a l l gl orified —Ru le k indly,Tenderly

,over thy k ingdom fai r

,

For we that l ove, ah we l ove sobl ind ly

,

Ph i l i p,my King.

Y B YE .

I gaze from thy sweet mou th up to thybrow,

Phi l ip,my K i ng ;

Ay, there l i e s the Sp i r i t,al l s l eep ing

now ,

Tha t may ri se l i k e a gian t,and mak e

men bow

As to one God - throned am idst h i s p eers .My Sau l

,than thy bre thren h igher

and fai re r.Let me beho l d th ee i n com ing years !Yet thy head needeth a c i rc l et rarer

,

Ph i l ip,my K ing ?

A wreath,no t of gold

,bu t palm . One

day,

Ph i l i p,my Ki ng

,

Thou t oo must tread , as we t read , a wayThorny

,and bi t t er

,and co ld , an d

grayRebel s w i th i n thee

,and ' foe s w i thou t

Wi l l snatch a t thy c rown . Bu t go on,

gl o ri ou s

Martyr,ye t monarch ! t i l l angel s shou t

,

As thou S i t test at the feet of God victorious,

Ph i l ip , the K ing

DI NAH MULOCK CRAIK .

BABY BYE.

BABY Bye,

Here ’ s a flyLet us watch h im

,you and I .

H ow he c rawl sUp the wal l s

,

Yet he n ever fal l s !I be l i eve wi th s ix such legs

I 7

You and I cou l d wal k on eggs.There he goesOn h i s toes

,

T ick l ing baby’ s nose.

Spo t s o f redDot h i s headRai nbows on h i s back are sp read ;

That smal l spec kI s h i s n eck

See h im nod and beck .

I can Show you,i f you choose

,

Where to l ook to find h i s shoes,

Three smal l pai rs,

Made Of hai rs ;These he a lways wears .

B lack and b rownI s h i s gown

He can wear i t up s ide down ;It is laced

Rou nd h i s wai st ;I adm i re h i s taste.

Yet though t igh t h i s c l o th e s are made,He wi l l l o se them , I

’m afra id,

I f to-n igh t

He get s s igh t

Of the candl e- l igh t.

In the su nWeb s are spun

What i f he get s in t o o n e ?

When i t ra in sHe comp l a in s

On the'

w indow -panes.

Tongue to tal k have you and I ;God has gi ven the l i tt l e fly

No such th ings ,SO he sings

With his buzz ing wings.

LE EDLE YAWCOB S TRAUSS.

He can eatBread and mea tThere ’s h i s mou th between h i s fee t.

On hi s back

I s a pack

L ik e a peddl er’ s sack .

Does the baby u nderstand ?

Then the fly shal l k i ss her hand

Pu t a crumbOn her thumb

,

Maybe he wi l l come.

Catch h im ? N O ,

LEEDLE YAWCOB STRAUSS .

Let him go ,I H AF von funny leedle poy ,

Never hu rt an in sec t so VO ! gomes schust to my k nee ,

Bu t no doubt Der queerest schap , der c reate st rogue ,

He fl i es ou t As efer you d i t see .

Just to gad about .Now you see h i s wi ngs of s i l k

Drabbl ed i n t he baby ’s m i l k ;Fie

,oh fie ,

Fool i sh fly !How wi l l he get dry ?

A l l wet fl i esTwi st th e i r th ighs ;Thu s they wipe the i r heads andeyes ;Cat s , you know ,

Wash j u st so ,Then thei r wh i skers grow .

Fl i es have hai rs too short tocomb

,

SO they fly bareheaded homeBu t the gnatWears a hat .D b 1

°

h0 you e 1eve t atHe run s

,und schumps, and schmashes

Fl i es can see d ings,

More than we . I n al l bart s off der hou se ,

SO how b righ t the i r eyes mu st beL i tt l e fly ,Ope you r eye ;Sp i ders are near by .

For a secret I can tel l ,Sp i ders never u se fl i e s we l l .

Then away ,Do not stay .

L i tt l e fly, good day .

THEODORE TILTON .

LI TTLE S TAR .

Bu t vo t Off dat ? He vas m ine son ,M ine leedle Y awc ob Strau ss .

He get der measl es und der m um bs,

Und e fe ryding dat’ s oudt ;

He shi l l s m in e gl ass Of l ager-bi er,Poo ts schmu ff indo m ine k rau t

He fi l l s m i ne p i p e m i t L i mbu rg cheese,

Dot vas der roughest chou se !I ’ d dake d o t vrom n o Oder poyBu t leedle Y awc ob S trau ss .

He dak e s der m i l k -pan for a dhrum ,

Und cu ts m i ne can e in dwo

TO make der sch t i ck s to beat i t mi tM i ne crac iou s

,dot vo s d rue !

I d ink s m i ne hed vos schpl it abart

H e k ick s oup sooch a tou se ;Bu t nefe r m i nd , der poys vas fewL i k e da t you ng Y awc ob S t rau s s .

He ask s m e quest i on s sooch as deseWho bain ts m in e nose so red ?

Who va s i t c u t s dot schm ood th blaceoudt

V rom der hai r ubon m ine head ?Und vhere de r p laze goes v rom der

l amp ,V en e ’e r der gl im I dou se ?

How gan I al l dese d i ngs eggsblainTo do t schm al l Y aw cob St rau ss ?

I som edim es d ink I shal l go v i l dM i t sooch a grazy poy ,

Und v i sh vonce more I gou l d haf rest,

Und beacefu l d imes enshoy.

Bu t ven he vas ashleep i n ped ,So qu i e t a s a mou se

,

I brays der Lord , Dak e anydings,Bu t leaf do t Y aw cob S t rau ss

CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS .

I 9

L ITTLE STAR .

TW I N KLE,twi nk le , l i tt l e star ;

How I wonder what you are !Up above the worl d so h igh

,

L i k e a d iamond i n th e sky .

When the gl o ri ou s sun i s set,

When the grass w i th dew i s wetThen you show you r l i tt l e l igh tTw ink l e , twink l e, a l l the n igh t.

In th e dark bl ue sky you k eep,

A nd O ften t h rough my cu rta in s peep ;For you never shu t y ou r eyeT i l l the su n i s i n the sky .

A s you r b righ t and t i ny sparkL ights the t ravel l er i n the dark

,

Though I k now no t what you are,

Twink l e , twi n k l e , l i t t l e star .

JANE TAYLOR.

UP I N THE TREE .

WHAT wou l d you see i f I took you upMy l i t t l e aer ie- stai r ?

You wou l d see the sky l i k e a c l ear b l uecup

Turned ups ide down in the a i r .

Wha t wou l d you do up my aeri e-s tai r,I n my l i tt l e n est o n the t ree ?

My ch i l d wi th cri es wou ld t roub l e the ai r,To get what she cou ld bu t see .

Wha t wou l d you get i n th e top of thet ree

,

For al l you r c ryi ng and gri ef ?

Not a star wou l d you c l u tch Of al l yousee

You cou l d on ly gather a l eaf.

But when you had l ost your greedy gri ef,Content to see from afar

,

You wou ld find in your hand a w i theredl eaf,

In you r heart a sh in i ng star .

G EORGE MACDONALD .

A CH ILD ’ S TWIL IGHT .

CH ILD .

TH E su n drop s down i n the deep,deep

vvest

As a bal l s ink s into a cup ;And the moon springs rap id ly up trom

restAs a jack - in -the-box l eaps up .

Now fal l s the shadow and comes thedark ,

And the face o f the worl d i s h id ;L i ke the men and the beast s i n a N oah ’ s

arkWhen they s l umber beneath i t s l id .

So soft ly—sl owly—the si l ence creepsOver earth and al l ear th ly th ings

,

That i t l eaves mank ind l i k e a do l l thats l eep s

,

Wi th no th ing to touch the sp ri ngs.

MOTH ER .

Ah wou ld that never the stars m igh tsh ine

L i k e Heaven ’ s ka l eidoscopesUpon l i ds l ess innocen t

,l ove

,than th ine

,

Less i nnocen t j oys and hopes .

HENRY S. LEIGH ,

NURSERY SONG.

As I wal k ed over the h i l l one day,

I l i stened , and heard a mo ther-sheep say ,In al l th e green world there i s noth

ing so sweetAs my l i tt l e lamm ie

,wi th h i s n im b l e

feetWith h i s eye so b righ t

,

And h i s wool so wh i te,

Oh, he i s my darl i ng , my heart’ s del igh t !”

And the mother-sheep and her l i t t l e o n eS i de by s i de l ay down i n the su nAnd they wen t to s l eep on the h i l l s ide

warm ,

Whi le my l i tt l e l amm i e l i e s here on myarm .

I went to the k i tchen,and what d id I see

Bu t the O ld gray cat wi th her k i tten sthree !

I heard her wh i spering soft sa i d she,

My k i tten s, wi th tai l s so cunn inglycu rl ed ,

Are th e p rett iest th ings that can be i nthe world .

The b i rd on the tree,

And the O ld ewe she,

May love thei r bab i es exceed ingly ;Bu t I l ove my k i t ten s there

,

Under the rock ing-chai r .I l ove my k i t ten s w i th al l my m igh t

,

I l ove them at morn ing , n oon , andn igh t .

Now I ’ l l tak e up my k i t t i es,the k i tt i e s

I l ove,

A nd we ’ l l l ie down together beneath the

warm stove.

”

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22 CRADLE H YMN’

.

CRADLE HYMN .

HUSH , my dear, l i e st i l l and slumberHoly ange l s guard thy bed

Heaven ly bl ess ings wi thou t numberGen t ly fal l ing on thy head .

S leep,my babe , thy food and raiment ,

House and home , thy friends provi de ;

A l l wi thou t thy care,or payment

,

A l l thy wan t s are wel l supp l i ed .

Soft and easy i s thy cradle ;Coarse and hard thy Sav iou r l ay

,

When h i s bi rthp lace was a stabl e ,And h i s softest bed was hay.

B lessed babe ! What glo ri ou s featu res,Spot les s, fai r , div i n e ly bright !

Must he dwel l w i th bru tal c reatu resHow cou ld angel s bear the sigh t ?

Was there n oth i ng but a m anger,

Cursed s inners cou ld affordTo rece ive the heaven ly st ranger ?Did they thu s affront the Lord ?

Soft,my ch i ld

,I d id n ot ch i de thee,

Though my song m igh t sou nd too’Ti s thy mother s i t s besi de thee, [hard ;And her arm s shal l be thy gu ard .

Yet to read the shamefu l story ,How the Jews abu sed thei r K i ng

HZHUQLPEJR

How they served the Lord Of gl ory,

Makes m e angry wh i l e I s ing .

See the k inde r shephe rd s round h im,

Tel l ing wonders from the sky ;Where they sough t h im

,the re th ey found

h im ,

With h i s v i rgin mo ther by .

See the l ovely babe a d ress ing

Love ly i n fan t , how he sm i led

When he wep t,the mo ther’ s b l e ss ing

Soo thed and hu shed the holy ch i l d .

LO , he s l umbers i n the manger,Where the horned ox en fed

Peace,my da rl ing

,here ’ s no danger

,

There ’s no oxen n ear thy bed .

’Twas to save thee,ch i ld

,from dying

,

Save my dear from bu rn ing flame,B i tte r groan s and end le ss cry ing

,

Tha t thy b lest R ed eemer came .

May ’ st thou l i ve to k now and fear h im ,

Tru st and l ove him al l thy days ;Then go dwel l fo rever near h im

,

See h i s face and s ing h i s p ra i se.

I cou l d gi ve thee thou sand k i sses,

Hop ing what I most desi re

N o t a mo ther ’s fondes t w i shes

Can to greate r j oys asp i re .

ISAAC WATTS.

23

THE ANGEL ’S WH ISPER .

TH E fo l low ing poem is founded upon the popular fancythat w he n a ch i ld sm i les in its s lee p the ange ls are ta lk ing toit. The be l ief is he ld espec ial ly in I re land , and Sam ue lLover , the Irish poe t, w rote a numbe r of poems about these

superst i t ious be l ie fs, ofwh ich th is is one of the prett iest.

A BABY was sleepm g ;I t s mother was weep ing ;

For he r hu sband was far on th e wi l draging sea

And the tempest was swel l ingRound th e fisherman

’

s dwel l ingA nd she c ri ed

, Dermo t,darl ing

,oh

come back to me !”

Her beads wh i l e sh e numbered,

The baby st i l l s l umbered,

A nd sm i l ed i n her face as she bendedher k n eeOh b l e st be that warn ing

,

My ch i l d , thy s l eep adorn i ng,For I k now that the angel s are wh i sper

ing wi th thee .

An d wh i l e they are k eep ingBrigh t wa tch o ’er thy sl eep ing

,

Oh,pray to them so ft ly, my baby ,wi th me !A nd say thou wou ld st rathe rThey ’ d wa tch o ’e r thy father !

Fo r I k now that the angel s a re wh i spe r

i ng to th ee .

”

The dawn Of the m orn i ngSaw Dermo t re tu rn ing ,

And the w i fe wept wi th joy her babe’s

father to see ;A nd c l o se l y care ss ingHer ch i l d w i th a b l ess ing,

Said , “ I k new that the ange l s werewhi spering wi th thee .”

SAMUEL LOVER.

AN OLD GAEL IC CRADLESONG .

HUSH the waves are ro l l ing in ,Whi te w i th foam , wh i te wi th foamFather to i l s am id the d in

B ut baby sl eep s at hom e .

Hush ! th e winds roar hoarse and deep ,On they come, on they come !

Brother seek s the lazy sheep ,But baby sl eep s at home .

Hush the rain sweeps o ’ er the k nowesWhere they roam

,where they roam

S is te r goes to seek the cows

B ut baby sl eeps at home .ANONYMOUS.

LULLABY .

SW E ET and l ow ,sweet and l ow ,

Wind Of the western sea ,Low ,

l ow,breathe and bl ow ,

Wind of the western sea !

Over the rol l ing waters go

Come from the dying moon , and blow ,

Bl ow h im agai n to me ;Whi l e my l i tt l e one

,Wh i l e my pretty

one,s l eep s .

S leep and rest,sl eep and rest ;

Father wi l l come to thee soon .

Rest,rest on mo ther ’ s breastFather wi l l come to thee soon .

Father wi l l come to hi s babe in the nest ;S i lver sai l s all ou t of the west

Under the si l ver moonS leep , my l i tt l e one , s l eep , my pretty

one,sl eep .

ALFRED TENNYSON .

THE LAND OF NODDY .

P UT away the baubl e and the bibSmooth ou t the p i l low in the c ribSoft ly on the downLay the baby

’ s c rown,

Warm arou nd i t s feetTuck the l i t t l e sheet

,

Snug as a p ea i n a pod !With a yawn and a gape,A nd a d reamy l i t t l e nap ,We wi l l go

,we w i l l go ,

To the Landy -andy-pandyOf Noddy-Oddy-poddy,

To,

the Landy -andy—pandOf Noddy-pod .

There i n the Shadow -Maker’ s ten t,

After the twi l igh t’s soft descen t ,We ’ l l l i e down to dreams

O f mi l k in flowing st ream sA nd the Shadow-Maker ’ s babyWi l l l i e down wi th u s

,may be

,

On the soft mossy p i l l ow Of th e sod .

I n a d rowse and a doze,

A l l asl eep from head to toes ,We Wi l l l i e

,we wi l l l i e

,

In the Lan dy-andy-pandy

O f Noddy-Oddy

-p.oddy,

I n the Lan dy-andy-pandO f Noddy -pod .

Then when the morn ing break s ,Then when the lark awakes

,

We ’ l l l eave the drow sy dream s,

And the twink l i ng starry gleam s,We’ l l l eave the l i t t l e ten t ,A nd the wonders in i t p ent ,

To retu rn to ou r own native sod .

TH E

With a hop an d a sk i p ,And a j ump and a fl ip ,We wi l l come

,we wi l l c ome,

From the Landy-andy-pandy

Of Noddy-oddy-poddy ,From the Landy-andy-pan d

Of N oddy -pod .

ROSS ITER JOHNSON .

THE ITAL IAN MOTHER .

WH EN Luna d rop s her pear l s o f l igh tBetween the bl os som s of the t rees,

When Ph i l omela l u l l s a t n igh t

Her baby-b i rd s to s l eep and ease,

The I tal i an mother,fon d an d fa i r,

Her cradl e rock s beneath the sk i es ,And , breathed upon th e even ing ai r,Her p rayers l i k e angel - tones ari se .

S l eep,sl eep

,my ch i ld these ve i l i n g

l eavesFrom ch i l l ing dews p ro tec t thy bed ,

E ’en whi l e thy shaded brow recei vesThe k i s s Of s tars above thy head .

Hushed by these murmu ring waves,sl eep

wel l !Oh , may thy l i fe be pu re as they I

L i k e b i rd and flower,u ncon sc i ou s dwel l

Of sto rms that fo l l ow Ch i l dhood ’ sday .

”

The drowsy b i rd on downy n estI n p l ain t i ve s ighs h i s n o tes p rol ongs ;

Then,rou s ing

,throws from eas t to west

The echo ing marve l Of h i s songs .

I TALIAN M OTH ER . 25

S l eep,

Ch i ld ! the W i l l ow ’ s wav i ngbough

Reflec t s the hoveri ng glow -worm ’ sl igh t ;

The vigi l s Of my heart al l owN O dream to mar th i s b l i ssfu l n ight .

A s rou nd h i s mother ’ s ben d i ng form

The Holy Babe shed rays d iv i n e,

My being in thy sm i l e grows warm,

Thy c rad le ’ s my hori zon- l ine .

The drowsy b i rd o n downy nestI n p l ai n t i ve s igh s h i s notes p ro l ongs ;

Then,rou s i ng

,th rows from east to west

The echo ing marve l of h i s songs .

ALExANDRE SOUMET.

Translated by FLORENCE H . KENDRICK .

S l eep,ch i l d on bu sh and branch and

treeSweet blo ssom s Open fo r thy sake ;

The morn ing l igh t w i l l b righ te r be ;I watch thy bl ue eyes t i l l they wake .

Though day wi l l b ring the su n ’ s brigh t

beam,

I n t hy sweet face my l igh t I seekS ing soft ly , b i rd s ! dan ce l igh tl y, stream !I l i sten l e st my baby speak .

Thu s,by a t iny , sway ing nest ,

Whose c i rc l e t hel d her world,her al l ,

With swel l ing heart an d glowing breast

A mother d i d her j oy recal l .

Oh ,what can he aven hold Of bl i ss

M ore pu re,more deep , more sweet ,

than th i s !

CRADLE SONG .

SLE E P,baby

,s l eep !

Thy father ’ s watch i ng the sheepThy mo ther’ s shak i ng the dream land

t ree,

And down drops a l i tt l e d ream fo r thee .Sleep , baby, s l eep !

S leep,baby

,s l eep

The l arge s tars are the sheep ,The l i t t l e stars are the lambs

,I guess ,

The bright moon i s the shepherdess .

S leep , baby, s l eep

S l eep,baby, s l eep !

A nd cry not l i k e a sheep,

El se the sheep - dog wi l l bark and whine,

And bi te th i s naughty ch i l d of m ine .

S leep, baby, s l eep !

S leep,baby

,sl eep !

Thy Sav iou r l oves H i s sheepHe i s th e Lamb Of God on h ighWho for ou r sakes came down to d i e .

S leep,baby

,sl eep !

S leep , baby , s l eepAway to tend the sheep ,Away , thou sheep -dog fierce a n d wi ld

,

And do not harm my s l eep ing ch i l d !S leep

,baby

,sl eep

(German )Trans lat ion of E LIZAB ETH PRENTISS .

A SERENADE .

LULLAB Y, Oh , l u l laby !

Thus I heard a father c ry,

“Lu l l aby , Oh ,l u l laby !

The brat wi l l never shu t an eye ;

H i ther come,some power d i vi n e !

C l ose h i s l i ds,or Open m i ne !”

Lu l l aby , Oh ,l u l l aby !

What i s i t that m akes h im c ry ?Lu l laby , Oh , l u l l aby !

St i l l he stares—I wonder why,

Why are n o t t he son s of earthB l i nd

,l i k e pupp ies, from the b i r th ?

Lu l l aby,Oh

,l u l l aby !”

Thu s I heard the father c ry ;Lu l laby

,Oh

,l u l laby

Mary , you mu st com e and try !Hush , Oh , hu sh , fo r mercy

’ s sakeThe more I s i ng

,the more you wak e !

Lu l laby,oh

,l u l laby !

Fi e , you l i t t l e creatu re , fie !Lu l laby

,oh

,l u l laby !

I s n o poppy -s i rup n ighGive h im some

,o r give h i m al l

,

I am n odd ing to h i s fal l !”

Lu l laby,Oh, l u l laby !

Two such n igh ts,and I Shal l d i e !

Lu l laby,Oh

,l u l laby !

He ’ l l be bru i sed , and so shal l I ,H ow can I from bedposts keep,When I ’m walk i ng i n my sleep !”

Lu l l aby,oh , l u l laby !

Sl eep h i s very l ook s denyLu l l aby

,oh

,l u l laby ;

Nature soon w i l l stupefyMy nerves rel ax

,—my eyes grow d im

Who ’ s that fal l en—me o r h im ?”

THOMAS H OOD .

THE TWINS .

IN fo rm and featu re , face and l imb ,I grew so l i k e my brother

That fo l k s go t tak i ng me fo r h im ,

And each fo r o n e an other.

I t puzz l ed a l l ou r k i t h an d k i n ,I t reached an awfu l p i tch ;

For o n e O f u s was born a twi nA nd n ot a sou l k new which .

O ne day (to make the mat te r w orse),Before ou r names were fixed ,

As we were be ing washed by nu rse ,We got comp l ete l y m i x ed .

And thu s you see,by Fate ’ s dec ree

(O r rather nu rse ’ s wh im),My bro ther John go t chri st ened me

,

An d I go t chri stened Izz'

m .

Th i s fata l l i k en e ss even doggedMy foot step s when at schoo l

,

And I was always get t i ng flogged

For John t u rn ed ou t a foo l .

I pu t th i s qu est i on hope less lyTo every one I k n ew

,

IVhat would you do , i f you were me ,To p rove that you were you ?

H EN RY S . LE IG H .

A L ITTLE GOO SE .

TH E ch i l l N ovember day was done,

The work i ng-world home- fari ng ;The w i n d came roaring th rough the

stree ts ,A nd set the gas-l igh t s flari ng

,

A nd hopel e ssly and aim l esslyThe scared O ld l eaves were fly i ng

,

When,m i ngl ed wi th the

sough i ng w i nd,

I heard a smal l vo ice c ryi ng ;

A nd sh iver i ng on the co rn er stood

A ch i l d O f fou r,or over ;

N O c l oak o r hat he r smal l,

soft arm sAnd w i n d -b lown curl s t o

cover ;Her d imp l ed face was s ta i n

ed W i th tears ,Her round blu e eyes ran

over ;She cheri shed i n her Wee , co ld handA bunch Of faded c l ove r .

A nd,on e hand rou n d her t reasu re ,

whi leShe s l i pped i n m i ne the other

,

Hal f sca red,hal f confiden ti al

,sai d

,

“ Oh,p lease

,I wan t my mother !

Tel l me you r st ree t and n um be r, pet .

Don ’ t c ry ; I’ l l take you to i t . ”

28 A LI TTLE GOOSE .

Sobbi n 'g,she an swered ,

“ I fo rget ; becau se

The organ made me do it.

He came hou rs,

The monkey took the money ;

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30LOS T ON TH E P EA[RTE

LOST ON THE PRA IR I E .

O H ,my baby

,my chi l d , my darl i ng !

Lost and gone i n t he p rai r i e w i l d ;Mad gray wolves from the forest snarl i ng ,

Snar l i ng for thee , my l i t t l e ch i l d

Lost , l o st ! gon e forever !

Gay snakes rat t l ed and charmed and

sung ;

On thy head the sun ’s fi erce fever,

Oh,my baby

,my Chi ld , my darl ing

Dews of death on thy wh i te l i p hung ! Wol f and snake and the l onel y tree

Dead and pale i n th e moon l ight’

s g l ory , St i l l a re ru stl i ng,h i ss ing, sn ar l i ng ;

Cold and dead by the bl ack oak -tree Here ’ s my baby come back to me !

On l y a smal l shoe, stai ned and gory.

B lood-red , tattered ,—com eshom e tome . ROSE TERRY COOK E.

O ver the grass that ro l l s , l i k e ocean ,On and o n to the blue, ben t sky ,

Someth ing comes wi th a hu rri ed mot ion ,Someth i ng cal l s w i th a chok i ng cry ,

Here,here ! no t dead , bu t l iv i ng !

God Thy goodness—what can I p ray ?

B lessed m ore in th i s secon d giv ing ,Laid in happ i e r arms to -day.

CUDDLE DOON . 31

WILL I E WINK I E .

WEE Wi l l i e Wink i e r inS th rough the

town ,Up

- stai rs and doon -stai rs, i n h i s n i ch t

gown,

Tirlin’ at the w indow

, c ryin’ at t he l ock ,

Are the wean s i n t he i r bed —for i t ’ snow ten O

’ c l ock .

”

Hey,Wi l l i e Wi nk i e ! are ye com i n ’ ben ?

The cat ’s s ingin ’ gay thrum s to the

sleep in’ hen

,

The doug ’ s spe ldered on th e floor, and

d i sna gie a cheepBu t here ’ s a wauk ri fe l add i e that W i n na

fa ’ asl eep .

O nything bu t sl eep , ye rogue —gl owerin ’ l i k e the moon ,

Ratt l i n ’ in an aim jug w i’ an aim

spoon ,Rumbl in

’

,tumbl i n ’ rou n ’ abou t , c raw in

’

l i k e a cock,

Sk irl in’ l i k e a ken na-what—w aukn in

’

sleep in’ fo l k .

Hey , Wi l l i e Wi nk i e ! the wean’ s in a

c reel !VVaum bl in

’

afi a bod ie’

s k nee l i k e a ve raee l ,

Ruggin’ at the cat ’ s l ug

,and rave l l in

’ a

her th rumsWi l l i e Wi nk i e —See ,comes

Hey , th ere he

Weary i s the m i the r that has a stori ewean

,

A wee stum pie stou ssie , tha t canna ri nh i s lane

,

Tha t has a bat t l e aye w i’ sl eep before

he ’ l l c l o se an ee ;

Bu t a k i s s frae aff h i s ro sy l i p s gi es

strength anew t o me .

WILL IAM M ILLER.

CUDDLE DOON .

TH E bairn ies cudd l e doon at n i cht ,Wi ’ muck l e faucht an ’ d in ;

O ,try an ’

S l eep , ye wauk rife rogues ,You r father ’ s com in ’ in .

They n eve r heed a word I speak ;I t ry t o gi e a froon

,

But aye I hap them up,an ’ cry ,

“ O bairn ies,c udd l e doon .

”

Wee Jam i e w i ’ the curly heidH e aye sl eep s next the wa

’

Bangs up an ’ c ri e s,

“ I wan t a p ieceThe rasca l start s them a ’ .

I r i n an ’ fe tch them p ieces , dri n k s ,They s top awee the sou n ’

Then d raw the b l an ket s u p any c ry,

N OO, w ean ies, cudd l e d oon .

”

But ere five m i nu tes gang, wee Rab

Cr i e s oo t frae’ neath the c lae s

,

Mither,mak ’ Tam gie ower at ance

He ’ s k ittl in w i’ h i s taes .

The m i sch i ef’

s i n that Tam fo r t r ick s ,He ’ d bother hal f t he toon

But aye I hap them up an ’ cry ,O bairn ies, cuddl e doon .

”

At l ength they hear thei r father ’ s fi t ,An ’

,as he s teek s th e door ,

They tu rn th ei r face s to the vva

Whi l e Tarn pre tends to snore

Hae a ’ the wean s been gude ? he

ask s ,As he p i t s Off h i s shoonThe bairn ies, John , are i n thei r beds,An ’ l ang s ince cu dd l ed doon .

”

A n ’ j u st afore we bed oorsel’

,

We look at oo r wee lambs ;Tam has h i s airm s roun’ wee Rab’ s

neck ,An ’

Rab h i s airm s rou n ’ Tam ’ s.

I l i ft wee Jam i e up the bed,

An ’ as I stra ik each croon ,I wh i sper

,t i l l my heart fi l l s up

,

“ O bairn ies, cudd l e doon .

”

The bairn ies cuddl e doon at n i cht,

Wi ’ m irth that ’ s dear t o meBu t sune the big warl ’ s cark an ’ careWi l l quaten doon the i r g lee.

Yet come Wha t wi l l to i l ka ane ,May he Who s i t s aboon

Aye whi sper, though thei r pows bebau ld,

O bairnies, cudd l e doon .

ALExANDER ANDERSON .

MORN ING HYMN .

TH E morn ing brigh t

Wi th rosy l igh t

Has waked me from my S l eep

Father,I -

Own

Thy l ove al on e

Thy l i t t l e one do th keep .

Al l th rough the day,I humb ly p ray

,

Be thou my guard and gu ide ;My S in s forgive

,

A nd l et me l i ve,

Blest Jesu s,near thy si de .

O make thy rest

Wi th i n my breast ,Great Sp i r i t of al l grace

Make me l i ke thee,Then I shal l be

Prepared to see thy face .

ANONYMOUS.

AN OLD SAW.

AN OLD SAW .

A DEAR l i t t l e mai d came sk ipp i ng ou t

I n the glad new day,wi th a merry shou t

Wi th danc i ng fee t an d flying hai r

She sang wi th joy i n th e morn i ng ai r .

D on’

t S ing before Or eo/ef asf, you’

ll cry bef ore

7zzgfif /

What a c roak to dark en the ch i l d ’s de

l igh t

And the stup i d O ld nu rse,again and

aga in,

Repeated the anc i ent,du l l refra in

.

33

The ch i l d pau sed, try i ng to u nderstand ;But her eyes saw the great worl d ra i n

bow - spann edHer l ight l i t t l e feet hard ly touched the

earth,

And her sou l b rimmed over w i th i n nocen t m i r th .

Never m i nd ,—don ’ t l i sten , O sweet

l i t t l e mai d !Make su re o f you r morn i ng song, I

sa i d

And if pai n mu st meet you , why , al l

the more

Be gl ad of th e rap tu re tha t came be fore .

CEL IA THAXTER.

34 CH I VALR Y F OR TH E CRADLE .

CHI VALRY FOR THE CRADLE .

N O. I . TH E ROMAUNT OF HUM PTY

DUMPTY .

’

Ti s m id n igh t , and the moonbeam S l eep sUpon the garden sward °

My lady in yon tu rret keep sHer tearfu l watch and ward .

Be sh rew me !’ mutters, tu rn i ng pale ,

The stalwart sen escha l

What ’ s he that s i t t eth,c lad i n mai l

,

Upon ou r cast l e wal l

A rouse thee,friar Of orders gray ;

\Vhat, ho ! bri ng book and bel l !

Ban yonder ghast ly th i ng, I say ;And , l ook ye, ban i t we l l

By cock an d pye,the Humpty’ s face !

The form tu rned qu i ck ly rou ndThen t ot tered from i t s rest i ng—p lace

That n igh t the corse was found .

The K ing,wi th hosts Of figh t ing m en ,

Rode forth at break o f day ;Ah never gl eamed the su n t i l l then

On such a p rou d array.

B u t al l that army,horse an d foo t

,

At tempted,qu i te i n vai n

,

Upon the cas t l e wal l to pu t

The Hump ty up agai n .

CYTI PGi Lfi3Y'

IFOA?

N O . 2 . A L EG E N D O F BA N BURY CROSS .

Sta rted my l o rd from a s l umber androared

,

S i rrah , go bri ng me my buck le r an d

swo rd !Sadd l e my steed !

feed,

I ’ fai th bu t the bru te wi l l be weary in

deed

Ere he n ex t have a

Fo r I and my gray mu st be off and awayTO Banbu ry-Cro ss at the dawn of the

day.

”

Peop l e came down i n to Banbu ry - town,

I n hol i day doubl et an d ho l iday gownThey mu stered in fo rce

,as a matter of

cou rse ,

TTLE C16ADLE . 35

Who,as h i story goes

,had the newest Of

c l o thes,

And ri ngs o n h e r fi ngers a nd be l l s o n he r

toes .Ting

-a -fl flg ,ting

! D z

’

zzg—a {i i/1g

There was never behel d such a wonder

fu l th ing.

To see an O ld woman r ide o n a wh i teho rse .

S i r Thomas the Mayor had been heardto dec lare

I t w as l i ke ly to p rove an exc i t i ng affai r .

Shou t s o f acc la im from the m u l t i tudecame

,

And Cl app i ng O f hands fo r th at e l der lydame

N O . 3. TH E BALLAD OF B ABY BUN T I N G .

The k n ight i s away i n the merry green

wood,

Where he hun t s the wi l d rabbi t an d roeHe i s fleet i n the chase as the l ate Rob in

HoodH e i s fleeter i n quest o f the foe .

The nu rse i s at home i n the cast l e, an d

s i ngsTo the babe that she rock s at he r

breastShe i s c roon ing O f l ov e and Of man ifold

th ings,

And i s bi dd i ng the l i t t l e one rest .

Oh s l umber,my darl i ng ! oh s l umber

apace !For thy father wi l l short ly be here

And the sk i n Of some rabb i t that fa l l s i nthe chase

Shal l be th ine for a t ippet,my dear .

H ENRY S . LE IGH .

M‘

R . NOBODY

I KNOW a fun ny l it t l e man,

A s qu i et as a mouse,

Who does the_m isch ief that i s don e

In everybody ’ s hou se .

There ’ s n o one ev er sees h i s face ;And yet we al l agreeThat every p l ate we break was c rackedBy M r . Nobody.

’Ti s he who always tears ou r book s,

Who l eaves the door aj ar ;He pu l l s the bu tton s from ou r sk i rt s

,

And scatt e rs p in s afar .

A PARENTAL ODE TO MY SON .

AG ED THRE E Y EARS AN D F IV E MON THS.

That squeak ing door w i l l a lways squeakFor

,pri thee

,don ’ t you see

,

We leave the o i l ing to be doneBy M r. Nobody ?

He pu t s damp wood upon the fi re,

That k ett l e s canno t boi lH i s are the feet that bring i n m ud

,

A nd al l t he carpet s so i l .The papers always are m i s laidWho had them last but he

There ’ s no on e tosses them abou tBut M r. Nobody.

The finger mark s upon the doorsBy none of u s are made ;

We neve r l eave the b l inds u n c l o sed ,To let the curtain s fade .

The ink we n ever Sp i l l the boo tsThat ly ing rou nd you see

A re no t ou r boot s they al l be l ongTO Mr. Nobody .

R IV ERS IDE MAGAZ I N E .

T HOU happy,happy e lf !

(But stop—first l e t me k i ss away thattear)Thou t iny image o f myse lf !

(My love , he’s pok ing peas i n to h i s ear !)

Thou merry,l augh ing sp ri t e !

With sp i ri t s feather- l ight,

Un touched by so rrow,and un so i l ed by

sin,

(Good heaven s ! the ch i l d i s swa l l ow inga p in !)

https://www.forgottenbooks.com/join

AM ON G TH E AN IMALS .

AMONG THE ANIMALS .

ON E rai ny morn ing,

Ju st for a lark ,I j umped and stamped

On my n ew Noah ’ s ark ;I c ru shed an el ephan t

,

Smashed a gnu,

A nd snapped a camel

C l ean i n two

I fi n i shed the wo l f

Withou t half tryin’

,

A nd wi l d hyena

An d roaring l i on

I k n ocked down Ham,

And Japhet, too ,And c rack ed the l egs

Of th e kangaroo ;I fi n i shed

,besides

,

Two p igs and a donkey ,A po lar bear,Opossum ,

and monkey ;Al so the l i o n s

,

Tigers,and cats

,

And dromedari es,

A nd t i ny rats .

There wasn ’ t a th i ng

That d i dn ’ t fee l ,Soone r o r l ater

,

The weigh t 0 ’ my hee l ;I fel t as grand

A s grand cou l d be ;Bu t Oh th e wh ipp i ng

“

My mammy gave me

MARY MAPES ‘

DODGE .

THE NEW SLATE.

SEE my slate I dot i t new,

COS I b ’oke the other,Pu t my ’

ittle foot r ight froo,

Runmi n ’ after mother .

I tan make you l o t s 0 ’ s ings,

Fass as you tan tel l ’em,

T ’ s and B ’ s an d big O ri ngs,

On ly I tan ’ t sp el l ’em .

I tan make a funny p ig ,

Wid a turly ta i l -y ,

’

Ittle eyes , an d snou t so b ig,Pok i n ’ i n a pai l -y.

I tan m ak e a el ephan t ,Wid h i s t runk a hangin ’

;

A n ’ a boy— who says I tan ’t ?Wid h i s du n a bangi n ’

.

An ’ the smoke a tum m in ’ out,

(Wid my t’

umb I do i t,

Rubbin’ al l the wh i te abou t),

Spark s a -flyi‘

n’

froo i t .

I tan make a p re tty hou se,

Wid a t ree beh i nd i t,

An ’ a l i tt l e mou sy-mou se,

Runn in’ roun d to fi nd i t .

I tan pu t my hand ou t flatO n th e s late , and draw i t ,

(Tick l in’

i s th e worst o f that !)Did you ever saw i t

I can draw me runn in’ ’ bou t

Mamma’ s ’

ittle posset,

S l ate ’ s so du sty , rubbi a’ out

,

Dess OO ’

d bet ter wass i t .

TO y. H .

Now,then

,s ’ a l l I make a t ree ,

Wid a bi rd i e i n i tA l l my p ie tu rs you s

’

al l see ,If you ’ l l wai t a m i n u te .

N O , I dess I’ l l mak e a man ,

J uss l i k e U nc l e Ro l ly ;See i t tumm in ’

fass ’ i t tan !

Bet my slate i s j o l ly

ANONYMOUS.

To I . H .

FOUR Y EARS OLD .

AH,l i t t l e rant ing Johnny

,

Forever b l i the and bonnyAnd si nging n on ny

,nonny

,

With hat j u st th rown upon ye ;O r whi st l ing l ik e the t

’

hru shes,

\Vi th a vo i ce i n s i l ve r gushes

O r tw i s t i ng random pos iesWi th dai s ie s

,weeds

,and ro ses

And strut t ing in an d ou t so,

O r danc i ng al l abou t soWi th cock -up n ose so l igh t some ,A nd s i d e l ong eyes so brigh tsome ,A nd cheek s as r ipe as app l es ,A nd head as rough as Dapp l e

’

s,

A nd arm s as sun ny sh in ingA s i f the i r ve i n s they ’ d wi ne i n ,A nd mou th t hat sm i les so t ru lyHeaven seem s to have m ade i t n ewly

I t b reak s i nto such sweetn essWi th merry- l i pped comp leteness

Ah Jack,ah Gian n i m io

,

AS bl i the as Laugh ing Tri o !—S i r R i chard

,too

,you rat t l e r ,

So chri stened from the Tatt l e r,

39

My Bacchus i n h i s gl oryMy l i t t l e Co r-d i -fio ri ,My trick some P uck

,my Rob in

,

Who i n and ou t come bobb i ng,

As fu l l Of fe i n t s and fro l i c s as

That fibbing rogue Au to lycu s ,And p l ay th e gracel es s robber onYou r grave-eyed bro ther Oberon

,

Ah D i ck , ah Dol ce - ri so ,How can you , can you be so ?

One canno t tu rn a mi nute ,But m i sch i ef— there you ’re i n i tA-gett i ng at my book s

,John

,

With m igh ty bu st l i ng l ook s , John ,’

Or pok i ng a t the roses,

I n m id st o f wh ich you r nose i s ;Or c l i mb i ng on a tabl e

,

No matte r how un stabl e,

A nd tu rn ing up you r quai n t eyeA nd hal f- shu t teeth

,wi th Mayn ’ t I ?”

O r e l se you ’re Off at p lay,J ohn

,

Ju st as you ’ d be al l day, John ,

Wi th hat o r n ot,as happen s ;

And there you dance,and c lap han ds ,

Or on the grass go ro l l i ng,

Or p l uck i ng fl owers,o r bowl i ng ,

And get t i ng me expen se sWi th l o s i ng bal l s o ’er fencesO r

, as the con stan t t rad e i s ,Are fond led by the lad iesWi th “What a you ng rogue th i s i s !R eform i ng h im W i th k i sses ;Ti l l sudden ly you cry ou t ,As i f you had an eye ou t

,

SO desperate ly tearfu l,

The sou nd i s real ly fearfu lWhen 10 ! d i rec t ly after,I t bubbl e s i n to l augh te r.

40 TO A CH I LD .

Ah rogue ! and do you k now , John ,Why ’ t i s we l ove you SO , John

And how i t i s they l e t ye

DOwhat you l i k e and pet ye ,Though al l who l ook upon ye ,Exc laim

,Ah Johnny, Joh nny !

”

I t i s because you p l ease ’ em

St i l l more,Joh n

,than you tease ’em

Because,too

,when not p resen t ,

The thought of you i s p l easan t

Because,though such an e lf, Joh n ,

They th ink that if you rse l f, J ohn ,Had someth ing to condem n too ,You ’ d be as k ind to them too ‘

I n sho rt , becau se you’ re very

Good- tempered , Jack ,and merry ;

And are as qu ick a t gi v ing

A s easy at rece i v ing ;And i n the m ids t Of p leasu re

Are certain to find l e i su re

To th ink , my boy, of ou rs ,And bring u s l umps of flowers .

But see , the sun sh i nes bright ly ;Come

,pu t you r hat on rightl y

,

A nd we’ l l among the bu shes,

And hear you r fri ends,the thru shes ;

And see what flowers the weather

Has rendered fi t to gather

And , when we home mu st jog, you

Shal l r ide my back,you rogue you

,

Your hat adorn ed w i th fine l eaves,

Horse-chestnu t, oak , and v ine- l eaves ,And so, wi th green o

’

erhead,John

,

Shal l w h i st l e home to bed,John .

LE IGH H UNT.

TO A CH ILD .

IF by any dev ice or knowl edgeThe rose -bud i ts beau ty cou l d k n ow

,

I t wou l d stay a rose-bud forever,

Nor in to i ts fu l ness grow .

A nd i f t hou cou l d ’ st k now thy ownsweetn ess

,

O l i tt l e on e,perfec t and sweet ,

Thou wou l d ’ s t be a ch i l d forever

Complete r wh i l e i n comp le te .

FRANC I S TURNER PALG RAV E .

DEAR L ITTLE HAND .

D EAR l i tt l e hand that C l asp s my own,

Embrowned wi th to i l and seamed w i ths t r i fe ;

P i n k l i t t l e fi ngers not yet grownTo the poor strength o f aft e r- l ifeDear l i t t l e han d

Dear l i t t l e eyes wh ich sm i le on min e,

With the fi rst peep of morn ing l igh tN ow Ap r i l -wet wi th tears, o r fi neWi th dews Of p i ty

,or laugh ing b righ t ,

Dear l i t t l e eyes !

Dear l i tt l e vo i ce , whose brok en speechAl l e l oque n t u t terance can t ran scend ;

Sweet ch i l d i sh w i sdom st rong to reachA hol i e r deep than l ove o r fri e ndDear l i t t l e vo i ce !

Dear l i tt l e l i fe ! my care to keepFrom every Spot and stai n Of s i n

Sw ee t’

sou l foredoomed , for j oy o r pai n .

To st ruggl e an d—which? to fal l o r w i n ?

Dread myst i cal l i fe !LEW IS MORR I S.

TO H ARE Y .

TO HARRY .

H ARRY , my l i t t l e bl ue- eyed boy ,I l ove to hear thee p lay i ng n ear ;

There 's mu sic i n thy Shou ts Of j oyTo a fond fa ther ’ s ear .

I l ove to s ee the l in es of m i rthMan t l e thy cheek and fo rehead fai r ,

AS i f a l l pleasu re s of the earth

Had met to reve l there

Fo r,gaz i ng on th ee , do I s igh

That these most happy hou rs w i l l fl ee,

And thy fu l l share of m i seryMust fal l in l i fe on thee !

There i s n o las t ing gri ef be l ow ,

My Harry,that fl ows no t from gu i l t

Thou can st n o t read my mean i ng n ow ,

In afte r - t imes thou wi l t .

Thou ’ l t read i t when th e church—yard c laySha l l l i e upon thy father ’ s breast ;

And be,th ough dead , wi l l po in t the way

Thou shal t be a lways b l essed .

They ’ l l t e l l thee th i s t erre st r ia l bal l,

To man fo r h i s en j oymen t gi ven ,I s bu t a sta te of si n fu l thra l lTO keep the sou l from heaven .

My boy th e verdu re -c rowned h i l l s,

The val e where fl owers i n n umerou s

bl ow,

The musi c o f ten th ou san d r i l l s

Wi l l te l l th ee ’ t i s n o t so .

God i s no tyran t,who wou l d sp read

U n numbered dai n t ie s to the eyes,

Yet teach the hungeri ng ch i ld to d readThat touch ing them he d i es

4 I

N O ! al l can do h i s c reatu re s good

He scat ters rou n d wi th han d profuse

The o n ly precep t u nderstood,

En j oy,bu t no t abu se ! ”

W I LL IAM H . T IMROD .

MY GOOD- FOR -NOTH ING .

W H AT are you good fo r,my brave

l i t t l e man ?

An swer that qu est io n fo r me,if you

can

You , with you r fi nge rs as wh i te as anun

,

You , wi th you r r i ngl e t s as brigh t as thesu n .

A l l the day l o ng,wi th you r busy con

triv ing ,

I n to a l l m i sch i ef and fun you aredri v ing ;

See if your wi se l i t t l e nodd l e can te l lWhat you are good fo r . Now ponder

i t wel l .

Over the carpet the dear l i t t l e fee tCame wi th a pat ter t o cl imb on my

seat ;Two merry eyes

,fu l l Of fro l i c an d gl ee

,

U nder the i r lashes l o oked up un to m e ;Two l i t t l e hand s

,press i ng soft on my

face,

Drew me down c l o se i n a l ov i ng embrace ;

Two rosy l i ps gave the an swer so t rue ,Good to l ove you

,mamma— good to

l ove you .

EM ILY H UNT IN GTO N M I LLER.

42TO A CH ILD .

BABY AR ITHMETIC .

ROSE BUD,dain ty and fai r t o see ,

Flower of the whole round worl d to me ,Come thi s way on you r danc ing feetSay

,how much do you l ove me , sweet ?

Red l i t t l e mou th drawn gravely down ,Whi te brow Wearing a puzz l ed frown ,Wise l i t t l e baby Rose i s she

,

Trying to measu re her l ove fo r me .

I l ove you al l the day and the n ight ,Al l the da rk and the sun sh ine bright ,Al l the candy in every store ,Al l my do l l ars

,and more and more ,

Over the top s o f the mou n ta i n s h igh ,

Al l the world,way up to the sky.

”

EMILY H UNT I NGTON M ILLER .

TO A CH ILD

EMBRAC I N G H IS MOT H ER.

LOV E thy mother, l i t t l e on eKi ss and C lasp her n eck agai n

,

Hereafter she may have a sonWi l l k i ss an d c lasp her n eck i n vai n .

Love thy mother,l i tt l e one !

Gaze upon her l i v ing eyes,

And m i rro r back her love for thee,

Hereafte r thou mayst shudder sigh sTo meet them when they cannot see .

Gaze upon her l iv i ng eyes !

Press her l ips the wh i l e they glowWith love that they have Often told

,

Hereafter thou mayst p ress in woe,

And k i ss them t i l l th i n e own are col d .

P ress her l ip s the wh i l e they gl ow

Oh,revere her raven hai r !

Al though i t be n o t Si lver-gray

Too early Death , l ed o n by Care,May snatch save one dear look away ;

Oh,revere her raven hai r !

P ray fo r her at eve and morn,

That Heaven may l ong the stroke

defer ;For thou m ayst l i ve the hou r forl ornWhen thou w i l t ask to d i e wi th her

.

Pray for her at eve and mornTHOMAS H OOD .

A MOTHER SHOWI NG THE

PORTRA IT OF —H ER CH ILD .

L IV IN G ch i l d o r p ic tu red cherubNe ’er O ’

erm atched i t s baby grace ;A nd the mother, mov ing n earer,Looked i t ca lmly i n the face

Then,wi th s l igh t an d qu i et gestu re

,

A nd wi th l ip s tha t scarce ly sm i l ed,

Said,A port ra i t of my daughter,When she was a ch i l d .

”

Easy though t was hers to fathom,

Noth ing hard her gl an ce to read,

For i t seemed to say,N O prai ses

For th i s l i tt l e ch i l d I n eedIf you see

,I see far bet ter

,

And I wi l l n o t feign to careFor a st ranger ’ s p romp t assu rance

That th e face i s fai r.”

Soft ly c l asped and hal f ex tendedShe her d impl ed han ds doth lay

SO they doubtl ess p l aced them,say ing,

L i t t l e one , you must n ot p l ay.

A M OTH ER SH OWIN G TH E P ORTRAI T OF H ER CH ILD .

And wh i l e yet h i s work was growi ng,

Th i s the pai n te r’

s hand hath shown,

That the l i t t l e heart was mak ing

P i c tu re s of i t s own .

I s i t warm i n that green val l ey,Vale of ch i l dhood

, Where you dwel l ?

IS i t ca lm i n that green val l ey ,Rou nd whose bou rn s such grea t h i l l s

swe l lAre there gian t s i n the val l ey

Giants l eav ing footp ri n t s ye t ?

Are there angel s i n the val l ey ?

Tel l me—I forget .

A n swer, an swer, for the l i l i es ,L i t t l e o n e

,o ’ertop you much ,

A nd the mealy go l d wi th i n th em

Y ou can sca rce ly reach to touch .

Oh,how far the i r aspec t d i ffers ,

Look ing up and l ook i ng downYou l ook up i n that green va l l ey

Va l l ey of renown !

Are there vo ice s i n th e va l l ey ,Lying n ear the heaven l y ga te ?

When i t Open s , do the harp -str ings ,Touched wi th i n

,rev erberate ?

When , l i k e shoo t ing- stars , the angel s

To your couch at n igh tfal l go ,Are the i r swi ft w ings heard to ru s t l e ?

Tel l m e,fo r you k now .

Yes , you k now—and you are si l en t ;Not a word shal l ask ing w in ;

Li t t l e mou th m ore sweet than ro sebud,

Fast i t l ock s the sec ret i n .

No t a gl i mpse upon you r p resentYou un fo l d to glad my v iew ;

43

Ah,wha t sec re ts of you r fu tu re

I cou l d te l l t o you !

Sunny p resent ! t hus I read i t,

By rem embrance of my past ;I ts to -day and i ts t o-morrowAre as l i fet i mes vague and vast ;

A nd each face i n that green val l eyTak es fo r you an aspect m i l d

,

A nd each vo ice grow s so ft i n say ing,

Ki s s me , l i t t l e ch i l d

As a boon the k i s s i s gran t ed

Baby m ou th , you r touch i s sweet ;Takes the l ove w i tho ut the t roubl e

From those l i p s that w i th i t meet ;Gives the l ove—O pu re ! O tender !O f the val l ey whe re i t grows

,

Bu t the baby heart rece iveth

MORE THA N IT B ESTOWS .

Comes the fu tu re to th e p resen t“ Ah !

”she sai th

,

“ too bl i the of mood ;Why tha t sm i l e wh i ch seem s to wh i spe r

,

I am happy—G od i s good ! ’

God i s good tha t t ru th eternal,

Sown fo r you i n happ i e r years,

I mu s t t end i t in my shadow ,

Water i t wi th tears .

Ah,sweet p resen t I mu st l ead thee

By a day l igh t more subdued ;There m ust teach thee l ow to Wh i sper

,

‘I am mou rn fu l,God i s good ! ’

Peace,thou fu tu re ; c l ouds are com i ng,

S toop ing from the mou n tai n ’ s c re stB u t that sun sh i n e floods the val l ey

Let her —l e t her rest.”

44 TH E yoUN G VAN D VCR’

.

Comes the fu tu re t o the p resen t

Ch i l d,” she sai th

,and wi l t thou

rest ?

How long,ch i l d

,before thy foo tstep s

Fret to reach yon c l oudy crest ?

Ah,th e val l ey I—angel s guard i t

,

But the height s are brave to see ;Look i ng down were l o ng con ten tmen t

Come up , ch i l d , to me .”

So She speak s,bu t do not heed her

,

L i tt l e maid,wi th wondrou s eyes

,

Not afraid,bu t c l ear and tender,

B lue,and fi l l ed wi th propheci es ;

Thou for whom l ife ’s vei l un l iftedHangs

,whom warmest val l eys fold ,

L i ft the vei l,th e charm d isso lve th,

C l imb , bu t height s are co l d .

There are buds that fo l d wi th i n them ,

C l o sed and covered from ou r sigh t,

Many a rich ly-t i n ted petal ,Never look ed on by the l ight

Fain to see the i r sh rouded faces,Sun and dew are l ong a t st r i fe ,

Ti l l at l ength the sweet buds openSuch a bud i s l ife .

When th e rose of th i n e own bei ngShal l reveal i t s cen t ral fold

,

Thou shal t l ook wi th i n and marvel,

Fearing what th ine eyes beholdWhat i t shows and what i t teachesAre no t th ings wherewi th to part ;Thorny rose that always coste th

Beat i ngs at the heart .

Look in fear,for there i s d im ness ;

I l l s u n shapen float an igh

Look i n awe, fo r th i s same natu re

O nce the Godhead deigned to d i e.Look i n l ove

,for He doth l ove i t

,

And i ts tal e i s best o f l o re ,S t i l l human i ty grows dearer

,

Being l earned the more .

L earn,bu t not the l ess beth ink thee

How that a l l can m ingle tearsBut h i s j oy can none d i scover

,

Save to them that are h i s peers .And that they whose l i p s do u tterLanguage such as bards have sung ;

LO the i r speech shal l be to manyAs an unknown tongue .

Learn,tha t if to thee the mean ing

O f al l o ther eyes be shown,

Fewer eyes can ever fro n t thee,

That are sk i l l ed to read th i n e own ;And that i f thy l ove ’s deep cu rren tMany another’ s far ou tflows

,

Then thy heart m us t take foreverL ESS THAN IT B E STOWS .

JEAN INGELOW .

THE YOUNG VAN DYCK .

IN the gray o l d Fl em i sh c i ty,

Bend i ng o ’er her ’ broi dery frame,

At a wi ndow ’ s deep embrasu re,

Sat a fai r- hai red,comely dame .

Roun d her p layed her merry ch i l dren,

Twist ing fi l l et s fo r thei r heads,

P i l fered,i n th e i r p ran k i sh m i sch i ef

,

From her p i l e of arras th read s .

Oft she t u rned her glance upon them ,

Soft ly sm i l ing at thei r p lay,

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46 TH E LI TTLE COL/511V.

Thy downcast g lances,grave

,bu t cun

n ing,

As fringed eyel i ds ri se and fal l,

Thy shyness, swift ly from me runn ing,’ Ti s in fan t ine coquetry al l !

B ut far afiel d thou hast n o t fl own,

With m ock s and th reats , hal f l i sped ,hal f spoken

,

I feel the pu l l ing at my gown ,Of righ t good -wi l l thy simpl e token .

And thou mu st l augh and wre stl e t oo,

A mim ic warfare wi th me waging,To make

,as wi ly l overs dO

,

Thy afte r k i n dness more engaging .

The W i l d i ng rose, sweet as thysel f,And new- cropped da i s i e s are thy t reas

u re :I ’ d glad ly part wi th worl d ly pelf,To taste again thy you thfu l p l easu re .

Bu t yet , for al l thy merry l ook ,Thy fr i sk s and wi l es , the t i me i s com

ingWhen thou shal t s i t i n cheerl ess n ook ,The weary spel l or horn -book thumb

i ng.

Wel l , l et i t be ! Through wea l an d woeThou know

’

st not now thy fu tu rerange

L i fe i s a mot l ey , Sh i ft ing show ,

And thou a th ing of hope and change.

JOANNA B AILLIE.

THE L I TTLE COUS I N .

TH ERE was a l i tt l e gi r l,and she had a

l i t t l e cou s in,

A nd she sai d , “ L i t t l e cou sin , don’ t re

fu se,fuse

,fu se,

From ou t you r tender merc i es,t o com

pose me a few verses,

Jus t between l i tt l e you and l i t t l e M use,

Muse, Muse ,Ju st between l i t t l e you and l i t t l e Mu se .

Then he r l i t t l e cou sin sa id , as he st rok edher su nny head

,

I p ro test, l i t t l e cou s in , you are n i ce ,n i ce

,n i c e

So fo r ai d I ’ l l l oud ly yelp , and i f M u sewi l l come and help

,

I’

l l compose you a few verses i n a t r i ce,

t ri ce, tr i ce ,I’

l l comp ose you a few v erses in a t‘ri ce .

I am su re i f a l l the l ad i es betweenSamarcand and Cadiz

Ask ed a rhyme , my pen wou l d neve r

move a jo t , jo t, j o t ,Bu t fo r you

,my p ret ty Cou s in , I cou l d

wri te a hund red dozen,

Whether Madam Muse ass i s ted me orn ot , no t , n o t,

Whether Madam Muse assi sted me o rno t .

So ofi he r cou s i n prances, and i nd i tes

h i s merry s tan zas,

Upon h i s l i t t l e cousi n t o bestow ’ em,

stow ’em,stow ’ em

,

Bu t before he gi ves them e ver, gets a

vow from “ Ki t ty C l over,”

TO LI TTLE IIIAR Y .

That to not a singl e sou l she ’ l l ever Show’em

, Show’ em

,Show ’ em

,

That t o not a s i ngl e sou l she ’ l l ever

show ’ em .

Then he l ook s upon her face,i n i t s

b l u sh i ng, youthfu l grace ,And the m i ngl ed rose an d l i ly of her

cheek,cheek

,cheek

,

And he r l iqu i d,l u s trou s eyes

,as bl ue as

summer sk i e s,Which the sou l Of sen s ib i l i ty bespeak

,

speak,speak

,

Which the sou l o f sen s ib i l i ty bespeak .

And he says My cou sin dear,may

n ever sorrow ’s tearD im you r eye o r sta in you r cheek , my

Charm i ng E l la,E l la

,El la ;

But Shou ld e ’e r you r heaven s l ower,’gai n st m i sfortu n e ’s p e l t ing shower,

Be a bright’

and j oyou s Sp i ri t you r umbre l la

,brel l a

,b rel l a ;

Be a brigh t and joyous sp i r i t you rumbre l l a .

”

A . C . KENDR ICK .

TO L I TTLE MARY .

I’

M bidden,l i t t l e Mary

,

To wri te verses u pon t hee ;I ’d fa i n obey the b idd ing

,

If i t res ted bu t wi th me

Bu t the M i st resses I ’ m bou nd to

(N ine Ladi e s hard to p l ease)O f al l t he i r s tores poet i c

So c l osely k eep the keys,

4 7

I t ’ s o n ly now an d then

By good l uck,as o n e may say

That’

a coup let o r a rhyme o r twoFal l s fai rly i n my way .

Fru i t forced i s neve r hal f so sweetAs that comes qu i te i n season ;But some fo l k s mu st be sat i sfiedWi th rhyme i n spz

’

le of reaso nSO Mu ses ! now befr i e n d me

,

Albe i t o f he l p so chary,

To st ring the pearl s o f poes i eFor l ovel i e st l i t tle Mary !

And yet , ye pagan Damse l s ,Not over-fond am I

To i nvoke your haugh ty favors,

You r fou n t o f Castaly°

I ’ ve s ipped a pu re r fou n tai n,

I ’ve decked a h o l i e r sh ri n e,

I own a m igh t i er M i st ress

O Natu re ! T/zoze art mi n e ;And Feel i ng ’ s fou n t than Casta lyY i e l d s waters more d i vi n e !

And o n ly to that wel l -head ,Swee t Mary

,I ’ l l re sort ,

For just an art l e ss verse o r two ,

A simp l e st ra i n and short,

B efitting wel l a P i lgrimWayworn wi th earth ly st r i fe ,

To offer thee,young Travel l er !

I n the morn i ng t rack Of l ife .

There ’ s many a one wi ll t e l l thee’Ti s al l w i th roses gay

There ’ s many a one wi l l tel l the e’Tis thorny al l the way

CH ILDH OOD AN D H I S VI SI TORS .

Dece i vers are they every one,

Dear Ch i ld , who thu s p reten dGod ’ s ways are not u n equalMake h im thy t ru sted fri end ,

And many a path of p l easan tn essHe ’ l l c l ear away for thee ,However dark and i ntri cateThe labyri n th may be .

I need not wi sh thee beau ty,

I need not wi sh thee grace ;Al ready bo th are budd ingI n that i nfant form an d face

I w ill no t wi sh thee grandeu r ,I w ill no t w i sh thee weal th

Bu t on ly a con tented heart,

Peace,competen ce

,and heal th

Fond fr ie nds to l ove thee dearly ,And honest fr i ends to ch i de

,

And fai thfu l ones to c l eave to theeWhatever may bet i d e .

And now , my l i tt l e Mary ,I f better th i ngs remai n

,

Unheeded in my bl i n dness,

Unnot iced i n my strai n ,I’

l l sum them up succ inct lyIn Engl i sh undefiled ,

”

My mother- tongue ’ s best ben i sonGod bl ess thee

,p rec i ou s Ch i l d

CAROL I N E B OWLES SOUTHEY .

CH ILDHOOD AND H IS V I S ITORS .

ONCE on a t i me,when sunny May

Was k i ss ing up the Apri l showers,

I saw fai r Ch i l dhood hard at pl ay

Upon a bank of b l u sh ing flowers

Happy—he k n ew n o t whence o r h ow,

And sm i l ing—who cou l d choose butl ove h im ?

For no t more glad than Chi ldhood sbrow

Was the b l ue heaven that beamedabove h im .

O ld Time,in most appal l ing wrath

,

That val l ey ’ s green repose i nvadedThe brook s grew dry upon h i s path

,

The b i rds were mu te , the l i l i es faded .

Bu t Time so swi ft ly wi nged h is fl ight,I n haste a Grec ian tomb to bat ter,

That Ch i ldhood watch ed h i s paper k i te,

And knew ju st noth ing Of the mat ter .

Wi th cu rl i ng l i p and gl anc ing eye,

Gu i l t gazed upon the scene a m inu te ;Bu t Ch i l dhood ’ s glance of pu ri tyHad such a ho ly spel l w i th i n i t

,

That the dark demon to the ai rSpread fo rth again h i s bafi‘led p i n ion

,

An d h id h i s envy and d espa i r,

Sel f-tortu red , i n h i s own dom i n io n .

Then s t epped a gl oomy phantom up ,Pa l e , cyp res s-c rowned N ight

’

s awfu l

daugh ter,

And p ro ffe red h im a fearfu l cup,

Ful l to the brim of b i t ter water.Poo r Ch i l dhood bade her te l l her name ,And when the bel dame mu t t ered

SorrowHe said

, Don t i n terrup t my gameI ’ l l taste i t, if I mu st, to -morrow .

”

The M use of P indu s th i ther came,

And wooed h im wi th the softest num

bers

LI TTLE H OM E -B OD Y .

That ever scat te red weal th and fameUpon a you thfu l poet

’

s s l umbers .Though sweet the mu sic o f the lay

,

To Ch i ldhood i t was al l a ri dd l e

A nd “ Oh,he c r i ed

,do send away

That no i sy woman wi th the fidd l e !”

Then Wi sdom sto l e h i s bat an d bal l ,And taugh t h im

,w i t h most sage en

deavo r ,

Why bubb l es r i se and acorn s fa l l ,And why no toy may last fo rever

She tal ked of al l the wond rou s lawsWhich Natu re ’ s open book d i sc l o ses ;

And Chi l dhood , ere she made a pau se ,Was fast asl eep among the roses.

S leep on,s l eep o n oh

,manhood ’ s

dream sA re al l of earth ly pai n o r p l easu re,

Of glo ry ’ s to i l s,ambi t i on ’ s schemes

,

Of cher i shed l ove , o r hoard ed t reasu reBu t to the couch where Ch i ldhood l i e sA more del i c i ou s t rance i s given

,

Lit up by rays from seraph-eyes,

And gl impses of remembe red heaven .

WI NTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED.

49

L I TTLE HOME -BODY .

L ITTLE Home -body i s mother’

s wee pet,

Fai re st and sweetest of hou sekeepers

yet ;Up when th e ro ses i n golden l igh t peep

,

Help ing her mo ther to sew and to sweep .

Tidy and p r im 1n her ap ron and gown,

Brightest of eyes , Of the bon n i est brown ;Tin i e st fi ngers

,and n eed l e so fl eet !

Pattern o f womanhood,down at my

fee t !

L i t t l e H ome-body i s grave and demure ,Weeps when you speak of the wretched

and poo r,

Though sh e can laugh i n t he merr iest

wayWh i l e you are t e l l ing a tal e that i s gay.

L i ly that b l oom s i n som e l on e,l eafy

n ook ;S ly l i t t l e h i de-aw ay

,moss- S i ded brook ;

Fai ries are fi ne,where the s i l ver dews

fal l

Home- fai r i e s—these are the best o f themal l .

ANONYMOUS .

50 TH E DEAD DOLL.

TO MY L I TTLE S I STER ON H ER

CAT.

[The fo l low ing poem was w r it ten by a young g ir l , and was

in tended for a Fou rth of Ju ly pre se n t to he r l i t tle s iste r .

H av ing noth ing e lse , she gave th is poe try , wh ich she refe rs

to as a m e re

I MUSE upon thy dearest petWhat fi t ter theme fo r me to choose

And whi l e my fancy takes i t s fl ightThy darl ing k i tty al so mews.

Ah ! k i tty wi th cel est ia l eye,

And l i t t l e fee t go i ng to and froThy m ist ress fondly says “ my own

,

And thou dost fondly say m i - auo.

Thy k i t ty i s of l u strou s hue,

And l i ke thysel f sweet s l eep prefers ;

Shou ld fortu n e flee thee,wel l I k now

Thy cat wou ld share wi th thee h ispu rrs .

Ah l ife i s sho rt an d peace i s sweet,

Why waste them when I w i sh to l ive ?I pau se, and l ik e thy k i t ty

’ s paws,

A scratch i s al l I have to give .

ANONYMOUS .

THE DEAD DOLL .

Y OU n eedn ’ t be t ry i ng to com fort meI te l l you my do l ly i s dead !

There’

s n o u se i n saying she i s n ’t,with a

c rack l ik e that i n her head .

I t’

s j u st l i k e you said i t wouldn ’ t hu rt

much to have my tooth ou t,that

day ;And then , when the man

’most pu l led m yhead off, you hadn

’ t a wo rd to say.

A nd I guess you mu st th i n k I ’m ababy , when you say you can mendi t w i th glue :

As i f I d idn ’t know better than that !Why

,j u st suppose i t was you ?

You m igh t make her l ook al l mendcd—bu t what do I care fo r l ook s ?

Why,glu e ’ S for chai rs and tab l es , and

toys and the back s of book s

My dol ly ! my own l i t t l e daughter !Oh

,bu t i t ’ s the awfu l l e st c rack !

I t ju st mak es m e sick to th ink of thesound when her poor head wentwhack

Again st that horrib l e brass th i ng thatho ld s up the l i t t l e shel f.

SUP P OSE .

N ow,N u rsey,

what makes you rem i ndme ? I k now that I d id i t myse l f !

I th ink you must be crazy—you ’ l l ge t

her anothe r headWhat good w ou ld fo rty head s d o her ? I

te l l you my dol ly i s deadA nd to th i n k I hadn ’ t q u i te fi n i shed her

el egan t n ew spring hatAnd I took a sweet r ibbon of h ers l ast

n igh t t o t i e o n that ho rr id cat !

Whe n my mamma gave me that r i bbon—I was p laying ou t in theyard

She sai d to me,most express ly ,

Here ’sa ribbon fo r H i l degarde .

’

And I wen t and pu t i t on Tabby,and

H i l degarde saw me do i tBut I sai d to mysel f, Oh

,n ever m i nd , I

don ’ t bel i eve she k new i t

Bu t I kn ow that she kn ew i t n ow,an d

I j ust be l ie ve , l do ,That he r poo r l i t t l e heart was broken

,

and so her head b roke too .

Oh,my baby ! my l i t t l e baby ! I w ishmy head had been h i t

Fo r I’

v e h i t i t ove r and over,an d i t

hasn ’t c rack ed a b i t .

Bu t s ince the darl ing i s dead,she ’ l l

w an t to be bu ri ed , o f cou rse 0

We wi l l take my l i t t l e wagon,N u rse

,

and you sha l l be the ho rse ;And I ’ l l wal k beh ind and cry

,and we ’ l l

pu t he r i n th i s,you see

Th i s dear l i tt l e box—and we ’ l l bu ry herthere ou t u nder the map l e- t ree .

SI

And papa wi l l make me a tombston e,

l i k e the one he made fo r my b i rd ;And he ’ l l pu t what I t e l l h im on i t—yes ,

every singl e wordI shal l say H ere l i e s H i l degarde

,a

beau t i fu l do l l,who i s dead

She d ied of a broken heart , and a d readfu l c rack i n her head .

’

MARGARET VANDERG R I FT.

SUPPO SE .

SUP POSE,my l i t t l e lady

,

You r do l l shou l d break her head,

Cou ld you make i t whol e by c ryi ng

T i l l you r eyes and nose w ere red ?

Then wou l d n ’ t i t be p l easan te rTo t reat i t as a j ok e

,

And say y ou ’ re glad'twas Dol ly ’ s

And no t you r head,that b roke ?

Suppose you ’re dressed fo r w al k ing,

And the rain comes pou ri ng down

Wi l l i t c l ear off any soone rBecau se you sco l d and frown

Then wou ldn'

t i t be n i ce rFo r you to sm i l e than pou t ,

And so make su n sh i n e i n th e house

When the re i s n one w i thou t ?

Suppose you r task , my l i t t l e man ,I s very hard t o get ,

Wi l l i t make i t any easi erFo r you to s i t an d fret ?

Then wou l dn ’ t i t be wi se r,Than wai t ing l i ke a dunce ,

To go to work i n earnest ,A n d l earn the th i ng at o nce ?

TOP S Y TUR VY WORLD .

Suppose that some boys have a horse,

And some a coach and pai r,Wi l l i t t i re you l ess wh i l e wal k i ngTo say

,

“ I t i sn ’ t fa i r”

And wou ld n ’ t i t be n obl erTo keep your temper sweet

,

And i n you r heart be thankfu lYou can wal k upon you r feet

Suppose the worl d doesn ’ t p l ease you,

Nor the way some peop l e do,

Do you th i nk the who l e creat i o nWi l l be al ter ed j u st fo r you ?

Then i sn ’ t i t,my boy o r gi rl

,

The wi sest,bravest p lan

,

Whatever comes , or doesn’ t come

,

To do the best you can

P H CEB E CARY .

TOPSY TURVY-WORLD .

IF the bu tterfly cou rted the bee ,And the ow l the porcup i n e

I f chu rches w ere bu i l t i n the sea,And three t imes on e were n i neI f the pony rode h i s master

,

If the bu ttercup s ate the cows,

If the cat had the d i re d i saste rTo be worri ed , s i r, by the mouse

If mamma , s i r, sol d th e babyTo a gypsy for half-a-crownI f a gen t l eman

,s i r

,were a l ady

,

The worl d wou l d be Up side-DownIf any or al l of these wondersShou l d ever come about

,

I shou ld not con s i der them bl u nders,

For I shou l d be In s ide-O u t

ANONYMOUS. LUCY LARCOM

L ITTLE NANN IE .

FAWN - FOOT ED Nan n i e,

Where have you been ?

Chasing the sunbeamsI n to the gl en ;

P lunging through si l ve r lak esAfte r the moon

Track i ng o ’e r meadows

The foo tstep s o f Jun e .

Su n ny-eyed Nan n i e ,What d id you see ?

Saw the fays sewingGreen l eaves o n a t ree ;

Saw the waves coun t ingThe eyes of the stars

Saw c l oud—l ambs sl eep ing

By sun set ’ s red bars .”

L i sten i ng Nan n i e,What d i d you hear ?

Heard the rai n ask i ngA rose to appear ;Heard the woods te l l

When the wi nd wh i st l ed wrong ;Heard the s t ream fl owWhere the bi rd dr in k s h i s song.

Nann i e,dear Nan n i e

,

0 take me wi th you ,To ru n and to l i sten

,

And see as you do .

Nay,nay

,you mu st borrow

My ear and my eye ,O r the beau ty wi l l van i sh ,The music w i l l d i e .

”

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54 LI TTLE B E LL.

Bu t 10 when came the morrow ’ s mo rn ,The c l ouds were al l b l own over ;The lark sp rang singi ng from h i s nestAmong the dewy c l over ;And P leasu re cal l ed

,Come out and

dance !To-day you mourn no evi l chanceThe cl ouds have al l b l own over

And i f they have , alas , alasPoor comfort tha t sai d Sorrow ;“ For i f to -day we m i ss the storm’Twi l l su rely come t o -morrow ,

And be the fie rcer for delay :I am too sore at heart to p lay .

Woe ’s m e I” sa i d L i t t l e Sorrow .

MAR IAN DOUGLAS.

L ITTLE BELL .

P IP ED t he b lackb i rd on the beechwoodspray :

Pre tty maid,s l ow wander ing th i s way

,

What’

s you r name ?” quo th heWhat ’ s you r name ? Oh S top an d

straight u nfo ld,

P retty maid w i th showery cu rl s o fgo ld

,

”

L i t t l e Bel l,sa id she.

L i t t l e Bel l sat down beneath the rock sTossed asi de her gl eam i ng go l den

l ock sBonny b i rd

,quoth she

,

S ing me you r best song before I go .

Here ’ s the very fi nes t song I k now,

L i tt l e Bel l,

” sai d he .

And the b lackbi rd p i ped you n everheard

Hal f so gay a song from any bi rdFu l l o f qu ip s and wi l es

,

Now so rou nd and rich,now soft an d

s low ,

A l l fo r l ove o f that sweet face bel ow,

D i mp l ed o ’er wi th sm i l es.

And the wh i l e the bonny bi rd d id pou rH i s fu l l h eart ou t free ly o ’er and o ’ er

’Neath the morn ing sk i es,

I n the l i tt l e ch i l d i sh heart be l owAl l the sweetness seemed to grow and

grow,

And sh ine forth i n happy overflowFrom the bl ue, brigh t eyes .

Down the del l she t r ipped and through

the gl ade,Peeped the squ i rrel from the haze l shade

,

And from ou t the treeSwu ng and l eaped

,and fro l i ck ed

,void

of fear,

Whi l e bo l d blackbi rd p iped that a l lm ight hear

L i t t l e Be l l,

” p iped he.

L i tt l e Bel l sat down am id th e fernSqu i rre l , squ i rre l , to you r task re tu rnBring me nu t s

,

” quoth she.Up

,away the fri sky squ i rre l h i es

Golden wood- l igh t s glan c i ng i n h i s

eyesAnd adown the t ree

,

Great r ipe nut s , k i ssed brown by Ju lysu n

,

I n the l i t t l e l ap dropped one by one

LITTLE B ELL.

ASTOR

FOUN DAT ION S

AN S WE R TO A CH ILD’

S QUE S TI ON .

Hark,how blackbi rd p ipes to see thefun !

Happy Bel l p i pes he .

L i t t l e Bel l l ooked up and down the

gladeSqu i rrel

,squ i rrel , i f you

’re n ot afra id ,Come an d share w i th me !”

Down came squ i rre l eage r fo r h i s fare

Down came bo n n y b lackb i rd , I dec l are

L i t t l e Be l l gave each h i s hon est share

Ah the merry three !An d the wh i l e the se fro l ic p laymates

twa inPiped and fri sk ed from

—

bough to bough

agai n,

’Neath the morn ing sk ies,

I n the l i t t l e ch i l d i sh h eart bel owA l l the swee t ness seemed to grow and

grow,

And sh i ne ou t i n th e happy overfl owFrom her b l ue

,brigh t eyes .

By her sn ow-wh i te co t at c l o se of dayK nel t sweet Be l l

,wi th fo l ded palm s to

p ray

V ery cal m and c learRose the p ray i ng vom e to where

,u n seen

,

I n b l ue heaven,an ange l shape seren e

Pau sed a wh i le to hear

What good ch i l d i s th i s , the angelsaid

,

That wi th happy heart,besi de her bed

,

Prays so l ov i ngly ?”

Low and soft,Oh ! very l ow and soft

,

C rooned the b lackbi rd i n the orchardcroft

,

Be l l , dear Bel l c roon ed h e .

57

Whom God ’s c reatu res l ove , theange l fa i r

Mu rmu red , God doth bl ess w i th ange l s ’

care ;Chi ld , thy bed shal l beFolded safe from harm—Love deep and

k indShal l watch arou nd and leave good gi ft s

beh i n d,

L i t t l e Bel l , fo r t hee !”

THOMAS WESTWOOD.

ANSWER TO A CH ILD'S QUES

T ION .

Do you ask what the b i rds say ? The

sparrow,t he dove

,

The l i nnet , and thru sh say, I l ove and

I l ove ! ”

In the w i n te r they ’ re s i l en t,the W ind i s

so stro ng ;What i t says I don ’ t k now , but i t s i ngs

a loud song .

Bu t green l eaves and bl ossoms,and

sun ny warm weather,

And s inging and l oving,al l come back

togeth er ;Then the lark i s so brimfu l of gladness

an d l ove,

The green fi e lds bel ow h im , the b lue

sky above ,That he sings , and he si ngs , and forever

S i ngs he ,I l ove my Love, and my Love l oves

me .

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE .

58 N E LL AN D H ER B IRD .

NELL AND H ER BIRD.

GOOD - B Y,l i t t l e b i rd i e

Fly to the Sky,S i ngi ng and S i ngingA merry good -by.

Te l l al l the b i rd i e sFly ing above ,

Nel l,i n th e garden

,

Sends them her l ove .

Tel l how I fou nd you,

Hurt , in a t ree

Then , when they re woun ded ,

They ’ l l come righ t to me .

I’

d l i k e to go wi th you,

If l cou l d fly ;I t mu st be so beau t ifu lUp i n the sky !

Why,l i t t l e bi rd ie

Why don’

t you go ?

You s i t o n my fi nger,

A nd shake you r head, No

He ’ s off ! Oh, how quick lyAnd glad ly he roseI know he w i l l l ove meWherever h e goes .

I k n ow—for he rea l lySeemed t ry i ng to sayMy dear l i t t l e Nel ly

,

I can ’ t go away .

”

But j u st then some bi rd i esCame flying al ong

,

And sang, as they n eared u s,

A ch i rrup ing song ;

And he fe lt just a s I doWhen gi r l s come and shou t

R igh t u nder the wi ndow,

“ Come,Nel ly—come out

I t ’ s wrong to be sorry ;I ough t to be glad ;

Bu t he ’ s the best b i rd i e

That ever I had .

MARY MAPES DO DG E

SE VEN TIM E S ON E .

I—HAVE AND O—H AD—I ;

OR,A B IRD IN TH E HA N D IS NVORTH TWO

IN TH E BUSH .

T H ERE are two l i t t l e songste rs wel lknown i n the l an d

,

Thei r names are I-Have an d O -Had

1 ;

I-Have w i l l come tamely an d pe rch on

you r han d,

Bu t O -H ad -I wi l l mock vou mos t sad

ly.

I-Have,a t fi rst s igh t

,i s l e ss fa i r to the

eyeBu t h i s worth i s by far more e n d u ring

Than a thou sand O -Had - I 's,th at S it fa r

and h igh,

On roofs and o n t rees,so al l u ri ng .

Fu l l m any a go ld en egg th i s b i rd w i l ll ay

,

A nd s i ng on,

“ Be cheery,be chee ry

Oh ,merri ly the n wi l l the day gl ide aw ay

,

And swee t shal l you r s l eep be when

weary .

B u t l e t an O -had -I bu t on ce tak e you r

eye ,A nd a longing to catch h im o nce sei ze

you ,

He ’ l l g i ve you n o com fort n o r rest t i l l

you d i e ;L i fe- l o ng he ’ l l t o rmen t you an d tease

you

He ’ l l keep you’

a ll day ru n n i ng up an ddown h i l l

,

Now rac i ng,

now crouch i ng,

now

creep ing,

59

Wh i l e far overhead , th i s sweet b i rd a t h i swi l l

,

With h i s go l den pl umage i s sw eepi ng .

Then every wi se m an who a tten ds to mysong

W i l l cou n t h i s l -Have a cho ice t reasu re ,

And , when e’ er an O -H ad - I com es flyi ng

along,

Wi l l ju st l e t h im fly at h is pl easu re .

AUGUSTUS LANG BE I N (Germ an).

Transla t ion ofCHARLES T . BROOK S .

SE V EN TI M ES ON E .

TH ERE ’

S no dew le ft on the dai si e s and

c l over,There ’ s no rai n l eft i n heaven .

I ’ve said my “ seve n t im es over and

over ,Seven t im es o n e are seven .

I am o ld,— so old I can wri te a l et ter

My bi rthday l es so n s are don e .

Th e l ambs p lay a lways ,—they k now nobet te rThey are on ly on e t imes on e .

O Moon ! i n the n ight I have seen yousa i l i n g

A nd sh in ing so round an d l ow .

You were brigh t—ah,bright—bu t you r

l igh t is‘

fa il ing ;

You are no th ing now but a bow

You Moon ! have you done someth ing

wro ng i n heaven ,That God has h i dden you r face ?

60 N OT READ Y FOR SCH OOL .

I hope,i f you have

,you wi l l soon be

forgi ven,

A nd sh ine again i n your p l ace .

O vel vet Bee you’

re a dusty fel l ow,

You ’ve powdered your legs wi th go ld .

O brave marsh Mary -buds,ri ch and yel

l ow,

Give me you r money to hold

O Col umb i ne ! Open you r folded wrap

per,

Where two tw i n tu rt l e-doves dwel l

O Cuckoo-p in t to l l m e the purp l ec lapper

That hangs i n you r c l ear green be l l !

And show me you r nest, wi th the you ngones in i t

,

I w i l l n o t stea l them away

I am old ! you may t ru st me , l inn et , l i nn et !

I am seven t i mes on e to -day.

JEAN INGELOW .

NOT READY FOR SCHOOL.

PRAY,Where i s my hat ? I t i s tak en

away,

A nd my shoe- s t r ings are al l i n a k no t ;I can ’ t fi nd a th ing where i t shou ld be

to -day,

Though I ’ve hu n ted i n every spo t .

DO,Rachel

,j u st l ook for my at las up

s ta i rsMy IEsop i s somewhere there too

A nd,s i s ter

,j u st bru sh down these

t roubl esome hai rs,

And,mother

,j us t fasten my shoe .

A nd, s i s t er , beg fa ther t o wri te an excu se ;

Bu t s top he wi l l on ly say N o,

And go on wi th a sm i l e an d keep readi ng the n ews

,

Wh i l e everyth ing bo t hers me so .

My satche l i s heavy and ready to fal lTh i s O ld pop -gun i s b reak ing my

map ;I ’ l l have no th ing to do w i th the pop -gu n

or bal l

There ’ s no p layi ng fo r such a poo rchap .

The town -c lock wi l l st r i k e i n a m i n u te,

I fear,

Then away to the foo t I w i l l s i n k ;There ! l ook at my Carpen te r tumbl ed

down he re,

A nd my Worcester co vered w i th i n k .

I w i sh I ’ d n o t l i ngered at b reakfas t the

l ashThough the toas t an d the bu t te r were

fine ;I th in k that ou r Edward must eat p retty

fast,

To be O ff when I haven ’ t don e m i ne.

Now Edward and Hen ry p ro test theywon ’ t wai t

,

And beat on the door w i th the i rst ick s ;

I suppose they W i l l say I w as dr essing z‘oo

To -m orrow,I

’

ll be up of Six .

CAROL I NE G ILMAN .

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62 L UC Y’

S LAM B .

We have a Shanghai , and she l oud ly

c l uck s .My brother ’ s bought fo r fifty cen t s a

fox .

We now are rai s ing seven orphan duck sWe k eep them i n the k i tchen i n a box .

Next mon th,i f warm

,I ’ l l see- saw on a

l og,

And i n a wagon ri de,behi nd the dog.

Last w i n ter many t imes I had the croup,

But haven ’ t s i n ce we moved in to th i s

p l ace.On Sunday we have p i e an d ch ick en

soup .

My si ster u ses p owder on her face .And now good-by I ’m go i ng off to p layI ’ l l wri te to you agai n some other day .

R ICHARD K ENDALL MUN K ITTRICK .

LUCY ’S LAMB.

LUCY had a l i tt l e l amb ,I t s fleece was whi te as sn ow

A nd everywhere t hat Lucy wen t,

The lamb was su re to go .

He fol l owed her to school on e dayThat was agai n st the ru l e ;I t made th e ch i l d ren l augh and p lay ,To see a l amb at school .

So the teacher turned h im ou t ,Bu t st i l l he l i ngered n ear,

And wai ted pat i en t ly abou t ,Til l Lucy did appear .

shou t s

Then he ran to her,and l aid

H i s head u pon her arm,

As i f he sa id , I’m not afra i d

,

You ’ l l k eep me from al l harm .

What makes the lamb love Lucy so ?’

The eager ch i l d ren c ry.

Oh ,Lucy l oves the l amb

,you k now ,

The teacher d id repl y .

A nd you each gen t le an imalIn confidence may b i n d

,

And make them fol l ow at you r w i l l ,I f you are on l y k in d .

SARAH JOSEPHA H ALE

THE K ING ’S R IDE .

ABOV E the c i ty of Berl inShi n es soft the summer day

,

And near the royal palace shou tThe school -boys at th ei r p lay

Sudden the m ighty palace gate sU nc l asp the i r portal s w ide

,

A nd forth i n to the sun sh in e seeA s i ngl e ho rseman ri de .

A ben t o l d man i n pl ain at t i re ;No gl it teri ng cou rt i ers wai t ,

N O armed guard at tend the step sOf Frederick the Great

The boys have sp i ed h im , and w i thThe summer breezes ri ng :

The m erry u rch i n s haste to gree tThei r we l l -bel oved k ing .

Imped i ng e’ en h i s horse ’ s t read ,Presse s the joyous t rai n

W'

H A T Tl/E CH OIR SAN G A B OUT TH E N E W E ON /VE T.

A nd P russ i a ’ s despot frow n s h i s best,

And shakes h i s st i ck i n vai n .

The frown i ng l ook , t he angry ton e

A re feigned , fu l l we l l they k now ;They do no t fea r h i s s t i ck—that han dN e ’er st ruck a coward bl ow .

Be Off to schoo l,you boys he c ri es .

Ho ho the l aughers say,

A pretty k i ng you not to kn owVVe

’

v e ho l iday to -day

A nd so upon that summer day ,These ch i l dren at h i s s i de

,

The symbo l o f h i s nat ion ’ s love,

Did royal Frede rick r ide .

O Ki ngs you r thron es are to t ter i ng nowDark frown s the b row Of Fate

When d i d you ride as rode that dayK i ng Freder ic k the Great

LUCY H AM ILTON H OOPER .

NVH AT THE CHO IR SANG ABOUTTHE NEW BONNET.

A FOOL I SH l i t t l e maiden bough t a foo l i shl i t t l e bon n et

,

Wi th a ribbon and a fea the r an d a b i t oflace upon i t

And that the o ther mai d en s of th e l i t t l etown m ight k n ow i t

,

She though t she ’ d go t o meet i ng thenext Sunday

,j u st t o Show i t .

Bu t though the l i t t l e bon n et was scarcel arger than a d ime

,

The get t ing O f i t se t t l ed p roved to be a

work of t ime ;So , when i t was fai rly t i ed , al l the be l l s

had s topped the i r r ingi ng,

63

And when she came to meet ing,su re

en ough , the fo l k s w ere s i ngi ng ,

So th i s foo l i sh l i t t l e mai den stood andwai ted at the doo r

,

And she shook her ruffl es ou t beh i nd,

and smoothed them down before .

Hal l e l uj ah hal l e l u j ah I” sang the

cho i r above her head

Hardly kn ew you hard ly k new you!

were the wo rds she though t theysaid .

Th i s made the l i t t l e maiden fee l so very,

very cro ss

That she gave her l i t t l e m ou th a twi st

an d her h ead a l i t t l e to ss,

For she thought the very hym n they

sang w as al l abou t her bonnet ,With a ribbo n and a feather and a bit o f

l ace upon i t .

And she d i d n o t wai t to l i ste n t o the

sermon or the p rayer,But patte red down the si l en t st reet an d

hurr i ed up the stai r,Ti l l she ’d reached he r l i t t l e bu reau , an d

i n a bandbox o n i tHad h idden

,safe from cri t i c ’ s eye

,her

fool i sh l i t t l e bonnet .

Wh i ch proves,my l i tt l e mai de n s , that

each of you wi l l fi ndI n every Sabbath serv ice bu t an echo Of

you r m i nd ;And the l i t t l e head that

’ s fi l l ed wi th si l l y

a i rsWi l l n ever get a b l ess i ng from sermon s

o r from p rayers .M I SS H AMMOND .

64 TH E CLOCK TH A T GAIN S .

NOTH ING TO DO .

I HAVE sai l ed my boat and spu n my top ,And hand led my last new bal lI t rundled my hoop t i l l I had to stop

,

And I swu ng t i l l I got a fa l l ;I t umbl ed my book s al l ou t o f the

she lves,

And hu n ted the p i c tu res throughI ’ve flung them where they may so rt

them se l ves ,And now—I have noth ing to do .

The Tower of Babel I bu i l t of block sCame d own wi th a c rash to the floor ;My tra i n Of cars ran over the rock sI’

l l warran t th ey ’ l l ru n n o more

I have raced w i th Grip t i l l I ’m ou t o fbreath

My slate i s broke n i n two,

So I can ’ t draw monkeys . I ’m t i red todeath

Becau se I have nothing to d o.

I can see where the boys have gon e tofi sh ;

They bothered me,too

,to go ,

But for fu n l i k e that I hadn ’ t a wi sh ,For I th ink i t ’ s m igh ty s low”

To si t al l day at the end of a rodFo r the sake of a m i n n ow or two

,

O r to land , at the farthest , an ee l on thesod

I ’d rather have no th i ng to do .

Maria ha s gone to the woods for flowers,

And Lucy and Rose are away

After berri e s . I ’m su re they ’ve been ou tfo r hou rs

I wonder what makes them stay 9

Ned wan ted to sadd l e B runet te for me,

Bu t r i d ing i s n oth ing newI was th ink ing you ’d re l i sh a can te r

,

sa id he,

Becau se you have n o th i ng to do .

I w i sh I was poor J i m Fos te r ’ s son,

For he seem s so happy and gay,

When h i s wood i s chopped and h i s workal l don e

,

With h i s l it t l e half hou r of p l ay ;He ne i ther h as book s nor top n or bal l ,Yet he ’ s s i ngi ng the whol e day

th rough ;Bu t then he i s n ever t i red at al l

,

Becau se he has noth ing to do .

ANONYMOUS.

THE CLOCK THAT GAIN S .

[The fol low ing poem w as w r it ten by Juan de Castro, whowas born a s lave in the island of Cuba abou t 1800 . At the

age of th irty-e igh t he w as l ibe rated by some gen t lem en of

l iterary taste s in H avana , whose a t ten t i on had been at tracted

to his w r i t ings, and who ra ised e ight hundred dol lars to purchase him of his m aster. They a lso pub l ished a vo lume of his

poems . The or ig ina ls are in Span ish . The one given berc isa translat ion made by Dr . R . R . Madden . ]

TH E c l ock ’s too fast , they say ,Bu t what mat te r how i t gain s ?

Time wi l l not pass awayA ny faster for i t s pa in s .

The t iny hands may raceRound the c i rc l e

,they may range ;

The Su n has bu t o ne pace,

A nd h i s cou rse he can not change .

P LA YIN G K IN G.

The beam s tha t dai ly sh ine

On the d ial,err no t so ;

For they ’ re ru l ed by laws d iv ine ,And they vary not

,we k now .

Bu t th ough the c lock i s fas t,

Yet th e momen t s,I mu s t say

,

More s lowly n ever passed

Than they seemed to pass t o -day .

JUAN DE CASTRO .

PLAYING K ING .

H O ! I ’m a k ing , a k i ng ! A crown i son my head

,

A sword i s at my si de , and regal i s m yt read ;

Ho , s l ave ! p roc la im my wi l l to al l the

peop l e roundThe sch oo l s are hereby cl o sed ; hence

forth mu st fun abou n d .

V acat i on sha l l no t end ; al l s l ates I o rdersmashed ;

The man who says “ Ari thmeti c,he

mu st be sou nd ly thrashed ;A l l grammars Shal l be bu rn t ; t he spel l e rs

we wi l l tear

The boy who spel l s correc tly,a foo l ’ s

cap he shal l wear.

N O do l l s shal l be a l l owed,fo r do l l s are

what I hate ;The gi rl s mu st give them up

,and l earn

to sw im and skate ;Con fec t i oners mu st charge on ly a cent a

pou nd

For al l the p l um s and candy that i n theshops are fou nd .

6 7

That man who ask s a d ime fo r any pearo r peach ,

I ’ l l have h i m hung so high that non e h i sfeet can reach

No bake r i s a l l owed hereafte r to bakebread

H e mu st bak e on l y p ie s an d cake andginger-snap s i n stead .

A l l l ec tu re rs mu st qu i t ou r rea lm wi thou t de lay

The c i rcu s -men and c l own s,on pa i n o f

death,must stay ;

A l l fo l k who frown on fun at on ce mustban i shed be.

Now ,fel l ow

,that you k now my wi l l , t o

i ts fu lfi lment see

ALFRED SELWYN .

THE N EW MOON .

O MOTHER , how pretty the moon l ook s ton igh t

She was never so cu n n ing beforeH er two l i t t l e ho rn s are so sharp and so

b righ t !I hope she ’ l l n o t grow any more .

If I were up there wi th you and myfriends

,

We ’ d rock i n i t n icely,you ’d see

We’

d S it i n the m idd l e,and hol d by bo th

ends

Oh , what a bright crad l e’ twou l d be

We ’ d cal l t o the stars to keep ou t o f the

way ,Lest we shou l d rock over the i r toes

68 TH E B RI GH T LI TTLE GIRL .

And then we wou ld rock t i l l the dawn

of the day ,And see where the p ret ty moon goes .

A nd there we wou ld stay i n the beau t ifu l sk ies

,

An d through the brigh t c l ouds wewoul d roam

We ’d see the sun set,an d see the su n

r i se ,And on the nex t ra inbow come home .

EL I ZA FOLLEN .

THE BR IGHT L I TTLE GIRL .

H ER b l ue eyes they beam and theytwi n k le

,

Her l ip s have mad e sm i l ing more fai r ;On cheek and on brow the re’ 3 no wri nk l e ,Bu t thou sands of cu rl s i n her hai r .

She ’s l i t tl e—you don ’ t w i sh her tal l e r ;J u st hal f th rough the tee n s i s her age ;

And baby or lady to cal l her,Were someth ing to puzz l e a sage !

Her wal k i s far bette r than danc ing ;She speak s a s an other m igh t s i ng ;

And al l by an i nn ocen t chanc ing ,L i k e l ambk i ns and bi rds in the sp ri ng .

Un sk i l l ed in the ai rs o f the c i ty ,She ’ s perfec t i n natu ral grace ;

She ’ s gen t l e,and t ru thfu l

,and w i t ty ,

And ne ’er spends a though t on her face .

H er f ace , wi th the fi ne glow that ’ s i n i t ,As fresh as an app le- t ree b l oom

A nd oh ! when She comes , in a m inu te,L i k e sunbeam s she brigh ten s the room .

A s tak i ng i n m ind as i n featu re,

How many wi l l s igh fo r her sakeI wonder

,the sweet l i t t l e creatu re

,

What sor t of a wi fe she wou l d make ?

WI LL IAM ALL I NGHAM .

GRANDPAPA ’ S SPECTACLES .

GRAND PAPA ’

S spec tac l es canno t befou n d ;

He has searched al l the rooms,h igh and

l ow , rou nd and round ;Now he cal l s to the you ng on e s

,an d

what does he say ?“Ten cen t s for the ch i l d who wi l l fi nd

them to day .

Then Hen ry and Ne l ly and Edward al lran

,

And a most thorough hun t fo r the

glasses began,

And dear l i t t l e N el l,i n her generou s

way,

Said,

“ I ’ l l l ook for them ,gran dpa

,wi th

ou t any pay .

A l l th rough the b ig B ibl e she searche s

wi th careThat l i e s o n the tab le by grandpapa ’ s

chai r ;They fee l i n h i s pockets, they peep i n

h i s hat,

They pul l ou t th e sofa , they shake ou t

the mat .

Then down on al l -fours,l i k e tw o good

natu red bears,

G 0 Harry an d N ed u nde r tables an d

chai rs ,

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70 7’0H N N Y

’S OP IN I ON OF N DMOTH E/e5 .

Oh ! who i s i t ?” c ri ed W in some MayHow I wish she were here to-day !Wou l dn ’ t I l ove her l i k e everyth i ng !Wou l dn ’ t I wi th her fro l i c an d si ng !Say

,dear grandmamma , who can shebe

Darl i ng,sa i d grandmamma

,

“ I

she.

May l ooked long at the d impled

grace ,And then at the sai n t- l i ke fai r o l d

face .How funny !” she c ried , wi th a

sm i l e and a k i ss,

To have such a dear l i tt l e grandm a as thi s !

St i l l,she added wi th sm i l ing zest

,

I th i n k,dear grandma

,I l i k e you

best .”

So May c l imbed on the s i l k en k nee,

A nd gran dmamma to ld her h i story

What p lays she p l ayed, w hat t oys

she had,

How at t i mes she was naugh ty,or

good , or sad .

“Bu t the best th ing you d i d,

” sai dMay

,

“ don ’ t you see ?Was to grow a beau t ifu l grandma

for me.

”

MARY A . DEN I SON.

JOHNNY ’S OP IN ION OF G RAND

MOTHERS .

GRA NDMOTH ERS are very n ice fol k sThey beat al l th e aun t s i n creat i on

They let a chap do as he l i k es,

And don ’ t worry abou t educat io n .

I ’m sure I can ’ t see i t at a ll

What a poor fel l er ever cou l d doFor app les

,and penn i e s

,and cakes

,

Wi thou t a grandmother o r two .

Grandmothers speak soft ly to ma sTo l et a boy have a good t ime ;

Somet imes they wi l l wh i sper,

’ t i s t rue,

T ’other way when a boy wan t s toc l imb .

Grandmothers have muffi n s fo r tea,

And p ies,a who l e row

,in the ce l lar

,

TO M Y DA UGH TER .

And they ’re ap t ( i f they k now i t i n t i me)To make ch icken -p i es fo r a fel l e r .

And i f he i s bad now and then,

And makes a great rack e t ing no i se,

They on l y l ook ove r the i r speck sAnd say , Ah , these boys wi l l be boys

L i fe i s on l y so short at the bes tLet the ch i l dren be happy to -day .

Then they l ook fo r a wh i l e at the sky ,

And the h i l l s that are far,far away.

Qu i te Oft en , as twi l igh t comes on ,Grandmothers s ing hym n s very low

To themsel ves as they rock by the fi re,

About heaven,and when thev shal l go

And then a boy,stopp ing to th i n k

,

Wi l l fi nd a hot tear i n h i s eye,

To know what must come’

at th e l ast,

For grandmo thers al l have to d ie .

I wi sh they cou l d s tay here and p ray,

For a boy need s their p rayers ev ’ ryn igh t

Some boys more than oth ers,I’

spo se ;

Such fe l l e rs as me need a sigh t .

ETH EL LY NN B EERS .

TO MY DAUGHTER,

ON H ER B IRT HDAY .

DEAR Fanny n ine l ong years ago,

\Vhile ye t th e morn ing su n was l ow,

And rosy with the eastern gl owThe landscape sm i l ed

7 I

Whi l s t l ow ’d the n ewly wake n’

d herd sSwee t as th e ear ly song of b i rd s

,

I heard tho se fi rs t del igh t fu l words,

“ Thou has t a ch i l d 1”

A l ong w i th tha t upri s i ng dewTears g listen

’

d i n my eyes , th ough few,

TO hai l a dawn i ng qu i te as n ew

To me,as T ime :

I t was n o t so rrow—n o t annoyBu t l i k e a happy maid

,th ough coy ,

Wi th gri ef- l i k e wel come,even Joy

Forest al l s i t s p rime .

So may ’ st thou l i ve,dear many years

,

I n al l the b l i ss that l i fe endears ,Not w i thou t sm i l es

,n or yet from tears

Too st r i c t ly k eptWhen fi rst thy in fan t l i t t l e nessI fo l ded i n my fond caress ,The greatest p roof o f happ iness

Was th i s—I wept .THOMAS H OOD .

SEWING .

CLOSE by the w indow there s i t s to - day,

A dear l i t t l e maiden—her name i s

RoseA nd her though ts are ou t w i th the bi rd s

at p l ay ,A nd her need l e d rags through the

seam she sews .

The th read provok es her , beyo nd a

doubt ;I t k not s and snarl s ; an d the need l e

t r i esTo mu rder he r pat i e nce ou t and out ,For i t p ri ck s her fi nger. O , dear !

”

she c ri es .

72 SWIN GIN G [N TIJE B ARN .

I see the t roubl e she can no t seeThe w i tches are p laying thei r p rank s

wi th Rose ;They dance around her i n Sport i ve g l ee ,And

, 0 ,how they laugh at her tearfu l

woesThey twi tch the th read as i t l eaves her

hand ,They k not

,and tangl e

,and tw i st i t

wrong ;A nd poor l i t t l e Rose canno t understandWhy her sewi ng - hou r shou ld be so

l ong.

I don ’t m ind sewi ng on ra i ny days ,Said the rest l e s s Rose

,bu t i t seem s

to beA crue l th ing to gi ve up my p laysWhen al l ou t-doo rs i s en t i c ing me !

Thi s seam can wai t , bu t my heart rebe l s ,And l ongs to carry me far away,

To the woods,to the beach where I

gather she l l s ;0 , how can I work when I wan t t o

p l ay !”

A b i rd l eaned hard on the rose’ s stem,

And ben t the bud t i l l i t fanned hercheek ,

And Rose,th rough her tears, l ook ed ou t

a t th em ,

And fanc i ed she heard them soft lyspeak .

I f I were you,l i t t l e gi rl

,they said

,

I wou ld hurry and fi n i sh what I ’ d begun ,

A nd keep my m ind on that b i t o f th read,

Nor th ink of p l ay t i l l the work wasdone ?’

She sm i led th rough he r tears,and she

ben t her head,

A nd p l i ed her needl e wi th haste andsk i l l

“ I ’ l l pu t my heart in my work,sh e

saidA nd tha t wi l l he l p me ; I k now i twi l l I”

I saw the fai ri es she cou ld no t see ;They pol i sh ed the need l e, and smoo th

ed the th read ,And danced around her i n spo rt i ve

gl ee,A nd the sewing-hou r was qu ick ly sped .

JOSEPH I NE POLLARD.

SWING I NG IN THE BARN .

SW IN G away,

From the g reat c ross-beam,

H id i n heaps o f c l over-hayScen ted l i k e a d ream .

H igher yetUp between the eaves

,

Where the gray doves coo i ng fl i tThrough the sun -gi l t l eaves .

Here we go !Whi st l e , merry w ind

’Ti s a l ong day you m ust bl ow,

L igh ter hearts to find .

Swi ng away !Sweep the rough barn floor ;

Look ing th rough an A rcadyFramed i n by the door !

LE TTLVG Tl/E

O ne , two , th ree 1Quick ! th e rou n d red sun

,

H id beh i n d yo n twi sted t ree ,Mean s to en d the fu n .

Swi ng away,

Ove r hu sk s and gra i n !Shal l we ever be as gay,I f we sw i ng again ?

LUCY LARCOM .

LETTING THE OLD CAT DIE .

N OT l o ng ago I wandered n earA p l ay-ground in th e wood ,

And there heard a th i ng from youth fu l

l i p sThat I ’ve

‘

n eve r u nders tood .

Now le t th e o ld cat d ie ,I saw h im give a pu sh ,

Then gayly scamper away as he sp i edMy face peep ove r the bu sh .

h e l aughed

Bu t what he pu shed,o r where i t wen t ,

I cou l d n o t wel l mak e ou t ,On accoun t of the th icke t of bend i ng

bough sThat bord ered the p l ace abou t .

The l i tt l e v i l l a i n has sto n ed a cat ,Or hu ng i t upon a l imb ,

And l eft i t to d i e al l al one , I sai d ;Bu t I ’ l l p l ay the m i sch i ef w i th lzz

’

m .

I fo rced my way betw een the boughs,The p oor o l d cat to seek ;

And what d id I fi n d bu t a swi ng ing

ch i l d,

Wi th her brigh t hai r b ru sh ing her

cheek !

OLD CA T 1915 . 73

S teady ! I’ l l send you up , m y ch i l d !

Bu t she stopped me wi th a c ry

G O’way ! go ’way ! Do n ’ t t ouch me ,p l ea se ;

I ’m lett i ng the o l d cat d i e !”

You l et t i ng h im d ie ! I c ri ed aghast ;“ Why

,w here i s the cat , my d ea r ?

”

And 10 ! the l augh ter that fi l l ed the

woodsWas a th i ng fo r the b i rds to hear.

I-I e r brigh t hai r floated to and fro ,

Her red l i t t l e d ress flashed by,

But the l i vel i e st th ing of al l , I thought

Was the gl eam of her l augh i ng eye .

Swingi ng and swaying back an d forthWi th the rose-l igh t i n he r face

,

She seemed l i ke a b i rd and a flower i n

on e,

And the wood her nat i ve p l ace .

Why,do n ’ t you k now

,sa i d the l i t t l e

maid,

The fl i t t ing,beau t ifu l e l f,

That we cal l i t ‘l et t i ng the O ld cat

d i e ’

When the sw in g stops al l i t se l f ?”

Then floa t i ng an d swi ngi ng, and l ook

ing backWi th merrimen t i n her eye ,

She bade me “ good-day ,” and I l eft her

a l o ne,

A- l et t i ng the o l d cat d ie .

MARY MAPES DODGE .

74 F IN DI N G ON TH E MAP .

FI ND I N G ON THE MAP

[From The Gate of

TH E summer-hou se was o l d and worn,

A Moori sh roof of pain ted p i ne,On seven s l ender shaft s upborne,Hal f h idden by a c lamber i ng v ine

,

And hal f i n sun l igh t,whi l e the l eav es

Of two great map les flecked thefloon

With danc i ng shapes al l shadowedo ’ er

,

And ru st l ed round the broken eaves .I t stood upon a po int of l andFar po i sed above a si l ver flood

,

And the deep gu l f on e i ther handBy swal l ow -flights al on e was span n ed ,Or fleecy c l ouds in flyi ng scud.

I n fancy I can see i t s t i l l,

As in on e d reamy afternoonWhen Summer’ s st rength was fresh ly

hewn,

And Au tum n ’s haze was on the h i l l .

Then we were ch i l dren—happy t ime IFor th i s o l d worl d seemed sh in ing

new ,

And l i fe was bu t a ra tt l ing rhyme,

A nd al l i t s p retty tal es were true .

We p layed the o l d fami l iar games,

Un t i l they pal l ed upon the sen se,

A nd perso nated squ i res an d dames,

And knaves and k n igh ts, in grave

p retence,

Ti l l Hel en,fl i ngi ng from her l ap

The au tumn l eaves,sprang up and

cri ed,

I k n ow a game we have no t t ri ed !We ’ l l p l ay at fi nd ing on the map ?”

She brough t the at l as from the hou se ,And Spread i t o n the arbor floorWe c lu stered rou nd and con ned i t

o ’ er,

Wi th wary eyes and thoughtfu l brows .

The tu rn wen t rou nd u n t i l i t fe l lTo Arthu r

,h im of fewest years

Among u s,and he pondered we l l ,

Then bade u s fi nd the Gate of Tears .

What m igh ty t ravel s now beganWhat voyages i n u nknown seas

We cru i sed among the Cyc lades ,A nd v isi t ed the C ingal e se ,

And l i ngered a t the I sl e of ManWe crossed the H imal ayan s l opes ,And cl imbed the M oun tai n s of the

Moon ;We t rod Peruv ian bridge of ropes

,

And l owland d ik e,and Dan i sh dune ;

We sai l ed the grea t Au stral i an B igh t ,We basked awh i l e o n t rop i c sho res ,We pu l l ed the dar i ng whal e r ’s oars

,

And l ost ou rse l ves i n A rc t i c n igh t .

On O ri n oco ’s tangl ed ban k sThe chatter i ng monkeys mocked ou r

ques tAnd in the red man ’ s s t ragg l ing rank s

We thr i d the r ivers of the West ;We fol lowed up the N iger

’ s co u rse ,And al l the Dn i eper’ s muddy m i l es,

And where O n tari o’ s Waters force

S t . Lawrence through h i s Thou sand

I sl es.With vague con j ec ture

,j est s, an d j eer s,

We spel l ed ou t many a foreign name,Bu t st i l l were baffled by thegame ,

And cou l d no t fi nd the Gate of Tears.

TO A GIRL [N H E ]? TH IR TE EN TIJ YEA/6. 75

You gi ve i t up , sai d A rthu r Good !Bu t see how p la in i t n ow appears

A voyage th rough the Red Sea ’ s floodWi l l bring you t o the Gate of Tears .

The Red Sea ’ s flood,we kn ew no t then

,

We ’ ve k nown too wel l i n afte r years ;For t i m e and t ru th have made u s men

Swi ft t im e,s tern t ru ths to l d o ’ e r agai n

And al l have fou nd the Gate o f Tears .

ROSS ITER JOHN SON .

TO A GIRL I N H ER TH IRTEENTHYEAR .

TH Y sm i l es , thy ta l k , t hy a im l ess p lays ,SO beau t i fu l app rove thee

,

So wi nn i ng l igh t are al l thy ways,

I canno t~

choo se bu t l ove thee .Thy balmy breath u pon m y browI s l i k e th e summer a i r

,

As o ’ er my cheek thou l ean est now,

To pl ant a soft k i s s there .

Thy step s a re danc i ng toward the bou n dBetween the ch i l d and woman

And though ts and feel i ngs more p rofound

,

And other years,are com ing

And thou shal t be more d eep ly fa i r,

More p rec i ou s to the heart ;But n eve r can st th ou be agai nThat l ove ly th ing thou art

A nd you th shal l pass , wi th al l the broodOf fancy - fed affect i on ;

A nd gri ef shal l come wi th womanhood,

And waken co l d reflec t i o n ;

Thou ’ l t l earn to to i l and watch,and

weepO

’

er p l easu res u n re tu rn i ng,

L i k e one who wakes from p l easan t s l eepUn to the cares o f m orn i ng.

Nay , say n ot so n o r c l oud the su nOf j oyou s expectat i on ,

O rdai ned to b l ess the l i tt l e on e ,The fre shl ing of c reat i on

Nor doubt that H e who thu s doth feedHer early l amp wi th gladness ,

Wi l l be her p resen t he lp i n need,

Her comforte r in sadness .

Sm i l e on,then

,l i t t le wi n some th ing

,

A l l rich in Natu re ’ s treasu re

Thou hast w i th in thy heart a sp ring

Of se l f-ren ew ing p l easure .

Sm i l e on,fai r ch i l d

,and tak e thy

,

fi l l

Of m i rth , t i l l t i me shal l e nd i t’Ti s N atu re ’ s wi se an d gen t l e w i l l

,

And who shal l rep rehen d i t ?

WILL IAM S IDNEY WALKER.

THE PUR PLE DO VE .

W ITH t rembl i ng heart I fo l l owed

Where J i mmy l ed the way ,Up to the h ighest scaffoldAmong the c l over hay ;

There,where the dus ty rafte rs

Our heads were c l o se above,

The t rea su re that we l oved the best ,Wi th ra i nbow n ec k and downy breast ,S ton e dead

,but fa i th fu l to he r n est ,

We fou nd the pu rp l e dove ;And “ O I

” sa i d J im,and “ O sa id I

,

A nd both Of u s sat down to c ry.

76 B I !?TH DA Y B ALLAD .

My mood was Ap ri l ’ s ever,

Bu t tears were few wi th J imI t d ign ified my sorrow ,

To have i t shared by h im .

He st roked the gl ossy feathers,

And smooth ly made them l i eTwas o n ly yesterday she fed

From ou t my hand,and now sh e ’s dead !

0 J i m ! th ose p ret ty wings ! ” I saidTo th ink they ’ l l never fly

I t i s too hard—I cannot l oveI never can

,ano ther dove

A nd then I wep t i n earn est,

As i f my heart wou ld breakA s l oud i n l am en tat i onA s mou rn ers at a wake ;

Whi l e J i m h i s face,i n s i l ence

,

H id in the c l over hay,And wou l d n ot o nce l ook up

,and so

We sat,how l ong I do no t k now

,

Ti l l , Ch i l dren cal l ed a vo ice bel ow

We knew we mu st ObeyA nd down agai n we came once more

,

The dead dove in my p inafore.

The hyac in th s i n th e gardenWere b l oom i ng p i nk and whi te

We made a grave among them,

And buri ed her from sigh t .S ince then ou r share o f t roubl e

We ’ ve had,both J i m and I,

The common pain tha t comes to al l ,An d spec ial t ri al s great and smal lBu t st i l l

,sel f-p i tyi ng , I reca l l

That grief of days gone by,And those ho t t ears of ch i l d i sh l oveWh ich fe l l upon the pu rp l e dove .

MAR IAN DOUGLAS.

B IRTHDAY BALLAD .

THOU art p l uck i ng spri ng ro se s,Gen i e

,

And a l i t t l e red rose a rt t hou

Thou has t u n fol ded to - day,Gen i e

,

Another brigh t l eaf,I t row

Bu t the roses w i l l l ive and d i e,Gen i e

,

Many an d many a t i me,

Ere thou hast unfo lded qu i te,Gen i e

Grown i n t o m aid en prime.

Thou art l ook ing now at the b i rds,Gen i e ;

But ; oh do no t wi sh the i r wi ng !That wou l d on l y tempt the fowl er

Gen i eS tay thou on earth and s ing ;

S tay i n the n u rsing n est , Gen i e ;Be no t soo n thence begu i l ed ,

Thou n e ’er w i l t fi nd a second,Gen i e

,

Never be twice a ch i l d .

Thou art bu i l d i ng towers of pebbl esGen i e

,

P i l e them up brave and h igh ,And leave them to ~ fo l low a bee

,Gen ie

,

As he wandereth singing byBu t i f thy towers fal l down

,Gen i e

,

And i f the brown bee i s l o st ,Never weep

,fo r thou mu s t l earn

,Gen i e

,

How soon l i fe ’ s schemes are c ro ssed .

Thy hand i s in a b righ t boy ’ s,Gen i e

,

An d he ca l l s thee h i s sweet wee wi fe,

Bu t l e t not t hy l i t t l e hear t th ink,Gen i e,

Ch i l dhood the prophet Of l ifeI t may be l i fe’ s m in strel

,Gen i e ,

A nd s ing Sweet songs an d cl ear ,Bu t mi n stre l an d p rophet now , Gen i e,Are not u n i ted here .

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78 CZZZLZZ

Oh green i s the tu rf where my brothers p lay

Through the l ong br igh t hou rs of thesummer ’ s day

They fi nd the red cup-moss where theyc l i mb

,

A nd they chase the bee o ’ er the scentedthyrne ,

And the rock s where the heath -flow er

bloom s they k now,

Lady, k i nd lady Oh , l et me go .

Conten t thee,boy

,in my bower to

dwel l ;Here are swee t sounds that thou l ovest

we l lF lu te s on the ai r in the st i l ly noon ,Harp s wh ich the wander ing b reezes

tune,And the s i l very wood-note of many a bi rdWhose vo ice was ne ’er in thy mountai n

heard .

Oh ! my mother sings at the twi l igh t’ s

fal lA song of the h i l l s far m ore sweet than

al l ;

She sings i t under our own green tree

To the babe hal f s l umbering on h er

kn ee ;I dream t l ast n igh t of that musi c l ow

,

Lady,k in d lady oh , l e t me go .

Thy mo ther i s gone from her cares to

rest ;She hath taken the babe

,on her qu i et

breast ;Thou wou l dst meet her foot step

,my boy

,

no more,

Nor hear her song at the cab in door.

Come thou wi th me to the v in eyard sn igh

.

And we ’ l l p l uck the grapes of the ri chestdye .

I s my mo ther gone from her h omeaway

But I know that my brothers are thereat p l ay ;

I k now they are gatheri ng the foxglove ’ s be l l

,

Or the l ong fern l eaves by‘

the spark l i ngwel l ;

Or they launch the i r boats ; where thebrigh t stream s flow

,

Lady,k ind lady oh , l e t me go .

Fai r ch i l d , thy brothers are wandere rsnow

They Sport no more on the mounta i n ’ sbrow ;

They have l eft the fern by the sp ring ’ sgreen s i de

,

And the st reams where the fa i ry bark swere t ri ed .

Be thou at peace i n thy brigh ter l o t,

For the cabin home i s a lon e ly spot .

Are they gone,al l gone from the sunny

h i l l

Bu t the b i rd and the bl u e -fly rove o’ er i t

st i l l

A nd the red deer bound i n thei r gladnessfree

,

A nd the heath i s bent by the si ngi ng bee ,And the waters l eap , and the fresh w inds

b l ow,

Lady,k i nd lady ! Oh , l et me go .

FELIC IA H EMANS.

M Y LI TTLE COUSIN S .

MY L ITTLE COUS IN S .

LAUG H on , fa i r cou s i n s, fo r to youA l l l ife i s joyou s yet ;

Your heart s have al l th i n gs to pu rsue,

A nd no thi ng to regretA nd every fl ower to you i s fai r,A nd every mo n th i s May

You ’ ve no t been in troduced to CareLaugh o n

,l augh on

,to-day '

O ld Time w i l l fl ing h i s c l ouds ere l ong

Upon th ose sunny eyes ;The vo ice whose eve ry word i s so ngWi l l set i t se l f t o s ighs

You r qu ie t s l umbers,—hopes and fears

Wi l l chase the i r re st away :To -morrow you ’ l l be shedd i ng tearsLaugh on

,l augh on

,to -day

Oh yes ; i f any t ru th i s foundI n the d u l l schoo lman

'

s theme,

If fr i end sh ip i s an emp ty sound,

And l ove an i d l e d ream,

If m i rth,you th ’ s p laymate

,feel s fatigue

Too soon on l ife ’ s l ong way,

At l east he ’ l l run wi th you a l eagueLaugh on

,l augh on

,to-dav !

Perhaps you r eyes may grow more b righ tA s Ch i ldhood ’ s hues depart ;

You may be l ovel i e r to the s ight,

A nd deare r to the heart ;You may be si n l ess st i l l

,and see

Th i s ea rth st i l l green and gayBu t what you are you wi l l not beLaugh on , l augh on , to - day '

O’

e r me have many wi n te rs c rep t,

With l ess of gri ef than j oy !Bu t I have l earned

,and to i l ed

,and wep t ;

I am no more a boy

79

I ’ve never had the gou t ,’t i s t rue

,

My hai r i s hard ly gray

Bu t now I can no t l augh l i k e youLaugh on , l augh on , tod ay !

I u sed to have as glad a face,

As shadowl ess a browI once cou ld run as b l i the a raceA s you are run n i ng n ow ;Bu t never m ind how I behave !Don ’ t i n ter rup t you r p l ay ;

And though I l ook so very grave ,Laugh on

,l augh on

,to—day !

WI NTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED.

Y OU B ID ME TRY .

Y OU b i d me try , B lu e-eyes , to wri teA Rondeau .

What —fo rthwi th —ton igh t ?

Reflect. Some sk i l l I have,

’ t i s t rue ;Bu t t h i rteen l ines—a nd rhymed on

twoRefra in

,

” as wel l . Ah , hap le ss p l igh t !

St i l l,there are five l ines,—ranged arigh t .

These Gal l i c bonds,I feared

,wou ld

frigh tMy easy Muse . They di d t i l l you

You b i d me t ry !

That makes th em n i n e . The port’

s i n

sigh t’ Ti s al l becau se you r eyes are brigh tNow j us t a pai r to end wi th 0 0

,

When m a id s command , what. can’

t we

do !Beho ld —the Rondeau , tastefu l , l ight

You bid me try

AUST I N DO BSON .

80 TH E OWL AN D TH E P US S Y CA T.

POEMS BY A CHILD .

[These three l it t le poem s w e re w r i tten by an acqua intanceofm ine , a l itt le g ir l n ine years Old .

—TH E EDITOR.]

L ITTLE P ET.

TH ERE i s a l i t t l e bab)We have no t named her yet

,

But everybody call s herA cunn i ng l i t t l e pet .

A l i t t l e laugh ing baby,

A s fai r as fai r can be,

A s pret ty as a flowerThi s babe i s sai d to be.

And now,what sha l l we n ame her

,

Thi s p ret ty l i t t l e th ing ?Suppose that we shou l d name herI sabe l l a Wing .

Bu t now suppose we l eave her ,Though she l augh s and p lays

c rows ,And see i f we can

’ t fi ndSome p ret ty p i ece of prose .

TH E SpARRow’

s SON G .

I’

M a l i t t l e sparrow ,

Shot by bow and arrowTh ink n o more of me !

You can 't hel p me,i f you do .

I f you cou ld,I ’d glad ly ask you .

Think no m ore of me !I ’m a l i tt l e sparrow

,

Shot by bow and arrowTh ink no more of m e !

SWEET S IXTEEN .

SWEET S ixteen Swee t S ix teen !She foo l s away

H er day,

I n the meadow on t he hay .

L i steni ng to the sparrow ’ s songAl l day l ong,That ’ s th e way

She foo l s away her day.

Sweet S ix teen ! Sweet S ixteen

TH E OWL AND THE PUSSY CAT.

TH E ow l and th e Pussy-cat wen t to seaI n a beau t i fu l pea -green boat

They took some honey , and p len ty of

mon eyWrapped up i n a five -pound no te .

The owl looked up t o the moon above , .

And sang to a smal l gu i tar,

0 l ove ly Pu ssy ! 0 Pussy, my loveWha t a beau t i fu l P u ssy you are,

Y ou are,

What a beau t i fu l Pu ssy you are !”

Pu ssysaid to the Ow l ,“You e legan t fow l !

How wonderfu l sweet you s ing

0 l et u s be marr i ed , —too long we havet arri ed

,

Bu t what shal l We do fo r a r ingThey sai l ed away fo r a year and a dayTo the l and where the Bong- t ree

grows ,And there In a wood , a piggy-wig stood ,With a ring in the end of hi s n ose,

H i s nose ,With a ring i n the en d of h i s n o se .

P USS Y ’

S CLAS S .

Dear P ig , are you W i l l i ng to se l l fo rone sh i l l ing

You r r i ng ? Said the p iggy,

“ I w i l l .SO they took i t away

,and were marri ed

next dayBy the t urk ey who l i ves on the hn l.

They d ined upon m ince and s l i ce s o f

qu i nce,

Which they a te wi th a runc i bl e spoon,

And hand i n hand , on the edge of thesand ,

They. danced by the l igh t o f themoon

,

The moon,

They danced by the l igh t of the m oon .

EDWARD LEAR .

PUSSY’ S CLASS .

N OW , ch i l d ren , sa i d Pu ss, as she shookher head ,

“ I t i s t i me you r morn ing l esson wassa i d .

”

So her k i tten s d rew near,wi th foo t step s

SlOW ,

And sat down befo re he r, al l i n a row .

At ten t i on,c lass sa id the cat -mamma

,

A nd te l l m e qu ick Where you r nosesare .

A t th i s a l l the k i tten s sn ified the ai r,

As i f i t were fi l l ed wi th a perfume rare .

Now , what do you say when you wan tsome drink ?”

The k i tten s wai ted a momen t to th ink,

A nd then the an swer came,c l ear and

l oudY ou ough t to have heard how those

k i t t en s m eow'd !

8 1

V ery we l l ! ’Ti s the same,wi th a

sharper tone,

When you wan t some fi sh , or a b i t o f

bon e .

Now what do you say when ch i l dren aregood

And t h e k i tten s purred as soft as they

cou l d .

And Wha t do you do when ch i ld re nare bad

When they tease and pu l l ? Each k i t tylooked sad .

Pooh !” sa id the i r mo the r, that i sn ’ tenough ;

You mu st u se your c l aws when ch i l d renare rough .

And where are you r c laws ? No,n o

,

my dear

(AS she took up a paw), see , they’

reh i dden here .

”

Then al l the k i t ten s crowded abou tTo see thei r sharp l i t t l e c l aws brought

ou t .

Now, Sptss as hard as you can , She

sa id ;Bu t every k i t ten hu ng down i t s head .

Sptss .

” I say,

” cr i ed t he mo ther - cat ,But they said

,O mamma , we can

’

t do

that

Then go and p lay,sa id the fond m am

maWhat sweet l i t t l e i d i ot s k i tt en s are !

Ah wel l ! I was once the same , I sup

pose ,”

A nd she l ooked very w i se , and rubbed

her nose .

MARY MAPES DO DG E .

82 AD VI CE TO CH ILDREN

THE ROBBER KITTEN .

A K ITTEN once to i t s mother said,

“ I ’ l l never more be goodBut I ’ l l go and be a robber fi erce

,

A nd l i ve i n a dreary wood !Wood ! wood ! wood !

And l i ve in a dreary wood !”

So off i t we n t to the d reary wood,

A nd there i t met a cockAnd bl ew i t s h ead

,wi th a p i stol

,off

,

Whi ch gave i t an awfu l shock !Shock ! shock ! shock !

Which gave i t an awfu l shock

I t cl imbed a t ree,to rob a nest

Of yo iI ng and tender owl sBut the bran ch brok e off

,and the k i t ten

fe l l, ANONYMOUS.

With s ix t remendou s h owl s !Howl s ! howl s howl s

Wi th s ix trem endou s howl s

Soon after that i t me t a ca tNow

,give to me your pu rse

O r I ’ l l shoo t you th rough,and stab you

too,

And k i l l you,which is worse

Worse ! worse ! worse !

And k i l l you,wh ich i s worse !

One day i t met a robber dog,And they sat down to dri n k ;The dog d id j oke

,and laugh

,and s i ng

,

Which made the k i tten wi nk !Wink ! wink ! wink !

Which made the k i t ten wi nk !

A t l ast th ey quarre l l ed ; then they foughtBeneath the greenwood tree ,

T i l l pu ss was fel l ed wi th an awfu l c l ub,

Most terr ib l e to seeSee ! see ! see !

Most te rr ib l e t o see

When puss go t up , i ts eye was shu t ,And swel l ed , and b l ack and bl ue ;

Moreover, al l i t s bon es were so re ;So

,

i t began to m ew

Mew ! m ew ! mew !

So i t began to mew !

Then up i t rose , and sc ratched i t s nose,And went home very sadOh

, mo ther dear ! behold me here ,I’

l l never more be badBad ! bad ! bad !

I ’ l l never more be bad

AD V ICE To CH ILDREN

M Y l i tt l e dears , who l earn to read , p rayearly l earn to shu n

That very si l ly th i ng i n deed wh ichpeop le cal l a pun .

Read En tick’

s ru l es,an d ’ tw i l l be fou n d

how simp l e an offenceI t i s t o mak e the selfsame sou n d affo rd a

doubl e sen se.

For in stance, ale may make you a il, yom

aum‘an emf may k i l l,

1

You i n a vale may buy a veil,and B ill

may pay the bill .O r if t o France you r barqu e you ste er

,at

Dove r i t may beApeer appears upon thepier , who , bl ind ,

s t i l l goes to sea .

B O YH OOD .

Thus on e m igh t say when t o a t reat goodfri e n ds accep t ou r greet ing

,

’Ti s meet that men who meet to eat,

shou ld eat the irmea twhen meet ing .

Braw n on the ooard’

s n o oore indeedal though from ooor prepared,

Nor can the f ow l on which we feed f oul

feed i ng be dec lared .

Most weal thy men good mem ory have,

however vu lgar they,

And ac tors st i l l the harder sl ave theOftener they play ;

So poet s can ’ t t he Wise obta i n u n l ess

thei r tai l o rs choose,Whi l e groom s an d coachmen no t in vain

each even ing seek the mews.

The ofyer who by dying l i ves, a dire l ifemain ta in s

The glaz i er,i t i s known

,rece ive s h i s

p rofi ts from h i s panes ,

By garden ers t/zyme i s tied,’ t i s t ru e

,when

Spring i s i n i ts p r ime ,But time or tz

'

o’e wo n ’t wai t fo r you

,i f you

are tied fo r time.

THEODORE H OOK .

WISH ING .

R I NG -T I N G I w i sh I were a P rim ro se ,A bright yel l ow P rim rose blow i ng i n the

Sp ri ng

The stoop ing bough above me,

The wanderi ng bee to l ove me,

The fern and moss to creep acro ss,

And th e Elm - t ree for ou r k ing !

Nay ,—stay I w i sh I were an E lm - t ree,

A great l ofty Elm - tree,w ith green l eave s

gay

83

The winds wou ld se t them danc i ng,

The sun and moon sh i n e glance i n,

A nd bi rds wou ld house among theboughs

And sweet ly si ng .

Oh , n o I w i sh I were a Robi n,

A Rob in , or a l i t t l e Wren , everywhere to

go ,Through fo rest , fi el d , or garden ,

And ask no l eave o r pardon,

Ti l l w i n te r come s w i th icy thumbsTo ruffl e up ou r w ing !

Wel l,— te l l where shou l d I fly to

,

Where go sl eep in the dark wood or del lBefo re the day was over

,

Home mu st come the rover ,Fo r mo the r ’ s k i ss

,—sweete r th i s

Than any other th ing .

W ILL IAM ALL I NGHAM .

BOYHOOD .

AH,th e n how sweet ly c l o sed thosec rowded days

The m i n u tes part i ng o n e by o ne l i k e

rays,

That fade upon a summer ’s eve .Bu t oh what charm

,o r magic n umbers

Can gi ve me back the gen t l e s l umbers

Those weary,happy days d i d leave ?

When by my bed I saw my mother k neel ,And wi th her b l e ss ing took her n igh t ly

k i ssWhatev er T ime dest roys , he can n ot

th i sE ’en now that nameless k i ss I fee l ,

WASH INGTON ALLSTON .

“ SEVEN TIMES TWO .

Y OU bel l s i n th e steep l e , ri ng, ring

you r changes ,How many soever they be ,

And l et the b rown meadow- l ark’

s not e as

h e ranges

Come over , come over to me .

Y e t b i rds ’ c l earest caro l by fal l or by

swel l i ngNo magi cal se n se conveys,

And bel l s have forgotten the i r o l d art of

tel l ingThe fortune of fu tu re days.

Tu rn again,turn again , once they

rang cheer i ly,Whil e a boy l i sten ed al oneMade h i s hear t yearn again , mu sing so

weari lyAl l b y h im se l f o n a st o n e .

https://www.forgottenbooks.com/join

86 TH E ROMAN CE OF TH E SWAN ’

S N E S T.

And the hoofs al ong the sodShal l flash onward and keep measu re

,

Til l th e shepherds l ook beh ind .

Bu t my lover wi l l n o t p rizeA l l the glo ry that he r i des i n

,

When he gazes i n my face .

He wi l l say,0 Love , thin e eyes

Bu i l d the shrine my sou l abi des i n,

A nd I k nee l here for thy grace. ’

Then,ay, then—he shal l k n ee l l ow ,

Wi th the red - roan steed anear h im,

Which shal l seem to understandTi l l I an swer

,R i se and go !

For the wo rl d mu st l ove and fear h imWhom I gift wi th heart and hand .

’

Then he wi l l ar i se so pal e ,I shal l fee l my own l ip s trembleWi t a yes I mu st no t sayNathl ess maiden -brave , ‘Farewel l ,

’

I w i l l u t ter an d d i ssemb leL igh t to-morrow w i th to -day .

’

Then he ’ l l r i de among the h i l l sTo the w i de world past the river,There t o pu t away al l wrong ;To make straigh t d i storted wi l l s

,

And to emp ty the broad qu iverWhich the w ick ed bear

’

al ong.

“Three t i mes shal l a young foo t-page

Swim the st ream and c l imb the moun tai n

And k nee l down bes i de my feetLo ,my maste r sen ds th i s gage

,

Lady,for thy p i ty ’ s cou n t i ng !

What wi l t thou exchange fo r i t ?

And the fi rst t i me,I wi l l sen d

A Wh i te rosebud for a guerdonA nd the second t i me a glove ;

Bu t the th i rd time—I may bendFrom my pri de

,and an swer

,Pardo n

,

I f he comes to take my love .

’

Then the young foo t- page w i l l run ,Then my lover wi l l r i de faster

,

Ti l l he knee leth at my k nee‘I am a duke’ s e l des t son !

Thousand serfs do cal l me m asterBu t

,0 Love, I l ove bu t t/zee .

”

He w i l l k i s s m e on the mou thThen

,an d l ead me as a l over

Through the c rowd s that p rai se h is

deed s ;And

,when sou l-t i ed by on e t roth ,

Unto fiz’

m I wi l l d i scoverThat swan ’ s n est among the reeds .

L i tt l e El l i e , wi th her sm i l eNot yet ended , rose up gayly ,Tied the bon net , donned the shoe,A nd wen t homeward

,round a m i l e

,

Just to see, as she d id da i ly,What more eggs were w i th the two .

Pu sh ing th rough the elm-t ree cop se,Wind i ng up the st ream

,l igh t -hearted ,

Where the os i er pa thway l eads ,Past the bough s she stoop s—and s top s .

LO , the w i l d swan had deserted ,And a rat had gnawed the reeds .

El l i e went home sad and sl ow .

If She foun d the l over ever ,With h i s red - roan steed of steeds,Sooth I k now no t bu t I know

She cou ld n ever Show h im—n eve rThat swan ’ s n est among th e reed s

EL I ZAB ETH B ARRETT B ROW N ING .

AD VI CE OF P OLON I US TO H I S

AD V ICE OF POLON IUS TO H IS

SON,ON SETTI NG FORTH ON

H I S TRAV ELS .

G IV E thy though t s no tongue,Nor an y u np roport i oned though t h i s ac t .Be thou fam i l iar

,bu t by n o mean s vu lgar ,

The fr i e n ds thou hast , and the i r adopt i on t ri ed

,

Grapp l e them to thy sou l s w i th hook s

of s tee lB u t do n o t du l l t hy palm w i th e n tertai n

m en t

Of each n ew -hatch’

d,u nfledg

’

d com rade

BewareOf en t rance to a quarre l ; bu t , bei ng i n ,Bear i t

,tha t th e opposer may beware of

thee .Give every man t h i n e ear

,but few thy

vo iceTake each man ’s cen su re , bu t rese rve

thy j udgment .

Cost ly thy hab i t as thy pu rse can buy ,Bu t no t express

’

d in fan cy ; ri ch , notgaudy ;

For the appare l oft p roc laim s the man ;A nd they in France

,of the best rank

and stat i o n,

Are most se l ec t and gene rou s , ch i ef i n

that .Nei ther a borrower nor a l ender beFor l oan oft l ose s both i t se l f and fri end ;An d borrowing du l l s the edge of hu s

bandry .

Thi s above al l—to th i n e own se l f be t rueAnd i t must fo l l ow

,as the nigh t the day ,

Thou can st n o t then be fal se to any man .

Farewel l ; my bl ess ing season th i s in th ee .

From H am le t. WILL IAM SH AK SPEARE .

SON . 8 7

THE CROCU'

S .

DOWN i n my so l i tude u nder the snow,

Where no th ing cheer i ng can reach me,

Here,wi thou t l igh t to see how to grow

,

I ’ l l t ru st to Natu re to teach me .

I w i l l no t despai r, n or be i d l e , nor frown ,Enc l o sed i n so gl oomy a dwel l ing ;

My l eaves shal l run up, and my roo t sshal l run down

,

Whi l e the bud i n my bosom i s swel lIng .

Soon as the fros t w i l l get ou t o f my bedFrom th i s co l d dungeon t o free me ,

I w i l l peer up wi th my l i tt l e b righ t

headAl l wi l l be j oyfu l to see me .

Then from my heart wi l l young buds

d ivergeAs rays of the su n from the i r focu s ;

A nd I from the dark ness of earth shal l

emerge,A happy and beau t ifu l c rocu s !

Gayly arrayed i n my yel l ow and green ,When to thei r v i ew I have ri sen

,

Wi l l they no t wonder how one so seren eCame from so d i sma l a p ri so n ?

Many,perhap s

,from so s imp l e a fl ower

Th i s u se fu l l e sson may borrow ,

Pat i en t to-day th rough i ts gloomiest

hou r,

We come ou t the brighte r to -morrow

H ANNAH FLAGG GOULD .

THE BLUEB IRD .

I K N OW the song that the b lueb i rd i ssingi ng

Out i n the appl e t ree , where he is swi nging .

Brav e l i t t l e fe’

l l ow ! the sk i es may bedreary ,

Noth i ng cares he wh i l e h i s heart i s socheery .

Hark ! how the music l eaps ou t fromh i s th roat !

Hark ! was there ever so merry a

no te ?L i sten a wh i l e

,and you ’ l l h ear what he ’ s

saying,Up i n the app l e tree sw i ngi ng an d

swayi ng :

Dear l i t t l e b l o ssoms down u n der the

sn o w,

You must be weary of w i n ter I k n ow ;Hark whi l e I s i ng you a message of

cheer !Summer i s c om i ng

,and sp ri ng- t ime i s

here !

L i t t l e wh ite snowdrop , I p ray youar i se ;

Brigh t yel l ow crocu s,come open you r

eyes ;Sweet l i t t l e v i o l e t s

,h id from the col d

,

Put on your man t l e s of pu rp l e andgold

Daffod i l—

s ! daffod i l s ! say,do you

hear ?

Summ er i s com i ng ! and spri ng- t ime i shere

EM ILY H UNTI NGTON MILLER .

Years to work one room fu l l of tapestry ?

The rose ’ s shootHas grown a foo t

Si nce la st n igh t ’ s ra in . 0

maj esty

—Natu re ’ s

Three years to fi x on canvas a dead sai n tCare l ess to-dayThrough earth made way

The l i ly —du l lard,l earn from i t to subt l y

pai n t .

FI V E LES SONS FROM

OLD SCHOOLMASTER NATURE .

TEN years to bu i l d a hou se The mu shroom ’ s roof

I n one n ight ri ses ,A nd surp ri ses

The shepherd l ou t ere cru shed beneathh i s hoof.

Poor p rod igal ! you toss you r gol dshowers away ?

The autum n tree

A s reck l ess l yFl i ngs al l i t s l eaves ; bu t they retu rn

May .

K i n d Natu re,keep fo r al l of u s a gent l e

schoo l .Even the w i seThrough i t may r i se

S t i l l w i ser . Sorrow and death al one canteach the foo l .

WALTER TH ORN BURY .

SWALLOW.

TH E l i t t l e comer’ s com i ng, the comer

o ’er th e sea ,The comer of the summer, al l the su nny

days to be ;H ow p leasan t

,through the p l easan t

s l eep,thy earl y twi t ter heard

O swal l ow by the latt i c e ! glad days be

thy reward

Th in e be swee t m orn ing, wi th

that ’ s ou t fo r h oney- dew ,

And gl owing be the n oon t i de , for the

grasshopper an d you

A nd mel l ow Sh ine , o’e r dav

’

s dec l i n e ,

the su n to l igh t thee home

What can mol est thy ai ry n est? Sleep

t i l l the morrow come .

90 DAFF v.0 0WN -D ILL Y .

The river b l u e that l ap ses th rough theval l ey

,hears thee sing,

A nd murmu rs much beneath the toucho f thy l igh t

,d ipp ing wing

The thunder-c l oud,over u s bowed

,i n

deeper gloom i s seen,

When qu ick rel i eved i t glances to thybosom ’ s s i l very sheen .

The s i l ent Power tha t br ings thee back ,wi th l ead ing- st r ings of l ove

,

To haunts Where fi rst the summ er su nfel l on thee from above ,

Shal l b ind thee more to come aye to themus ic of ou r l eaves ;

For here thy young,where thou hast

Sprung, shal l glad thee in ou reaves.

THOMAS A IRD.

DAFFY—DOWN D ILLY .

DAFFY -DOWN -DILLY

Came up i n the co l d ,Through the brown mou ld

,

Al though the March breezesB lew keen on her face,

A l though the whi te snow

Lay on many a p l ace.

Daffy-down-di l lyHad heard u nder ground

The sweet ru sh ing sound

Of the stream s , as they brokeFrom thei r wh i t e w inter chai n s

,

Of the wh i st l i ng sp ring winds ,And the pattering rai ns.

Now,then

,though t Daffy

,

Deep down in her heart,

I t ’ s t ime I shou l d start.So she pu shed her so ft l eavesThrough the hard frozen grou n d ,

Qu i te up to the su rface,

And then she l ook ed rou nd .

There was sn ow al l abou t her,

Gray c l ouds overhead ;The t rees al l l ooked dead

Then how do you th inkPoor Daffy-down fel t

,

When the su n wou ld not sh in e,

And the ice wou l d n ot mel t ?

Co l d weather ! though t Dafly,

St i l l w ork ing away ;The earth ’s hard to -day !

There ’ s bu t a hal f inch

Of my l eaves to be seen ,And two th i rds of thatI s more yel l ow than green .

I can ’t do much yetBu t I ’ l l do what I canI t ’ s wel l I began

For,un l es s I can manage

To l i ft up my head ,The peop l e w i l l th i nkThat the Sp ring herse l f ’ s de ad .

So,l i tt l e by l i tt l e,She brough t her l eaves ou t ,Al l c l u stered abou t

An d then her brigh t flowersBegan to un fo l d

,

T i l l Dafiy stood robed

I n her sp r ing green and go ld .

B UTTERCUP S AN D DAI SIE S .

O Daffy-down-d i l ly ,So b rave and so t rue !I w i sh al l were l i k e you

So ready for du tyI n al l so rts of weather

,

And loyal t o co urageA nd du ty together.

ANNA WARNER .

BUTTERCUPS AND DA I S IES .

BUTTERCUP S and dai s i es ,Oh the p re tty flowers

Corn i ng, ere the sp ring-t i m e,

To tel l o f sunny hou rs .Whi l e the t rees are l eafless ,Whi l e the fi el ds are bare

,

Bu ttercup s and dai s i e sSp ring up everywhere .

Ere the snowdrop peepe th ,

Ere the c rocu s bo ld ,Ere the earl y p ri m roseOpes i t s pa l y go ld

,

S om ewhere o n a su nny ban kBu t tercup s are b r igh t

,

Somewhere ’ mong the frozen grassP eeps the da i sy wh i te.

L i t t l e hardy flowers,

L i k e to chi l d ren poorPl aying in the i r s tu rdy heal thBy the i r m o ther’ s d oo r

,

Pu rp l e w i th the north w ind,

Yet al ert and bo ld,

Fearing n o t,and cari ng n ot

,

Though they be a-co l d .

9 1

What to them i s weathe r ?

What are sto rmy showers ?

Bu t tercup s and dai s i e s

Are the se human flowers !He who gave them hardsh ipA nd a l i fe of care

,

Gave them l i k ew i se hardy st rength,

And pat i en t heart s t o bear.

Welcome,ye l l ow but tercups !

Welcome, dai s i e s wh i te !Ye are in my sp i r i tV i s i oned a del igh t ,

Com ing,ere th e spr ing- t ime,

Of su nny hou rs to te l l ,Speak ing to ou r hearts o f H imWho doeth al l th ings wel l .

MARY H OW ITT.

L I TTLE DANDEL ION .

G AY l i t t l e Dandel i onL igh ts up th e meads

,

Swings on her s l ender foo t ,Tel l eth her beads

,

L i sts to the rob in ’s no te

Pou red from above ;Wise l i tt l e Dande l i onAsk s no t fo r l ove .

Cold l i e the dai sy bank s

C l o thed bu t i n green ,Where

,

'

i n th e days agon e ,B righ t hues were seen .

Wil d p ink s are s l umber ing,V io l e t s del ay ;

True l i t t l e Dandel i onGreete th the May .

GOD’

S CARE OF AN IMALS .

B rave l i t t l e Dande l ionFast fal l s the snow,

Bend ing the daffod i l ’ sHaughty head l ow .

Under that fleecy tent ,Care less of co ld ,

B l i the l i t t l e Dandel i on

Coun teth he r gol d .

Meek l i t t l e Dandel i onGroweth more fa i r

,

Ti l l d ies the amber hue

Out from her hai r .H igh r ides the th i rsty sun ,Fi erce ly and h igh ;

Fai nt l i t t l e Dandel i on

Closeth her eye.

Pale l i t t l e Dande l i on ,I n her wh i te shroud

,

Heareth the ange l -breez e

Cal l from the c loud !

Tiny p l umes flu tter ing

Make n o delayL i tt l e W inged Dande l i on

Soareth away.

H ELEN B ARRON B OSTW ICK.

GOD ’S CARE OF AN IMALS .

WH O taugh t the bi rd to bu i l d her nest

O f wool and hay and moss ?

Who taugh t her how to weave i t best ,And lay th e twigs ac ross ?

Who taugh t the busy bee to fly

Among the sweetest flowers,

And lay her store of hon ey byTo eat in wi nter hou rs ?

Who taugh t t he l i tt l e ant the wayHer narrow ho l e to bore

,

And through the p l easan t summer dayTo gather. up her sto re ?

’ Twas God who taught them al l the way,And gave thei r l i t t l e sk i l l

H e teaches ch i l dren,when they p ray ;

To do H i s ho ly wi l l .

JANE TAYLOR.

THE DAI SY .

N OT world s on worl ds , in phalanx deep ,Need we to p rove a God i s here

The dai sy , fre sh from Natu re’ s s l eep

,

Tel l s o f h i s hand i n l ines as c l ear .

For who bu t He that arched the sk i es,And pou rs the day- sp ring’ s l i v ing

flood ,Wondrou s al i k e in al l He t ri es

,

Cou ld rai se the dai sy ’ s pu rp l e bud,

Mou l d i t s green cup,i t s wi ry stem

,

I t s fr inged border n i cely sp in,

A nd cu t the go l d - embossed gem,

That,set i n s i lver

,gl eam s w i th in ,

A nd fl ing i t,u n rest rai ned and free,

O’

er h i l l , and dal e , and deser t sod ,That man

,where ’er he wal k s , may see,

In every step,the stamp of God ?

JOHN MASON GOOD.

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94 TH E ROB IN’

S AP P EAL .

THE ROB IN ’S APPEAL .

YOU won ’ t be so c ruel,dear boy—o n ly

seeMy fou r l i t t l e yel low-beak s, certai n ly

th ree ;I ’ ve fed th em a week , every hou r i n the

day,

Oh,what shal l I do if you take themaway

Ch i rp ch i rp fl u t ter an d fly,

Don ’ t,don ’ t ! o r I su re ly must d i e .

Remember,my lad

,from th i s t ree i n the

woodWe Sung you a sp ring song— the sw eet

est we cou l d ;You c l imb bu t too wel l

,wi th st rong

l imbs you are b l est,

Bu t not fo r such u ses as robbi n g ou r

nest .Ch i rp ch i rp ! he i s com i ng so n ear

S tay,stay—I am crazy w i th fear .

How bu sy we labored from morn ing to

n ight ,Ti l l ou r house in the t ree -top was bu i ld

ed al l r igh tWe fasten ed i t wel l to the bran ch , fo r

we saidThe w inds may b l ow hard , bu t n o evi l

we ’ l l d read .

Ch i rp ch i rp never we thought ,N O ,n o—of th i s c ruel l e r l o t .

How brigh t were my eggs,and how joy

ous my mate,

He sang h i s best songs to me early an d

l ate,

Whi l e pat i en t ly s i t t i ng i n sun or in s to rm,

I wai ted the hatch ing of each l i t t l e form .

Ch i rp ! ch irp flutte r and wheel,

Boy,boy

,can you guess h ow we feel ?

I o n ce saw a cat at the foo t of the t reeI heard a c row cawi ng as scared as cou l d

be ;We k now ibey eat eggs, make you ng rob

in s a p rey,

I f you stea l them for n ought you areworse far than t h ey.

Ch i rp ch i rp ! robber , oh ! cease ;Pray

,p ray l eave u s in peace .

ANONYMOUS.

A B IRD ’S NEST.

OV ER my Shaded doorwayTwo l i t t l e brown -w i nged b i rds

H ave cho sen to fash i o n the i r dwel l ingAnd u t ter the i r l ov i ng wordsA l l day they are go ing and com i ng

O n errands frequent and fleet ,And warb l i ng ove r and over ,

“ Sweetest,sweet

,sweet , oh sweet !

Thei r necks are changefu l and sh in ing,Thei r eyes are l i k e l i v ing gems

And al l day l ong they are busyGathering straws and stem s

,

L i nt , and feathers , and grasses ,“

A nd hal f forgett i ng to eat,

Yet never fa i l i ng to warb l e ,“ Sweetest

,sweet

,sweet

,oh sweet !

I scat ter c rumbs on the doorstep,And fl i ng t hem some flossy threads

ROB E R T OF LIN COLN .

They fearl es s ly gather my bou n ty ,And tu rn up thei r gracefu l h eads

,

And chat ter an d dance and flu tter,A nd sc rape wi th the i r t iny feet ,Tel l i ng me over an d over

,

“ Swee test,sweet

,sweet

,oh sweet

What i f the sky i s C l oud ed ?

What if the ra i n comes downThey are a l l d ressed to meet i t

In water- proof su i ts o f brown .

They n eve r mope n or l angu i sh ,Nor mu rmu r at storm or heat ,

Bu t say,whatever the weather,

“ Swee te st,sweet , sweet, Oh sweet !

Always merry and bu sy ,Dear l i t t l e brown -winged b i rd s

Teach me the happy magicH idden i n tho se so ft word s ,

Which always in sh i n e o r shadow

So l ov i ngly you repeat

Over and ove r and over,“ Sweetest , swee t, swee t , oh sweet !

EL I ZABETH AKERS ALLEN .

ROBERT OF L I NCOLN .

M ERR ILY sw i ng i ng on b ri e r an d weed ,Near t o the nest o f h i s l i t t l e dame

,

O ve r the m ou n ta i n - s id e o r mead ,Robert o f L i nco l n i s tel l ing h i s nameBob-O ’

- l ink , bob-O’- l ink ,

Sp i n k,spank

,sp ink

S nug and safe i s that n est of ou rs,

I l idden among the summer flowers .Chee, Chee, chee .

95

Robert o f L i nco l n i s gayl y d re ssed

Weari ng a brigh t b lack weddi ng-coa t ;\Vhite are h i s sou ld ers, and whi te h i s

c rest ;Hear h im cal l i n h i s merry note

Bob -o’- l i n k , bob -O

’- l i n k

,

Spink,span k

,sp i n k ;

Look what a n i ce new coat i s m i n e,

Su re there w as never a b i rd so fi ne .Chee

,Chee , chee .

Rober t of L i n co l n ’ s Quake r wi fe,

P ret ty an d qu ie t , wi th p la i n b rown

W i ngs ,Pass ing a t home a pat i en t l i fe

,

Broods i n th e grass wh i l e her hu sband

s ingsBob-o ’

- l ink,bob -O

’

- l i nk ,Sp ink

,spank

,sp ink ;

B rood , k ind c reatu re : you n eed no t fearTh i eves and robbers wh i le I am here .

Chee, Chee, chee.

Modes t and shy as a nu n i s she ;One weak ch i rp i s her on lv note ;

Braggart , and p rince of braggarts , i s he ,P ou ri ng boast s from h i s l i t t l e th roat

Bob -O’- l i nk

,bob—O

’-l ink

,

Sp i n k,spank

,sp i nk ;

Never was I afra id of man ;Catch me , cowardly knaves , i f you can !

Chee , Chee , ch ee .

S ix whi te eggs o n a bed Of hay ,Fl ecked wi th pu rp l e , a p retty sight

There as the mothe r S i t s al l day,Robert i s s inging wi th al l h i s m ightBob -o ’

- l ink , bob-o’- l ink ,

Sp ink,spank

,sp ink

96 TH E ROOR AN D TH E LARK .

N ice good w ife that never goes ou t ,Keep ing hou se wh i l e I fro l ic abou t .

Chee , chee, chee .

Soon as the l i t t l e ones ch ip the shel l,

S ix wide m ou ths are open for food ;Robert of L inco l n best i rs h im wel l

,

Gather ing seeds fo r the hungry brood.

Bob~ o ’- l i n k,bob-o ’

- l i nk,

Sp i nk,spank

,sp ink

,

Thi s new l i fe i s l i k e l y to be

Hard for a gay you ng fel l ow l i k e me.

Chee , chee, chee .

Robert of L inco l n at l ength i s made

Sober wi th work and s i l ent wi th care

Off i s h i s ho l i day garment l a i d,

Hal f forgo tten that merry ai r

Bob-o ’- l ink , bob- o

’- l ink

,

Spi nk,spank

,sp ink ;

Nobody k nows bu t my ma te and IWhere ou r nest and ou r nest l i ngs l i e

Chee,chee, chee .

Summe r wan es ; the ch i l d ren are grownF un and fro l ic no more he k nows

Robert o f L inco ln ’ s a humdrum cron e ;Off he fl i es , and we sing as he goes ,Bob-O ’

- l i nk,bob-o ’

- l ink,

Sp i n k,spank

,sp ink !

When you can p ipe that merry ol d

st ra in,

Robert o f L i nco l n , come back again .

Chee, chee, chee .

WILL IAM CULLEN B RYANT.

THE ROOK AND THE LARK .

GOOD-N IG H T , S i r Rook , sa i d a l i t t l eLark

The dayl igh t fades, i t w i l l soo n bedark ;

I ’ ve bathed my wi ngs i n the su n ’ s l astm y ;

I ’ ve sung my hym n to the dy i ng daySo

’

now I haste to my qu ie t n ookI n you dewy meadow . Good-n igh t

,Si r

Rook .

”

Good- n ight, poor Lark , sa i d h i s t i t l edfr iend ,

With a haughty toss and a d i s tan t bend ;“ I a l so go to my rest p rofou nd ,Bu t no t to s l eep on the co l d

,damp

groundThe fi ttest p lace fo r a b i rd l i k e meI s the topmost bough of you tal l p ine

t ree .

I opened my eyes at peep of day ,And saw you tak ing your upward way,Dream i ng you r fon d rom an tié d ream s,An ugly speck i n the su n ’ s br igh t

beams,

Soaring too h igh to be seen o r heard,

A nd sai d to myse l f,

‘What a fool i sh b i rd !’

I t rod the park w ith a p rincely a i rI fi l l ed my c rop wi th the r ichest fare

I cawed al l day ’mid a l ord ly c rew,

A nd I made more no i se i n the worl dthan you

The sun shone fu l l on my coal -b lack

W ingI l ooked and wondered.—Good -n igh t , '

poor th ing

TTLE

Good - n igh t , once more , sa i d theLark ’s sweet vo ice ;

I see no cau se to repent my cho ice .

You bu i l d you r nest i n the l ofty p ine ;Bu t i s you r s l umber more soft than

m ineYou mak e more no i se in th e worl d than

I ;

Bu t whose i s the sweeter m i n st re l sy ?

ANONYMOUS.

THE S I NGING-LESSON .

A N IG H T IN GALE made a m i stake ;She sang a few no tes ou t of tune ;

Her hear t was ready to break,

A nd She h id from the moon .

She wru ng her c laws,poor th i ng

Bu t was fa r too p roud to weepShe tucked her head u nder her w ing

,

And p re tended to be asl eep .

A lark , arm i n arm wi th a thru sh ,Came sau nter ing up to the p lace ;

The n igh t i ngal e fel t herse lf blu sh,

Though feathers h i d he r face.

She knew they had heard her so ng ,She fe l t them sn i ck er and sn ee r ;

She though t th i s l i fe was too l o ng,

And W i shed she coul d sk i p a year.

Oh, N igh t i ngal e ,

” cooed a doveOh

, Nigh t i ngal e , what’ s the u se ?

You bi rd of beau ty an d love,

Why behave l i k e a goose ?Don

'

t Sku lk away from ou r sight.

L i k e common,co n tempt ibl e fowl

You bi rd of j oy and de l ight,

Why behave l i k e an owl ?

97

O n ly th ink of al l you have done ,On l y th i n k of a l l you can do ;

A fal se note i s real l y funFrom such a b i rd as you .

L i ft up you r p roud l i t t l e c re st,

Open you r mu sica l beak ;O the r b i rds have to do the i r bestYou need o n ly to speak .

”

The n ight ingal e shy ly tookHer head from u nde r her w i ng ,

And,giv ing the dove a l ook ,

Straightway began to si ng .

There was never a bi rd cou ld passThe n igh t was d i v inely ca lm ,

A nd the peop l e stood o n the grassTo hear that wonderfu l p sa lm .

The n igh t i ngal e d i d no t care ;She on ly sang to the sk i es ;Her song ascended there ,A nd there sh e fixed her eye s .

The peopl e that stood bel owShe knew bu t l i t t l e abou t ;

A nd th i s sto ry ’ s a moral , I k now ,

I f you ’ l l t ry to fi nd i t ou t .

JEAN ING ELOW .

THE ROBIN .

MY o l d Wel sh ne ighbor over the way

Crep t s l ow l y ou t i n the sun o f sp ri ng,Pushed from he r ears the l ock s o f g ray,A nd l i sten ed to hear the robi n si ng .

Her grandson,p l ay ing at marbl es ,

stopped,

A nd c rue l i n Sport , as boys wi l l be ,Tossed a s to n e at the bi rd , who hOpped

From bough to bough i n t he appl e-t ree .

98 TH E EM P EROR’

S B IR D’

S N E S T.

N ay !” sai d the grandmothe r ;you no t heard

,

My poo r bad boy Of the fi ery p i t,

And how , d rop by d rop , th i s merc i fu lbird

Carries the water that quenches i t

H e brings coo l dew i n h i s l i t t l e b i l lA nd l et s i t fal l o n the sou l s of s in

You can see the mark o n h i s red breasts t i l l

O f fi re s that scorch as he drop s i t i n .

My poo r Bron rhu ddyn my breas tbu rn ed bi rd

,

S ingi ng so sweet l y from l imb to l imb ,V ery dear to th e heart of ou r LordIS he who p i t i es the l o s t l i k e H im

Amen I sa i d to the beau t ifu l myth ;S i ng

,b i rd o f God

,i n my heart as

wel l ;Each good though t i s a drop wherewi thTo coo l an d l e ssen the fi res o f he l l .

Prayers of l ove l i k e rai n - drop s fal l ;Tears of p i ty are coo l ing dew ;

And dear t o the heart o f ou r Lord areal l

Who suffer l i k e H im i n the good theydo .

”

JOHN GREENLEAF WH ITT I ER .

TH E EMPEROR ’S B IRD ’ S -NEST .

O NCE th e Empero r Charl e s of Spain,

With h i s swarthy,grave commanders

,

I forget in what campaign,

Long besieged in mud and,

ra in

Some old fronti er town in F landers.

Up and down the d reary camp,

In great boo t s o f Span i sh l eatherS tr i d i ng w i th a measu red t ramp

,

These H i dalgos,du l l and damp ,

Cursed the Frenchmen,cu rsed the

weather.

Thu s as to an d fro they w en t ,Over up land and th rough ho l l ow ,

Giv ing thei r impat i enc e ven t ,Perched u pon the Empero r ’ s ten t

,

I n her n est , th ey Sp i ed a swall ow .

Yes,i t was a swal l ow ’ s n est

,

Bui l t of c lay an d hai r of ho rses,

Mane or ta l l,or dragoon ’s c rest

,

Fou nd on hedge- rows east and west,

After sk i rm i sh of the forces .

Le t no hand the b i rd mo l est,

Said the Empero r,nor hurt her !

Adding then , by way of jest ,Golond rina ! i s my guest,’Ti s the w ife of some deserter !

Swift as bow- st ri ng speeds a shaftTh rough the camp was sp read the

rumor,

And the so l d i ers , as they quaffedFl em i sh beer at d inn er, l aughedAt the Emperor ’s p l easan t humo r.

SO u narmed and u nafrai dSa t the swal l ow st i l l and brooded

,

Ti l l th e con s tan t cannonadeThrough the wal l s a breach had made,A nd the si ege was thus conc l uded .

Swal low. Also meaning a de serter.

TH E P ARAB LE OF P E TER AN D TH E CH E RRIE S .

The n th e army,el sewhere ben t

,

S truck i t s te n ts as if d i sba nd i ng ,

O n ly no t the Empero r ’s ten t ,For he ordered

,ere he wen t ,

V ery cu rt ly,Leave i t stand i ng !”

SO i t s tood there a l l a l o n e,Loose ly flapp i ng

,to rn

,an d tat te red

,

Ti l l th e b rood was fledged and flown,

S ingi ng o ’ e r th e wal l s of s ton eWh i ch the can n on-sho t had Shat te red .

H ENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW .

THE PARABLE OF PETER AND

THE CHERR I E S .

TOWARD Jer icho,at morn i ng- t i de

,

When Chr i st the Lord,wi th d i sc ip le s

th ree ;Peter

,who wal k e d by the Master ’ s s i de

,

Said,

Lord,what wou l d I n o t do fo r

Thee

And Ofmany th i ngs the Ma ste r tal ked,

Whi l e th e sun rose h igher,an d h igher

yet,

Ti l l i t came t o pass,as forth they wal ked

,

And came to the road at O l ive t,

That Jesu s saw a horse ’ s shoe,

I n Peter ’ s path,upon t he way,

A nd bade h im (what wou l d n o t P eterdo ?)

Take up th e horseshoe from where i tl ay .

Bu t he wou l d n o t stoop fo r a th i ng sosmal l

,

Gem no r j ewel , s i l ver nor go l d !So He stooped fo r i t

,who i s Lo rd o f Al l ,

And h i d i t C l ose i n h is garmen t’ s fo ld .

99

An d the Lord i n the v i l l age exchangedthe shoe

Fo r a measu re o f cherr i es ripe and red,

And gathe red them up i n h i s garmen t too ,As forth from the v i l l age n ow they

sped .

And s t i l l,as the su n rose h igh and h igher

,

S ton ie r an d steeper grew the way,

Where the tal l wh i te rock s flung back

th e fi re,

On the t rave l l ers ’ heads,of the fi erce

noonday

And they were weary,the t ravel l ers fo u r

,

O f the’

du sty road , and the heat an d

th i rst,

An d Peter,the bo ld , who th i rsted so re,

Walked sl ow beh i n d,an d Jesu s fi rs t .

Then ou r l o v ing Lord,

—who i s Lord ofal l

,

Who hunge red and th i rsted fo r ou r

sake ,Who bears w i th the froward

,stoop s to

the smal l,

And shun s the b ru i sed reed to break,

Dropped,o n e by one

,i n Pete r ’ s way

,

The l i t t l e red cherr i es , coo l an d mo i st ,A nd P eter stooped to them where th ey

lay,

And ate them an d h i s heart rej o iced .

Then J esu s sa id,with a sm i l e i n his eyes,

To l i t t l e th i ngs he who w i l l no t bend ,Perhap s to matters o f sm al l er s i z e ,N or s i l ve r n o r go ld

,nor j ewel p ri ze

,

May l earn to stoop down before the

e nd .

”

ANONYMOUS.

O DI SCON TEN T.

DI SCONTENT .

DOWN i n a fiel d , one day in J une ,flowers a l l b l oomed together,

A Robi n who had soared too h igh,

And fel t a l i t t l e lazy ,Was rest i ng n ear a But te rcup

Who wi shed she were a Dai sy

For Da i s i e s grow so trig and tal l !She always had a pass i o n

For weari ng fri l l s a roun d herneck

,

I n j u st the Dai si es ’ fash io n .

And Butt ercup s mu st always beThe same O ld t i resome co l or ;

Whi le Dai s i es d re ss in gold and

wh i te,

Al though the i r gold i s du l l er.

Dear Robi n,

” sai d th i s sadyou ng flower

,

Perhaps you ’d no t mi n d t ryIng

To fi nd a n ice wh i te fri l l fo r meSome day when you are fly

i ng

You si l ly th i ng the Rob in

said ,I th ink you must be c razy

I ’d rather be m y honest se l fThan any made-up Dai sy .

You ’ re n i ce r i n you r own brigh t

gownThe l i t t l e ch i l dren l ove you

Be the best But tercup you can ,And th ink n o flower above you .

Though Swal lows l eave me ou t

of s ight ,We ’d better k eep ou r p l aces .

aps the wo rl d wou l d al l go w rong

one too many Dai s ie s.

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102 WH A T WILL B E COME OF ME 2

So,fu l l of pat i en t mother- l ove , beneathher downy breast ,

AS fond ly,gen tly a s her own

,the

speck l ed egg She pressed,

Through th e days w i th the i r m arvel ou s

u n seen s ight s ,And the damp and the ch i l l of the Sp ri ng

t ime n igh ts,

Unt i l two l i tt l e Sparrows had bu rst theshel l

,

And the cuck oo ha‘d waken ed to l ife as

wel l .H i s breast was bare

,h i s wi ngs were

weak,h i s thoughts were on l y

th reeWhat do I wan t ? “ What can I have ?

What wi l l become of me ?

CuckooWhat w i l l becom e of me ?”

He opened w ide h i s bi l l , and c ri ed , an dcal l ed fo r food al l day ,

A nd from h i s foster-bro thers ’ beak s hesnatched the i r share away.

Were there on e,on l y o n e

,t o be w armed

and fed ,A nd if I were that one , to h imsel f he

said,

Then the doti ng ol d b i rds wou l d have

n oth ing to doBut to wai t and to tend upon me

Cuckoo !

I n such a c l ose and narrow n e st there i sno room for th ree

What do I wan t ? What ca n I have ?

What wi l l become of me ?

CuckooWhat wi l l become o f me ?

He st retched h i s n eck above'

the n est , hepeered each way about ,

If n on e cou l d see , then none cou l d saywho pu shed th e nest l i ngs out ;

Bu t the cuckoo was l eft i n th e nesta l on e

,

And th e share of h is'

b rothe rs Wa s al l h i s

own ,An d the sparrows were feed i ng h im al l

day l ong,

A nd h i s feath ers grew dark,an d h i s

w ings grew st rong.

And weari some became the n est . Astup id p l ace

,

” sa id he,

What do I wan t ? What can I have ?What wi l l become of me ,

CuckooWhat wi l l become o f me

The o l d b i rds cal l ed h im to the bough ,and taught h im how to fly

,

He sp read h i s w ings and l eft them bo thw i thou t a last good -by ;

And beyond the green meadow - l an ds w et

wi th dew ,

A nd the wood and the river,he passed

from view .

And am id what scenes he may fl i t to

day,Or h i s w ings may res t , there i s n on e to

say ;Bu t wheresoe ’er that se l fi sh heart

,i t s

thoughts are o n ly threeWhat do I wan t ? What can I have ?

What w i l l become o f me ?

Cuckoo !What wi l l become of me ?

MAR IAN DOUGLAS.

LI TTLE PVH I TE LIL Y . 103

L ITTLE WH ITE L ILY .

L ITTLE wh i te L i ly

Sat by a sto n e ,Droop ing and wa i t ingT i l l the sun sho n e .

L i t t l e wh i te L i lySun sh i n e has fed

L i t t l e wh i te L i l yI s l i ft i ng he r head .

L i tt l e wh i te L i ly

Said,

“ I t i s good,

L i t t l e wh i te L i ly ’sC l o th ing and food .

L i t t l e wh i te L i ly,

Dressed l i k e a bride,

Shi n ing wi th wh i te n e ss,

A nd c rowned beside

L i t t l e wh i te L i lyDroope th wi th pa i n ,

Wa it IrIg and wai t i ngFo r t he

.

so ft,

ra in . Tu l ip fi ne and Dah l i aL i tt l e t te L l ly Shon e in s i l k and sat i n ;Holdeth her CUP ; Learned o ia Con vo lvu l l l s

Rai n i s fas t fa l l ing, Was t i resome wi th h i s Lat i n .

A nd fi l l i ng i t up .

L i t t l e wh i te L i lvSaid

,Good aga i n ,

When I am th i rstyTo have n i ce ra i n ;Now I am st ro nger

,

N ow I am coo lHeat can n o t bu rn me

,

My ve in s a re so fu l l .

L i t t l e wh i te L i ly

Smel l s very sweetO n he r head su n sh i n e

,

Rai n at her fee t .Thank s to the su n sh i n e

,

Thank s to the ra i n ,L i t t l e whi te L i lyI s happy aga i n .

G EORG E MACDONALD .

L ILY ’ S BALL .

L I LY gave a party,

A nd he r l i t t l e p laymate s al l,

Gayly dressed,came in the i r best

To dance at L i ly ’ s bal l .

L i t t l e Quake r Pr im roseSat an d n ever st i r red

,

And,excep t i n wh i spers

,

D id no t speak a wo rd .

S nowdrop nearl y fain ted

Becau se the room was ho t,

And wen t away befo re the rest\Vi th sweet Forget—me -no t .

Pan sy danced wi th Daffod i l ,Rose wi th V io l et ;

S i l ly Da i sy fe l l i n l ove\V1th p retty M ignonet te .

104 TH E RAI N .

Bu t when th ey danced the cou n t ry dance ,One cou l d scarcely tel l

Wh ich of these two danced i t best ,Cowsl i p

,or Heather-be l l .

Between the dance s, when they al lWere seated in the i r p laces

,

I though t I ’d never seen beforeSo many pret ty faces.

But of al l th e love ly maiden sI saw at L i l y ’ s bal l ,

Darl i ng L i ly was to meThe l ovel i est of them al l .

And when the dance was ove r,

They wen t down sta i rs t o sup ,

And each had a sl ice of honey-cakeWi th dew i n a bu t te rcup .

And al l were dre ssed to go away

Before the set of sunThen L i l y sai d Good-bv and gaveA k i ss to every one .

And before the moon or a single starWas sh i n ing overhead ,

L i ly and her l i t t l e fr i en dsWere fast asl eep In bed .

ANONYMOUS .

THE RAI N .

OP EN the w indow and l et me i nSpu tters the petu l an t ra i nI want to Sp lash down o n the carpet ,

dear,

A nd I can ’ t get through the pan e .

Here I ’ve been tapp i ng ou tsi de to

YOU'

Why don ’ t you come,if you ’ re there ?

The scut t l e s are shu t,or I ’d dash righ t

in,

A nd st ream down the att i c sta i r

I ’ve washed the windows , I’ ve spat te red

the b l inds,A nd tha t i s n ot hal f I ’ve don e

I bou nced on the steps and th e S i dewal k stoo ,

Ti l l I made the good peop l e run .

I ’ ve sp rink l ed you r p l an t on the Window- si l l

,

SO d rooping and wan that l ook sA nd dusty gu t te rs , I

’

ve fi l l ed them up

Ti l l th ey flow l i k e runn ing brook s .

I have been out in th e cou n t ry too,

For there i n gl o ry am I ;The meado ws I ’ve swel l ed , and watered

the corn,

And floa ted the fi eld s of rye .

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106 CH IMN E Y TOP S .

Why,that i s the rainbow

,darl i ng

ch i ld,

A nd the father down on h i s baby

sm i l ed .

What makes i t , papa ? The su n,my

dear,

That shines o n the water-drop s so c l ear.

Here w as a beau t i fu l mystery !No more quest i on s t o ask had she

,

Bu t she thought the garden ’ s l ovel i estfl owers

Had floated upward and caught i n theshowers

Rose, v io l et , orange marigo l dI n a ribbo n of l igh t on the c l ouds um

rol l edRed of poppy

,and green l eaves too‘

,

S unflower ye l l ow,an d l ark spu r b l ue .

A great , wide wondrou s,sp l end id

wreath

I t seemed to t he l i t t l e gi rl ben eath

H ow “d id i t grow so fast up there,

And sudden ly bl o ssom,h igh i n the

ai r ?

She cou ld n ot tak e her eyes from theS igh t

Oh,l ook ! ” She c ri ed i n her deep del igh t

,

As she watched the g l o ry span n ing th egl oom

,

Oh , l ook at the beautifu l wat erb loom

CEL IA THAXTER .

CH IM NEY-TOPS .

AH ! the morn ing i s gray

And what k i n d of a dayI s i t l i k e l y to be ?You must l ook up and see

What th e ch im ney- t op s say .

If the smoke from the mou thOf th e c h imn ey goes sou th

,

’Ti s the no rth w ind,that b l ows

From the cou n try o f snowsLoo k ou t for rough weather ;

The co l d and the n orth w in dAre a lways t ogether

.

Whe n the smoke pou ri ng fo rthFrom the ch im ney goes north

,

A m i ld day i t wi l l be,

A warm t ime we shal l seeThe sou th win d i s b l ow i ngFrom the l and where the o rangeA nd figtrees are grow ing .

But if west goes the smoke,

Get you r waterp roof c l oakA nd umbrel l a abou t :’ Ti s th e east w ind that ’ s ou t .

A wet day you w i l l fi nd i tThe east wind has alwaysA storm cl o se beh i n d it.

I t i s east the smoke fl i esWe may look fo r bl ue sk ie s

Soon the c l ou ds w i l l take fl igh t,

’Tw i l l be sun ny and brigh t ;The sweetes t and best w i ndI s

,su re l y, that fai r-weatherB ri nger

,the west wi nd .

”

MAR IAN DOUGLAS .

SIN GIN G IN TH E RAIN .

S INGIN G IN THE RAIN .

TH E day d awned barren an d ch i l l y ,An eas t w ind ra i l ed a t the paneGray fog vei l ed the leafing chestnu tWhere a rob in sang i n the rain

Sang i n the rai n h i s sweetes t

Cheer -up , O cheer-up , cheer ;The eye cou l d n o t catch the warbl er,Bu t h i s vo ice rang si lvery c l ear.

B last s shook th e t ree by the shou lder ,The t ree cri ed ou t wi th pain ;Bu t somewhere

,h igh i n t he l eafage ,

A robi n sang i n th e rain .

He m igh t have sung to th e angel s ,Bu t I t h ink he sang to u s here ;

The s i n l e ss n eed no t the coun se l

Cheer-up , O chee r-up, cheer .

To the m us i c pages above h imHe looked as the bl ind may look ;

No star-n o tes gu ided th e s i nger,C l o ud fi ngers had shu t the book

Yet w el l had he l earned the carol ,And he sang i t ou t o f h i s heart ;Nor once was i t worth h i s ask i ngWhen the ve i l would fal l apart .

Cheer-up , cheer-up , O cheer-up ,

S t i l l the sad l eaves among ;H i s beau t i fu l breast was bubbl ingA fountain of raptu red song .

I t neve r can flow so we lcomeUnder a sky al l bl ue ;What i s the l esson he teaches ?I l earned i t

,and so may you .

MRS. E. S . GOODW I N .

107

STRAVVB ERRIES .

L ITTLE Pearl Honeydew ,S ix years O ld

,

From her brigh t ea r parted the cu rl s o fgo ld

,

A nd lai d he r h ead on t h e st rawberrybed ,

To hear what the red-ch eeked B erri e ssa id .

Thei r cheek s were b l u sh i ng,th e i r b reath

was sweet,

She cou l d a lmo st hear thei r l i t t l e heartsbeat ;

And th e t i n i es t l i sp ing , whi sper i ngsound

That eve r you heard came up from thegrou nd .

Li tt l e fr i ends , She sa id,I w i sh I

k n ew

How i t i s you thri ve on su n and dew !And th i s i s the sto ry the Be rri es to ldTo l i t t l e P earl H oneydew , s ix years o l d .

You wi sh you knew ? A nd so do we .

But we can ’ t te l l you,un l e ss i t be

That the same k ind Power that caresfor you

Takes care o f poor l i t t l e B err i es too .

“ Tucked up sn ugly , and n est l ed bel ow

O ur coverl et of wind -wo ven snow,

We peep and l i s te n al l w i n ter l ongFor the fi rst spring day and the bl ue

b i rd ’s song .

When th e swal l ow s fly home to the o ldb rown shed

,

And the robin s bu i l d o n the bough o ve rhead ,

108 TH E CATARACT OF LODORE .

Then ou t from the mou ld, from thedark n ess and co l d ,

B lOssom an d runner and l eaf u nfol d .

Good ch i l dren , then , i f they comenear

,

A nd heark en a good l ong whi l e,may

hearA wonderfu l tramp Ing of l i t t l e feet ,SO fast we grow i n th e summer heat .

Our c l ock s are the flowers ; and theycoun t th e hours

Ti l l we can mel l ow i n sun s and showers,

With warmth of the wes t w i n d and heatof the south

,

A rIpe red be rry for a r ipe red mou th .

Appl e b l ooms whi ten,an d peach

b l oom s fal l

And rose s are gay by the gard en wal l ,Ere th e dai sy ’ s d ia l gives the S ign

That we can i n v i te l i t t l e Pearl to d i n e .

The days are l ongest,the mon th i s

June ,The year i s n ear i ng i t s go lde n n oon

,

The wea ther i s fi ne,and ou r feast i s

sp readWi th a green c l oth an d berri es red .

Ju st take u s betwix t you r fi nger andthumb ;

And qu i ck , oh , qu ick ! fo r see ! therecome

Tom on al l -fou rs,an d Mart i n the man

,

And Margaret,p i ck i ng as fast as t hey

can .

JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBR IDGE .

Oh, dear ! if you on l y k n ew how it s

Shock s

N ice B erries l i k e u s to be sol d by the ‘

box ,A nd eaten by st rangers

,and pai d fo r

wi th pel f,

You wou ld su rely tak e p i ty,and eat u S

you rsel f.

A nd th i s i s the S to ry the smal l l ip s toldTo cl ear P earl H oneydew, S IX years o l d ,When she la i d her h ead o n the st raw

berry- bedTo hear what the red-checked Berri e s

sai d.

THE CATARACT OF LODORE .

How does the waterCome down at Lodo re ?

My l i t t l e boy ask’

d meThu s

,once o n a t i m e ;

And moreover h e task ’

d meTo tel l h im i n rhyme .

Anon at the wo rd,

There fi rst came one daugh ter,

And then came an other,

To second an d th i rdThe reques t of the i r b rother

,

And to hear how the waterComes down at Lodore

,

Wi th i t s ru sh an d i t s roar,

As m any a t imeThey had seen i t before .

SO I tol d them i n rhyme,

For of rhymes I had store ;

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I IO UN DER M Y WIN DOW.

And moan ing and groan ing ;And gl i t tering and fri ttering

,

And gathering and fea ther i ng,And wh i ten i ng and b righ ten ing

,

And qu i ver ing an d sh i vering,

And hu rry ing and sku rryi ng,

And thundering an d flou ndering ;

D i v i d ing and gl i d ing and sl i d ing ,A nd fal l ing and b raw l i ng and sp rawl

i ng,And d riving and riv ing and str i v i ng ,And sprink l i ng and tw i n k l i ng and

wrin k l ing ,And sound i ng and bound i ng and rou nd

In

And bubgb’

l ing and t roubl i ng and doub

l ing,A nd grumbl ing and rumbl i ng ahd tum

bl i ng ,

And c lat tering and batteri ng and shatt eri ng ;

Retreat ing and beat ing and meet ing andSheet ing ,

De laying an d st rayi ng and p l aying andsp ray ing

,

Advanc ing and pranc ing and gl anc ing

an d danc ing,

Reco i l i ng,turmoi l ing an d to i l ing and

bo i l i ng,

A nd gleam i ng and st ream ing and steaming and beam i ng

,

A nd ru sh ing and flush ing and bru sh ing

and gush i ng,And flappi ng and rapp ing and clapp ing

and slappi ng,A nd cu rl ing and whi rl ing and pu rl ing

and twi rl ing,

And thump ing and p l ump ing and bumping and j umpi ng

,

And dash ing and flash i ng and sp lash i ngand clash i ng ;

And '

so never end i ng,bu t always de

cending ,

Sou nds and mot ions fo r ever and everare bl ending

,

A l l at once and al l o ’ er,wi th a m ighty

up roar,

And th i s way the water comes down at

at Lodore .

ROBERT SOUTHEY .

UNDER MY WINDOW .

UNDER my wi ndow , u nder my window ,

A l l in th e mid summer weather ,Three l i t t l e gi rl s w i th flut te ring curl s

F l i t to and fro toge the rThere ’ s Bel l e w i th her bo n ne t o f sat i n

sheen,

And Maud Wi t h her man t l e of s i lvergreen

,

And Kate w i th her scarle t feather .

Under my window,u nder my W i n dow

,

Lean ing steal th i ly over ,Merry an d c l ear

,t he voi ce I hear

,

Of each glad-hearted rover.Ah sly l i tt l e Kate, sh e steal s my roses ;A nd Maud and Bel l e twin e wreath s and

pos i es,

As merry as bees i n c lover.

Under my window , under my wi ndow ,

I n the b l u e mi dsummer wea ther ,Stea l i ng sl ow

,on a hu shed t ip - toe,

I catch them al l toge ther

TH E B LUE B ELL .

Bel le w i th herbon n e t of sat i n sheen ,And Maud w i th her man t l e o f s i l ve r

green ,

A nd Kate wi th the scarl e t feather .

U nder my w indow , u nder my window ,

And O ff th rough th e o rchard c l o ses ;Whi l e Maud she flouts

,and Bel l e sh e

pou ts ,They scamper and drop th e i r p os ies

Bu t dear l i t t le Kate takes naught am i ss ,And l eaps i n m y arm s wi th a l ov i n g

k i s s,

And I give her a l l my rose s.

THOMAS WESTWOOD .

THE BLUEBELL .

TH ERE i s a story I have heard ,A poet l earn ed i t of a b i rd ,

And kep t i t s mu si c,every word ,

A story o f a d i m ravi n e

O’

er which the toweri ng t ree -top s l ean ,With one b l u e rift o f sky between

And there,two thou sand years ago ,

A l i t t l e flower as wh i te as snowSwayed in the si l e n ce to an d fro .

Day afte r day , wi th l o nging eye ,The flow e re t watched the n arrow sky ,And fleecy c l ouds that fl oated by .

And th rough the dark n ess , n igh t by

n ight,

One gl eam i ng star wou ld c l imb the

heigh t,

And cheer the l o n e ly floweret'

s s ight .

I I I

Thu s watch i ng th e b lu e heav en s afarAnd the r i s i ng o f i t s favo ri te sta r

,

A slow change came,

-bu t n o t to mar °

For soft l y o ’er i t s petal s wh i teThere c rept a b l ueness

,l i k e the l igh t

Of sk i es upo n a summ er n ight ;

And i n i t s Chal i ce,I am to l d

,

The bon ny bel l was fo rmed to ho l dA t i ny sta r, that gl eamed l i ke go ld .

N ow , l i t t l e pe ip le swee t and true ,I fi n d a l esson here fo r you

,

Wri t i n the flow e re t’

s bel l of bl ue

The pat i e n t ch i l d whose watchfu l eyeS t ri ves after al l th ings pu re and h ighShal l tak e the i r i mage by and by

ANONYMOUS .

THE WATER L ILY .

OV ER the dark lagoo n

Boweth the wi l l ow tal l,

And the l ong black moss from the p i n e ’ sbare bough

Waves l i k e a funera l pal l .

Seldom the su n sh i ne fai rP i e rces that sh roud i ng gloom

,

And naught i s heard save the sc reechowl ’ s c ry ,An d the l onely bi t tern ’ s boom .

As if of th i s gl oom afra id,

Or s i ck of i t s no i some ai r,

The flowers that p rank th e meadow’ s

breast

N ever have ven tu red there .

But som et imes up from i t s dep th s ,Out i n the morn ing coo l ,

A beau t ifu l l i ly,pu re an d fa i r,

Fl oats on th i s stygi an pool .

Never a messenger-l eafCometh before to te l l

Never a heral d bud peeps fi rst

Ou t o f i t s d reary cel l .

Yet , u nder the waters bl ack ,Mayhap w i th th e g l oom at st r ife ,

That sweet fa i r bl o ssom had dwel t,t i l l

dawn edThe morn of i t s h igher l ife .

Thu s ou t from the s l ough o f s i nA fai r whi te sou l may ri se

part i ng the waves of i ts m i sery ,Look up to heaven ’ s c l ear sk i es

For the u n seen sp i ri t there,Wi th h i s alm igh ty power

W aken s to l i fe , and hope , and joyA never-fad ing flower .

Ye who have marked with fear

The t i de of cr i me’ s fi erce floc d ,

Take cou rage the b l acke st bo som hol d sThe hidden germ s of good .

Go forth i n pat i ence—workAnd wi th you r l ove i l l um e

The heart o ’

ershad o’

w ed by sin and woe ,Ti l l the flower up l i fts i t s b loom .

ANNE G . H ALE

A L I TTLE GIRL ’ S FANC I ES .

O L ITTLE flowers , you l ove me so ,You cou ld no t do wi thou t me ;

0 l i tt l e b i rd s that come and go,

You sing sweet s ongs abou t m e ;

O l i tt l e moss, obse rved by few ,

That round the t ree i s creep ing,

Y ou l i k e m y head to rest on youWhen I am id ly sl eep ing.

O ru shes by the r i ver- si de,

You how when I come n ear youO fi sh , you leap abou t wi th p ride ,Becau se you th ink I h ear you ;

O ri ver,you sh in e c l ear and brigh t

To tempt me to l ook i n you

O water-l i l i e s, pu re and whi te ,Y ou hope that I shal l wi n you .

0 p retty th ings , you l ove me so ,I see I mus t no t l eave you

You 'd fi nd i t very du l l,I k now

I shou ld no t l i k e to gri eve you .

Don ’ t wri nk le up , you s i l l y moss ;My flowers , you n eed n ot sh iver

My l i t t l e buds , don’ t l ook so c ro ss

Don ’ t tal k so l oud,my river .

I ’ m telling you I w i l l n o t go

I t’

s foo l i sh to fee l s l igh tedI t ’ s rude to interrup t m e so

You ough t to be de l igh ted .

Ah ! n ow you ’ re growing good , IThough anger i s begu i l ing

The p ret ty bl o s som s nod at me ,I see a rob i n sm i l ing .

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1 14 TH E CH ILD’

5 OFFE RIN G .

The n“ i t came forth,and w hi te l i l i e s we re

tossedAfter the gol den perch , that c rossedI n the flash of the noon t i de beam .

He lo i tered al ong in the du sky shade ,Where sp icy cone s were sp read .

He gathered them up ,t i l l a l amb at pl ay

Came c l o se besi de , then down he l ay ,Huggi ng i t s i n n ocen t h ead .

A pai r of gl i t t er i ng w i ngs wen t by ,And the Ch i l d fl ew afte r the moth ;

Ti l l a fl utte ri ng n est l i ng caugh t h i s eye ,And he chased the bi rd , bu t he gave n o

sighWhen he saw he had l o st them both

He fou n d h im se l f i n a dazz l i ng p lace,Where F l ora had been c rowned

Where perfum e,co l o r

,l igh t , an d grace ,

Pu re as the flu sh on h i s own young face ,Were flung over bower and mou nd .

He stood l i k e an e lf i n fa i ry l ands,\V i th a wide and wi stfu l stare

As a maiden o ver her casket stan d s ,With heap s o f j ewel s beneath her han ds ,Uncertai n which to wear .

He wen t wi th de l ight th rough the bri l lIant maze

,

For some t rophy to carry awayTo the tu l i p-bed

,the acac ia - sp rays

,

To the borders i l l umed w i th the peony’

s

b laze ;No t k n ow i ng W here to s tay .

At last the ch i l d w as seen to passWi th one sweet Open ing ro se ,

And a bl ade o f the whi te- st reaked ribbongrass

,

The beau t ifu l Th i ngs,i n the gorgeou s

mass ,That h i s u n taugh t sp i r i t chose .

H e rambl ed on th rough anothe r gay

hounWi th a you ng heart ’ s reve l l ing m i rth

B u t he st i l l p reserved the grass and theflower,

AS though they fo rmed the riches t dowerThat he cou ld i nheri t from ea rth .

O ver the green h i l l he s lowly c rept ,Guard ing the rose from i l l

IIe l o l l ed on the bank of a meadow and

s l ept ,The n he hu nted a squ i rre l , bu t j eal ou sly

k ep tThe rose and the ribbon - l eaf st i l l .

He st ro l l ed to the sea-beach,bl eak and

bareAnd c l i mbed t o a j u tt i ng spo t

An d the ch i l d was woo i ng h i s i do l s t here ,Nursing the flowe r and grass wi th care

A l l e l se i n the worl d forgo t .

A den se,dark c l oud ro l l ed over the sky ,

L i k e a vast t ri umphal carThe ch i ld l ooked up as i t th ickened on

h igh,

And watched i t s th u nde ri ng sto rm

Whee l s flyTh rough the b l ue arch fas t and far.

He k n el t wi th the t roph ies h e he l d so

dear,

And i t s beam ing head was bowed

TIIE LAD R B I/I'D A IVI ) TIIE A IVT.

As he m u rm u red , wi th m i ngl e d t ru s t and

fear,

“ I ’ l l tw i n e them together and l eave them

here,

For the God w ho m ade that c l ou d .

VVo rshipp ing Ch i l d,thou wert do i ng the n

What a l l be l ow shou l d do ;\Ve hear i t taught by the p rophe t me n\Ve see i t t raced by the p rophet p enBy the ho ly ,

t he wi se , th e t rue

We m ust l ay dow n the flowers we bear,

Held c l o se i n dot i ng p ri de !‘wVe must be ready to w i l l i ng l y spareO n l ife ’ s al ta r-rock the th ings most

fa i rAnd l oved beyon d al l bes ide .

VVo rsh Ipp I ng ch i l d,m ay the t empest

hou rFi nd me wi t h my sp i r i t a s bowed !

As thou d idst g ive the grass and the

flower,

May I yiel d what I l o ve best t o the pow e rO f Him who makes the C l o ud .

ELI ZA COOK .

THE LADY -B IRD AN D THE

ANT .

TH E l ady-b i rd sat i n the ro se s heart,

And sm i l ed w i th p ride and sco rnAs she saw a p la in -d ressed an t go by\Vi th a heavy gra in of co rn .

So she d rew the cu rta i n s o f dam askrou nd

,

And adj usted her s i l ken vest,

1 15

Mak i ng her gla ss o f a drop o f d ew

That l ay i n the ro se ’ s breast .

Then she l aughed so l oud that the an tl ook ed up ,

And,see i ng her haugh ty face

,

Took n o more n o t i ce,bu t t ravel l ed o n

A t the same i ndu st ri ou s pace .

Bu t a sudden blas t o f au tum n cam e,

And rudel y swep t the grou nd,

And down the rose w i th the ladv -bi rdben t

A nd scat te red i t s l eave s arou nd .

Th e n the hou se l e ss l ady was m ucham az ed

,

Fo r She k new no t w here to go,

And hoarse N ovembe r ’ s ea rly b l astIIad brough t wi th i t ra i n an d sn ow

.

Her w i ngs were ch i l l ed and he r fe et w e reco ld

,

And She wi shed fo r the an t ’ s w armcel l

A nd what she did i n the w i n t ry sto rmI am su re I can no t te l l .

Bu t the carefu l an t was i n her n est,

\Vi th her l i t t l e o nes by her sideShe taugh t them al l l i ke hersel f to to i l

,

Nor mi n d the snee r o f p ri deAn d I though t

,as I sa t at the C l o se o f

day ,Eat i ng m y bread and m i l k ,

I t was wi ser to work and im prov e my

t imeThan be i d l e and d re ss i n s i l k .

LYD IA H UNTLEY S IG OURNEY.

1 16 TH E P IP ER .

THE PI PER .

P I P I N G down th e val l eys wi ld,

P ip i ng songs o f p leasan t gl ee,

On a c l oud I saw a ch i ld,

And he laugh ing sai d to me

P i pe a song abou t a l amb

SO I p iped w ith merry Cheer .

P iper,p ipe that song aga i n ;

SO I p iped ; he wept to hear .

D rop thy p ipe,thy happy p ipe

S i ng thy songs of happy cheer

So I sang the same aga i n,

Whi l e he wep t wi th j oy to hear.

Piper, s i t thee down and wri te

I n a book,that a l l may read .

”

So he van i shed from my sigh t

And I p l u cked a ho l l ow reed,

And I made a rural pen,

And I sta ined t he water c l ear,

And I wrote my happy songs

Every ch i l d may j oy to hear.

W ILL IAM B LAK E.

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1 1 8 S TOP , S TOP , P RE TT Y WA TE R .

THE R IVER

R IV ER ! R i ver ! l i t t l e R i ve r !

Bright you Spark l e o n you r way,

O’

er the yel l ow pebbl es danc i ng ,

Through the flowers and fo l iage g lan cing ,

L i ke a ch i l d a t p l ay.

R i ver ! R i ve r ! swel l ing R i ve r !On you rush o ’er rough and smoo th

Louder , faste r , braw l i ng ,l eap i ng

Over rock s,by rose- bank s sweep i ng ,

L i ke i mpetuou s youth .

R i ver ! R i ve r ! bri mm i ng R i ver !Broad and deep a nd sz

‘z'

ll as T imeSeem i ng still—yet st i l l i n mot ion

,

Tend i ng o nw ard to the ocean ,Just l i k e mortal p r ime .

R iver ! R i ver ! rap id R ive r !Swi fte r n ow you sl i p away ;

Sw ift and si l e n t as an arrow,

Through a chan ne l dark and narrow ,

L i k e l ife ’ s c l o s i ng day .

R i ve r ! R i ve r ! head l o ng R i ver !Down yo u dash i n to t he sea ;

Sea,that l i n e hath never sou nded

,

Sea,that voyage hath never rounded ,

L i k e etern i ty .

CAROL I NE B OWLES SOUTH EY .

STOP , STOP , PRETTY WATER .

STO P , s top , p retty w ate r !”

Said Mary one day,

To a frol icsome brookThat was ru n n i ng aw ay ;

You run o n so fastI w i sh you wou ld stayMy boat and my fl owers

You w i l l carry away.

But I wi l l ru n afte r ;Mother says that I may ;

For I wou l d kn ow whereY ou are ru n n i ng away.

TH E YE LLOW CLOUD . 1 19

So Mary ran on,

’Ti s bet te r t o be humble,

Bu t I hav e heard say By far, than to be p roud ;That she neve r c ou ld fi nd And on th e grou n d we ’ re saferWhere the brook ran aw ay . Than sai l i ng on a c l oud .

ELI ZA FOLLFN . MARIAN DOUG LAS .

THE Y ELLOW CLOUD .

LOOK up ! There’ s j us t o n e c l oud i n

sight,

A yel l ow c l oud as su n sh ine bright ,That , l i k e a l i t t l e go lden boa t ,Across the c l ear bl ue seem s to float .Oh

,how I wi sh that c loud were ou rs

,

The co l o r o f the cowsl i p -flow e r’

s,

And,s i t t i ng o n i t , you and I

Were gayl y sai l ing round the Sky !

Oh , woul dn'

t i t be p leasan t ?

Oh,shou l dn

’

t we be p roudI f we coul d o n ly own it

,

That l i t t l e yel l ow c l oud

As free as b i rd s we then cou ld goWhatever way the W i n d m igh t bl ow

,

Above the ri vers gl eam i ng brigh t,

Above the h i l l s w i th sn ow d ri ft s wh i te,

Upon the t ree - top s l ook i ng d own ,Upon the s teepl es o f the town .

We Shou ld hear far bel ow u sThe grea t bel l s r i nging l oud .

Oh,don ’ t you w i sh we owned it

,

That l i t t l e ye l low cl oud

Why wi sh fo r what w i l l n eve r be ?

That l i t t l e c l oud i s no t fo r me ;Bu t if i t were

,and you an d I

Were on i t sai l ing rou nd the sky ,Who k nows ? we m ight be w ishing the n ,

Oh, i f we cou l d get down agai n

LADY—B IRD,LADY—B IRD .

LADY -B IRD,l ady-bi rd fly away home

The fie ld -mou se has gon e to he r nest,

The da i sie s have shu t up the i r s l eepy redeyes ,

A nd th e bees and the bi rd s are at rest.

Lady-b i rd,l ady-b i rd fly away home

The glow-worm i s l ight i ng he r l amp,

The dew ’ s fa l l i ng fast , and you r fi n espec k l ed w i ngs

Wi l l flag wi th the c l o se c l i ngi ng damp.

Lady -bi rd,l ady -b i rd fly away home !

Good luck i f you reach i t a t l as tThe owl ’ s come ab road , and t he bat

’ s onth e roam

,

Sharp set from the i r Ramazan fast .

Lady -bi rd,l ady- bi rd ! fly away home

The fa i ry be l l s t i n k l e a farMake haste

,o r th ey ’ l l ca tch you

,and

harnes s you fastWi th a cobw eb to Oberon

’

s car.

Lady -bi rd,l ady bi rd ! fly away hom e !

To you r hou se i n th e o l d w i l l ow tree ,

Where you r ch i l d ren so dear have inv ited the an t

An d a few cozy n eighbors to tea .

Lady-b i rd,l ady- bi rd fly away home '

And if not gobbl ed up by th e way ,Nor yoked by the fai ri es to Obero n ’ s car,Y ou

’

re in luck !

CAROLI N E B OWLES SOUTHEY .

I zo GOOD -N I GH T AN D GOOD -M ORN IN G.

GOOD-N IGHT AND G OOD -MORN

ING .

A FA IR l i t t l e g i r l sa t u nder a t ree ,Sewing as l o ng as her eyes cou ld see ;Then smoothed her work and fo lded i t

r igh t ,And sa id

,Dear work , good - n ight ,

good- n igh t

The h orse s n eighed,and the oxen l owed ,

The sheep ’ s B lea t ! bl eat cam e ove r

the road ;Al l seem ing to say, wi th a qu ie t de

l igh t ,Good l i t t l e g i r l . good -n ight , good

n igh t

She d id n ot say to the su n,

“ Goodn ight !”

Though she saw h im there l i k e a bal l o f

l ight ;For she k n ew he had God ’ s t ime to

keepA l l over the w orld , and n ever cou l d

sl eep .

’

Such a n umber of rook s came ove r her

head ,Cry ing “ Caw ! caw !

” on thei r way to

bed,

She said , as she w atched the i r cu riou sfl igh t

,

L i t t l e b lack th i ngs , good - n ight,good

n igh t

The tal l p i n k foxgl ove bow ed h is head

The v i o l et s cu rt s i ed,an d wen t t o bed ;

In work s o f l abo r o r o f sk i l l

I wou l d be bu sy too ;For Satan fi nds some m i schi ef st i l lFo r i dl e hand s to do .

A nd good l i t t l e Lucy t i ed up her hai r,

And said,on her k nees

,her favori t e

prayer .

And , whi l e o n he r p i l l ow she soft lyl ay

,

She k new no th i ng more t i l l aga i n i t wasd ay ;

And al l t h i ngs said to the beau t i fu l su n,

Go od-morn ing , good-morn i ng ou rwork is begun .

RICHARD MONCKTON M ILNES .

THE BUSY BEE .

H OW doth the l i t t l e bu sy beeI mprove each sh i n i ng hou r

,

And ga the r hon ey a ll the dayFrom eve ry open ing flower !

How sk i lful ly she bu i ld s her cel lH ow neat she sp reads the wax

And labo rs hard to store i t wel lWi th the swee t food she makes .

I n book s,or work , or hea l th fu l p lay,

Le t m y fi rst years be passed ,That I may give fo r every daySome good accoun t a t l ast

ISAAC WATTS.

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SUIVG OF S UIll AI If It’

. I 23

SONG O F SUMMER .

UP in the t ree - top , dow n i n the ground ,H igh i n the bl ue sky

,far

,al l around ,

Near by,and everywhere , c rea tu res are

l iv i ngGod i n h i s bou n ty someth i ng i s g i v i ng.

Up i n the tre e- top , down i n the grou nd ,H igh in the blue sky , far, al l arou nd ,Near by

,and everywhere , c reatu res are

str iv i ng ;Labo r i s su re ly the p rice o f the i r th r iv i ng ,

Up i n the t ree- t op,d own i n the grou nd ,

H igh i n the bl ue Sky,far

,al l arou nd

,

Near by,and everywhere

,s i ng i ng and

hum m i ng,

Bu si ly,j oyful l y

,summer i s com i ng !

MARY MAPES DODG E .

FARM—YARD SONG .

O V ER the h i l l s t he farm-boy goes,

H i s shadow l engthen ed along the l and,

A gian t s taff i n a gian t hand

III the popl ar t ree , above the spri ng ,The katy d id begi n s to s i ng ;

The ea rly dews are fal l i ng ;I n to the sto n e-heap darts the m i nk

The swal l ow s sk im the r ive r'

s brink ;And home to the wood land fly the c row s

,

\Vhen ove r the h i l l the farm - boy goes,

Cheeri l y cal l i ng,CO

’

,boss ! co ’

,boss ! co ’

! co"

CO’l”

Farth e r , farther, over the h i l l ,Fai n t ly cal l i ng

,cal l i ng st i l l

,

Co’

,boss ! CO ’

,boss ! C o

’

! ( In

124 FARM YARD SON G.

I n to the yard the farmer goes,

\Vi th gratefu l heart , at the c lose of day :

Harness and chai n are hu ng awayI n the wagon shed stand yoke and

p loughThe st raw ’ s i n the s tack , the hay i n the

m ow ,

The coo l i ng dews are fal l i ng

The friendly Shee p h i s welcome b l eat ,The p igs come grun t i ng to h i s fee t

,

The whi n ny i ng mare her master k n ows,

When i n to the yard the farmer goes ,H i s cat t l e ca l l i ng

,

CO’

, boss co ’

,boss ! c o

’

! co ’ !co ’

Whi le S t i l l the ‘

c ow - boy,far aw ay ,

Goes seek i ng those that have goneast ray ,Co

’

, boss ! co’

,boss ! co ’

! co ’

N OW to her t ask the m i l km a i d goe s ,The cat t l e come crowd i ng th rough the

gate,

Lowing,pu sh ing

,l i tt l e an d great ;

Abou t the trough,by the farm-yard

pump,

The fro l ic some yearl i ngs fri s’

k and j ump,

NVhile the pl easan t dews are fal l

ing ;

The n ew -mi l ch he ifer i s qu ick and shy,

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TH E P LAN TI N G OF TH E AP PLE - TRE E .

If i t d i e , wil l any p lai‘

n ts

R each thee,as wi th k ings and sai n t s

Drops i t to the co l d earth ’ s bosom

Plant it—al l th’

ou can st —W i th p rayers,

I t i s safe ’neath H i s sk i es’ fo ld i ng ,

Who the who l e earth compasses,

Whether we watch m ore o r l ess,

H i s wide eye al l th i ngs beho ld i ng .

Shou ld H e need a good ly treeFor the she l ter of the nat i o n s

,

He wi l l make i t grow ; i f n ot ,Never yet H i s l ove forgo tHuman l ove

,and fai th

,an d pat i e nce .

Leave thy t reasu re i n H i s han d

Cease a l l watch i ng and al l weep ingYears hen ce

,men i ts shade may c rave

And i t s m ighty bran ches wav e

Beau t ifu l above thy sl eep ing .

”

If h i s hope,tear - sown

,that ch i l d

Garn ered afte r j oyfu l reap i ng,

Know I not ; yet u n awaresG l eam s thi s t ru th th rough many cares

,

I t w i l l grow whi l e thou art s l eep i ng .

D I NAH MULOCK CRA IK .

THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE

TREE .

COME,l e t u s p lan t the app l e—t ree

C l eave th e tough green sward w i th theSpade ;

Wide let i t s h o l l ow bed be madeThere gen t ly l ay the root s

,and there

S i ft the dark mou ld w i th k ind ly care,

And p ress i t o ’ er them tenderly,

As roun d the s l eep i ng i nfan t’s feet\

We soft ly fo l d the crad l e -sh eetSo p l an t we the appl e -tree .

What p lan t we in th i s app l e - t ree ?Buds , which the breath o f summer daysShal l l engthen i n to l eafy sp rays ;Boughs where the t hru sh , wi th cr im son

brea st,

Shal l haun t,and s i ng

,and h ide her nest ;

We plan t,upon the su n ny l ea

,

A shadow for the noon t i de hou r,

A shel ter from the summer shower ,When we p lan t the app l e- t ree .

What p lan t w e in thi s app l e-t ree ?

Sweet s fo r a h u nd red flowery sp ri ngs

To load the May W ind ’ s res t l e ss w i ngs ,When

,from the o rchard row

,he pou rs

Its fragrance t h rough ou r open doorsA worl d of blos som s fo r the bee ,

Fl owers for th e s ick gi rl ’ s si l en t room ,

For the glad i n fan t sp rigs of b l oom ,

We pl an t w i th the app l e -t ree .

What pl an t we i n th i s app l e - t ree ?Fru i t s that shal l swe l l i n su nny J une

,

And redden i n th e Augu st noon ,And drop

,when gen t l e a i rs come by

That fan the b l ue September sky ,Whi le ch i l dren come

,wi th cri es o f

glee,And seek th em where the fragrant grass

B et rays the i r bed to'

tho se who pass,A t th e foot of the app l e- t ree.

And when,above th i s app l e- tree,

The W inter sta rs are qu iver i ng br ight ,

TH E

And wi nd s go howl i ng through then igh t

,

G i r l s , whose you ng eyes o’

e rflow wi thm i r th ,

Shal l pee l i ts fru i t by cot tage hearth,

And guest s i n prouder homes sha l l see,

Il eaped w i t h the grape of C i n t ra’ s V i n e

And gol den o range of th e L i n e,

The fru i t o f t he app l e- t ree .

The fru i tage of th i s app l e -t reeW i nds and ou r flag of st r ipe and starShal l bea r to coast s that l i e a far

,

IVhe re m en shal l wonde r at the v i ew,

A nd ask i n what fai r groves they grew ;And soj ou rners beyon d the sea

Shal l th ink of Ch i l dhood’ s care l e s s day

And l ong,l ong hou rs of summer p l ay ,

I n the shad e of t he app l e -t ree .

Each year sha l l gi ve th i s app l e- t reeA broade r flu sh of roseate b l oom

,

A deeper maze o f verdu rou s gl oom ,

And loosen,when the fro st -c l ouds l ower ,

The cri sp b rown l eaves i n th i cke r

shower .The years shal l come and pass

,bu t we

Shal l hear no l onger,where we l i e

,

The summer’ s songs,the au tumn ’ s s igh ,

I n the bough s O f t he app l e - t ree.

A nd t ime sha l l waste th i s appl e- t reeO

,when i t s aged branches th row

Th i n shadows o n the ground be l ow ,

Shal l fraud an d fo rce and i ro n wi l lOppress the weak and help l es s s t i l lWha t Shal l the task s of mercy be ,

Am id the to i l s,the s t r i fes

,the tears

Of those who l i ve when l ength of years

I s wast i ng th i s app l e- t ree ?

I 127

Who p lan ted th i s O ld app le - t ree ?The ch i ld ren of that d i stan t day

Thu s to some aged man shal l say ;And

,gaz ing on i t s mossy stem

,

The gray-hai red man shal l an swer them“ A poet o f the l and was he

,

Born i n t he rude bu t good o ld t imes ;’

Ti s sa i d he made some quai n t o l drhymes

O n p lan t i ng the app le- t ree .

WILLIAM CULLEN B RYANT .

THE TREE .

TH E Tree ’ s early l eaf-buds were bu rst i ngthei r brown

Shal l I tak e them away ? sa id the

Frost,sweep i ng down .

No,l eave them alon e

Ti l l the blo ssom s have grown ,P rayed the Tree

,whi l e he t rembl ed from

roo tl et to c rown .

The Tree bore h i s b l o ssoms,and al l the

bi rd s sungShal l I take them away ?” said the \Vi n d

as he swu ng .

No,l eave them alon e

T i l l the berr i es have grow n,

Said the Tree,whi l e h i s l eafl et s q u i ve r

ing hung .

The Tree bore h i s f ru i t i n the m id summergl ow

Said the gi rl,May I gather thy berries

n owYes

,al l thou can st see ;

Take them al l a re fo r thee ,Sa id the Tree

,whi l e he ben t dow n h i s

l aden bough s l ow .

BJORNSTJERN E BJi‘

i RN SO N .

128 TH E B RA VE OLD OAR’

.

THE BRAV E OLD OAK .

A SO N G for the oak , th e brave o ld oak ,\Vho hath ru led i n the greenwo od

l ongHere ’ s heal th and ren own t o h i s broad

green crown,

And his fi fty arm s so st rong.

There i s fear i n h i s frown when the su n

goes d own ,

And the fi re in th e west fades ou t ,And he show e th h i s m igh t o n a w i l d m id

n ight,

When the sto rm s th rough h i s branches

shou t .

Then s i ng to th e oak , the brave ol d oak ,Who stands i n h i s p ri de al o ne ;

And sti l l flou ri sh he,a hal e green t ree

,

When a hundred years are gone .

H e saw the rare t i m es when the Ch ri stmas ch imes

Were a merry sou nd to hear,And the ’ squ i re ’ s w ide hal l an d the co t

tage smal lWere fu l l o f Eng l i sh Cheer ;

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130 TH E AN T AN D TH E CRI CK E T.

Some of thy mou rn fu l ness se ren e ,Some of the never -dy i ng green

,

Put in th i s scr i p of m ine,Tha t gri ef may fal l l i k e sn ow-flak es

l igh t ,And deck me i n a robe of Wh i te

,

Ready to be an ange l b righ t,

O sweet ly In ourn fu l p i ne !A l i tt l e o f thy merr imen t , sai d the

O f thy spark l i ng , l igh t con ten t ,Give me

,my che erfu l brook ,

That I m ay s t i l l be fu l l o f gl eeAnd gladsom eness , whe re

'

e r I beThough fick l e fa te hath p ri son ed me

I n some negl ect ed n ook .

Ye have been very k i n d and good

To me,since I have been i n the wood ;

Ye have gone n igh to fi l l m y hear t

Bu t good -by, k ind fr i end s , every one ,I ’ ve far to go ere set o f sun

O f al l good things I wou l d have part ,The day was h igh ere I cou ld start ,A nd so my j ou rn ey ’ s scarce begu n .

Heaven hel p me ! how cou l d I forget

To beg o f thee , dear v i o l et ?

Som e of thy m odesty ,Tha t flowers here as wel l , un seen ,As if befo re the worl d thou

’

dst been

Oh,give

,to strengthen me .

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

THE ANT AND THE CR ICKET .

A S ILLY you ng C ri ck et , accu stomed to

si ngTh rough th e warm su n ny mon th s o f the

summer and spring,

Began to comp lain when he fou nd thata t home

H i s cupboard was empty,and W i n te r was

come .

Not a crumb to be found

O n the s n ow -covered grou nd ;No t a flower cou ld he see

,

No t a leaf on a tree

Oh ! what wi l l become ,C ri cket , of me ?”

At last,by starvat i o n an d fam in e made

bold,

A l l d ripp i ng w i th wet,and t rembl i ng

w i th co l d,

Away he se t off t o a m i serly An t ,

To see if,to k eep h im al i ve

,he wou l d

gran tA shel te r from ra in

,

And a mouth fu l of grai n .

He wi shed o n ly to borrow ,

And repay i t t o-morrowI f n ot

,he must d i e of starvat i on and

so rrow .

Said the An t to the C ricket , I ’m yourservan t and fri en d ;

Bu t we an t s n ever borrow , we an t s never

l en d .

Bu t te l l me . dear s i r , d id you lay n oth i ng

by

When the weather was warm Said the

Cr i ck e t ,“ N ot I !

My heart was so l igh tThat I sang day and n igh t

,

For al l natu re l ooked gay .

“ You sang,s i r, you say ?

G O then,

” said th e An t ,“ and dance

wi nter away .

”

.ROB 1A’ IRE LU%REASYT

Thu s end i ng ,he hast i l y Open ed the

wicket,

And ou t o f th e door tu rn ed the poor

l i t t l e Cric ket .

Though th i s i s a fabl e , t he mora l i s good

If you l i ve w i th ou t work , you w i l l gow i thou t food .

ANONYMOUS.

ROB IN REDBREAST .

GOOD -B Y,good -by to summer !

For summer’ s n early don e ;The garde n sm i l i ng fain t ly

,

Coo l b reeze s i n t he su n .

Ou r th ru shes n ow a re s i l e n t,

Our swal l ows flow n away ;Bu t Rob i n ’ s here

,wi th coat o f b row n ,

And ruddy breast—k not gay .

Robi n,R obi n R e dbreast

,

0 Robi n dear !Robi n s i ngs so sw eet lyI n the fal l i n g of the year !

Brigh t yel l ow,red

,and orange

,

The l eaves come down i n host s ;The t ree s are I nd ian p ri n ces

,

But soon they ’ l l tu rn to ghost sThe scan ty pears and app lesHang ru sset on the bough

It’

s au tum n,au tum n

,au tum n l ate

,

’Twi l l soo n be w in te r n ow .

Rob in, Robi n Redbreast ,

O Robi n dearAnd What w i l l th i s poo r Rob i n

do ?

For p i nch i ng days are near.

131

The fi res ide fo r th e c rick et,

The wheat -s tack fo r th e mou se,

\Vhen t rembl i ng n igh t-wi nds w h i st l eA n d m oan a l l rou n d the hou se .

The fros ty twigs l i k e i ron,

The bran ches p l umed w i t h sn ow,

A las ! in wi n te r dead and dark ,

Where ca n poo r Rob i n go ?

Robi n,Rob i n Redbreast

,

O Robi n dear !And a crumb o f bread fo r Robi n

H i s l i t t l e heart t o chee r !

WI LL IAM ALL I NGHAM .

A L ITTLE G IRL ’S GOOD—B Y .

GOOD - B Y,dai sy

,p i n k

,and rose

,

And sn ow -whi te l i l y too !Every p ret ty flower that growsHere ’ s a k i ss for you .

Good -by, merry bi rd an d bee f

And take th i s t i ny songFor the one you sang to meAl l the summer l ong .

Good -by,mossy l i tt l e ri l l

,

That sh i vers i n the co ld !Leaves that fal l o n val e and h i l l

Cover you w i th gold .

A swee t good -by to bi rds that roam ,

And ri l l s,and flowers and bees ;

B u t when win te r ’ s gone,come home

As early as you pl ease .

G EORG E COO PER.

132'

A SON G OF H ARVE S T H OME .

A SONG OF HARVEST HOME .

HA IL to the merry au tumn day s,when

yel l ow cornfie ld s sh i n eFar brigh ter than the cost ly cup that

ho l ds the monarch ’s w i n e !Hai l to the merry harvest t i me , th e gay

est of the year,

t i m e r ich and bou nteou s c rop s ,rej o ic i ng

,an d good cheer !

’Ti s p l easan t,on a fi ne spr i ng morn , to

see the buds expand’T i s p l easan t

,i n the summer t im e , to

v i ew the teem i ng l an d ;’Ti s p l easant

,on a w i n ter ’ s n igh t , to

crouch arou n d the bl aze ;B u t wha t are j oys l i k e these, my boys to

au tum n ’ s merry days !

Then hai l to merry au tum n days, whenye l l ow c o rnfie lds sh i n e

Far brigh ter than the cost ly cup that

ho ld s the monarch’

s w in e !

And hai l t o merry harvest t im e , the gay

est of the year,The t ime of ri ch an d bou n teou s c rops,

rej o i c ing,and good cheer !

CHARLE S D ICKEN S.

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MARyORIE’

S ALMAN A C.

That cows come sh i veri ng up the l an eWhe n the East begi n s to bl ow .

Which i s the Wi nd tha t bri ng s theflowers ?

The West-VVind,B essy an d soft an d

l owThe bi rd i es S i ng In the summer hou rs

Wh en the VV’

e st beg i n s to bl ow .

EDMUN D CLARENCE STEDMAN .

MARJOR I E ’S ALMANAC .

ROB I N S i n the t ree - top s,

Blossom s i n the grass,

Green th i ngs a-growing Beams of gol den sun sh i n e ,Everywhere you pass : Moon l igh t b righ t a s day

Sudden l i t t l e b reezes,

Don ’ t you th i n k summ e r’

sShowers of si l ver dew

,Pl easan ter than May

B lack bough and ben t twigBudd i ng ou t an ew ;

Pi n e t ree an d wi l l ow t ree,

Fri nged e lm an d larch,

Don ’ t you th i n k May—t ime ’ sP l easan t er than March

App les i n the o rchard,

Mel l ow i ng on e by o ne,

S trawberr ies upt u rn i ng

Soft cheek s to the su n ;R oses fa i n t wi th sweetn es s

,

L i l i e s fa i r of face,

Drowsy scen t s and mu rmu rsH aun t ing every pla f e ;

TH E FROS T.

Roger i n the corn -patchWhi st l i ng n egro -songs

,

Pussy by the hearths ide

Romp i ng w i th the tongs ;Chestn u t s i n the ashes ,Burs t ing th rough the ri n d

R ed l eaf an d go ld leaf

Ru st l ing down the w i nd ;Mother “ do i ng peaches”

Al l the aftern oon

Don ’ t you th i n k au tum n ’ sP l easanter than Ju n e ?

L i t t l e fa i ry sn owflak es

Danc ing i n the flue ;O ld Mr . San ta C l au s ,W’ hat i s keep i ng you ?

Twi l ight an d fire l ight

Shadows come and go ,Merry ch ime of s l e igh - be l l sT ink l i ng through the sn ow ;Mother k n i t t ing stock i ngs

(Pu ssy’ s go t th e ba l l

Don ’ t you th i n k w i n te r ’ sP l easan te st of al l

THOMAS B AILEY ALDR ICH .

A N IGHT WITH A WOLF .

LITTLE one,com e to m y k n ee

Hark,how the ra i n i s pou ri ng

Over the roof,i n the p i tch -black n igh t

And the w ind i n the woods a - roaring !

Hush , my darl i ng, and l i sten ,Then pay fo r the s tory w i th k i s se s ;Fathe r was l o st i n the p i tch -black n igh t

,

I n j us t such a storm as th i s i s !

135

H igh up on the l onely mou n tai n s ,Where the w i ld men watched and w ai t

ed ;Wolves i n the fore s t

,and bears i n the

bu sh,

And I on my path belated .

The rai n and the n igh t togetherCame down

,and the w i n d cam e a fte r ,

Bend i ng the p rops o f the p i n e- t ree roo f,

A nd snapp i ng many a rafter.

I c rep t al ong i n the dark ness ,Stu n ned

,and bru i sed , an d bl i n ded ,

C rept to a fi r w i th th ick - se t boughs,

And a shel te ri ng rock beh i nd i t .

There,from the b lowi ng and ra i n i ng.

C rouch i ng , I sough t to h i de meSometh ing rust l ed

,two green eve s

shoneAn d a wol f lay dow n bes ide me !

L i t t l e o n e , be not frighte nedI and the wo lf together

,

S ide by side , th rough the l ong, l o ng n igh t ,H id from the awfu l weathe r.

H i s wet fu'f p ressed agai n s t me ;Each Of u s warmed the othe r

Each of u s fe l t in the S t o rmy darkTha t beast and man w ere broth e r

A nd,when the fal l i ng fo rest

N O l onger c rashed i n warn i ng ,

Each o f u s wen t from ou r h id i ng-placeFo rth i n the w i l d wet morn i ng .

Dar l i ng ,k i ss me I II paymen t ,

Hark ! how the wi nd i s roari ng !Father's hou se i s a bette r p laceWhen the stormy ra in i s pou ri ng.

B AYARD TAYLO R.

THE MON THS .

JA NUAR Y bri ngs the s n owMakes ou r feet an d fi ngers gl ow ;February brings the rai n

,

Thaws the frozen l ak e agai n ;March brings breez es loud and shri l l

,

St ir s the dan c i ng daffod i lApri l b ri ngs the p rim ro se sweet

,

Scat ter s dai s i es a t ou r feetMay brings flock s of p retty l ambs

,

Sk ipp i ng by thei r fleecy dams ;Jun e bri ngs tu l ips

,l i l i es

,roses

,

Fi l l s the ch i l dr en ’ s hand s wi th posi esHot J u ly bri ngs coo l i ng showersAp ricot s

,and g il l iflow e rs ;

August bri ngs the sheaves o f cor n,

Then the harvest hom e i s born e ;Warm Sep tember bri ngs the fru i t

,

Sport smen then begi n t o shoo t ;Fresh October br i ngs the pheasan t

,

Then to gather nut s i s p l easan t ;Du l l Novembe r bri ngs the b l a st

,

Then the l eaves are whi rl ing fastCh i l l December b r i ngs the s l ee t

,

Blaz ing fire,an d Chri stm as t rea t

.

SARA COLER IDGE .

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138

WINTER .

OLD Win ter i s a st urdy one,

And last ing stuff he ’

s made ofH i s flesh i s fi rm as i ron-stone ;There ’ s noth ing he’ s afraid of .

He spreads h i s coat,upon the heath

,

Nor yet to warm i t l i ngers ;

WIN TER .

Of flowers that b l oom,or b i rd s that

si ng,

Fu l l l i t t l e cares or k n ows he

He hates the fi re,and hates the Spri ng

,

And al l tha t ’s warm and cosey.

B ut when the foxes bark al oudOn froze n h i l l an d r iver

,

He scou ts the though t of ach i ng teeth,

When rou n d the fi re the peop l e c rowd,

O r ch i lbl a i n s o n h is fi ng e rs . And rub the i r hands,and sh i ver

,

W I NTER .

O ld \Vin te r is a s turdy one,

And las t ing s tu ff he’

s m ade o f

H is fle sh is firm as i ron-stone ,

The re’

s noth ing he ’

s a fra id o f.

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142 A VI SI T FROM S T.

He wen t to the wi ndows of those who

sl ep t ,And over each pane l i ke a fa i ry c rep tWherever he breathed , w herever he

step t ,By the l igh t of the moon were seen

Most beau t i fu l th i ngs : there were flowers and t rees ;

There were bevi es of bi rd s and swarm s

of beesThere were c i t i es wi th templ es an d

towers and theseA l l p ic tured i n s i l ver sheen

But he d i d on e th i ng that was hard lyfai r :

He peeped i n the cupboard,and fi nd ing

thereThat al l had forgot ten for h im to p re

pareNow, j u st to set th em a - th ink i ng

,

I ’ l l b i te th i s basket of fru i t,sai d he

,

Th i s cost ly p i tcher I ’ l l bu rst i n th ree,

And the glass of water they ’ ve left fo rme

Shal l ‘tch ick to tel l them I ’m dri nkIng .

H ANNAH FLAGG GOULD .

A V ISIT FROM ST . N ICHOLAS .

’

TwAs the n ight before Chri s tmas,when

al l th rough the houseNot a c reatu re was st i rr i ng

,n ot even a

mouse ;The stock i ngs were hu ng by the ch im

ney w i th care,

III hopes that S t. N icho las soon wou l dbe there

N I CH OLA S .

The ch i l dren were n est led al l snug inthe i r beds

,

Whi l e v i s i on s of sugar-p lums danced i nthei r head s

A nd Mamma i n her k erch ief,and I i n

my cap,

Had j ust set t l ed ou r bra i n s fo r a l ongwi n ter ’s nap

When out on the l awn there arose sucha c la t te r,

I sp rang from my bed t o see what was

the matte r .Away to the window I flew l i k e a flash ,Tore open the shu tters an d th rew up the

sash .

The moon,on the breast o f the n ew

fal l en sn ow ,

Gave a lu st r e o f m id-day to obj ect s bel ow

When , what to my wonderi ng eyes shou l d

appean

Bu t a m in i atu re S l eigh,an d eight t i ny

re indee r,

With a l i tt l e o l d dr iver,so l ivel y and

qu i ck,

I k new i n a momen t i t mu st be S t . Nick .

More rap id than eagles h i s cou rsers they

came ,And he wh is t l ed

,and shou ted

,and cal led

them by nameNow Dasher ! now

,Dan cer ! n ow

,

Prancer and V i xen

O n Comet . on ! Cup id , on Donde ran d B l i t zen

To the top of'

the porch,t o the top o f

the wal l !

Now,dash away

,dash away

,dash away

al l !”

H OW’

TH E IVE W YEAR CAM E .

A s dry leaves that befo re the wi l d hu rri

cane fly ,When th ey meet w i th an obstac l e , moun t

to the Sky,So , up to the hou se—top the coursers they

fl ew ,

With the sl e igh fu l l o f toys—and S t .N ichol as too .

And then i n a twi nk l i ng I heard on the

roo fThe p ranc i ng and pawi ng o f each l i t t l e

hooL

AS I d rew i n my head , and was tu rn ing

around,

Down the ch im ney S t . N icholas came

w i th a bou nd .

He was dressed al l in fu r from h i s head

to h i s foo t ,A nd h i s c lo thes were a l l ta rn i shed wi th

ashes and soo t ;A bu nd l e of toys he had flung on h i s

back ,And he l ooked l i ke a pedd l e r j u st open

i ng h i s pacK.

H is eyes how they tw ink l ed h i sd imp les how merry ;

H is cheek s were l i k e ro ses,h i s nose l i k e

a cher ry

H i s d ro l l l i t t l e m ou th was d rawn up l i k ea bow ,

A nd the beard o n h i s ch in was as wh i teas th e snow .

The stump of a p ipe he hel d t igh t i n h i stee th

,

And th e smoke,i t enc i rc l ed h i s head l ik e

a w reath .

He was ch ubby and p l ump—a r igh t j o l lyo l d e lf

143

And I l aughed whe n I saw h im i n spi teof myse l f,

A wi n k o f his eye , and a twi s t o f h i shead

,

Soon gave me to k now I had n oth i ng tc.

d read .

He spok e not a w ord,bu t wen t st raight

to h i s wo rk,

And fi l l ed al l the stock i ngs then tu rn edw i th a j erk

,

A nd lay i ng h i s fi nger aside o f h is noseAnd giv i ng a n od , up the ch imney he

rose .

He sprang to h i s s l e igh,to h i s team gave

a wh i st l e,

And away they al l flew l ike the down o f

a th i st l e ;Bu t I heard him exc l a im

,ere he d rove

ou t o f s ight,

Happy Chri stmas to al l , and to al l agood -n igh t

CLEMENT C . MOORE .

H OW THE N EW YEAR CAME .

TH E su n was s i nk i ng ou t of s igh t ;

Bessi e,

” sa id He rbert ,“ have you

heard ?I t ’s real ly t rue

,upon my word

Thi s year i s go ing awav to - n ight !It

’

s t ime i s up , th ey say , and soA t m i dn igh t i t wi l l have to go .

And righ t aw ay ano ther yearWi l l come al ong

,a real n ew y ear ,

As so ft a s any mou se ,SO soft

,we ’ l l hard ly hear i t c reep ,

Yes,come righ t to th i s very hou se ,

Whi le every one ’ s asl eep

N OW Bess i e’ s eyes grew wide to hear .

‘fLet

’s k eep awake,

” she c ried ,“ and so

We ’ l l see one come and see one go .

Tw o years at once ! Won ’ t t hat be

queer ?

Let ’ s t e l l the N ew Year i t i s bad,

We wan t the one we ’ve always had,With b i rd s an d fl owers and th ings , you

k now,

And fu nny Ice and p retty snow .

I t had my bi rthday,too , in May ,

And you rs—w hen was i t ? and you

k nowHow i t had Fou rth 0

’ J u ly on e day,

And Chri stmas. Oh, it musin

’

t go l”

" Ha,ha !” l aughed Herbert. Whata Bess !

Thi s year was new when fi rst i t came ;The nex t one wi l l be j u st the same

As th i s that ’ s go ing now,I guess.

That ’ s noth ing . Bu t what bothersme

IS how the change i s going to be.I can ’ t see how one year can goAnd one can come at m idn ight

,so

Al l in a m inute : l/zot’

s the botherI ’ve heard them say

,

‘the ro l l i ng yearYou ’d th ink they ’d rol l o n one another

,

Un less they k new j u st how to steer .

The speck of t ime tw i xt n igh t and dayWas c l o se at hand . Herbert and BessHad wo n thei r paren t s ’ sm i l i ng yes”

To watch the o l d year go away .

Nurse on the l ounge found easy restT i l l Bess Shou ld come to be u ndrestAl l bu t the ch i l dren were as l eep

,

And years m ight ro l l,or years m ight

creep ,For al l they cared ; whi l e B ess an d

Bert ,Who neve r st i rred

,and scarce ly spoke ,

Watched the grea t c l ock,awake , a l ert ,

Al l b reath less for the com i ng st roke .

Soon Bessi e wh i spered , Mol l don ’ tcare .

Mol l was her do l l . And Herbert said ,The c l ock ’ s so fa r up overhead

I t makes me W ink to wa tch i t there ,The great tal l th ing ! Let ’ s l ook in

s i de .

”

And so i ts door they Opened wide .

Tick -a - t ick ! How loud i t s ounded !Bessi e ’ s heart w i th wonder bou n ded .

How the great round th ing that hung

Down th e m idd l e swung and swung !

Tick,( l -HCB

,a - tz

'

eé , a- lz

'

ek,

Dear how loud i t was , and qu i ck !

Tick-a,l ick—a

,Iz

'

e/e-o,Lick- (z

Su rely i t was grow ihg qu icke r !Whi l e the sw i nging th ing kept on ,Back an d forth

,and never d one.

There ! I t’ s com ing ! Loud and cl ear

Each ringing st roke the n igh t a larm s .

Bess,scream ing

,h id i n Herbert

’

s arm s.

The year !” he cri ed

,

“ the year ! th e

year !”

Where ?” fal tered B essi e , wh i ch ?

where ’bout sBut st i l l “ The year !” glad Herbert

shou tsA nd s ti l l the steady st rokes rang onUn t i l t h e ban i shed year was gon e .

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When the chu rch—c l ock yonder to l l s ou tT/zree

,

You are al l to be shot ?

“E xcuse you one momem‘? Oh , ho , hoDo you th i n k to fool a gen o

’ ’

arme so ?

“ But , S ir , here’ s a watch that a fri end

,

one day,

(My father’ s fri end) j u st over the way,

L en t me ; and i f you’ l l l et me free

I t s t i l l l ack s seven m i nu tes of T/zreeI’

l l come,on the word of a sol d i er ’ s son

,

Straigh t back i n to l ine,when my errand ’s

don e

Ha , ha ! No doubt of i t ! Off ! B e

gon e !

(N ow, good S t . Den i s , speed h im on !

The work w i l l be easier s i n ce fie ’

s savedFor I hard ly see how I could have bravedThe ardor of that i n nocen t eye

,

As he stood an d heard,

Whi le I gave the word,

Doom ing h im l ike a dog to di e. )

“ I n t ime ? Wel l , than k s , that my desi reWas gran ted ; and now I

’m readyFi reOne word —tha t ’s al l

You’

l l l et m e tu rn my back to thewal l ?”

Parbl eu Come ou t o f the l in e,I say

,

Come out ! (Who said that h i s name wasNey

Ha ! France wi l l hear of h im yet,on e

day !”

MARGARET J . PRESTON .

SLEIGH—SONG .

J IN GLE,j ingl e

,c l ear the way

,

’

Tis t he merry,merry S l eigh !

As i t sw iftlv sc uds al ong

Hear the bu rst of happy song,

See the gleam of glances bright

Flash i ng o ’ er the pathway whi teJ ingl e

,j i ngl e , past i t fl i es ,

Send ing shafts from hooded eyes ,Rogu i sh archers , I

’ l l be bound,L i t t l e heed ing whom they woun d ;See them

,wi th cap ri c i ou s p ranks ,

P lough i ng now the d ri fted ban k sJ ingl e , j i ngl e ,

’m id the gl ee,

Who among them cares for me ?

J i ngl e,j i ngl e, on they go ,

Capes and bon nets whi te wi th snow .

Not a single robe they fold

To p rotec t them from the co ld ;J ingl e

,j ingl e

,m id the storm ,

Fun and fro l i c keep them warm

J i ngl e,j ingl e

,down the h i l l s ,

O’

e r the mead ows , past the m i l l s ;Now ’ t i s s l ow

,and n ow ’ t i s fas t

Win t e r w i l l n o t always last .

J i ngl e , j i ngl e , c l ear the way’Ti s the m erry

,merry sl e igh .

GEORGE W. PETTEE.

GEORGE N IDIVER .

MEN have done brave deeds,

And bard s have sung them we l lI of George N idiverNow the tal e w i l l tel l .

In Cal i fo rn i an moun tain s ,A hun ter bo l d was he :

SLE IGH ING IN TH E OLDEN TIME

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Geo rge N id iver stood st i l l ,And l ooked h im in the face ;

The wi ld beast stopped amazed ,Then came wi th s lack ing pace .

St i l l fi rm the hun ter s tood ,A l though h i s h ear t beat h igh ;

Agai n the creatu re stopped ,A nd gazed w i th wondering eye .

The hun ter met his gaze ,Nor yet an i nch gave way ;

The bear tu rned sl owly rou ndAnd sl owly moved-away .

What though tswere i n h i s m ind

I t wou l d be hard to spe l l ;\Vhat t hought s were i n Geo rge N id ive r

’

s

I rather guess than te l l .

B e su re that rifle ’

s aim ,

Sw ift cho ice of generou s par t ,Showed , i n i t s passi ng g leam ,

The depths of a brave heart .

ANONYMOUS .

THE CH ILD MUS IC IAN .

[Mr. Dobson ’s poem p robab ly refe rs to a rea l inc iden t

wh ich was to ld in the Boston Adver t iser severa l years ago.

A “ baby v io l in ist , six years old , was compe l led to p laye ven ing afte r e ven ing to large aud ience s . One day he looked so pale that the manage r to ld h im to stay at home . That

n igh t as he lay in bed h is father heard him say, M erc ifu lGod

,m ake room for a l itt le fe l low ,

”and before morn ing he

d ied .]

H E had p layed for his l o rdsh ip ’ s l evee,

He had p l ayed for her l adysh ip ’ s whim,

Ti l l the poor l i t t l e head was heavy,

And the poo r l itt le brai n wou ld swim .

And the face grew peaked and eer i e ,And the large eyes st range and bright ,

And they sa id—too late He i s wearyHe shal l re st fo r at l east to - n igh t

Bu t at dawn,when the b i rds were wak i ng

As th ey watched i n the si l e n t room,

With a sou nd of a s t ra ined cord break ing,

A someth ing sn apped i n the gloom .

’Twas a st ri ng Of h i s V i o l oncel l o ,And they heard h im st i r i n bed

“ Make room for a t i red l i t t l e fel l ow ,

Kind God !” was the last that h e said .

AUST I N DO BSON .

L ITTLE MARTIN CRAG H AN .

[The brave boy, on ly ten years old , whose fate is the sub

j ec t of the fo l low ing verses,was em p loyed in one of the

P i ttston m ines. When the shaft caught fire , be , w i th a com

rade , tr ied to escape . Sudd en ly he rem embe red that some

m en who were busy in a further chambe r of the m ine must beunaware of the i r danger. The re was bu t one ou t l e t , but onechance . H e le ft bo th to his l it t le m a te

, and darted back in tothe m in e . H e re ached the m e n

,w arned them ,

and fled backto the sha ft, to find that hope was gone H e turn e d and

hurr ied through the gal le r i es once m ore , that he m ight d iew ith those for o m he gave h is life . They had bu i ldedw i th de spe rate has te a w all be tw een them se lve s and the dead lygases and vapors wh ich ro l led th icken ing toward them . Eventhe ir chance of surv iv ing w as s l ight . To le t him in w as to

adm it ce rta in death , so they refused his praye r. They heard

him sob and walk fa l ter ing ly away . H e was afte rward found

qu i te de ad . a l i tt le board bes ide him ,

'

on wh ich , w i th a p ieceof cha lk , he had wr i tten the names of laved ones.]

A CH ILD l ook s up the ragged Shaft ,A boy , whose meagre frame

Shrink s as he hears the roaring draugh tThat feed s the eager flam e.

He has a sing l e chance ; the stak esO f l ife Show death a t bay

One momen t—the n h i s comrade t ak esThe hope he cast s away.

LI TTLE IVIAII’ TI IV CRAGIIAN . 151

For wh i l e h i s t rembl ing hand i s rai sed,

A nd wh i l e h i s swee t ey es Sh ine, And they , wi th Shak i ng voi ce

,refused

There swe l l s above the l ove o f l ife A nd then the you ng heart broke.

The ru sh of l ove d iv i n e A. 4: >l< a >l<

The thought of those u nwarn ed , t o whomDeath stea l s al ong the m i ne .

H i s p i teou s accen t s choke ;

The wh i l e he speed s that dark some

way,

Hope paint s upo n h i s fear s

Soft V i s i o n s Of the l igh t o f day ;Fai n t so ngs of bi rd s h e hears ;

In summer b reeze h i s tangl ed cu rl s

A re b l own about h i s ears .

He sees the men he warn s ; an d now

H i s du ty bravely don e ,Sweet hope may pain t t he fai res t scen eThat sp read s ben ea th the su n .

Back to the bu rn i ng shaft he fl i e s ;There bou n d i ng pu l ses fa i l

The l igh t forsakes h i s l ifted eyes ;The gl owing cheek i s pal e .

Wi th whee l ing,whi rl ing , hu ngry flame

The seeth i ng Shaft i s r i fe ;\Vhe re so l i d cha in s d rip l iqu id fi re ,What chance fo r human l i fe .

To d ie w i th tho se he hoped to save ,Back

,back

,th rough heat and gl oom

To fi nd a wal l ! and D eath and he

Shu t i n th e l a rger t omb

He pleaded to be take n i n ,As c loser ro l l ed the smok eI n death fu l vapors they cou l d hea r

O l ove of l i fe ! God made i t st rong,

And k nows how c l ose i t p re ssedA nd Death to those who l ove l i fe l east

I s scarce a welcome guest .

O ne though t o f the poor w ife, whose

headLast n igh t l ay on h i s breast ;

A qu iver run s through l i p s that mo rnBy Ch i l d ren

’

s l i p s care ssed .

These th ings— th e swee t,st ro n g thought s

of home ,Though bu t a wre tched p l ace

,

To wh ich the sad - eyed m iners com e

Wi th l abor ’ s l aggard pace

Remembered i n t he cavern gl oom ,

I l l ume th e haggard face .

I l l umed thei r faces,steel ed each heart

O God ! what myste ri es

O f brave and base make sum and par t

O f human h i stori es

\Vhat wi l l no t thy poor c reatu res do

To buy an hou r o f breathWel l fo r u s al l some sou l s a re t ru e

Above th e fear of death !s >I< 4. >l< at

H e wep t a l i t t l e , fo r th ey heardThe sou nd o f sobs

,the sighs

That breathed o f martyrdom compl e te ,

Un seen of mortal eyesA nd then

,n o l onge r swi ft , h i s fee t

Passed dow n the gal l e ri es.

152 B Y TH E ALMA RI VER .

He crep t and crouched besi de h is mu le ,Led by i t s dyi ng moan

He touched i t feeb ly wi th a handThat shook l i ke pal sy ’s own .

God gran t the touch had power to makeThe ch i l d fee l l ess al one !

Who k noweth every heart, He k now sWhat moved the boyi sh m ind

What l ongings grew to passi on -th roesFor dear ones l eft beh i nd ;

How hardly youth and you th ’s desi resThei r ho l d of l i fe res igned .

Death lean ed upon h im heavi ly,

Bu t Love,more m ighty st i l l

She l en t h im sl ender l ease of l ifeTo work her tender wi l l .

He fel t w i th s igh t l ess,sen t i en t hand

Along th e wal l and ground ,And there the rude and s impl e pageFor h i s sweet pu rpo se found.

O’

e rw ritten with the names he l oved,

C lasped to h i s l i t t l e s i de,

D im eyes the wooden reco rd readHours afte r he had d i ed.

Thus , from al l k n owledge of h i s k ind ,In darkness l one and vast

,

From l i fe to death , from death to l ife,The l i t t l e hero passed .

And wh i l e they l i s tened fo r the feetThat wou ld ret u rn no more

,

Far off they fel l i n mu si c sweetUpon ano ther shore .

ZADEL B ARNES GUSTAFSON .

BY THE ALMA R I V ER .

[The Alma is a sma l l stream in the Cr imea , on whose

southe rn bank was fought , Sept . 20 ,1854 , a great batt le be

twee n the Eng l ish, w i th the i r a l l ies , and the Russ ians. I t

resul ted in v ictory for the Eng l ish and the open ing up the

road to Sebastopol .]

W ILLIE,fo l d you r l i t t l e hands

Let i t d rop , that sol d i e r toy

Look where father ’ s p ic tu re stand s,

Father, who here k i ssed h i s boy

No t two mon th s s i n ce—fa the r k i nd ,Who th i s n igh t may Never m indMother ’ s sob , my Wi l l i e dear,Cal l a l oud that He may hearWho i s God of bat t l es , —say ,“Oh , keep father safe th i s dayBy the A lma R i ver.”

Ask no more,ch i l d . Never heed

Ei ther Ru ss,o r Fran k , or Tu rk ,

R igh t o f na t i on s o r of c reedChance-po i sed v ic tory 's bl oody work

Any flag i ’ the wind may ro l l

On thy height s,Sebastopo l !

Wi l l i e , al l to you an d meI s that spot , where

’ er i t be,

Where he stands—n o other wo rd !S tands—God sure the ch i l d's p rayer heardBy the A lma R i ver .

Wi l l i e , l i sten to the bel l sR ingi ng th rough the town to-day .

That’

s fo r v ic tory. Ah,no k ne l l s

For the many swept away

Hund red s—thou san ds Le t u s weep ,We , who need n o t—j u st to keepReason

’

steady in my bra inTi l l the m orn i ng comes again

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54 CLARJB E L’

S pm YER.

L e t n ot the death -bo l t,wi th i t s ho rri d ,

st ream i ng hai r ,Dash l igh t from those sw eet eyes I l ove

so wel l .Prai se God c r i ed t rem bl i ng l i t t l e C l ar

ibe l .

B u t , Father , gran t that when the g l o riou s figh t i s done

,

And u p the crimson sky the shou t s o f

freemen swel l,

G ran t that there be no nob l er vi c to r’ neath the su n

Than he w hose gol de n hai r I l ove sowel l .

Prai se God ! pra i se God ! cri ed l i t t l eC l aribe l .

When co l d gray day shook hands w i th

grayer n igh t,

The heavy a i r was th r i l l ed w ith c l angor

of a bel l .

O shou t !” the heral d cr i ed,h i s wo’ rn

eyes brimmed W i th l ight

Ti s v i c to ry ! O What gl ori ou s n ews to

te l l ! ”

Prai se God c r i ed sobb i ng l i t t l e C l ar

bel .

Bu t , pray you , herald , was my brotheri n the fight ?

And i n the fi ery rai n, oh , fough t he brave

and wel l ?”

Dear ch i l d ,”

the heral d sa id,

“ the rewas no fai re r sight

77 15 IVJAQHHQE Lu 8 0 lfi

Than his young fo rm ,so brave ’m id sho t

an d she ll .”

P rai se God He heard my p raye r ,c r ied C l ari bel .

And r i des he n ow w i th V ic tor ’ s p l umes

of red,

Whi l e t rumpets,go l de n th roat s h i s com

i ng steps fo re te l l ?

The heral d d ropped a t ear . De ar ch i l d,

he so ft l y sa id,

Thy brothe r evermore wi th conquero rsshal l dwel l .

”

Amen P ra i se God ! c ri ed l i t t l e C l ari bel .

Wi th v ic tors weari ng c rown s and beari ng palm s

,

” he sa id .

And snow of sudden fear upo n the rosel i ps fe l l .

‘O sweetes t heral d , say my brotherl ives ,

” she p l ead .

Dear ch i ld,he wal k s w i th angel s who

in st rength excel .P ra i se God who gave th i s g l o ry , C l ari

be ] .

The co ld,gray day d ied sobb i ng on the

weary h i l l s,

And b i t ter wai l ing on the n igh t-wi nd

ro se and fel l .“Dear ch i ld ,

” the herald said,

’ t i s as

the dear Lord wi l l s .He k noweth best an d be i t l i fe o r death

,

’ t i s wel l !Am e n ! P rai se G od !

”m oaned l i t t l e

C l ari be l .ANONYMOUS .

I55

THE M IN STREL - B O Y .

TH E m i n st re l -boy to the w ar i s go ne,

In the rank s o f de ath you 'l l fi nd h im ;

H i s father'

s sw ord he has gi rded on,

And h is w i l d harp sl ung bch ind h im .

Land o f song sai d the w arrio r—bard,

Though al l t he wo rl d bet rays thee,

One sword,at l east

,thy righ t s shal l

guard ,O ne fa i th fu l harp shal l p rai se the e !

The mi n stre l fe l l —bu t the foeman ’ scha in

Cou ld no t bri ng h i s p roud sou l u nder ;The harp he l oved n e'er spoke agai n

,

For he to re i t s co rd s asu nder ;And said , No chai n shal l su l ly the e

,

Thou sou l of l ove and brave ry !

Thy songs w ere m ad e fo r the brave an dfree

,

They shal l n eve r so u n d i n sl ave ry l”

THOMAS MOORE .

SUNSHIN E AN D SHOWER .

Two ch i l dren stood at the i r fa the r ’ s

gate ,Two gi rl s

,wi th go lden hai r

And the i r eyes were brigh t , and the i r

vo ice s glad ,Becau se the m orn w as fai r .

For they sa id,

\Ve wi l l take that l ong ,

l ong wa l kTo the hawthorn Copse to -day,

And gather great bu nche s o f l ove ly

flowersFrom Off the scen ted May ;

And Oh ! w e sha l l be so happy the re ,"

Twi l l be so rrow to com e aw av .

”

As the ch i l dren spoke , a l i t t l e c l oudPassed sl owly across the sky ;

And one l ooked up in her si ster’ s face

Wi th a tear-drop i n her eye .

But the other said , Oh heed i t n ot ,’Ti s far too fai r to rain ;

That l i t t le c l oud may search the sky

For other c louds i n vai n .

And soon the ch i ld ren ’ s vo ices rose

In merr imen t aga in .

But,ere the m orn i ng hours had waned ,

The sky had changed i t s hue ,And that one c l oud had chased awayThe Who l e great heaven of bl ue .

The rai n fel l down in heavy dropsThe wind began to bl ow ;And the ch i ld ren

,i n thei r n ice warm

room ,

Wen t fre t t i ng to and fro ;For they said

,Whe n we have augh t i n

sto reI t a lways happen s so .

Now the se tw o fai r-ha i red s i stersHad a brother ou t at sea

,

A l i t t l e m idsh ipman aboardThe gal lan t V ic tory

A nd o n that se l f- same morn i ng

When they stood besi de the gate,

H i s sh i p was wrecked , and o n a raft

H e stood al l des olate,With the other sai lo rs rou nd h im ,

P repared to meet thei r fate .

Beyond,they saw the coo l green l and

,

The land wi th i t s waving trees,

And the l i t t l e brook s that ri se and fal lL i ke but terfl i es t o the breeze

A nd above them the burn ing noont i de

su nWith scorch ing st i l lness shone ;

Thei r th roats were parch ed w i th bi t ter

th i rst,

And they k nel t down o ne by on e,P ray ing to God for a drop o f ra in ,A nd a gale to waft them on .

Jus t then tha t l i t t l e c l ou d was sen t ,That shower i n mercy given ;A nd

,as a b i rd before the breez e ,

Thei r bark was landward driven ,N ow ,

some few morn ings after,Whe n the ch i l d ren met once m ore ,

And thei r broth er to l d the st o ry,

They kn ew i t was the hou rWhen they had wi shed for sun sh ine .

And God had sen t the shower.ANONYMOUS .

SOMEBODY ’ S DARL ING .

I NTO a ward o f the wh i tewashed w al l s,

Where the dead and dy i ng lay ,Wounded by bayonet s , shel l s, and bal l s,Somebody ’ s Darl i ng was born e on e

daySomebody ’ s Darl i ng , so you ng and so

brave ,Weari ng yet on h i s pal e

,sweet face

,

Soon to be h i d by the du st of the graveThe l ingeri ng l igh t of h i s boyhood sgrace.

Matted and damp are the cu rl s o f go ld,

Ki ssing the snow of that fai r youngbrow

Pale are the l ip s o f de l i cate mou ldSomebody ’ s Darl i ng i s dying now .

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158 TH E GRA VE S OF A H OUSE H OLD .

There came a bu rst o f thu nder- soun dThe boy—oh where was he ?

Ask o f the wi nds that far a roundWi th fragmen ts st rewed the sea ,

\Vi th mast , and he lm ,and pen non fa i r

,

That wel l had born e the i r part ;B u t the n obl e

'

st th ing which peri shed

thereWas that you ng fa i thfu l heart !

FEL IC IA H EMANS .

THE GRAV ES OF A HOUSEHOLD .

T H E Y grew i n beau ty side by s ide,

They fi l l ed one home wi th gl ee ;Thei r graves a re severed far an d wideBy moun t

,and st ream

,and sea .

The Indian knows h i s p l ace o f rest,

Far in the cedar shade .

The sea, th e b l ue l one sea, hath o neH e l i e s where pearl s l i e deep ;

He was the l oved of a l l,yet non e

O’

e r h i s l ow bed may weep .

O ne s leep s where sou thern v i nes aredressed

Above the nobl e s l a i nHe wrapped h i s c o l o rs rou nd h i s b reastOn a blood-red fiel d of Spain ,

And on e—o ’er her the myrt l e showersI t s l eaves , by softw i nds fann ed ;

She faded ’mid I tal i an flow ers ,The last of tha t brigh t band .

A nd,parted thus

,they rest w ho p layed

Beneath the same green t ree,

B ERN ARD O DE L CARP /0 .

B ERNARDO DEL CARP IO .

[The ce lebra ted Span ish champ ion,Bernardo de l Carp io ,

hav ing m ade m any ineff ec tua l efforts to procure the re leaseof his fa the r , the Loun t Sa ldana , who had be en im prisonedby K ing A lfonso of Astur ias , a lm ost from the t im e of B e r

nardo’

s b irth , at last took up arm s in d espa i r. The w ar

proved s o destruct ive that the m en of the land gatheredround the k ing, and un i ted in dem and ing Sa ldana ’

s l ibe rty .

Al fonso then offe red Bernardo imm ed iate posse ssion of h is

father’

s person ,in e xchange for his cast le of Carp io . B er

nardo gave up the strongho lds , w i th all the cap t ives , andbe ing assured that his father w as then on h is w ay from pr ison , rode forth t h the k ing to m ee t him . When he saw h is

fathe r app roach ing he exc la im ed,

“ Oh , God ! is the Coun t

of Sa ldana indeed com ingLook where he is ,

”rep l ied the K ing ]

TH E w a rri o r bowed h i s c rested head , andtamed h i s heart o f fi re ,

And su ed the haugh ty k i ng to free h i s

l ong- i mp r i son ed s i reI bring thee here my fort ress—k eys , I

bri ng my capt ive t ra i n,

I p l edge thee fai th,my l i ege , my lord !

O,break my father

’

s chai n !”

R ise r ise even now thy father com es ,a ran somed man th i s day !

Mou nt thy good horse ; and thou and I

w i l l mee t h im on h i s way .

Then l igh t l y ro se that l oya l so n , and

bounded on the steed ,And u rged

,as i f w i th l anc e i n rest , t he

charger ’ s foamy speed .

And ,10 ,from far , as on they p ressed ,

there came a gl i t tering band ,Wi th on e that m i dst them state ly rode ,

as a l eader i n th e l andNow haste

,Bernardo

,haste for there ,

i n very t ru th,i s h e ,

The fath er whom thy fai thfu l heart: hath

yearned so l ong to see.

159

H i s dark eye flashed,h is proud breast

heaved,hi s che ek ’ s hue cam e and

wen t ;He reached that g ray—hai red ch i e fta i n ’ s

s ide,and there , d i sm ou n t i n g, ben t ;

A low ly k nee to earth he ben t , h is fa

the r’

s hand he t ook,

What was there in i t s touch that al l h i sfi ery sp i ri t shook ?

That hand was co ld , a frozen th i ng ,

i t d ropped from his l i ke l ead

H e l ooked u p to the face above ,~—the

face was o f the dead !A p lume waved o

’

e r t h e n obl e brow ,

the brow w as fixed and w h i te ;He m e t

,at l a st

,h i s father ’s eye s , bu t

i n them w as n o s igh t !

Up from the grou nd he sp rang and gaze d ;bu t w ho cou ld pa in t that gaze ?

They hu shed the i r very heart s that saw

i t s ho rror and am aze ;They m ight have chai n ed h im , as be fore

that stony form he stoodFor the power was st ri ck en from h is

arm,an d from h is l i p the blood .

Father at l ength,he murm ured low ,

and wep t l ik e ch i l dhood then

Tal k n o t of grief t i l l thou hast see n the

tears of warl i k e men

He though t on al l h i s gloriou s hopes ,

and al l h i s young renown ;He fl ung h is fal ch i on from h i s s i de , an d

i n the du st sat down .

Then c overing w i th h i s stee l -g l oved

hands h i s dark lymou rnful brow,

160 TH E SAILOR B O Y’

S DREAM .

No more,there i s no more , he said ,

“ to l i ft the sword for now

My k ing i s fal se ,—my hope bet rayed !My father

,—O the worth ,

The glory,and the l ovel iness are passe d

away from earth

I though t to stand where bannerswaved

,my si re

,bes ide thee , yet

I wou ld that there ou r k indred b lood onSpain ’ s free so i l had met !

Thou wou ldst have known my spi ri t ,then ; fo r thee my fi eld s were

wonAnd thou hast peri shed in thy chain s , as

though thou hadst no son !”

Then,start ing from the ground oncemore

,he seized the monarch ’ s rein

,

Amidst the pale and wi l dered l ook s of

al l the court i er t ra inAnd wi th a fierce

,o

’

erm astering grasp ,the rearing war-horse l ed

,

A nd stern ly set them face to face ,—thek ing befo re the dead

Came I no t forth,upon thy p l edge

,

my father’ s hand to k i ss

Be st i l l,and gaze thou on

,fa l se k ing !

and t el l me what i s thi s ?

The vo ice,the glance

,th e heart I sough t

,

—give an swer,where are they

If thou wou ldst cl ear thy perj u red sou l,

send l i fe th rough thi s co ld c lay

In t o these glassy eyes pu t l igh t -be

st i l l keep down thine i re !B id these wh i te l ip s a bl ess ing speak , “

this earth i s not my si re

FEL IC IA H EMANS.

G i ve me back h im fo r whom I strove ,for whom my bl ood was shed .

Thou can st no t —and a k ing —h i s du s tbe moun ta in s on thy head

He loosed the s teed,—h i s s l ack hand fe l l

upon the s i l en t fac e

H e cast one l ong,deep , troubl ed look ,

then tu rned from that sad p lace .

H i s hope was c ru shed,h i s afte r fate un

to l d in mart ia l s trainH i s banner l ed the spears no more am idst

the h i l l s of Spa in

THE SAILOR BOY ’ S DREAM .

IN s l umbers of m idn igh t the sai l or boylay

,

H i s hammock swung l oose at the sport

of t he w indB u t, watchworn an d weary

,h i s cares flew

away,

And v i s i on s o f happ i n ess danced o ’ erh i s m ind .

He dreamed of h i s home,of h i s clear na

t ive bowers,

And p lea su res tha t wai ted on l i fe ’ smerry morn

,

Whi l e Memory s tood s i deways, hal f covered wi th flowers ,

And resto red every ro se , bu t sec re tedi ts thorn .

Then Fancy her magica l p in i on s spreadwide,

[

And bade the young dreamer in

ecstasy rise ;

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162 TH E SH IP TH A T SAILED IN TO TH E S UN .

’ Ti s the l ightn i ng’ s red g l are, pai n t i ng

he l l on the sky,’Ti s the c rash i ng of thunde rs , the

groan of the sphere !

He sp ri ngs from h i s hammock , he fl i es

to the deckAm az emen t confron t s h im wi th im

ages d i re ;Wi ld w i nd s and mad waves drive the

vesse l a wreckThe mast s fly i n sp l i n ters—the sh rouds

are on fi re !

L i k e mou nta i n s the b i l l ows t remendou s

ly swel lI n vai n the lo st wretch cal l s o n Mercy

to save ;Unseen hands of sp i ri t s are ri ng i ng h i s

k nel lAnd the death- ange l flaps h i s broadwi ng o ’er the wave

O sai lo r boy ! woe to thy dream of del ight

I n dark n e ss d i sso l ves the gay frostwork of b l i ss ;

Wh ere n ow i s the p ic tu re that Fancytouched brigh t

,

Thy paren t s’ soft pressu re

,an d l ove ’ s

hon eyed k i ss

O sai l o r boy sai lo r boy n ever agai n

Shal l home , l ove, o r k i ndred thy wishes repay ;

Unblessed and u nhono red,down deep i n

the mai n,

Fu l l many a fathom ,thy frame shal l

decay .

No tomb shal l e ’ er p l ead to remembrancefo r thee ,

O r redeem form or frame from t hemerc i l es s su rge ;

But the Wh i te foam of waves shal l thy

wi nd i ng- sheet be ,And w i nds

,i n‘ th e midn igh t o f wi n ter ,

thy d i rge

On beds"

Of green sea-flow e rs thy l i mbs

shal l be l aid,

Around thy wh i te bones the red coral

shal l grow

O f thy fai r ye l l ow lock s th reads of am

ber be made ,A nd every part su i t to thy mans i o n

be l ow .

Days,mon th

,years

,and ages shal l c i rc l e

away,

And st i l l the vast waters abo ve theesha l l ro l l

Earth lo ses thy pat tern for ever and aye

O sa i l o r boy sai l o r boy ! peace to

thy sou lWILL IAM D I MOND .

THE SH IP THAT SAILED I NTOTHE SUN .

TH EY sai d my brother ’ s sh i p went down,

Down i nto th e sea,

Because a storm came on to d rownThe bigges t sh i p s that be

Bu t I saw the sh i p,when he wen t away ;

I saw i t pass,and pass ;

The t ide was l ow,I wen t ou t to p lay

,

The sea was al l l i k e glass ;

YE MARIN ERS OF E N GLAN D . 163

The sh ip sai l ed straigh t i n to the su n,

Hal f o f a bal l o f go l d

O nward i t wen t t i l l i t t ouched the su nI saw the sh i p tak e ho l d

Bu t soon I saw them bo th no more ,The sun and the sh i p

’

together,

For the wi nd began to hoo t and to roar,

And there was sto rmy wea ther.

Yet eve ry d ay the gol den bal lRest s on the edge o f the sky ;

The sun i t i s,wi th the sh i p and al l ,

For the sh ip sa i l ed into the go lden bal lAc ro ss the edge of the sky .

ANONYMOUS .

YE MAR I NERS OF ENGLAND . Bri tann i a n eed s no bulwark s ,No towers a l ong the steep

Y E mari ners O f England , Her march i s o ’er th e mou n tai n -w avesThat guard ou r n at i ve seas ; Her home i s o n the deep .

Whose flag has braved,a thou san d years , With thun ders from her nat i ve oak ,

The bat t l e and the breeze ! She quel l s the floods bel ow ,

You r gl o ri ou s standa rd l au nch agai n A s they roa r on the sho re ,To match ano ther foe When the stormy winds do blow ;

A nd sweep th rough the deep,

Whi l e the s tormy wi nds do blow ;

Whi le the bat t l e rages l ou d and l ong,

And the sto rmy wi nd s do blow

The sp i r i t s of you r fathersShal l sta rt from every wave ;

For the deck i t was the i r field o f fam e,

And Ocean was the i r grave.Where Blak e an d m ighty Nel so n fe l l ,You r man ly heart s shal l gl ow ,

As ye sweep th rough the deep,

Whi l e the sto rmy wi nd s do blow ;

Whi l e the bat t l e rages l oud and long,

And the sto rmy wi nd s do bl ow .

When the bat t l e rages lou d and lOng ,

And the storm y W i nds do b low .

The meteo r flag of EnglandShal l ye t terrific bu rn

Ti l l danger ’ s t roubl ed n ight depart ,And the star of peace re tu rn .

Then , th en , ye ocean warriors !

Our song and feast shal l flow

To the fame of you r name ,When the storm has ceased to b low ;

When the fiery figh t i s heard no more ,And the storm has ceased to blow .

THOMAS CAMPBELL .

THE ATLANTIC .

How i n Heaven ’s n ame d id Col umbus

get o ver,

I s a pure wonder to me,I p rotest

,

Cabot an d Ral e igh too,t hat wel l -read

rover,Frobi sher, Damp i er , D rake , and the

restBad enough al l the same

,

For them that after came ;Bu t , i n great Heaven

’s name,

Ho w he shou ld ever th i n kThat , on th e other bri n k

Of th i s wi l d waste, Terra Fi rma shou ld beI s a pu re wonder

,I mu st say

,to me

.

How a man ever shou ld hope to getth i ther

,

E ’ e n if he knew there was an othe r

s ide !

But to suppose he shou ld come anyWh i ther,

Sai l i ng s tra igh t on in to chaos u n t r i ed,

I n sp i te of th e mot ion,

Across the whole ocean,

To st i c k to the not i o nThat in som e n ook or bendOf a sea wi thou t end

,

He shou ld fi nd North and Sou th America,

Was a pu re madn ess,indeed I mu st say .

What i f w i se men had , as far back as

Pto l emy,

Judged that the earth,l i k e an orange,

was rou nd ;None of them ever said

,Come al ong

,

fo l l ow me,

Sai l to the West , and the East wi l l befou nd .

Many a day before

Ever they ’ d come ashore ,Sad der and wi se r men ,They ’ d have tu rned back again

And that fie d id n ot,and d id cross the

sea ,I s a pu re wonder

,I mu st say

,t o me .

ARTHUR H UGH CLOUGH .

THE ATLANTIC .

O , H ow I e n j oy the roman t i cAt l an t i c

,

When al l the fai r sea i s a sl eep i ng,

And keep i ng

O ur bark on i ts bo som abi d i ng,There r i d ing.

A beau t i fu l brooch that now spark l es,Now dark l e s

,

As Lu na up l ift s her br igh t torches ,And searches

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166 TH E LANDIN G OF TH E P ILGRIM FA TH ERS .

Leap s over the h i l l s wi th a c langor

Of anger,And b reak s the black morn ing asunder

I n thunder !Obscu red by the hurr icane ’s curta in

Uncertain ,We toss to the sky , but the vesse l

We guess ’

l l

Su rvi ve i t,for noth ing can happen

The Cap ’n,

The favori te o f Fate,and a st ranger

To danger .

O , tu rn of the screw ! I am n ear i t ,A nd hear i t !

O , t rough of the sea ! How abysmal ,And d i smal !

O,d ip of the sh i p How abhorren tThe to rrent !

Thi s goi ng abroad i s del igh tfu l ,Bu t frigh tfu l !

To stay upon l and I wi l l everEndeavor

I d o no t app rove of the fran t icA t l ant i c .

WILL IAM A. CROFFUT.

THE LANDI NG OF THE P IL

GR I M FATHERS .

TH E break ing waves dashed h ighOn a stern and rock -bound coast

,

A nd the wood s again s t a sto rmy skyThei r giant branches tossed

And the heavy n igh t hung dark,

The hi l l s and waters o ’ er,

When a band of ex i l es moored thei rbark

On the wi ld New England sho re.

No t as the conquerer comes,

They, the true-hearted , cameN ot wi th the ro l l o f th e st i rring drum s

,

A nd the trumpet that s ings of fame ;

Not as the flying come ,I n s i l ence and in fear

,

They shook the dep th s of the desert

gl oomWi th thei r hym n s Of l o fty cheer.

Am idst the sto rm they sang,

A nd the stars heard , and the sea ,And the sou ndi ng ai sl es of the di m

woods rangTo the anthem of the free .

The ocean eagl e soa redFrom h i s n est by the wh i te wave ’ sfoam

,

A nd the rock ing p ines of the fo restroared

Th i s was the i r we l come home.

There were men wi th hoary ha i rAm idst that p i lgrim band

Why had they come to w i ther there,Away from thei r Chi ldhood ’s l and ?

There was woman ’ s fear l es s eye,

L it by her d eep l ove ’s t ru th ;There was manhood ’s b row serene ly

h igh,

And the fie ry heart o f you th .

What sough t they thu s afar ?B right jewe ls of the m in e ?

The weal th o f seas,the spo i l s o f war ?

They sough t a fai th's pure sh ri n e !

N A TH AN IIALE .

Ay,ca l l i t holy groun d

,

The so i l where fi rst they trod ;They have l eft u n sta ined what there

they foundFreedom to worsh i p God .

FELICIA H EMANS.

NATHAN HALE .

[N athan H ale is known in our h istory as“the patriot spy.

H e was born in Connec t icut , was graduated at Y a le Col lege ,and was teaching in his nat ive S tate when the Revolut ionaryWar broke out . H e en l isted as a l ieu tenant , and was soon

made capta in . On a Sep tembe r m idn igh t, in 1 776, he captured a B r i t ish s loop loaded w ith p rov is ions from unde r the

guns of a fr igate . At an important cr is isWash ington ca l ledfor an ofli ce r who would unde rtake a dangerous and difli cul tm iss ion—to e n te r the Br i t ish l ines at N ew York and learn the

strength and pos i t ion of the e nemy . H ale volunteered , and ,

d isgu ised , he succe eded in pass ing the guards and mak ing fu l lnotes and drawmgs. H e was d iscovered on his re treat, and

was hanged the next morn ing. Le t ters to his fa the r and s iste rwere des troyed , a B ib le and a c le rgyman den ied h im but his

last w ords have bee n saved to us : I on ly regre t that I havebut one l i fe to lose for my

To d rum -beat and h eart-beatA so ld i e r marches by ;

There i s co l o r in h i s cheek ,There i s cou rage i n h i s eye

Yet to d rum -beat and heart-bea tI n a moment he must d i e .

By s tarl igh t and moon l igh t

H e seek s the B ri t on ’ s camp ,A nd he hears the ru st l i ng flagAnd th e armed sen t ry

’ s t ramp ,

And the starl igh t and moon l igh tH i s si l en t wanderings ’ l amp .

16 7

Wi th s low t read and st i l l t readH e scan s the ten ted l ine

,

And he coun t s the bat te ry gu n sBy the gau nt and shadowy p ine ;

And h i s s l ow t read and st i l l t read

G ives n o warn ing sign .

The dark wave,th e p l umed wave

,

I t meets h i s eage r glance,

And i t spark l es ’ neath the sta rsL i k e the gl immer of a lance ;

The dark wave , the p l umed wave ,O n an emera l d expan se .

A sharp c lang, a stee l c l ang,And te rro r i n th e sound

,

For th e sen t ry , fal con -eyed,

I n the camp a spy h'

ath foundWi th a sharp c lang

,a stee l c lang

,

The pat ri o t i s bound .

Wi th calm brow , wi th steady brow ,

He robes h im for the tomb ;I n h i s l ook there i s n o fear

,

Nor a shadow trace Of gl oomBut w i th cal m b row,

wi th steady brow,

He robes h im for the tomb .

Through the l ong n ight , the st i l l n igh t ,He k neel s upon the sod ,

And th e bru tal guard s wi thholdE ’ en the so l em n word o f God ;

Through the l ong n igh t , the st i l l n igh t ,He wa l k s where Chri st hath t rod .

In th e bl ue morn,the sunny morn ,

He di es upon the t ree ,And he mou rn s that he can l ose

8 S ON G OF MARI ON'S MEN .

But o ne l i fe fo r l iber t 7

;

I n the bl ue morn,the sun ny morn ,

Hi s sp i r i t wings are free .

B u t h i s last wo rds,h i s message words,

They bu rn,l es t fr i end ly eye

Should read how proud and calmA patr i o t cou l d d i e ;

With h i s last word s,h i s message words

,

A so ld ier ’ s batt l e -c ry .

From Fame- l eaf a nd Ange l- l eaf,

From monumen t and u rn,

The sad of earth , the glad of heaven,

H i s tragic fate shal l l earn,

And on Fame- l eaf and Angel - l eafThe name o f Hale shal l bu rn .

FRANC I S M ILES F I NCH .

SONG OF MAR ION ’S MEN .

[There are few m ore romant ic stor ies connec ted w i th our

Revo lut ion than that wh ich can be truthfu l ly to ld of the

charac te r and exp lo i ts of Gen . Franc is Mar ion, of Sou th

Caro l ina . Stor ies of how he l ived in almost inaccessi b leforests, s lept for m onths w i thout a b lanke t , and marched

w i thout a hat ; how he l ived upon corn and potatoes, and

had no d r ink bu t v inegar and water,and ye t w as so fu l l of

patrio t ism and chee rfu l d isregard of d iscom forts that he in

Sp ired w i th his own sp ir it a body of m en who fo l lowed himthrough pr ivat ion and danger, often to death, but oftener to

v ic tory. H e seem ed to be eve rywhere where there was an

enemy to outw it by sk i lfu l ambuscade or to face w ith daringbrave ry .

N ob le r e ven than these are the ta les of his human i ty—ofhow he prevented Le e from hang ing his p risone rs ; how ,

when he saw that peace was near,he re fus ed to str ike a s ing le

unnecessary b low , but d isbanded his brigade w i th a tend er

farewe l l , and in pove rty resumed his occupat ion of farm ing.

B ut the State had need to serve i tse lf and honor him . H e

was ca l led to her counc i ls , in whi ch he was as w ise as he hadbeen warl ike .]

OUR band i s few , bu t tru e and t ried ,Our l eader frank and bo ld

The Bri t i sh so l d ier trembl es

When Mari on ’ s name i s to l d .

Our for tress i s the good greenwood,

Our tent the cypress - t reeWe kn ow the fores t round u s

,

AS seamen k n ow the sea ;We know i t s wal l s Of thorny v i nes

,

I t s glades of reedy grass,

I t s sa fe and si l en t i s l and sWi th i n the dark morass.

Woe to the Engl i sh so l d i eryThat l i t t l e dread us n ear

On them shal l l igh t at m idn igh tA s trange and sudden fear ;

When , wak ing to thei r t en t s on fi re ,They grasp thei r arm s i n vai n

,

And they who stand to face u sA re beat to earth again ;

And they who fly i n te rro r d eemA migh ty host beh ind

,

A nd hear the t ramp of thou sand sUpon the ho l l ow W ind .

Then swee t t h e hou r that b rings rel easeFrom danger and from to i l ;

We tal k the batt l e over,And sha re the bat t l e ’ s Spo i l .The wood lands r ing w i th l augh and

shout ,As i f a hu n t were up ,

And woodland flowers are gatheredTo crown the so l d i er ’ s cup .

With merry songs we mock the w indTha t i n the p i ne - top gr i eves

,

And slumber l o ng and swee t lyOn bed s Of oaken l eaves .

Wel l kn ows the fai r and fr i endly moonThe band tha t Mari on l eads

,

The gl i t te r of thei r rifles,

The scamperi ng of thei r steeds .

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Now ’ s the day,and now ’ s the hou r

See the fron t 0 ’ bat t l e l ower :See app roach proud Edward ’ s power

Chai n s and slavery

Wha w i l l be a t rai to r knave ?Wha wou ld fi l l a coward ’ s grave ?

Wha sae base as be a sl aveLet h im tu rn and fl ee !

Wha for Scot land ’s K i ng and l awFreedom ’ s swo rd wi l l st rongly draw ,

Freeman stand , or freeman fa’

?

Let h im on w i’ me !

By Oppress io n ’s woes and pain s !B y you r son s in serv i l e chai n s !We wi l l dra i n our dearest ve i n s

,

But they shal l be free

Lay the proud usurpe rs l owTyran ts fal l' in every foe !L iberty ’ s in every b l ow !Let u s do

,o r d ie

ROBERT B URNS.

WARREN ’S ADDRESS .

[Gen .Joseph Warren, an Am e r ican patr iot , fe l l in the bat

t le of Bunke r H i l l , 1 7 75. Th is add re ss , which the poe t supposes him to make to his men j ust be fore the batt le , was ofcourse sugge sted by the preced ing poem of

STAND ! t he ground’ s you r own

,my

braves !Wi l l ye gi ve i t up to slaves ?Wi l l ye look fo r greener graves ?

Hope ye mercy st i l l

What’

s the mercy despo ts fee lH ear i t i n that bat t l e-pea ] !Read i t on you bri s t l ing stee l !

Ask it ,—ye who wi l l .

JOHN P I ERPONT .

Fear ye foes who k i l l fo r h i re ?Wil l ye to you r lzomes ret i re ?Look beh ind you l—they ’ re afire

And , befo re you , seeWho have done i t ! From the va l e

On they come —and wi l l ye qua i l ?L eaden ra in and i ron hai l

Let thei r wel come be !

I n the G od'

of bat t l es tru st !D ie we m ay ,

—and d i e we mustBu t

, O ,where can du st to du st

Be con signed so wel l,

As where heaven i t s dews shal l shedO n the martyred pat ri ot

’s bed,

And the rock s shal l ra i se the i r head,

Of h i s deed s to tel l ?

A NATIONAL HYMN.

OUR past i s b righ t and grand

I n the pu rp l ing t ints of t ime,

And the p resent of ou r lan dPo in ts to gl o ri es more subl ime.

For ou r dest iny i s won,

And ’ t i s ou rs to l ead the vanOf the nat i on s march ing on

,

O f the moving hos ts of Man .

Yes,t/ze S tar ry F lag alone

S/zal/wave above tfze 715m

Of Me fza lz'

ofzs sweeping on,

Of Me moving k . sis of man

We are Sprung from nobl e s i resAs were ever sung in song ;We are bo ld wi th Freedom ’s fi res

,

We are rich,and wi se

,and st rong.

TH E YOUN G AMERI CAN .

On u s are freel y showered

The gi ft s o f every c l i me ,A nd we ’re th e r i chest dowered

Of a l l the he i rs of T ime .

B ro/lzers Men, in Union strong ,

We slzall ever leao’

t/ze van,

As t/ze notions sweep a long

Tof ulfil t/ze nopes of M an

We are bro thers , and we k n owThat our U n i on i s a tower

,

When the fi ercest wh i rl wi nd s b l ow,

And the darkest tempes ts l ower.\Ve shal l sweep the l and and sea

Whi l e we march in Un i on greatThi rty m i l l i o n s of the free ,With the steady step of fate .

B rot/zersMen,in Union strong ,

Let as ever leazl z‘lze van ,

As t/ze no tions sweep a long

Tof ulfil tlze lzopes of M an

See ou r p rai ri e s,sky- su rrounded

See ou r su n l i t m oun t ain chai n s !

See ou r wavi ng wood s u nbounded !

And ou r c i t i es on th e p la in s

S ee the ocean s k i s s ou r st rand ,Ocean s stretched from pol e to pol e

See ou r m igh ty l ak es expand !

A nd ou r g i an t r i vers ro l l

Sue/z a land,and sink alone

,

S/zonln’be leorler of t/ze van ,

As t/ze notions sweep a long

Tof ulfil fli e Izopes of M an I

Yes,the sp i r i t o f ou r land

,

The young g i ant of the West ,Wi th the waters i n h i s hand ,

x7 1

With the fo rest s for h i s c rest,

To ou r hearts ’ qu ick,p roud pu l sat i on s

,

TO ou r shou t s that st i l l i nc rease,

Shal l yet l ead on the nat i on s

To thei r brotherhood o f peace !

Yes,Col in/Mia

, g renzand slrong ,

S/zall f orever lead t/ze van,

As t/ze ner/ions sweep a long

Tof ulfil t/ze lzopes of M an

JOSEPH O '

CONNOR.

THE YOUNG AMER ICAN .

SC ION o f a m ighty stockHands Of i ron—heart s of oakFo l l ow wi th unfl inch ing treadWhere th e nobl e fathers l ed .

Craft and subt l e t reach ery,Gal lan t you th ! are n o t for thee ;Fo l low thou in word and deed s

Where the God wi th i n thee l ead s !

Honesty wi th steady eye ,Tru th and pu re s impl ic i ty

,

Love that gen t l y w i nne th hearts,

These Shal l be thy on ly art s °

Pruden t in the counc i l trai n ,Daun t l ess o n the bat t l e -p lain ,Ready at the coun t ry

’

s needFor her gl o riou s cau se to b leed !

Where the dews o f n igh t d i st i lUpon Vernon ’ s holy h i l lWhere above i t

,gl eam i ng far ,

Freedom l ight s he r gu id i ng Star

B ADAyos .

Th i ther tu rn the steady eye ,Flash ing wi th a pu rpo se h igh

Thi ther,wi th devot io n meet ,

Often tu rn the p i lgrim feet !

Le t the nobl e mot to be,God—the Cou n try—L i berty !Plan ted o n Rel igio n ’ s rock ,Thou shal t stand i n ev ery shock .

Laugh at danger far or nearSpurn at baseness—spu rn at fear !

St i l l , wi th persevering might ,Speak the t ru th

,and do the righ t

.

So shal l Peace,a charmi ng guest ,

Dove- l i k e i n thy bosom restSo shal l Honor ’ s steady blaz eBeam upon thy cl os i ng days

.

Happy if ce l es t ia l favo rSm i le upo n the h igh endeavor ;Happy i f i t be thy cal lIn the holy cau se to fal l .

ALEXANDER H ILL EVERETT .

B ADAJO S’TWAS at Badaj os on e even i ng

,on e even

Ing In May ,That we tu rned to rest ou rselves after a

b l oody day ;

For the cannon had ceased roaring,and

the bat t l e-cry was st i l l,

And though beneath a Span i sh sky,t he

ai r was k een and ch i l l .

That day there had been meet ing, fi ercemeet i ng on the p lain

,

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1 74 A CRIMEAN E P I SODE .

A CR I MEAN EP I SODE .

GI V E u s a song,the so ld ier c r i ed

,

The ou te r t renches guard i ng,When the heated gun s of the camp al l i edGrew weary of bombard i ng.

The dark Redan , i n s i l en t scoff,Lay grim and threaten ing under,

And the tawny mound of MalakoffN O l o nger belched i ts thunder .

G ive u s a song, the Guardsmen say,

We storm the forts to-morrow ;S i ng wh i le we may

,ano ther day

Wi l l bri ng enough of sorrow.

They lay along the battery ’s s i de,

Bel ow the smok i ng cannon ;

Brave heart s from Severn and the C lyde,

And from the bank s of Shanno n

They sang o f l ove,an d no t of fame,

Forgo t was Br i ta in’

s g l oryEach heart recal l ed a d i fferen t nam e

,

But a l l sang A n n i e Laur i e !

Vo ice afte r vo i ce caugh t up the song,Un t i l i t s tender pass i on

Rose l i k e an anthem rich an d strong,

Thei r bat t l e- eve con fessi on .

Beyond the darken ing ocean,bu rned

The b l oody su n se t embers ;And the C r imean val l ey l earned

How Engl i sh l ove remembers.

And once again t he fi res o f hel lRa i n ed o n the R uss ia n quarters

B I N GEN ON

Wi th sc re am of shot , an d bu rs t o f she l l ,And bel l owing of the mortars !

And I ri sh N orah ’ s eyes were d im,

For a si nger dumb and gory,

A nd Engl i sh Mary mou rn s for himWho sang o f An n ie Lau ri e .

Ah ! so ld i ers , to you r honored restYou r l ove and gl o ry beari ng

,

The bravest are the ten derest,

The l ov i ng are the dar i ng

B AYARD TAYLOR.

B INGEN ON THE RH INE .

A SOLD I ER of the Legi o n

Lay dy i ng i n A lgiers ;There w as l ack o f woman ’ s n u rs i ng ,There was dearth of woman ’ s tears

Bu t a com rade stood bes ide h im,

Whi le h i s l i fe -blood ebbed away,

And ben t wi th p i ty i ng glancesTo hear what he m igh t say.

The dyi ng so l d ie r fal te red

As he took that comrade ’ s hand,

A nd he sa id,I n ever more shal l see

My own, m y nat i ve l and ;

Take a message and a tok e nTo some di stan t fr i ends o f m i n e

For I was bo rn at B i ngen,

Fai r B i ngen on the Rh i n e .

Tel l my bro thers an d compan io n s,

“Then they meet and crowd arou n dTo hear my mou rn fu l sto ry

I n th e p l easan t v i neyard ground ,

TI/E R II IN E .

That we fough t the batt l e bravely ,A nd when the day was don e

Fu l l many a corse l ay ghast l y pa leBeneath th e set t i ng su n

And ’mid the dead an d dyi ng”

Were some grown O ld in w ars,

The death wound on the i r gal lan t

b reasts,The last of many scars ;

Bu t some were young, and sudde n lyBehel d l i fe’ s morn dec l i n e ;

And on e had come from B ingen ,

From B i ngen o n the Rh i ne.

Tel l my mother that her o ther son sShal l comfort her O ld age ,

A nd I was aye a t ruan t bi rdThat thought h i s home a cage ;

For my fathe r was a so l d i er,

And,even as a ch i l d

,

My heart l eaped forth to hear h im te l l

Of struggl es fierce and wi l d

And when he d ied,an d l eft u s

To d ivide h i s scan ty hoard,I l e t them take what e ’er they wou ld ,Bu t kep t my father ’ s sword ;

And wi th boyi sh l ove I hung i tWhere the brigh t l igh t used to shi n e,

On the cot tage wal l at B ingen ,Calm B i ngen on the Rhine !

Tel l my s i ste r no t to weep fo r me,

And sob wi th d roop ing head,

When the t roop s are march ing homeagain

,

Wi th gl ad and gal lan t t read ;Bu t to l ook upon them proud ly

,

Wi th a calm and steadfast eye ,For her brother was a so ld ie r ,And not afra i d to d i e .

And if a comrade seek her l ove,

I ask her in my name,

To l i ste n to h im k ind ly ,Wi thou t regret or shame ,

And hang the ol d sword in i t s p lace ,

(My fathe r’ s sword and m i n e)

For the honor of o l d B ingen ,Dear B ingen on the Rh i ne .

“ There ’ s another, n ot a s i s te rIn the happy days gone by

You ’ d have k nown her by the merr iment

That spark l ed in her eye ;

TOO in nocen t fo r coquetry,

Too fond for i d l e sco rn ing

Oh,fr i end

,I fear the l igh test heart

Makes somet imes heavi es t mourn ing !Tel l her the l as t n igh t o f my l i feFor ere t he morn be ri sen

My body wi l l be ou t of pain ,My sou l be ou t o f p ri son

I dreamed that I stood wi th her

A nd saw the yel l ow su n l ight sh i n eOn the v ine-c l ad h i l l s o f B i ngen

,

Fai r B ingen on the Rh in e.

I saw the bl ue Rh i n e sweep al ong ;I heard , or seemed to hear,

The German songs we u sed to s i ng,

In cho rus sweet and c l ear ;And down the p l easan t river

,

And up the slan t i ng h i l l

Tha t echo ing cho ru s sounded

Th rough the even i ng cal m and st i l lA nd her glad bl ue eyes were o n me

,

As we passed w i th fr i end ly tal k,

Down many a path bel oved of yore ,A nd wel l - remembered wal k

A nd he r l i t t l e hand lay l igh t ly,

Confid ingly i n m i neBu t we ’ l l meet n o more at Bi ngen

,

Loved B ingen on the Rh ine.”

H i s vo i c e grew faint and hoarser,

H i s g rasp was ch i l d i sh weak ,H is eyes pu t on a dying l ook

,

He sighed , and ceased to speak ;H i s com rade bent to l i ft h im

,

But the spark of l i fe had fledThe so l d ier of the Legion

In a fo re ign l and was dead !

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ness o f heaven .

Oh, c res ted Loch i el ! the peerless inm igh t

,

Whose banners ari se on t he batt l emen t s ’

heigh t,

Heaven ’s fi re i s arou nd thee , to b last a ndto bu rn ;

Retu rn to thy dwel l i ng ! al l l onelyretu rn

For the b lack ness of ashes shal l markwhere i t Stood ,

And a wi ld mother sc ream o ’ er herfami sh ing b rood.

LOCH I EL .

Fal se wizard , avaun t ! I have marshal l edmy clan

Thei r sword s are a thou sand,t he i r

bosom s are one

They are t rue to the l ast of the i r bloodand the i r breath

,

And l i ke reapers descend to the h arvestof death.

W IZARD.

—Loch i el , Loch i e l bewa re o f th e day ;For

,dark and despai r i ng

,my sight I

may seal,

Bu t man can n o t cover what God wou ldreveal ;

’ Ti s the sun se t o f l ife g ives me myst i ca l

l o re,

A nd com ing even t s cast t he i r shadowsbefore .

I te l l t hee,Cu l l oden ’s d read echoes shal l

ri ng

Wi th the bl oodhou nds that bark f or thyfugi t i ve k ing.

LO ! ano in ted by heaven wi th the v i a l so f wrath ,

Behold,where he fl i e s on h i s desolate

path !Now i n dark ness and bil l ows he sweeps

from my sigh tR i se , ri se ! ye wi l d tempest s , an d cover

h i s fl igh t

TH E RELIEF OF L UCXIVOW .

"

Tis fi n i shed . Thei r th‘

u nders are hu shedo n the moors ;

Cu l l oden i s l o s t,and my cou n t ry de

plo res.

Bu t where i s the i ro n -bou n d p ri so ner ?

where

Fo r the red eye of bat t l e i s shu t i ndespai r.

Say, moun t s he the ocean -wave , ban i shed ,fo rl o rn

,

L i k e a l imb from h i s country cast bl eed

ing and to rn ?Ah no ! fo r a da rke r departu re i s n ear ;The war- drum i s m uffl ed , and b lack i s

th e b i e rH i s death -be l l i s to l l i ng . Oh ! mercy ,

d i spe lYo n s ight

,t hat i t freezes my sp i r i t to

te l l !L i fe flut te rs convu l sed i n h i s qu ive r i ng

l imbs,

And hi s b l ood-st ream i ng nost ri l i n ago ny

swim s ,Accu rsed be the fagot s that bl aze at h i s

fe et,

Where h i s heart . shal l be thrown ere i t

cease s t o beat ,Wi th the smoke of i t s ashes to po i son

the gal e

LOCH I E L .

Down,sooth l e s s in su l te r ! I t ru st n o t

the ta l e !

Fo r neve r shal l A lbi n a destiny meetSo black w i th d i shono r

,so fou l w i th re

treat .

Though my peri sh ing ran k s shou ld bestrewed in the i r go re

,

179

L i k e ocean -weeds heaped o n the su rfbeaten shore

,

Loch ie l , un ta in ted by fl ight or by chain s,

Whi l e the k ind l i ng o f l i fe i n h i s bo somremai n s

,

Sha l l v ic to r exu l t , o r i n d eath be lai dlow ,

With'

his back to the field,and h i s feet to

the foe !And , l eav i ng i n batt l e no bl o t o n h i s

name,

Look proud ly to heaven from the deathbed o f fame .

THOMAS CAM PBELL.

THE REL I EF OF LUCKNOW.

[In 1857 the Br i t ish garrison of seventeen hund red me n in

Lucknow ,I nd ia ,

w e re be s i eged by te n thousand m u t inous na

t ives . They de fe nded the p lace twe lve we eks , suffe r i ng fromcho lera , sma l l-pox ,

fe ve rs, and scan ty food , a lmos t as m uch

as from the fire of the enemy. They los t the ir r ommande r.

Sir H e nry Law renc e , and w e re j us t about to su rrende r in

d espa ir whe n G e ne ra l H ave lock fought his way through and

cam e to the ir re l ie f.]

O H,that last day in Luck now fort !

\Ve k new that i t was the la s tThat the enemy ’ s l i nes c rep t su re ly on ,And the end was com i ng fast .

To yi e l d to that fo e mean t worse than

deathA nd the men and we al l w orked on

It was one day more o f smoke and roar ,And then i t wou ld al l be done .

There was one o f u s , a co rporal'

s wi fe ,A fa i r

,you ng , gen tl e th i ng,

Wasted w i th fever i n the S iege ,And her m ind was wanderi ng .

80 TH E RE LIE F OF L UCK N OW.

She lay on the grou nd,i n her Scott i sh

plaid,

And I took her head on my kn e e ;When my father comes hame frae the

pl eugh,

” she sa id ,Oh then p l ease wauken me.

She sl ept l i k e a ch i l d o n her father ’ s floor,

I n the flock i ng o f woodbi ne—shade,

When the hou se ~ dog spraw l s by the opendoon

A nd the mother ’s wheel i s stayed .

I t was smoke and roar and powdersten ch

,

A nd hopel ess wai t i ng for death

And the so ld ie r'

s w ife,l i k e a fu l l - t i red

ch i l d,

Se emed scarce to draw her breath .

I san k to s l eep ; and I had my dream

Of an Engl i sh v i l lage- l an e,

And wal l and garden —bu t on e wi l d

scream

B rought me back to the roar agai n .

There J ess i e Brown stood l i ste n i ng

Ti l l a sudde n gl adness brok e

A l l over her face ; an d she caugh t my

hand

An d drew me near as she spoke

The H ie landers Oh d in na ye hearThe sl ogan far awa ?

The McG rego rs. Oh ! I k en i t wee l ;I t ’ s the grandes t O ’ t hem a ’

!

God bl ess the bon ny H ie lande rsWe ’ re saved we ’ re saved she c ri ed ;

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182 MARCO B OZZARI S .

Then wore h i s monarch ’ s S igne t - r i ngThen pressed that monarch ’ s throne ,—a

k ing ;As wi ld h i s thought s

,and gay of wing,

As Eden ’s garden bi rd .

A t m idn igh t,in the forest shades,

Bozzar i s ranged h i s Su l i o te band,

True as the steel o f the i r t ri ed blades,

Heroes i n hea rt and hand .

There had the Persian ’ s thousands stood,

There had the glad earth drunk the i rbl ood

On O ld P l ataea ’ s day ;And now there breathed that haun t ed ai rThe son s of S i res who co nquered th ere

,

With arm to st rike , and sou l to dare ,As qu ick

,as far

,as they .

An hou r passed ou—the Tu rk awokeThat bright d ream was h i s l ast ;He woke to hear h i s sen t ri e s sh ri ek

,

To arms —they come the Greek ! theGreek

H e woke—to d ie ’mid flame,and smoke

,

And shou t,and groan

,and sabre-stroke

,

A nd d eath-sho t s fal l i ng thick and fas t

A s l igh tn i ngs from the mounta i n -c l oud ;And heard

,wi th vo ice as t rumpet l oud

,

Bozzari s cheer h i s band

S tr i ke—t i l l the last armed foe expi re s ;S t ri ke—for you r al tars and you r fi res ;S tri k e—fo r the green graves of your

S i resGod—and you r nat i ve lan d

They fough t—l i k e brave men,l o ng and

Wel l

They p i l ed that grou nd wi th M osl em

S l a in ;They conquered—bu t Bozzar i s fe l l

,

Bleed ing at every vein .

H is few su rv iving com rades saw

H i s sm i l e,when rang thei r p roud hu r

rah,

And the red fie ld was won ;Then saw i n death h i s eyel i d s c l o se,Calm ly as to a n igh t

’

s repose ,L i ke flowers at set o f sun .

Come to the bridal chamber, Death

Come to the mother , when she fee l s,For the first t i me, her first-born

'

sbreath

Come when the bl essed sea l sThat c l o se the pest i l ence are broke ,And c rowded c i t i e s wai l i t s s t rok e ;Come i n con sump t i on ’s ghast ly fo rm ,

The earthquake ’ s shock,the ocean ‘

sto rm ;

Come when th e heart beats h igh and

warmWi th banquet - so ng

,and dance , and

win e ;And thou art terribl e —the tea r

,

The groan,the kne l l

,t he pal l

,th e bie r

And al l we k now,or dream

,o r fear

,

Of agony, are th i n e .

B ut to the hero,when h i s sword

Has won the bat t l e fo r the free,

Thy vo ice sounds l i ke a p rophet ’ s word ,And i n i t s ho l l ow tones are heard

The thank s of m i l l i on s yet to be.Come when h i s task o f fame i s wroughtCome wi th her l aurel -l eaf

,bl ood -bought ;

Come i n her c rown ing hou r,

- and then

.AC4 SZLB IC

Thy su nken eye ’ s u nearth ly l igh tTo h im i s welcome as the sigh tOf sky and s tars to p r i soned men ;

Thy grasp i s wel come as the hand

Of brother in a fo re ign l an d

Thy summon s we lcome as the c ryThat to l d the I ndian i s l e s were n ighTo the wor l d- seek ing Gen oese

,

When the land -wind,from woods o f

palm,

An d o range -groves,and fi el ds o f balm

,

Blew o ’er the H aytian seas .

Bozzar i s w i th the sto ri ed braveGreece nu rtu red i n her g lo rv

’

s t ime,Res t thee ; there i s n o p rouder grave ,Even i n her own p roud c l i me .

She wore no fun eral weeds for th ee,Nor bade th e dark hearse wave i t s

p l ume,

L i ke torn bran ch from death’ s l eafless

t ree,

In so rrow ’ s pomp and pagean t ry ,The heart l ess l uxu ry of the tomb .

B u t she remembers thee as oneLong l oved , and fo r a season gone .

For thee her poet ’ s lyre i s wreathed ,Her marb l e wrough t , her mu sic

breathed ;For thee she rings th e b i rthday bel l s ;Of thee her babes ’ fi rst l i sp ing tel l s ;For th ine her even ing p rayer i s said

At palace couch and co t tage bed .

Her so ld ier,c l o s ing wi th the foe ,

Gives for thy sake a dead l i e r bl owH i s p l igh ted maiden

,when she fears

Fo r h im,the j oy of her young years ,

Th ink s of thy fate. and check s he r tears .

183

And she , th e mothe r o f thy boys ,Though i n he r eye and faded cheekIS read the gri ef she wi l l no t speak

,

The memory of her bu ried j oys,

And even she who gave- thee bi rth,

\Vi l l by the i r p i lgrim -c i rc led hearthTal k of thy doom wi thou t a S ighFor thou art Freedom ’ s n ow

,and

Fame’ sOneof the few

,th e immortal n ames

,

That were n ot born to d i e

Fi Tz-G REE NE H ALLECK .

NASEB Y .

[The batt le of N aseby, be tw een the roya l forc e s comm anded

by Charles I . in person, and the Par l iam entary troops comm anded by Lord Fa i rfax . was fought June I 4th , 1645,

nea r

the v i l lage of N as eby, N orthamptonsh i re , E ngland . Afte r

a b loody con test the roya l ists w e re dec is ively de fea ted ,and

Charles on ly escaped cap ture by flight . ]

O H wherefo re come ye forth i n t r iumph from the n orth ,

With you r hands and your fee t and you r

ra imen t a l l redAnd wherefore doth you r rou t , sen d

forth a j oyou s shou t ?

A nd whence be the grapes Of the wi n e

p ress that ye t read

Oh ! ev i l was the root, an d bi tter was

the f ru i t ,An d c rim son

‘

was the j u ice o f the v i n tage

that we trod ;For we t rampl ed on the throng o f the

haughty and the st rong ,

Who sate i n the h igh p lace s and sl ew

the sain t s of God .

184 N ASEE Y .

I t was abou t the n oo n of a gloriou s day

of June ,That w e saw the i r ban ners dance and

the i r cu i rasses sh i n e,

And the man o f bl ood was the re,wi th

h i s l ong esse nced hai r,

And Ast l ey,and S i r Marmaduke

,and

Rupert of the Rh i n e .

L i k e a servan t of the Lord,wi th h i s B i

bl e and h i s swo rd,

The general rode al ong u s to form u s fo r

th e figh t

When a murmuring sound broke ou t,

and swel l ed in to a shou t

Among the godl ess horsemen u pon thetyran t ’ s r ight .

And hark ! l i ke the roar o f the b i l l owson the shore

The c ry of bat t l e r i se s al ong the i r chargi ng l i n e

For God fo r the cau se ! fo r theChu rch ! fo r the laws

For Charl es, King of England , and Rupe rt o f the Rh ine !”

The furi ous German comes,with h i s

c l ari on s and h i s d rum s,

H i s bravoes of Alastia and pages of

Whi tehal l

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Where be you r tongues, that l ate mock edat heaven and hel l and fate ?

And the fingers that once were so bu sy

wi th your b l ades ?

You r perfumed sat i n c l othes,you r catch

es,and your oath s ?

You r stage-p lays and you r sonnet s , you rd iamonds an d you r spades ?

Dow n ! down ! fo rever dow n , wi th them i t re and the c rown

Wi th the Bel ia l of the cou rt , and theMammon of the Pope

There i s woe in O xford hal l s , there i swai l i n Durham ’ s sta l l s ;

The Jesu i t sm i tes h i s bosom , the bi shopreads h i s cope .

And she of the seven h i l l s shal l mou rnher ch i l dren ’ s i l l s

,

And trembl e when she th i n k s on theedge of England ’ s swo rd ;

And the k i ngs of earth i n fear shal lshudder when they hear

What the han d of God hath wrought fo rthe hou ses and the word !

THOMAS B AB I NGTON MACAULAY .

THE SOLD I ER ’ S TEAR .

UPON the h i l l he tu rnedTo take a last fo nd l ook

,

Of the val ley and the V i l l age chu rchAnd t he cot tage by the brook

H e l i s tened to the sounds ,So fami l i ar to h i s ear

,

A nd the so ld ie r l eaned upon hi s swordAnd wiped away a tear .

Bes i de that cot tage porchA gi rl was on her knees

,

She he l d al oft a snowy scarf,

Which fluttered in th e breeze ;She b reathed a p rayer for h im ,

A prayer he co u l d n ot hear ,B u t he pau sed to b l e ss her, as she knel t ,And w i ped away a tear .

He tu rned and l eft the spot,

Oh,do no t deem him weak

For daun t l es s was the so l d i er s heart

Though tears were on h i s cheekGo watch the fo remost rankI n danger ’ s dark career,

Be su re the hand most daring thereHas wiped away a tear.

THOMAS H AYNES B AYLY .

H ORA TI US .

HORATIUS .

A LAY or A NC I EN T ROME .

LARs PORSE NA of C l u s i um,

By the n i n e god s he swore

That th e great hou se of Tarqu in

Shou l d suffer wrong no more .

B y t he n ine gods he swore i t ,And named a t ryst ing day ,

And bade h i s messe ngers ride forth ,

187

East an d west and sou th and n orth,

To summon h i s array.

East an d west and sou th an d northThe messengers r id e fast

,

And tower and town and cottageHave heard th e t rumpet ’ s b last

.

Shame on th e fal se Et ru scanWho l i ngers i n h i s hom e

,

When Porsen a Of C l u si um

Is o n the m arch fo r Rom e !

The horsem e n an d the footmenAre pou ri ng i n amai n

From many a state ly m ark e t -p lace,

From many a fru i tfu l pla i n ,From many a l on ely ham l et ,Which

,h id by beech an d p i n e ,

L i k e an eagl e 's nest hangs o n the c re s t

Of purp l e Apen n i n e

From lord ly Vo late rrae,

\Vhere scowl s t he fa r—famed hold

F iled by the hands O f gian tsE o r god l ik e k i ngs of O ld ;From sea -gi rt Popu lon ia ,Whose sen t i n e l s descrySard i n ia's snowy moun tai n - top s

Fringing the sou thern sky ;

From the p roud mart of P i sac ,Queen of t he wester n waves ,

Where ride Massi l i a ’ s t ri remes ,Heavy w i th fa i r-hai red s laves

From where swee t C lan is wandersTh rough corn an d v i nes and flowe rs

,

From where Corto na l ifts t o heavenHer d iadem of towers .

Tal l are the oak s whose aco rn s

Drop i n dark Au se r’

s ri l lFat are the s tags that cham p the bough s

Of the C im in ian h i l l ;Beyond al l st reams

,C l itum n u s

I s t o the herd sman dear ;Be st of al l poo l s th e fowler l ove sThe great Vo ls in ian mere.

Bu t now n o st roke o f woodm anI s h eard by Au se r’s ri l l

N o hu n te r t rack s the stag ’ s gre e n path

Up the C im in ian h i l l ;Unwatched al ong Cl itum nu s

Grazes the mi lk -wh i te steer ;Unharmed the wate r-fowl may dipI n the Vo ls in ian mere .

The harves t s of Arret i um ,

Th i s year, O ld men shal l reap

Thi s year,you ng boys i n Umbro

Shal l p l u nge the struggl i ng sheepAnd in the vat s o f Lu n a

,

Thi s year,th e mu st shal l foam

Round the wh i te fee t of l augh i ng gi rl sWhose si res have marched to Rome.

There he th i rty chosen p rophet s ,The w i sest of the l and

,

Who alway by Lars PorsenaBoth morn and even ing stand .

E ven i ng and morn the -th i r tyHave tu rn ed the verses o ’er

,

Traced from the righ t on l i n en w h i teBy m igh ty seers of yore

And wi th on e vo ice the th i rtyHave the i r glad an swer gi venG O forth

,go for th

,Lars Porsena

G O fo rth,bel oved of heaven

G O,and retu rn i n glo ry

To C l u s i um ’ s royal dome,

And hang rou nd N u rsc ia’

s al tarsThe go l de n sh i e l d s o f Rome !”

And n ow ha th every c i tySen t up her tal e of m en ;

The foo t are fou rscore thou san d ,The horse a re thou sands ten .

Before the ga tes Of Sutr ium

I s met the great array ;A proud man was Lars Porse naUpon the t ryst i ng day .

For al l th e Etru scan arm ies

Were ranged beneath h i s eye ,And many a ban i shed Roman

,

And many a stou t al ly ;And wi th a m ighty fo l l owi ng

,

To j o i n th e mu ster, came

The Tu scu lan Marn ilius,

Pri n ce of the La t i an n ame .

But by the yel l ow TiberWas tumul t and affrigh t

F rom al l the spac i ou s champa ignTo Rome men took the i r fl igh t .

A m i l e arou nd the c i ty

The throng stopped up the ways

A fearfu l sigh t i t was to seeThrough two l ong n igh ts and days.

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190 H ORA TI US.

Now,from the rock Tarp e i an ,

Cou l d the wan bu rghers spyThe l i ne of blaz ing V i l lagesR ed i n the m idn igh t sky.

The fathers o f the c i ty,

They sat al l n igh t and day,For every hou r some horseman cameWi th t id i ngs of d i smay .

To eas tward and to westward

Have Spread the Tu scan bands ,Nor hou se

,no r fen ce

,nor dovecot ,

I n Cru stumeri um stan ds .

Verben na down to O st i aHath wasted al l the p la in

As tu r hath sto rmed Jan i cu l um ,

And the stou t guards are sl a in .

I wi s , i n al l the se nateThere was n o heart so bo ld

B ut so re i t ached,and fast i t beat.

When that il l n ews was to l d .

Forthwi th up rose the con su l,

Up rose the fathers a l lI n haste they g i rded up thei r gown s

,

And h ied them to the wal l .

They hel d a cou nc i l, stand i ngBefore the r iver -gate ;

Short t ime was there, ye w e l l may guess,

For mu sing or debate .

Ou t spake the co n su l roun dlyThe bri dge must st raigh t go down

For , s i nce J an i cu l um i s l ost ,Nough t el se can save the t own .

J u st t hen a scou t came flyi ng,

Al l wi l d w i th haste and fearTo arm s to arm s ! s i r co n su lLars Porsena i s h ere .

”

On t he l ow h i l l s to westwardThe con su l fixed h i s eye

,

And saw the swarthy storm o f du stR i se fast a l o ng the sky .

And neare r fast a nd nearer

Doth the red wh i r lw i n d comeAnd louder st i l l

,and s t i l l more l oud ,

From undern eath t ha t ro l l i ng c loud ,Is heard the t rumpet s ’ war—note p roud ,The t ramp l i ng and the hum .

And p l a i n ly and m ore p la i n lyNow through the gloom appears ,

Far to l eft and far to r ight,

In broken g l eams o f dark - b lue l igh t,

The l o ng array o f helmet s b right ,The l o ng array o f spears .

And p lain ly an d more p lai n ly,

Above that gl immeri ng l i n e,

Now m ight ye see the ban ners

O f twel ve fai r c i t i e s sh i n e ;But the ban n er O f proud C l u s i umWas h ighest o f them al l

The terro r o f the Umbrian,

The terror of the Gau l .

f l OA’

A T1 U5 .

And p lai n l y and more p la i n ly

Now m igh t the bu rghers k n ow,

By port and vest , by horse and cre st ,Each warl i k e Lucumo

There C i ln ius o f Arret i um

On h i s flee t roan was seenAnd Astu r of the fourfo l d sh ie l d

,

Girt wi th the brand non e el se may w i e l d ;Tol um n i u s w i th the

,

bel t of gol d,

And dark Ve rben na f rom the ho ldBy reedy Thrasym e ne .

Fas t by the royal s tan dard,

O e rlook ing al l the war.Lars Po rsen a of C l us i umSat i n h i s i vory car .

By the r igh t whee l rodeMami l i u s

,

Pri nce of the Lat ia nname ;

And by th e le ft fa l se Sextu s

,

That w rough t the deed

of shame .

But when t he face of

S ex tu sWas see n among the

foes,A yel l that ren t the firm

amen tFrom al l the town arose .

On the hou setop s was no womanBu t spat toward s h im and h i ssed

N O ch i ld bu t sc reamed out cu rse s ,And shook i t s l i t t l e fi st .

B ut the con su l’ s brow was sad ,

And the COIL-5111’

s sp eech was l ow,

19 1

And dark ly l ook e d he at the w al l ,And dark ly a t the foeThei r van w i l l be u po n u s

Before the bri dge goes dow n ;And i f they o nce may w in the bri dge ,What hope to save the town

Then ou t spake brave H orat iu s ,The cap tain of the gate

To every man upon th i s earth

Death cometh soon o r la te

And how can man d i e betterThan fac ing fearfu l odds

Fo r th e ashes of h i s fathers ,And the temp l es o f h i s gods ?

And fo r the te nder mother

NVho dand l ed h im to rest ,And for the wife w ho nu rse sH i s baby at he r breast .

And for the ho ly maiden sWho feed the eterna l flame

To save them from fal se Sex tusThat wrought the deed o f shame ?

Hew down the bridge , s i r co n su l ,With a l l the speed ye may ;

I,with two more to hel p me ,Wi l l h ol d the foe i n p lay

I n yon strai t path a thou sandMay wel l be stopped by th re e.

Now who wi l l stan d on e i ther hand ,And keep the bridge w i th me

Then ou t spak e Spu ri u s Lartiu sA Ram n ian p roud was heLo

,I W i l l s tan d at thy right hand ,

And keep the b ridge wi th thee .

”

And ou t spake st rong H erm in ius

Of Ti t ian bl ood was heI w i l l ab ide o n thy l eft s ide

,

And keep the bridge wi th thee .

Horat i u s,quoth the co n su l

,

As thou sayest , so let i t be .

And st ra ight agai n s t that gre at array

Forth wen t the dau n t l es s th ree .

For Roman s i n Rome ’ s quarre lSpared n ei ther lan d nor gold ,

Nor son nor w ife,nor l imb nor l ife

,

I n the brave days O f old .

Then n one w as fo r a partyThen al l were for the state

Then the grea t man helped the poor,

And the poor man l oved the greatThen l an ds were fai r ly port i on edThen spo i l s were fai rly so ld

The Romans were l i ke brothersI n the brave day s of O ld .

Now Roman i s to RomanMore hatefu l than a foe

,

A nd the t rib un es beard the h igh,

And the fathers grind the l ow .

As we wax hot i n fact i o n,

I n bat t l e we wax co l d

Wherefo re men fight n ot as they fough tI n t he brave days of o ld .

Now whi l e the three were t ighten i ngThei r harness on the i r back s

,

The con su l was th e foremost manTo take i n hand an axe

And fathe rs,mi x ed w ith

'

com m o n s ,

Seized hatche t,bar

,and crow

,

And smote upon the p lank s above,

And loosed the p rop s be l ow .

Meanwh i l e the Tu scan army,

R igh t gl ori ou s to beho ld,

Cam e flashing back the n oonday l ight,

Ran k beh i nd ran k,l i k e surges brigh t

O f a broad sea of gold .

Fou r hu ndred t rumpet s sou ndedA peal of warl i k e gl ee ,

As that great h ost , wi th measu red t read ,And spears advanced

,and en sign s sp read

,

Ro l l ed sl owly towards t he bridge ’ shead

,

t ere stood the dau n t le ss th ree .

The three stood calm and si l e n t,

‘

And looked upon the foes,

And a great shou t o f l aughter

From al l the vanguard rose ;And forth th ree ch i efs came spur r i ngBefore that deep array ;

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194H ORA TI US .

But,hark ! the cry i s Astu r

And l o the ran k s d iv ide ;

An d t he great l o rd of Lu na

Comes wi th h i s s tate ly str i de.

Upon h i s ampl e shou lders

C l angs l oud the fou rfol d sh i e ld ,A nd in hi s hand he shakes the brand

Which n one bu t he can wie ld.

He sm i led on tho se bo l d Roman s,

A sm i l e serene and h igh

He eyed the flinch ing Tuscan s ,And scorn was i n h i s eye .

Quoth he,

“ The she swo l f’

s l i tte r

S tand savage ly at bay ;Bu t wi l l ye dare to fo l l ow ,

I f Astu r c l ears the way ?

Then,wh i r l ing up h i s broadsw ord

Wi th both hands to the height ,

He ru shed again st H orat i u s ,And smote w i th al l h i s m igh t .

With sh i e l d an d bl ade H orat iu s

R igh t deft ly turned the b l ow .

The b l ow,though tu rn ed

,came yet too

n igh,

I t m i ssed h i s helm,bu t gashed h i s th igh

The Tu scan s rai sed a j oyfu l cry

To see the red b l ood flow .

II OA’

A TI U5 .

He reel ed , and o n H erm i n ia s

He l eaned on e breath i ng space

Then,l i k e a wi l d -cat mad w i th wou nds

,

Sprang right at Astu r ’ s face .

Through teeth , and sk u l l , and he lm et ,

SO fie rce a th ru st he sped ,

The good swo rd stood a hand-breadth

ou t

Beh i n d the Tuscan ’ s head .

And the great l o rd o f Lu na

Fe l l a t that dead ly strok e

A s fal l s on Moun t Avern us

A thu nder- sm i t ten oak .

Far o ’ er the c rash i ng forest

The gian t arms l i e sp read ;And the pal e augu rs , mut ter i ng

Gaze on th e bl asted head .

On Astu r ’ s th roat H orat i u s

R igh t fi rm ly p ressed h i s h e e l,

And thr ice and fou r t imes tugged

amain,

Ere he wrenched ou t the steel .

And see,

” he cri ed ,“ the welcome ,

Fai r gue st s,tha t wai t s you here !

What n obl e Lucumo comes nex t

To taste ou r Roman cheer

B ut at h i s haugh ty chal l enge

A su l l en mu rmu r ran,

Mingl ed w i th wrath,and shame , and

dread ,

Along that gl i t teri ng van .

There lacked no t men o f prow e ss ,

Nor men o f l o rd ly race ;For a ll Etru ria ’

s n obl est

\Vere rou nd the fata l p lace .

Ye t o ne man fo r one mom e n t

S t rode ou t be fo re the c row d ;

l 95

B u t a l l Etru r ia s nobl e st

Fe l t the i r h earts s i n k to se e

O n the earth the bloody co rpses ,

In the path the dau n t l e ss thre e ;

And from the ghast ly e n trance ,

Where tho se bo l d Rom an s stood ,

Al l sh rank— l i k e boys w ho ,u naw are ,

Rang i ng a wood to start a hare ,

Come to the mouth o f the dark la i r

\Vhe re,growl i ng l ow ,

a fi erce o l d bea r

L i es am idst bon es and bl ood .

Was n one w ho w ou ld be forem ost

To l ead such di re attack

B ut tho se beh i n d cri ed Forw ard !

And those before cried Back

And backward n ow , and forw ard ,

VVav ers the deep array ;

And on the to ssi ng sea o f stee l

To and fro the standards ree l ,

And the v ic to ri ou s t rumpet-peal

D i e s fitfu l ly aw ay .

196 H ORA 7 7 0 5 .

Wel l k nown was he to al l th e three ,

And they gave h im g reet i ng l oud

Now welcome , welcome , Sextus !

Now welcom e to thy home !

Why dost thou stay,and tu rn away ?

Here l i e s the road toRome .”

Thrice l ooked he at the c i ty ;Thrice l ooked he at the dead

And thrice came on i n fu ry,

And th rice tu rned back i n dread ;And

,whi te wi th fear and hat red

,

Scow led at the narrow way

Where, wal l owi ng i n a poo l of blood ,

The bravest Tu scan s l ay .

But meanw hi l e axe and l ever

Have manfu l ly been p l i ed ;And now the bridge hangs to t te r i ngAbov e the bo i l i ng t ide .

Come back , come back , Horat i u s !

Loud cri ed the fathers a l l,

Back,Lartiu s

,back

,H e rm i n l u s !

Back,ere the ru i n fal l

Back darted Spu r iu s Lartiu s,H e rm in iu s darted back

And , as they passed , beneath the i r fee t

They fel t the t i mbers crack .

But when they tu rn ed the i r faces,

And on the farthe r shore

Saw brave Horat i u s stand al o n e,

They wou ld have c rossed on ce more

Roun d turn ed he,as n o t de ign i ng

Those c raven rank s to see

Naught spake he to Lars Porsena,

To Sextu s naugh t spake he

B u t wi th a c rash l i ke thunder

Fel l every l oose n ed beam,

And , l i k e a dam ,the m igh ty wreck

Lay righ t athwart the stream ;And a l ong shou t o f t r i umph

Rose from t he wal l s of Rome ,

As to the h ighest tu rret - top s

Was sp lashed the yel l ow foam .

And l i ke a horse u nbroken,

When fi rst he fee l s the re i n,

The fu ri ou s r i ve r st ruggl ed hard

A nd tossed h i s tawny mane,

A nd bu rst the cu rb,and bou nded

Rej o ic i ng to be free ;

And wh i rl ing down,in fi erce career

,

Batt l emen t and p lank and p i er,

Ru shed head l ong to the sea .

Al one stood brave Horat i u s,

But co n stan t st i l l in m i nd,

Th rice th i r ty thou sand foes before,

And the broad flood beh in d .

Down wi th h im cri ed fal se Sextu s,

With a sm i l e o n h i s pal e face ;

Now yi e l d thee,c ri ed Lars Porsena

N ow yie l d thee to ou r grace

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198 T1US .

As much as two st ro ng oxenCou ld p lough from morn t i l l n igh t

A nd they made a mol ten i mage,

And set i t up on h ighAnd there i t stands un to th i s dayTo wi t ness if I l i e .

I t s tan ds i n the comi t i um,

P lai n fo r a l l fol k to see,

Horat ius i n h i s harness,

Hal t ing up on one k nee ;

A nd wi ves st i l l p ray to JunoFor boys wi th heart s as bo l d

As h i s who kep t th e bri dge so wel lI n th e brave days o f O ld .

And i n t he n igh ts of wi n ter,

When the co l d north wi nd s b l ow,

And the l ong howl ing of the wo lvesI s heard am idst the sn ow

When round the l on e ly co ttageRoars l ou d the temp est ’ s d i n

,

A T/t’

I UM P ff .

When t he gi r l s are weav i ng baskets,

And the lads are shap ing bows ;

When the goodman mend s h i s armorAnd t r im s h i s helmet ’ s p l ume ;

When the goodw i fe ’s shu tt l e m erri lyGoes flash in g th rough the l oom ;

With w eep ing an d w i th l aughterSt i l l i s the sto ry to l d

,

How wel l H orat i u s kep t the bridge

In the brave days of o ld .

THOMAS B AB I NGTON MACAULAY .

A TR IUMPH .

L ITTLE R oger up the l ong sl ope ru sh i ngThrough th e ru st l i ng corn

,

Showers o f dew-d rops from the broadl eave s b ru sh i ngI n the earl y m o r n

,

At h i s stu rdy l i t t l e sh ou lder beari ng ,For a ban n er gay

,

Stem of fi r w i th one l ong shav i ng flari ngI n th e wi nd away !

199

Up he goes, the summer su n ri se fl u shi ngO

’

e r h im i n h i s race,

Sweete r dawn o f ro sy ch i l dho od bl ush i ngOn h i s rad ian t face ;

If he can bu t set h i s standa rd g l o r i ou sOn the h i l l -top low

,

Ere the su n c l imbs the c l ear sky v i cto riou s

,

Al l the wo rld ag l ow !

SO he p resses o n w i th ch i ld i sh a rdo r ,Almost at the top !

Haste n,Roger ! Does the way growharder ?

Where fore do you stop ?

From bel ow the co rn - sta l k s tal l and

slenderComes a pla i n t i ve c ry ;

Tu rn s he fo r an i n stan t from the spl e nd o r

O f the c rim son sky ,

VVave rs, then goes flyi ng tow ard the ho l

l ow ,

Cal l i ng l oud and c lear ,Com i ng

,Jen ny ! Oh ,

w hy d id yo u

fo l l ow ?

Do n ’ t you c ry,my dear !

Smal l j anet s i t s weep i ng mid the dai s i e s ;“ L i t t l e si ste r sweet ,

Must you fol l ow Rog er P" The n he ra i se s

Baby on he r fee t .

Gu id es her t i ny steps w i th k i ndn e ss

tender ,Cheerful ly and gay ,

Al l h i s cou rage and h is st rength w ou l d

l end herUp the uneven way ,

Ti l l they fro n t t he bl az i ng east togeth e rBu t the sun has ro l l ed

Up the sky in the st i l l summer weather ,Flood ing them wi th gold .

Al l forgot ten i s the boy ’s amb i t ion ,Low the standard l i e s ,

St i l l they stand,an d gaze—a sw ee te r

v i s ionNe ’er met morta l eyes .

That was sp lend i d , R oger , that was

glo r i ou s,Thus to hel p the weak

Bet ter than t o p lan t you r flag v ic tori ou s

On earth ’ s h ighest peak

CEL IA THAXTER .

THE BATTLE OF B LENHE IM .

IT was a summer even ing,

Old Kaspar ’ s work was done,

And he before h i s cot tage—doorWas s i t t ing in the sun ;

And by him sported on the gree nH is l i t t l e grandch i ld Wi l he lm ine .

She saw her bro ther Peterk i nRol l someth ing large and roundWhich he bes ide thef

‘

rivule t,

I n p laying there,had found ;

She came to ask w hat he had foundThat was so large and smooth and round

.

O ld Kaspar took i t from the boy,

Who stood expec tant by ;And then the o ld man shook h i s head

,

And,wi th a natura l s igh

,

Ti s some poor fel l ow ’ s sk u l l,sa id he,

Who fe l l i n the great v ic tory .

I fin d them i n the gard en ,

For there ’ s many hereabou t ;And often

,when I go to pl ough

The p l oughshare tu rn s th em ou t ;For many thousand men ,

” sai d he,Were s lain in that grea t v ic to ry .

”

Now te l l u s what ’ twas al l abou t ,”

Young P eterk in he cri esA nd l i tt l e Wi lhel m in e l ook s upWi th wonder-wai t i ng eyes

N ow te l l u s al l abou t the war,A nd what they fough t each other fo r.

I t was the Engl i sh , Kaspar c ried ,Who put the French to rou t

Bu t what they fough t each other for

I cou l d not wel l make ou t ;Bu t everybody said

,

” quo th he ,That ’ twas a famou s vi c torY

My father l i ved at B lenheim then ,Yon l i tt l e stream hard by

They bu rn t h i s dwe l l ing to th e ground ,And he was fo rced to fly ;

So wi th h i s w i fe and ch i l d he fled ,Nor had he w here to rest h i s head .

With fi re and sword the cou n try round

Was wasted far and wide ;And many a ch i l d ing mother then

And new-born baby d ied ;But th i ngs l i k e that

,you k now

,must be

A t every famou s v i cto ry.

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And,in remembrance o f my o ld fri e nd ,brough t I

The pipe aw ay wi th me .

Henceforth i n al l campaign s w i th me I

bore i t ,I n fl igh t o r i n pu rsu i t

I t was a hOly t h ing , s i r, and I wo re i tSafe-shel tered i n my boot .

Thi s very l imb,I l o st i t by a shot , s i r,

Under the wal l s o f P rague

Fi rs t at my p rec iou s p ipe,be su re , I

caught,s i r,

A nd then p ick ed up my l eg .

You mov e m e ceve n to tears, o ld s i reWhat was the brave m an

’

s name ?

Tel l me,that I

,too , may admire ,

And ven erate h i s fame .

”

They cal l ed h im o n ly the b rave Wal te r

H i s farm l ay n ear the Rhi n e .

”

God ble ss your o l d eyes ! ’ tw as my

father,

And that sam e farm 18 m i ne .

Come , fri end , you’ ve see n some sto rmy

weather,

Wi th me i s n ow you r bed ;\Ve ’ l l d r i n k Of Wal ter ’ s grapes toge ther,And eat of \Val te r ’ s bread .

”

Now,done I march in , then , to

morrow ;You ’ re h i s t rue he i r , I see ;

And w hen I d ie , you r thank s , k i n d mas

ter,

The Tu rk i sh p ipe shal l be .

GOTTL I EB P FEFEEL .

Translat ion of CHARLES T . BROOK S .

WIN STANLEY .

WIN STAN LEY’

S deed,you k i n dly fo l k

,

Wi th i t I fi l l my l ay,

And a nobl er man n e ’er walk ed theworld

Le t h i s n ame be what i t may .

The good sh ip Snowdrop tarri ed lOng ;Up a t the vane l ooked he ;Bel i ke

,he sa id

,fo r the w i n d had

dropped,

She l i e th becalmed at sea

The l ove ly lad ie s flocked w i th i n,

And st i l l wou ld each o ne say,

Good mercer,be the sh i ps come up

B ut st i l l h e an sw ered , Nay.

”

The n stepped tw o m ari n e rs dow n thestree t .

\Vi th l ook s o f gri ef and fear,

Now,i f W in stan l ey be you r name

,

We bri ng you ev i l cheer

For the good sh ip S now drop st ruc k,

she st ruck

On the rock,—the Eddys to n e

,

And down she wen t w i th th re e sco re men,

We tw o be i ng l e ft a l o ne .

Down in the deep wi th fre igh t and

crew,

Past any help she l i es ,A nd n ever a bal e has come to shoreOf al l thy merch andi se.

For c l o th 0’ go l d and comely fri ez e

,

Win stan l ey sai d and s ighed,

For vel vet coi f,o r co st ly coat

,

They fathom s deep may bide .

WIN S TAN LE Y . 203

O thou brave sk ippe r,bl i the and k i nd

,

O mari ners, bo ld and true ,Sorry at heart

,right so rry am I.

A-th ink i ng o f you rs and you .

Many lo ng days VVinstan ley’

s bre astShal l fee l a we igh t w i th i n

,

For a waft o f w i n d he shal l be ’ feared ,A nd t rad ing coun t bu t s in .

To him no more i t sha l l be j oyTO pace the cheerfu l town

And see the l ovel y l ad i e s gavS tep o n i n ve l ve t gown .

The Snowdrop san k at Lammas t ide

A l l u nde r the yeasty sp ray ;O n Ch ri stmas Eve the brig Co n ten t\Vas a l so cast away .

He l i t t l e though t 0 ’

N ew Ye ar's n ight,

So j o l ly as he sa t then,

t i l e d ran k the toast and p ra i sed the

roastThe rou nd-faced A lde rme n

He l i tt l e though t o n P lym ou th I Io e ,

With every r i si ng t ide,

How the wave w ashed i n h is S ai l o r l ads,

And lai d them side by s ide .

There stepped a stranger to the board

Now,st ranger

,who he y e

He look ed to righ t,he l ooked to l e ft ,

And Re st you m erry ,

” quoth he ;

For you d id n ot see the brig go dow n ,

O r ever a sto rm had bl ow nFo r

yo ud id n o t see the w h i te wave re a r

At the rock,

—the Edd y ston e .

She drave at the rock wi th ste rn sai ls

setCrash wen t the masts i n tw ain

She s taggered back with her mortal blow ,

Then l eaped at i t aga in .

There rose a great c ry,bi t te r and

st rong ;The m i sty moon l ook ed ou t !

And the water swarmed wi th seam e n’

s

heads,

And the wreck was s t rewed abou t .

I saw her mai nsai l l ash t he sea,As I c lung to the rock al one ;

Then she hee l ed over,and down she

went ,And san k l i k e any sto ne .

She was a fai r sh ip, bu t al l

’ s o ne !For naught cou ld bi de the shock .

”

I wi l l take horse,Win stan l ey said

,

“ And see th i s dead ly rock .

For neve r again shal l bark o ’

m i n eSai l o ’ e r the wi ndy sea

,

Un l ess,by the bl essi ng of God , fo r th i s

Be fou n d a remedy .

”

Win stan l ey rode to P lymouth townA l l i n t he sl ee t and the snow ;

And he l ooked arou nd on shore andsou nd

,

As he stood o n P lymou th Hoe .

Ti l l a p i l l ar o f sp ray rose far away,

And shot up i ts state ly head,

Reared,and fel l over

,and reared agai n

T i s th e rock the rock he sai d .

Straigh t to the Mayo r he took h i sway

Good Master Mayor,quoth he

,

I am a mercer of London town,

And owne r of vesse l s three .

But fo r you r rock of dark ren own,

I had five to t rack th e main .

”

You are one of many,

” the O ld Mayorsai d ,

That of the roc k complai n .

A n i l l rock,merce r ! you r words r i ng

right,

Wel l wi th my thoughts they ch ime,

For my two son s to the worl d to comeI t sen t before th ei r t i me .

”

Lend me a l igh te r,good Maste r Mayor

,

And a sco re o f Shi pwrigh t s fre e ;For I th i nk to rai se a lan te rn tower

On th i s rock 0’ dest i ny .

”

The O ld Mayo r laughed ,but s ighed al so

Ah , you th ,” quoth he , i s rash ;

Soon er,you ng man

,th ou

’

l t roo t i t ou t

From the sea that do th i t l ash .

Who sai l s t oo near i t s jagged teethHe shal l have evi l l o t ;

For the calmest seas that tumbl e thereFroth l i k e a bo i l ing pot .

A nd the h eavi er seas few l ook on

n igh ,But straigh t they l ay h im dead

A seve n ty-gun - sh i p,s i r —they ’ l l shoot

H igher than he r mast -head .

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206 WIN S TAN LE Y .

Now March was gone , cam e_April i n ,

A nd a sea- fog set t l ed down ,And forth sai l ed he on a gl assy sea,He sai l ed from P lymou th town .

With men and stores he pu t to sea ,As he was won t to do

They showed in the fog l ike ghost s fu l l

fa i n t,

A ghos t ly c raft an d crew .

And the sea-fog lay and waxed a lway ,For a l o ng e ight days and more ;God hel p ou r men ,

” quoth the women

then ;For they b i de l ong from shore .

They paced the Hoe i n doubt an d d read ;“Where may ou r mariners be ?”

But the brood i ng fog l ay so ft as downO ver the qu i e t sea .

A Scott i sh schooner made theporn

The th i rteen t h day a t e ’enAs I am a man

,th e captain

c ried ,A strange sight I have seen

And a st range sound heard,

my masters al l,

A t sea,in the fog and the ra in

,

L ike sh ipwrights ’ hammers tapp i ng low ,

Then l oud,then l ow agai n .

A nd a state ly house o ne i n s tan t showed,

Through a ri ft o n the vesse l ’ s l ea ;What man ner of c reatu res may be tho se

That bu i l d upon the sea ?”

Then s ighed the fo l k,

“ The Lord bepra i sed

And they flock ed'

to the sho re amai nA l l over the Hoe that l ive lo ng n ight

,

Many stood ou t i n the rain .

I t ceased ; and the red Sun reared h i shead

,

A nd the ro l l i ng fog d id fl eeAnd

,10 i n the offi ng fai n t an d far

Win stan ley’

s hou se at sea

In fai r weather wi th m i rth an d chee rThe state ly tower uprose ;

In’

fou l weather wi th hunge r and co l dThey were con ten t t o c l o se ;

Ti l l up the sta i r Wi n stan l ey went,

To fire th e wick afar ;And P lymouth in the s i l e n t n igh tLooked ou t and saw her star.

Win stan l ey set h i s foo t ashore

Sai d he,My work i s done ;

I ho l d i t st rong to las t as l ongAs aught beneath the su n .

But i f i t fa i l,as fai l i t may

,

Borne down wi th ru i n an d rou t,

Another than I shal l rear i t h igh ,And brace the g i rd ers stou t .

TH E WI VE S OF B RIXH AM .

A bette r than I shal l rear i t h igh,

Fo r now the way i s p la i n ;A nd though I were dead

,

” Win stan l eysaid

,

The l igh t wou l d sh i n e again .

Yet were I fa in s t i l l t o remain,

Watch i n my tower to keep,

And tend my l igh t i n th e sto rm iest n ight

That ever di d move the deep

And if i t stood,why then ’ twere good

,

Am id the i r t remul ou s st i r s,

To cou n t each st roke when the madwaves broke

,

For cheers o f mari n ers .

Bu t i f i t fe l l , then t h i s were wel l ,That I shou l d wi th i t fal l ;

S ince , fo r my part , I have bu i l t my heart

In the cou rses of i t s wal l .

Ay ! I were fain , l o ng to remai n ,Watch in my tower to keep

,

A nd tend my l igh t i n the sto rm i est n igh tThat eve r d id move th e deep .

With that Win stan l ey wen t h i s way ,And l eft the rock renowned ,

And summer and wi nter h i s p i l o t s tar

Hung bright o ’er P lymou th Sou nd .

Bu t i t fe l l ou t , fe l l ou t at l ast ,Tha t he wou ld pu t t o sea ,

To scan once more h i s l igh thou se tower

On the rock O’

de stiny.

And the wind s brok e,and the s torm

broke,

A nd wreck s came p l unging in ;

None i n the town that n ight l ay dow nO r S l eep o r rest to w in .

The great mad wave s w e re ro l l i nggraves

,

And each flung up i t s dead ;The seeth i ng flow was w hi te be l ow ,

And black the sky o’

e rhead .

And w hen the daw n , the du l l , gray daw n,

B roke o n the t rem bl i ng tow n,

And men looked sou th to the harbo rmou th

,

The l ighthouse towe r w a s dow n .

Down i n the deep whe re he doth s le ep,

Who m ade i t sh i n e a far,And then i n the n ight tha t d row n ed i t s

l ight ,Se t

,wi th h i s p i l o t sta r.

Many fai r tombs i n the gl ori ou s g l oom s

At Westm i n ster they Show ;

The brave and the great l ie the re i n sta te ;Win stan l ey l i eth l ow .

JEAN INGELOW .

THE WI V ES O F B R IXHAM .

A TRUE STORY .

TH E merry boat s o f B ri xham

G O ou t to search the seasA stau nch and stu rdy fleet are they ,Who l ove a swi ngi ng breeze ;

A nd before th e woods o f Devon ,And the s i l ve r c l iffs o fWal e s ,

You may see,when summer even i ngs fal l ,

The l igh t upo n thei r sai l s .

208 TH E WI VE S OF B RIXH AM .

B u t when the year grows darker,And gray wi nds hu n t the foam ,

They go back to l i t t l e Bri xhamAnd p ly the i r to i l s at home

And so i t chanced,one wi n te r ’ s day ,

When the wind began to roar,That al l the men were ou t at sea

,

And al l the w ives on shore.

Then , as the storm grew fiercer,The women ’ s cheek s grew whi te ;

I t was fierce r through the twi l igh t,

And fi ercest i n the n igh t ;The st rong c l oud s set them se l ves l i k eWi th no t a s tar to mel t

,

A nd the b l ack ness of the darkness

Was something to be fe l t .

The wi n d,l i k e an assass i n

,

Wen t o n i t s Sec re t way,And st ruck a hu ndred bark s adrift

To ree l abou t the bay

They meet they crash —G Od ke epmen

God give a momen t ’ s l ight !

There i s n o th i ng bu t the tumu l t,

t empest,

n ight .

The men on Shore were t rembl ing,They gri eved for what they k new

What do you th ink the women d i d ?

Love taught them what to do :

Up spoke a wi fe We ’ ve bed s at homeWe ’ l l bu rn them for a l ight ;

G i ve u s the men and the bare grou nd—r

We wan t n o more to-n igh t .

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210 H EL VE LL YN .

Dark gre en was tha t spo t ’ m id the brow n

mou nta i n hea ther,

Where the P i lg r im of Natu re lay

stretched in decay,

L i k e the co rpse of an ou tcast abandon ed

to weather,

Ti l l th e mou nta i n wi nds wasted the

tenant l ess c l ay .

Nor yet qu i te deser ted , though l o ne ly

extended,

For,fai th fu l i n dea th

,h i s mute favori t e

attended,

The much- l oved remai n s o f he r maste r

defen ded,

And chased the h i l l fox and the ra

ven away .

How long d id st t hou th ink that h i s S i ~

l ence was s l umber ?

When the wind waved h i s garment,

how o ft d idst thou start ?How many l ong days and l o ng n ight s

d idst thou n umber

Ere he faded before thee, the fri end

of thy heart

And Oh,was i t meet that—n o requ i em

read o ’er hi m,

No mothe r to weep , and no fri e n d to de

plo re h im ,

And thou , l i t t l e guard ian , al on e st re tched

before h im

Unhonored the P i lgrim from l i feShou l d depart ?

When a P ri nce to the fate of the Peasan t

has y i e lded ,The tapest ry waves dark rou nd the

d im - l igh ted hal l,

With ’ scu tcheon s o f s i l ve r t he co ffi n i s

sh ie l ded ,And page s stand mute by the can opi ed

pal l

Through the cou rts,at deep m id n ight

,

the to rches are gl eam ing ;I n the p roud ly arched chape l t he ban ners

are beam ing

Far adown the l o ng ai s l e sacred music i s

st ream i ng,

Lamen t i ng a ch i ef o f th e peop l e Shou ldfal l .

Bu t meeter fo r thee,ge n t l e l over of na

tu re,

To lay down thy head l i ke th e meekmoun tai n la tnb

,

When,wi l dered

,h e drop s from some

c l iff huge i n statu re,

And draws h i s l ast sob by the S i de Of

h i s dam .

And'

m ore s tately thy couch by th i s

desert l ak e lyi ng,

Thy obsequ ies sung by the g ray p l over

flyi ng,

With one fai thfu l fri e nd bu t to w i t ness

thy dyi ng,

I n the arm s o f Hel ve l lyn and Catche

d icam .

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

TH E B E A CO/V L l G/l T.

THE B EACON L IGHT .

DARK N ESS was deepen i ng o ’ e r the seas,

A nd st i l l th e hu l k drove onN O sai l to an sw er to the breeze

,

Her masts and cordage goneGloomy and drear her cou rse of fear

,

Each l ooked bu t for a grave,

When , ful l i n S igh t , the beacon - l igh tCame stream ing o ’er the wave.

Then wi ld ly rose the gladden ing shou t

Of a l l t hat hardy crew ;Bol d ly th ey pu t th e helm about

,

And th rough the su rf they fl ew .

S torm w as forgot,to i l heeded not

,

A nd loud the cheer they gave,

2 1 1

As , fu l l i n sight , the beacon - l ightCam e st ream i ng o

’

e r the wave.

And gayly o f the ta l e they to ld,

t e n they were safe o n shoreHow hearts had su nk

,and hopes grown

cold,

Am id the bi l l ow ’ s roar ;When no t a star had sho ne from farBy i ts pa l e beam to save

,

Then , fu l l i n s ight , the beacon- l igh tCame s tream ing o

'

e r the wave .

Thus , i n the n ight o f N atu re'

s g l oom,

When so rrow bow s the heart,

When cheeri ng hope s no m ore i l l um e,

And com fort s al l depart ;

Then from afar sh i nes Beth l ehem ’ s star ,Wi th cheeri ng l igh t to save

And,fu l l in s ight

,i t s beaco n- l igh t

Comes stream i ng o’er the grave .

JUL IA PARDOE.

THE DEATH OF NAPOLEON .

W ILD was the n ight ye t a wi l der n ightHu ng rou nd the so ld ier

’

s p i l l ow ;I n h i s bosom there waged a fie rce r figh tThan the figh t on the w rathfu l b i l l ow .

A few fo nd mou rners were k n ee l i ng

by ,The few that h i s stern heart cheri shed

They k new,by h i s g l azed and un earth ly

eye,

That l ife had nearly peri shed .

They k new by h i s awfu l and k i ng ly l ook ,By the o rder hast i ly spoken

,

That he dreamed of days when the na

t i o n s shook,

And the nat i o n s ’ hosts were broken .

He dreamed that the Frenchman ’ s swordst i l l s l ew,

And t r iumphed the Frenchman ’ seagl e

”;

And the st rugg l i ng Au st ri an fled anew,

L i k e the hare befo re the beag l e .

The bearded Ru ss ian he scou rge d aga i n,

The P ru ssi an ’ s camp was rou ted,

And agai n,on the h i l l s of haugh ty Spai n

,

H i s m ighty arm ies shou ted .

O’

e r Egyp t ’ s sands , ove r A lp ine sn ow s,At the pyram ids, at the mou n tai n ,

Where the wave of the l o rd ly Dan ub

flows,And by the I ta l i an fou n tai n

,

On the sn owy C l iffs, where the moun tai nstreams

Dash by the Swi tze r ’ s dwel l i ng,

He led agai n,i n h i s dyi ng dream s

,

H i s host s,the broad earth quel l i ng.

Agai n Marengo ’s fie l d was won ,A nd Jena ’ s b loody bat t l e

Agai n the world was overru n,

Made pal e at h i s can non s ' ratt le .

He d ied at the C l o se o f that darksom e dayA day that shal l l i ve i n s to ry

I n the rocky l and they p laced h i s c l ayA nd l eft h im al o n e with h i s glory.

ISAAC MCLELLAN .

OLD .

B Y the ways ide,o n a mossy s to n e

,

Sat a hoary p i lgr im,sad ly musi ng ;

O ft I marked h im s i t t i ng the re al o ne,

Al l the landscape,l ik e a page

,peru s

ing ;

Poor,u n known ,

By the ways i de,on a mossy sto n e .

Buck led k nee an d shoe,and broad -brim

med hat

Coat as anci en t as the fo rm ’

t was foldi ng ;

S i l ve r bu tto n s,queue

,and crimped

c ravat ;

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Some of us were j oyous , some sad

hearted,

I remember we l l,too wel l , that day

O ften t imes the tears unbidden startedWou l d n o t stay

When the stranger seemed to mark ou r

p lay.

One sweet Sp i r i t b roke the si l en t spel l ,Oh ,

to m e her name was a lways

Heaven !She besought h im al l h i s grief t o te l l ,

(I was then th i rteen , and She -el eve n ,)I sabe l

One sweet sp i r i t brok e the si l en t spel l .

Angel,sai d he sadly

,

“ I am o ld ;Earth ly hope no l onger hath a morrow ;

Y e t,why I s i t here thou shal t be to l d .

”

Then h i s eye bet rayed a pearl of so r

row,

Down i t ro l l ed !An cr e l

,sa i d h e sadly , “ I am ol d ;b

I have to ttered here to l ook oncemore

On the p leasan t scene where I de

l ightedI n the care l ess

,happy days of yore

,

Ere the garden of my heart wasbl igh ted

To the core

I have tot te red here to l ook o nce mo re .

Al l the p ic tu re now to me how dear !E ’ en th i s gray O ld rock where I am

seatedIS a j ewel worth my j ou rney here ;

Ah that such a scene mu st be com

p le ted

With a tear !Al l the p ic tu re now to me how dear

“ O ld stone schoo lhou se —it i s s t i l l thesame

There ’ s the ve ry s tep I so oft m oun ted ;There ’s the w i n dow creak i ng in i t s

frame,

And the n o tches that I cu t an d cou n ted

Fo r t he game .

O ld stone schoo l hou se , i t i s st i l l the

same .

I n t he cot tage yonder I was born ;Long my happy home , that h umb l e

dw el l ingThere th e fi elds of c l over

,w heat

,and

corn ;There the sp ri ng w i th l imp id nectar

swel l i ngAh

,forl o rn

I n the cottage yonder I was born .

Those two gateway sycamores yousee

Then were p l an ted j u st so far asu nde rThat l ong wel l -po le from the path to free ,And the wagon t o pass safe ly u nder ;

N ine ty-th reeThose two gateway sycamores you see.

There ’ s the o rchard where we u sed toc l i mb

When my mates and I we re boys together ,

Think i ng noth i ng of the fl igh t of t i me,

OLD .

Feari ng naught bu t work and rai nyweather ;

Past i ts p rime

There ’ s the orchard where we ‘ u sed toC l i mb ,

There the rude,three- co rnered chest

nu t- ra i l s,

Rou nd the pastu re where the fl ock swere graz ing

,

Where,so sl y

,I u sed to watch fo r quai l s

I n the c rop s of buckwheat we wererai s i ng ;

Traps and t rai l sThere the rude

,th ree-co rn ered chestnu t

ra i l s

There ’ s the m i l l that grou nd our ye l l owgrai n

Pond and r i ver st i l l sere n ely flow

ing

Co t the re n est l ing i n th e shaded lan e ,Where the l i ly of my heart was b l ow

ing.

Mary JaneThere ’ s the m i l l that grou n d ou r ye l low

gra i n .

There ’ s the gate on wh ich I u sed to

sw i ng,

B rook,and bridge

,and barn

,and O ld

red stabl eBu t alas ! no more the morn sha l l b ri ngThat dear group arou nd my father

’

s

t abl e ;Taken wi ng

There ’ s the gate on which I u sed to

sw ing .

2 15

I am fle e ing ,—al l I l oved have fled .

Yon green meadow was ou r place fo r

Pl ay i ng ;That o ld t ree can te l l o f sw ee t th i ngs

sa id

When arou nd i t Jan e and I w e re st rayi ng

She i s deadI am flee ing ,

—al l I lo ved have fled .

Yon wh i te sp i re,a penc i l o n the sky ,

Traci ng si l e n t ly l i fe ’ s change fu l sto ry,

So fam i l ia r to my d im old eye ,

Poi n ts me to seven that a re no w i ngl ory

There on h igh !Yo n w h i te sp i re , a penci l o n the sky .

Oft the ai sl e o f that O ld Chu rch we t rod ,Gu ided th i ther by an angel mother ;

Now she sl eep s ben eath i t s sac red sodS i re an d s i sters

,and my l i t t l e brother ,

Gone to God

O ft the ai sl e o f that o ld chu rch w e t rod .

There I heard of VVisdom'

s pleasan t

w aysB less the h o ly l esson —bu t, ah , never

Shal l I hear again those songs o f pra i se ,Those sweet vo ices s i l en t now forever

Peacefu l days !

There I heard of \Visdom’

s pleasa n t

ways .

There my Mary bl est me w i th her hand

\Vhen ou r sou l s d rank i n the n upt ia l

bl ess ing ,

Ere She hastened to the sp i ri t - l and ,

Yonder tu rf her gen t l e bosom p res s ingBrok en band

There my Mary blest me wi th her hand .

I have com e to see that grave o ncemore

,

And the sac red p lace w here we del ighted ,

Where we worsh ipped ln the days of yore ,Ere the gard en o f my heart was

bl igh ted

To the coreI have come to see that grave o n ce mo re.

Angel,sa id he sad ly

,I am ol d ;

Earth ly hope no l onger hath a morrow ,

N ow ,why I S it here thou hast been to l d .

”

In h i s eye an other pearl o f so rrow ,

Down i t ro l l ed !Angel

,sai d he sad ly

,

“ I am old .

By the ways ide,on a mossy stone ,

Sat the hoary p i lgr im , sad ly mu si ng ,St i l l I marked h im s i t t ing there al one

,

Al l the l andscape , l i k e a page , peru sing

Poor,u nk n own l

By the wayside , on a mossy s t o ne.

RALPH H OYT.

THE PARROT .

A TRUE STORY .

TH E deep affect i on s of the breast,

That Heaven to l i v ing th ings imparts ,Are not exc l u s ive ly possessed

B y human hearts.

To sp i cy groves,where he had won

H i s p l umage of resp l e nden t hue,

H i s nat i ve fru i ts,and sk ie s , and su n ,

He bade ad ieu .

For these he changed the sm oke of

tu rf,A heathe ry land

,and mi sty sky

,

And t u rn ed on rock s and ragi ng su rfH i s golden eye .

Bu t,pet ted i n ou r c l imate co ld ,

He l ived and chat te red many a day,

Un t i l,wi th age

,from green an d go l d

H i s wi ngs grew gray .

A t l ast,when

,bl i nd and seem i ng dumb

He sco l ded,l aughed

,and spok e n o

more,

A Span i sh st range r chanced to com e

To Mul l a ’ s shore .

A parrot from the Span i sh Mai n ,

’

Fu l l you ng and early caged,came

o ’e rWi th bright w i ngs to the bl eak do

main

Of Mu l l a ’ s Shore .

He hai l ed the bi rd i n Span i sh Speech

The bi rd i n Span i sh speech rep l ied ,Flapped rou nd the cage wi th j oyou s

sc reech,

Dropt dow n , and died !

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

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A nd t rembled wi th fear at you r

frown .

In the o l d chu rchyard i n the va l l ey,Ben

B o l t ,In a corn er obscure and al on e ,

They have fi t ted a s l ab Of t he gran i te so

gray,

And Al ice l i e s u nder the stone .

Under the h icko ry t ree , Ben Bol t ,Which stood a t th e foot o f the h i l l ,

Toge ther we ’ve la i n i n the n oonday

shade,

And l i sten ed to App l e ton ’ s m i l l .The m i l l -wheel has fal l en to p i ece s, Ben

Bo l t,

The rafters have tumbled in,

And a qu i et that c rawl s round the wal l s

as you gazeHas fo l l owed the O l de n d i n .

Do you m ind the cabi n Of l ogs , BenBol t ,

At the edge of the path les s woodAnd the bu t ton-bal l t ree wi th i t s mo t l ey

l imbs,

Which n igh to the doorstep stood ?

The cabi n to ru in has gone, Ben Bol t,The t ree you wou ld seek in va in ;

And where once the l o rds of the forest

stoodGrow grass and the go lden grain .

And don ’ t you remember the schoo l,

Ben Bol t,

With the master so’

c rue l and gr im ?A nd the shaded nook [by the runn ing

brook,

Where the ch i l d ren wen t t o sw 1m

G rass grows on the master’s grave , BenBo l t ,

The sp r ing of th e brook i s d ry,

And of al l the boys who were schoo l

mates then,

There are on ly you and I .

There i s change In th e th ings I l oved ,Ben B o l t ,

They have changed from th e O ld to thenew ;

B ut I fee l in the dep th s o f my sp i rit the

t ru thThere n ever was change i n you .

Twelvemon th s twen ty have passed , Ben

Bol t,

S i nce fi rst we were fr i ends,yet I hai l

Thy presen ce a bl essing,thy friend ship

’

a

t ru th,

Ben B o lt‘

o f th e sal t sea gal e lTHOMAS DUNN ENGL I SH .

A P ICTURE .

TH E farmer sat i n h i s easy-chai rSmok ing h i s p i pe of c l ay

,

Whi l e h i s hal e O ld wife,with busy care,

Was c l ear i ng the d inner away ;A sweet l i t t l e gi rl w i th fi n e blu e eyes ,On her grandfather

’

s kn ee was ca tch ing

fl i es.

The o ld man l a i d h i s hand on her head,

Wi th a tear on h i s wr ink l ed faceHe though t how O ften her moth er deadHad sat in the se l f- same p l ace .

AS the . tear stol e clown from h i s hal f

shu t eye,

“Don ’ t smoke !” sa i d the ch i l d ; howi t makes you cry

t7 6h? .SAOUDS .

The house-dog lay st retched ou t on the

fl oo r,Where the Shade afte r n oon used to

stea l

The bu sy ol d wi fe , by the Open door,Was t u rn ing the sp inn ing-whee l

A nd the O ld brass c l ock on the man te l

t ree

Had p lodded al o ng to al most th ree .

St i l l th e farmer sat in h i s easy -chai r ,Wh i l e c l o se to h i s heav i ng breast

The moi ste n ed brow an d the ch eek so

fai r

O f h i s sweet gran dch i l d were p ressed

H i s head,ben t down

,on her soft hai r

l ay

Fast asl eep were they both that summer

dayCHARLES GAMAG E EASTMAN .

OUR SH IPS .

IN those bright summer morn ings when

I row

Up from the bay upo n the broad

Maumee ,Am id th e sta te ly boat s that come and

go )

I m eet the toy sh i p s go i ng ou t to

seaEach sh i p a board p ropel l ed by paper

sai l s,

And given wi th shou t s t o b i l l ows and to

gal es .

2 19

Ah , happy boys ! tha t l au nch yo u r Sh ip s

aw ay,

P l ay i ng the merchan t l ong be foreyou r t ime

,

We men a re l i k e yo u t o o u r dy i ng day,

St i l l send i ng shi p s to e ve ry d i stan t

Cl ime ;And some m en 's sh i ps come bac k to

the i r own shore,

And some men 's sh i ps come back to

them n o m ore .

I n you th o u r sh i p s to fetch u s l ove w e

sen t,

(Long si nce they w en t i n those g l ad

days O f O ld),Some wen t fo r fame , and som e fo r pow e r

wen t,

And then w e sen t w ho le fl ee ts to bri ng

u s gold ;And of a l l sh ip s w e se n t ac ross the

mai n,

Not on e i n thou sand s cam e to us agai n .

But I bel i eve ou r sh i ps are gon e be

foreGone to some Bet te r Land , to w h i ch

we go ;There one by on e they gathe r on the

shore ,B l ow n stately i n by al l the w i nd s tha t

blow ,

And w e shal l fi nd them on som e happy

day,

Moored fast , and wai t i ng at the Golde n

Quay.

ANO NYMOUS

STANZAS .

I LOV E the memory O f t hat hou rWhen fi rs t in youth I found thee ;

For i n fan t beau ty gen t l y threwA morn ing freshn ess round thee ;

A S i ngl e s tar was ri s i ng there,With m i l d an d l ove ly mot io n

And scarce t he zephyr ’ s gen t l e breathWent o ’ e r the s leep i ng ocean .

I l ove the memory O f that hou rI t wakes a pen s i ve fee l i ng,

As when , wi th in the w i nd ing shel l ,The p l ayfu l wi nd s are steal ing ;

I t tel l s my heart of th ose br ight yearsEre hope wen t d own i n so rrow ;

When al l the j oys o f yes terdayWere pai n ted i n to -m orrow .

Where art thou now ? thy once l oved

flowersThei r ye l l ow leaves are twi n i ng

And brigh t an d beau t i fu l agai nThat s i ngl e sta r i s sh i n i ng ;

But where art thou ? the ben ded grassA dewy stone d i sc l o ses ;

And love’ s l igh t foot st eps p ri n t th eground

Where al l my peace reposes .

Farewel l my tears were n o t for thee ;’ Twere weak ness to dep l ore thee

,

O r va in ly mourn th i ne absence here.Whi le ange l s hal f adore thee

Thy days were few,and qu ick ly to l d

Thy short an d mou rnfu l s to ryHath ended l i ke the morn i ng star

,

That mel ts i n deeper gl ory .

O . W . B . P EABODY .

THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET .

How dear to th i s heart are the scen es O fmy ch i l dhood

,

When fo n d reco l l ec t i o n p resen t s themto vi ew !

The o rchard , the meadow ,the d e ep tan

gled wi l dw ood ,And every l oved spo t wh i ch my ia

fancy k n ewThe wide -Sp read ing pond

,an d the m i l l

whidh stood by i t ,The bridge

,and the rock wh e re t he

catarac t fe l lThe co t o f my father

,the dai ry-hou se

n igh i t,

And e ’en the rude bu cket wh ich hu ngi n the wel l

The o ld oaken buck e t,the i ro n -b ou nd

buck eh

The moss-covered bucke t,w h i ch hu ng

i n the w el l

That mo ss -cove red ve sse l I ha i l as a t reas

u reFor O ften , at n oon , w hen re tu rn e d from

the fiel d ,I fou nd i t t he sou rce o f an exqu i s i te

p l easu re,

The pu rest and sw ee te st that Natu recan yi e ld .

How arden t I se i z ed i t,wi th hands that

were glowing,And qu ick to the wh i t e-pebbled bot t om

i t fe l lThen soon ,w ith the embl em of t ru th over

flow ing,

And dripp i ng wi th coo l n e ss,i t rose

from the wel l

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Through a l l her an c i e n t caves .

Wachusett h ides i t s l i nger i ng vo ice

Wi th i n h i s rocky heart ,And A l l eghany graves i t s to neThroughou t h i s l ofty Chart ;Monadnock o n h i s forehead hoarDo th seal the sacred t ru st ;

You r mou n tai n s bu i l d the i r monumen t,

Though ye dest roy the i r du st .

Ye cal l the se red-browed breth renThe i n sect s of an hou r

,

C ru shed l i k e the no teless worm amidThe regi on s o f the i r power ;

Ye dr ive t hem from thei r fathers ’ l an d s,

Ye break of fai th the seal ,But can ye from the cou rt of HeavenExclu de thei r l ast appeal ?

Ye see the i r u n res i st i n g t r ibe s,

With to i l some step and sl ow,

The smal l green snak e am i d the brake,

The wh i te flow e rs o n the bough,

And B i l ly wi th h i s k een gray eyesI seem to see them n ow !

Oh ,B i l ly was my fi rs t of fri e nds

Ou r hearts were warm and l igh t ;The darkest o f November rai n sHad

,shared wi th h im

,seemed bright ;

And far too bri ef for boyi sh p layHad been the summer

’

s l ongest day,

But powerl ess fel l Love ’ s magic spe l l

I t s charm was l o st that n igh t ;I t n eeded bu t one word , and weWere both i n for a fight

One word !’ twas B i l ly spoke that word ;

Bu t,sore at heart , I k n ow

I t was another hand than h i sThat deal t the earl i es t b l ow .

He touched my forehead ’ s l ongest cu r l,

And sai d,Ha ! Joh n my p retty

gi rl !”

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226 TH E TH RE E LI TTLE CH AIRS .

When names acqu i red bapt i smal lyWere hard to u t te r

,as to see

Tha t l i fe had any pai n .

No Shade was on u s then , save o ne

Of chestnu ts from the h i l l,

And th rough the wood ou r laugh d id ru nAs part thereof. The m i rth be ing don e,He cal l s m e by i t st i l l .

Nay,do no t sm i le ! I hea r i n i t

What none of you can hear,The tal k upon the wi l l ow seat ,The bi rd and wind that d i d repeatArou nd

,ou r human cheer .

I hear the bi rthday ’ s n o i sy bl i ss,My S i sters ’ wood land glee ,

My father’ s p ra i se I d id no t m i ss ,

When,stoop ing down , he cared to k i ss

The poet at h i s k nee,

And vo ices wh ich,t o name me , aye

The i r tenderest tones were keep ing,To some I nevermore can sayA n an swer

,t i l l God wipes away

In heaven these d rop s of weep ing .

My name to me a sadness wearsNO murmu rs c ross my m i nd .

Now God be thanked for these th ick

tears,

Which Show , of those departed years,Sweet memori es l eft beh ind .

Now God be thanked fo r years en

wroughtWi th l ove wh i ch soften s yet .Now God be thanked fo r every though t

Which i s so tender i t has caughtEarth ’ s guerdon of regret.

Earth ’ s sadness never shal l remove,

Affect i o n s pu re ly given ;And e ’ e r that mortal gri ef shal l proveThe immortal i ty of l ove,And heighten i t w i th heaven .

EL I ZABETH B ARRETT B ROWN ING .

THE THREE L I TTLE CHAIRS .

TH EY sat a l o n e by the bright wood fi re,

The gray -hai red dame and the aged si re,

Dream ing of days gone byThe tear- drop s fe l l on each wrink led

cheek,

They both had thoughts they cou ld notspeak ,

A s each heart u tte red a s igh .

Fo r the i r sad and tearfu l eyes desc ri edThree l i tt l e cha i rs

,p l aced s i de by side

,

Again s t the S i tt ing-room wal lO ld fash ioned enough as there they stood

,

Thei r seat s o f flag and thei r frames of

wood,

With the i r back s so st ra igh t and tal l .

Then the s i re shook h i s s i l ve ry head,

A nd wi th t remb l i ng voice he gen t l ysaid

,

“ Mo ther, those empty cha i rsThey bring u s such sad

,sad though ts

to-n igh t ,We ’ l l p u t them forever ou t o f s igh t

,

I n the smal l , dark room up sta i rs.

B ut she an swe red , Fathe r,n o

,no t yet ,

For I l ook at them and I forgetThat the ch i l dren wen t away

I

The boys come back , and ou r Mary , too,Wi th her ap ron o n o f checke red blue

,

And si t h ere every day .

John ny st i l l wh i t t l es a sh i p ’ s tal l mast s,

And W i l l i e h i s l eaden bul l e t s cast s,

Whi l e Mary her patchwork sews ;At even i ng- t ime th ree ch i l d i sh p rayersGo up to God from those l i t t l e chai rs

,

So softly that no one k now s .

John ny comes back from the bi l l owydeep ,

“Ti l l i e wakes from hi s batt l e-fie ld s l eep,

To say a good-n igh t to me ;Mary ’s a wi fe and a mothe r n o more

,

But a t i red ch il d whose p l ay- t i me i s o ’er,And com es to rest on my knee .

SO l e t them stand the re , though emp ty

now,

And eve ry t ime when alo n e we bowA t the Father ’ s th rone to pray ,We ’ l l ask to mee t t he ch i l d ren abo ve ,I n our Savi ou r’ s home o f res t and l ove ,Where no ch i l d goeth away .

”

ANONYMOUS.

22

I REMEMBER .

I R EM EMB ER,I remember

The hou se where I was bo rn ,The l i t t l e w indow where the su n

Came peeping i n at mornHe never came a wink too soon ,Nor brough t too l ong a day ;

But now,I o ften wi shed the n igh t

H ad borne my brea th away

I REMEMBER ,I REMEM B ER .

I REM EMB ER ,I remembe r

H ow my chi ldhood flee ted by ,The m i rth o f i t s December ,And the warmth o f i t s Ju ly ;

O n my brow ,l ove

,on my brow . l ove .

There are no sign s o f careBu t my pleasu res are not now , l ove ,

\Vha t c hi ldhood ’ s pl easu re s w e re .

I rem ember,I rem em be r

The roses,red and w h i te

,

The v i o l e t s,and the l i ly-cups

Those fl owers made o f l ightThe l i lacs where the robi n bu i l t ,And where my brother se tThe labu rnum on h i s bi rthday

,

The t ree i s l i v i ng yet !

I remember, I rem em be rWhere I was u sed to sw i ng

,

And though t the ai r mus t ru sh as freshTo swal l ows o n the w i ng ;

My sp i ri t flew i n feathe rs then ,That i s so heavy now

,

And summer pool s cou ld hard ly coo lThe feve r on m v brow !

I remember,I remember

The fir- t rees dark and h igh ;I u sed to th i nk the i r sl e nder tops\Vere c l ose agai n st the sky .

I t was a ch i l d i sh igno rance ,But now ’ t i s l i t t le j oy

To k now I’

m farthe r O ff from Heaven

Than when I was a boy .

THOMAS H OOD .

A nd al l the i r rad ian t fl owersWere coronal s fo r me

Gems to - n igh t,l ove—gems to - n ight

,

l ove,Are gleam i ng in my hai r

Bu t they are not hal f so br ight,l ove

,

AS Ch i l dhood ’ s roses were.

I was s inging—I was s inging,

And my songs were id l e wordsBu t from my heart was spri ngi ngWi l d musi c l i k e a bi rd

'

s ;Now I S i ng

,l ove , - n ow I S i ng, l ove ,

A fi ne I ta l ian a i r ;Bu t i t ’ s n ot so gl ad a th ing

,l o ve

,

AS Chi l dhood ’ s ba l l ads were !

I was merry—I was merry,

When my l i tt l e l over s cam e,

Wi th a l i ly,or a cherry

,

O r a new i nvented gameNow I ’ ve you

,l o ve—now I ve you , l ove ,

To k nee l befo re m e there

Bu t you k now you’ re n o t so t rue , l ove ,

As Ch i l dhood ’s l overs were

WI NTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED .

THE OLD SCHOOLHOUSE .

WH ATEV ER e l se to the n igh t has gone

The n igh t that never shal l k n ow a

dawn

It stands u ndimmed In my memory st i l l ,The ol d b rown schoo lhou se on the h i l l .

The corner bri ck on the ch imn ey l i e s ,

Ju st as i t d id in my boyi sh eves ;

The names on the weathe r-board s are partO f the sac red t reasu re of my heartSome yet a p lace w i th the earth - soun d s

keep,

And some i n the ho ld s o f s i l ence sl eep .

I see the br i e rs bes ide the doo r,

The rock s where we p layed at k eep ingsto re

The s tep s we dug i n the ban k bel ow,

And the bea r-t rack t rod i n the w in tersnow .

I hear the growl,f rom h i s ce n t ra l la i r

,

O f the sw i ftest boy, w ho stood fo r bear,

And the song bri ngs back the j oy and

gl owOf the chase arou nd the ring o f snow .

Often again i n though t I s l ide

O n the sto n e-boat dow n the long h i l l s i de

The breath l ess Speed , and the d izzy ree l ,A nd the wi n d in my l ift ed hai r I fee l .

Ah me ! There are spo t s that hol d my

deadI n a s l eep un s t i rred by Memory ’s t readAnd many a scen e of l i fe ’ s t r i umph l ie sDeep i n the m i st s that neve r ri se .

And th ings of rap tu re and th i ngs o f tearsAre h idden w i th i n t he vei l o f yearsBu t the O ld brown school hou se on the

h i l l,

I t stand s u nd immed i n my memory st i l l .

ANONYMOUS .

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230GE OWIN G OLD .

B u t soon i nu red to alphabe t i c to i l s,Aler t I met the dam e wi th j ocun d

sm i l esFi rs t at th e form ,

my task fo r ever t ru e ,A l it t l e favori t e rap id l y I grewAn d o ft sh e st rok ed my head w i th fond

del ight ,Held me a pat tern to the dunce

’

s s igh tA nd as she gave my d i l igence i ts p ra i se ,Tal ked of t he honors of my fu tu re dav s .

H ENRY K IRKE WH ITE .

GROWING OLD . Bu t when I reached that age , I swore

AT s i x—I wel l remember when None cou ld be O ld u n t i l t h reescore .

I fanc i ed al l fo l k s o l d at ten .

But when I tu rned my fi rst decade , And here I am at S i x ty I10W ,

Fifteen ap pe are d more t ru ly sta i d .A s you ng as w hen at s i x , I t row .

B u t when the fi ftee n th rou n d I’d ru n ,

I though t n o n e o l d t i l l twen ty-on e .

Then oddly,when I ’d reached that age ,

I hel d that th i rty made fo l k s sage ,

B u t whe n my th i rt i eth year was to l d

I sa i d,At twosco re men grow O ld ,

Yet two s co re came and found me th rifty ,A nd so I drew the l ine at fi fty.

7 EA zV/E

’

TiS t rue , my hai r i s somewhat gray ,And tha t I u se a can e t o-day

’Ti s t rue,these rogue s abou t my k nee

Say G randpa” when they Speak to me ;

But,bl ess you r sou l I

’

m you ng as w he nI though t a l l peop l e O ld at ten .

Perhap s a l i t t l e w i se r grownPerhap s some o l d i l l u s io n s flow n

Bu t wonderi ng st i l l,whi l e years have

ro l l ed ,When i s i t that a man grows old !

MARC COOK .

JEAN IE MORR I SON .

I’

VE wandered east,I ’ve wandered west ,

Through mony a weary way ;Bu t n ever

,never can fo rget

The luve o ’ l i fe ’ s you ng day !The fi re that ’ s b l awn on Bel tane e ’ e n ,May wee l be bl ack gi n Yu l e ;

Bu t bl acker fa ’ awai t s th e h eartWhere fi rst fond l ave grows cu l e .

O dear , dear Jean i e M o rr i so n .

The thochts o ’ bygane yearsS t i l l fl ing the i r shadows ower my path ,And b l ind my een w i ’ t ears

They-bl i n d my een w i

'

sau t , sau t tears ,A nd sai r and s ick I p i n e ,

AS memory i d ly summon s u pThe b l i t he b l i nk s o

’

l angsyne .

’Twas then we luv it i l k i the r wee l ,’Twas the n we twa d id part ;

Swee t t ime—sad t ime twa bai rn s a t

seu l e,

23 1

Twa bai rn s,and bu t as heart

’

Twas then we sat on ae l aigh bi nk,

To l ei r i l k i ther l ear ;And tones , and l ook s , and sm i les w ere

Shed ,Remembered eve rm a ir .

I w onder,Jean ie

,a ften ye t,

When s i tt i ng o n that bi nk,

Cheek touch in’ cheek

,l oo f l ocked i n

l ootWhat ou r wee heads cou ld th i n k .

When bai th ben t dou n ow er ae braidpage ,

Wi ’ ae bu i k on ou r kn ee,

Thy l i p s we re o n thy l esson, bu t

My lesson was in thee .

Oh , m ind ye how we hung ou r heads ,How cheek s bren t red w i

’ shame ,Whene ’e r the se tt l e -wean s

,laughin

’

,sa id

lVe cl eeked thegi ther hame ?

And m i nd ye o ’ the Satu rdays

(The scu le then sca i l’

t at noon ),\Vhen we ran o ff t o spee l the braes ,The broomy braes 0 ’ J u ne ?

My head ri n s rou nd and rou nd abou t ;

My heart fl ow s l i k e a sea ,AS ane by ane the thochts ru sh back

O’ seu l e - t i me and o

'

thee .

O m o rn in’ l i fe ! O m o rn in

'luve !

O l ichtsom e days and l ang ,

When h i n n ied hopes a rou nd ou r hearts

L i ke s immer blossoms sprang !

Oh,mi nd ye

,l u vo

,how a ft w e l eft

The deav in ’ d in some toun ,To wander by the green bu rn side ,And hear i t s w ate rs c roon ?

232 TWO P I CTURE S .

The S immer l eaves hung ower ou r

heads,The flowers bu rs t rou nd ou r feet ,

And i n the g lo am in’ o ’

the w ood

The throssil whusslit sweet ;

The throssil whusslit i n the wood ,The burn sang to the t reesA nd we, wi th N atu re

’ s hear t i n tu ne,

Concerted harmon i e s

A nd o n the k nowe abu n e the bu rnFor hou rs thegi the r sat

I n th e s i l en tn ess 0 ’ j oy,t i l l ba i th

Wi ’ very gl adness grat .

Ay,ay, dear J ean i e Morri son ,

Tears trink led dou n you r cheekL i ke dew-bead s on a rose

,yet nane

Had ony powe r to speakThat was a t ime

,a bl essed t ime

,

When heart s were fresh and you ng,

When f ree ly gu shed al l feel i ngs fo rth ,Un syl lab l ed—un su ng !

I marvel,J ean i e Morri so n

,

G i n I hae been to theeAS c l o se ly twined w i

’ earl i es t thochtsAs ye hae been to me ?

Oh, te l l me gi n the i r music fi l l s

Thine ear as i t does m ineOh , say gi n e

’e r you r heart grows gri tWi ’ dreamings 0

’ l angsyne ?

I’

ve wandered east , I’ve wandered west

,

I ’ ve borne a weary l o tBu t in my wanderings

,far o r near

,

Ye n ever were fo rgot .

The fou n t that fi rst bu rst frae th i s heart

S t i l l t ravel s on i t s way,

And chan nel s deeper as i t r in s,

The luv e o ’ l ife ’ s you ng day .

O dear,dear J ean i e Morr i son

,

S i n ’ we were s inde red young ,

I v e n ever seen you r face,n or heard

The mu si c 0 ’ you r tongue ;But I cou ld hug al l wretched ness ,And happy cou l d I dee ,

D id I bu t ken you r heart s t i l l d reamed

O’ bygane days an d me !

WILL IAM MOTHERW ELL.

TWO PICTURES .

AN ol d farm -house wi th meadows w ide ,And sweet with c l over on each s ideA brigh t -eyed boy , who l ook s from ou tThe doo r wi th woodbine wreath ed abou t ,And wishes h i s one thought al l day

Oh ! i f I cou l d bu t fly awayFrom th i s du l l spo t

,the world to see ,

How happy.happy , happy.

How happy I Shou l d be !”

Am id the c i ty ’ s con s tant di n ,A man who round the worl d has been ,Who

,

’ mid the tumu l t and the throng,

IS t h ink ing , th ink i ng al l d ay l o ng :“ Oh ! cou l d I on l y t read o nce more

The fie ld -path to the farm -hou se door,The O ld green meadow cou ld I see ,

H OW happy.happy, happy.

How happy I shou l d be

MAR IAN DOUGLAS.

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And the sw al l ow s and sparrows Ch i rpi ng near ;

And Fan ny, w ho l ives j u st o ver the way ,

Comes ru n n i ng many a t ime each dayWi th her l i t t l e hand ’ s touch so warm

and k i nd,

And I sm i l e and talk , w i th t h e su n on

my Cheek ,And the l i tt l e l i ve hand se ems to st i r

and speakFo r Fanny i s dum b and I am bl i nd .

Fan ny i s sweet th i r teen,and she

Has fi n e bl ack ri ng l e t s and dark eyes

c lear,

And I am o lde r by sum me rs t h reet y Should we ho ld one another so

dear ?

Becau se she can not u t ter a word,

Nor hear the mu sic of bee o r b i rd,

The water- cart ’ s spl ash or the m i l k

man ’ s ca l lBe cau se I have ne ver see n the sky,Nor the l i t t l e s i nge rs that hum and flyY et k now she i s gaz i ng upon them al l !

For the su n i s sh i n i ng , the swal l ows fly,

The bees and the b lu eflie s mu rmu r l ow,

And I hear the water—cart go by,

With i t s coo l Sp l ash - sp lash down t he

du sty row ;And the l i t t l e o ne c lo se at m y s i de per

c e ives

M ine eyes up ra i sed to the co t tage eaves,

Where b i rds are ch i rp i ng i n summer

Sh i n e,

And I hear,though I can n ot l ook

,and

she ,

Though she can n ot hear, can the s i nge rs

seeAn d the l i t t l e soft fi ngers flu t te r i n

m ine

H ath n ot the dear l i t t l e hand a tongue,

When i t s t i rs o n my palm fo r th e l ove

o f me ?

Do I not know she i s p retty and young ?Hath not my sou l an eye to see

’Ti s p l easu re to make o n e ’ s bosom st i r,

To wonder h ow th ings appear to her,That I o n ly hear as th ey pass around

And as l ong as we s i t in“ the m usic and

l ight,

S ize i s happy to keep God ’ s s igh t,

And I am happy t o keep God ’ s sou nd .

Why , I k now her face , though I am

b l i n dI made i t of music l ong ago

S t range large eyes and dark hai r twinedRou nd the pen s i ve l igh t o f a brow of

snowA nd when I s i t by my l i t t l e one

,

A nd ho ld her hand and tal k i n the su n,

A nd hear the mu sic that hau n t s thep lace

,

I k now she i s ra i s i ng he r eyes t o me,

And guessi ng how gen tl e my vo ic e mu st

be,

And seeing the music u pon my face.

Though , i f ever the Lo rd shou l d gran tme a prayer

,

( I k n ow the fancy i s on l y va in ,)I shou ld p ray ,—_

j u s t once,when the

weather i s fai r,To see l i t t l e Fan ny and Lang l ey Lane

SA TURDA Y AF TERN OON .

Though Fan ny , perhap s , wou ld p ray tohear

The vo ice of the fr i e nd tha t she ho lds sodear,

The song of the b i rds , the hum o f the

s tree tI t i s bett e r t o be as we have beenEach keep ing up someth i ng , u n heard ,

un seen,

To make God ’ s heaven more strangeand sweet

Ah ! l i fe i s p l easan t i n Langl ey Lane !There i s a lways someth i ng sweet t o

hear ,Ch i rp i ng of b i rds o r patter o f ra i nAnd Fannv ,

my l i t t l e o ne,always

n ear !And though I am weak ly

,an d can

’

t l i ve

l ong,

And Fa n ny,my darl i ng

,i s far from

st ro ng,

And t hough we can never marri edhe

VVhat the n —s i n ce we hol d on e ano therso dear

,

For the sake o f th e p l easu re o n e can n o t

hear,

And the p l easu re that o n ly one ca n

see ?ROBERT B UCHANAN .

SATURDAY AFTERNOON .

I LOV E to l ook on a scen e l i k e th i s ,Of wi l d an d carel es s p lay ,And persuade myse l f that I am not O ld ,

A nd my l ock s are no t yet gray

Fo r i t st i rs the blood i n an old man 'shea rh

And makes his pu l ses fly ,

To catch the th ri l l o f a happy voice,

And the l igh t o f a pl easan t eye .

I have wal ked the w orld fo r fou rscoreyears

,

And they say that I am o ldThat my heart i s ri pe fo r the reaper

I) ea th,

And my years are w e l l n igh told .

I t i s very t rue—it i s very t rueI am old

,and I “ hide my t ime

B ut my heart wi l l l eap at a sce ne l i ke

thi s,

And I hal f ren ew m y prim e .

Play on ! play on ! I am w i th you there ,In the m idst o f you r merry ring ;

I can fee l the thr i l l o f the dari ng j ump ,

And the rush of the breathl ess sw i ng .

I h ide w i th you i n the fragran t hay,

And I w hoop the smo the red cal l ,And my feet s l i p u p on the se edy fl oor ,And I care not fo r the fal l .

I am w i l l i ng to d i e w hen m y t im e sha l l

com e .

And I shal l be glad to go

For the world,at be st , i s a w ea ry p lac e ,

And my pu l se i s get t i ng low ;

Bu t the grave i s da rk ,and the hea rt w i l l

fai lI n t read i ng i t s g l oomy w ay ;

And i t w i l es my heart from i ts d rea ri

n essTo se e the you ng so gay .

N ATHAN I EL PARK I-‘R W I LLI S .

WHEN I WENT FISH ING WITH

DAD .

WH E N I w as a boy—I’m an old man

n ow

Look a t the l i nes acr oss my brow ;O ld Time has furrowed them there .

My back i s ben t an d my eyes are d i m

He has p laced h i s finger on every l imb ,And pu l l ed ou t most o f my hai r .

Bu t i f l i fe has reached December,I ’m not too o l d to rememberWhen I wen t fi sh ing wi th dad .

We wou ld each o f us shou ld er h i s parto f the load

,

A nd joyfu l ly start along the road

Bu t dad ’ s was th e heavi e st share .

Ou t of the v i l lage abou t a m i l e,

Over a meadow , across a st i l e ,And then we were almost there .

Dea r o l d b rook,I can see i t st i l l

The mossy bank and the o ld graym i l l

,

Where I wen t fi sh ing wi th dad .

We wou ld wander about fo r a l i tt l e

spaceTo find th e cosiest , shad i est p lace ,Before we wen t to work .

Then dad wou ld arrange h i s rod and

l i n e,

A nd te l l me j u st how to manage m i neWhen the fi sh began to j erk .

If I o n l y cou ld feel a s I u sed to then !

I f the days cou ld o n ly come backaga in

,

When I wen t fi sh ing with dad !

We armed ou r hook s wi th the wrigg l ing

ba i t,

Then seated ou rse l ves on the ban k towai t

A nd see i f the fi sh wou ld b i te .

Somet imes they wou l d on ly take a look,

A s if th ey thought there m igh t-

be a hook ,But cou ldn ’ t be certa i n qu i t e .

There was one o l d perch that I u sedto th ink

Wou ld a lways l ook at the l in e andwi n k ,When I wen t“ fi sh i ng wi th dad .

And so we fi shed t i l l th e su n w as h igh ,And the morn i ng hours were al l go ne

by,

A nd th e vi l l age c l ock st ruck one .

I am hungry,J im

,

”then dad wou l d

sayLet ’ s give the fi shes a chan ce t o p layUnt i l ou r l unch i s do n e .

”

Oh,no th ing has eve r tasted so swee t

AS th e b ig sandwiches I u sed to eatWhen I wen t fi sh i ng wi th dad .

Then dad and I wou ld l i e o n the gras sAnd wai t fo r the heat of th e day to pass

How happy I u sed to fee lAn d what wonderfu l S to ri es he wou ld

tel lTo the eager boy tha t he l oved so wel l

,

Afte r ou r m id -day mea l !A nd how I wou ld ne st l e c lo se t o h i s

s id eTo hear o f the wo rl d so big andw ide ,When I went fi sh i ng wi th dad !

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You ough t to have seen the l ook of su rp ri se

A l as that su rp ri se shou l d wi the r andfade

That br igh ten ed and gladdened and

mo i sten ed h i s eyes,

When appeared the bespangl ed , an

t ique caval cade .

And somehow my fanc i es wen t wandering by

I n to real m s hal f fo rgo tten , as fanc i e sw i l l flow ,

To the dav when my brothe r —poorJohn ny—and I

,

With a sh i l l ing between u s , se t ou t fo rthe Show .

P OL T/CS .

We k new , when we started , t hat on emust stay ou t

\Vhile th e other wen t in,and we tossed

up a cen tO ne agon i z ed momen t o f l o ngi ng and

doubg

And i t fe l l i n h i s favor—I Stayed,and

he wen t .

For two mortal hou rs,wi th n ever a

pau se ,I stood by the ten t an d t ri ed hard not

to c ry ;I fo l l owed the mu si c and heard the ap

p lause ,

Hal f angry,hal f happy. Ah

,wel l ,

was that I

Was i t I who awai ted my brother ’ s re

tu rn,

And found i n h is eyes a w arm , p i ty ing

gl ow ,

When he said,

“ Never m i nd , the n extsh i l l ing we earn

S hal l,be you rs

,every ce n t t i l l you go

to a Show .

”

Thi s go ld en hai red youngste r hasbrough t i t al l back

,

A p ictu re o f su n sh i n e and sympathy

blen t,

The l ove o f two bro the rs , a bac kg rou nd

of blackFor h i s summon s cam e ea rly—I stayed ,

and he wen t .

The c i rcus,I tak e i t

,i s a lways the same ,

Bu t on l y th e v i s io n of boyhood can see

I t s marve l l ou s wond e rs,w h i ch pu t to the

shameThe d u l l com p re hen sion o f graybeard s

l i k e m e .

My l i tt l e compan io n re v i ve s an o ld pai nB y h is i n n ocen t pl easu re

,h is happy

surpr i se .

Come here,you young rascal ! I

’

l l tak e

you agai n .

Heigh -ho ! w hat i s th i s ? The re aretears i n h i s eyes !

MARC COOK .

POL IT ICS .

B ILL M ORE and I,i n days gone by

,

\Vere fri ends the l o ng year through ,Save when

,above the mel t i ng s now

,

lVi ld March h i s t rumpet bl ew .

O ut spoken foes we then arose ;Each chose a d i ffe re n t way ;

For March,to ou r N ew Hampsh i re hi l l s ,

B ri ngs back tow n -m e et i ng day .

I t s gi ngerbread and orange s ,Al i ke on B i l l and me ,

That day bestowed,bu t on ly one

Cou ld share i t s v ic to rv .

For what was V i c to ry ? We had

Opposi ng v i ews o f tha t ,For B i l ly was an O ld L i n e Whig ,

And I a Dem oc rat .

The t id e o f po l i t ic s ran high

Among the v i l l age boys ,And those w e re t ru e s t pat ri ot s

\Vho made the gre a te st noi se .

A nd who cou ld h igher to ss h i s cap ,O r l ouder shou t than I

Ti l l a l l the mou n tai n echoes l earn tMy party batt l e-c ry !

One t ime—it was el ect i o n morn,

Beside the town -house door,Among a t roop of cheer ing boys

,

I came on Bi l ly More.

Cheer on ! I cal l ed I wou l d no t

giveFor you r hu rrahs a fig

Bu t say, what do the Whigs bel i eve ?

Speak , B i l l y ! you’ re a Whig .

”

A nd B i l l sa i d “ I don ’ t k now or care ;You needn ’

t ask me that ;You ’d bette r tel l m e i f you can ,Why you ’ re a Democrat .

And I commenced i n bo l d d i sda i n,

What ? te l l you i f I can ?I Why my father ’ s cand i dateFor second sel ec tman .

And he k n ow s—I k now—he k n owshe

I -th i n k—I fee l—I—I

I —I—I am a Democrat,

And t/zat’s the reason why .

Ha ! ha !” the mock i ng Shou t that

roseI seem to hear i t n ow

,

And fee l the ho t , t umu l tuou s b l oodThat cri msoned cheek an d brow

I m ight have sp ared my bl u shes then ,I shou ld have kept my shame

Fo r men , grown men , who figh t t o -dayFor j u st a party name !

Th i s s ide o r that th ey cast the i r vo tes,

And p ledge the i r fai th,and why

Go ask , a nd you wi l l fi nd them wi seAs B i l ly More and I

MAR IAN DOUGLAS.

THE FI FTI ETH B IRTHDAY OF

AGASS IZ .

TWAS fifty years ago ,I n the p l easan t mon th of M ay

,

I n th e beau t i fu l Pays de V au d,

A ch i l d i n i t s c rad l e l ay.

And Natu re , the ol d n u rse , tookThe ch i l d upon her k nee

,

Sayi ng,Here i s a story -book

Thy Fath er has wri t te n fo r thee .

Come,wander wi th me

,She sa id ,

“ In to reg i on s yet u n t rod ,And read what i s st i l l u n readIn the man uscr ip ts of God .

And he wandered away and away ,With Natu re

,the dear O ld nu rse,

Who sang to h im n igh t an d dayThe rhym es o f th e u n i verse .

An d w henever the way seemed l ong,O r h i s hear t began t o fai l ,

She wou l d s ing a more won derfu l song,O r te l l a more marvel l ou s tal e .

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G ran dpapa ’s eyes are grow i ng d im,

They have l ooked on sorrow an d

deathBu t the l ove-l ight n ever wen t ou t of them ,

Nor the courage and the fai th .

You,ch i ldren , al l o f you ,

”says mamma,Have need to l ook up to dear grand

papa .

Grandpapa ’s yea rs are weari ng few ,

But he l eaves a b l e ssing beh i n d,

A good l ife l i ved and a good fight fough t ,True heart and equal m i nd .

“Remember,my ch i ld ren ,

” says mamma,

You bear the name o f you r grandpapa .

”

D I NAH MULOCK CRA IK .

AMONG THE BEAUTIFUL

P ICTURES .

AMON G the beau t i fu l p i ctu re sThat hang on Memory ’ s wal l ,I s one of a d im O ld fo rest

,

That seemeth bes t o f al l AL ICE CARY.

No t for i t s gnarl ed oak s o l de n ,Dark w i th the mi st l e toe ;Not fo r the vi o l et s go ldenThat Sp ri nk l e the val e be l ow ;No t for the m i l k -whi te l i l i e sThat l ean from the fragran t l edge

,

Coquet t ing al l day w i th the sunbeam s,

And steal ing thei r go l den edgeNo t for the v ines on the u p land

,

Where the brigh t red berries rest ;Nor the p i n k s

,nor the pal e

,sweet cow

sl ip,

I t seemeth to me the best .

I once had a l i t t l e b rotherWith eyes that were dark an d deep ;

I n the l ap of that ol d d im fo restH e l ieth i n p eace asl eep ;

L igh t as the down of the th i stl e,

Free as the w i nds that blow,

We roved there the beaut ifu l summers,

The summers Of l ong agoBut h i s feet o n the h i l l s grew weary,And on e o f the au tum n eves

I made fo r my l i t t l e brotherA bed of the yel l ow l eaves.

Sweet ly h i s pa l e arms fo ldedMy neck in a meek embrace ,

As th e l ight of i mmortal beau tyS i l en t l y covered h i s face ;

And when t h e a rrows of su n setLodged i n the t ree-t op s brigh t ,He fel l

,i n h i s sai nt- l i k e beau ty,

Asleep by the gates of l igh t .

Therefo re, o f al l the p i c tu re s

That hang on Memory ’ s wal l ,The one Of the d im ol d fo restS eemeth the best of al l .

YOUTH AND AGE .

IM PAT I EN T of h i s ch i l dhood ,“ Ah me exc laim s young Arthu r

,

Whi l st rov i ng in the wi ld wood ,I wi sh I were my father !

”

Meanwhi l e,to see h i s Arthu r

So Sk i p,and p lay , and run ,

Ah me exc la im s the father ,I wi sh I were my son

THOMAS H OOD.

TH E OLD CAN OE . 243

THE OLD CANOE .

lVH ERE th e rock s and theshore i s steep ,

And the waters bel ow look dark anddeep ,

Where th e rugged p i n e,i n i t s l on ely

prid e,

Lean s gl oom i ly over the murky t ide ;t ere the reed s and ru shes are l ong

and rank,

And the weeds grow th ick on th e wi nding ban k

Where the shadow i s heavy the whol edav through

,

L i e s a t i t s moo ri ngs the o l d can oe

are gray,

The u sel ess padd l es are i d ly d ropped,

L i k e a sea-bi rd ’ s w i ng that the stormhas lopped ,

And cro ssed o n the ra i l ing . o ne o ’e r on e ,L i k e the fo lded hand s when the wo rk i s

don e ;“Ib i l e bu si ly back an d forth between

The sp id er st retches h i s s i l ve ry sc reen,

And the so l em n owl , wi th h i s du l l“ t oo

hoo,

”

Set t l e s down on the side of the ol d

can oe .

The ste rn hal f sunk in th e s l i my wave ,Rots S l owly away in i t s l i v i ng grave ,And the gree n mo ss c reep s o

’

er i t s d u l ldecay,

H id ing the mou lderi ng du st away ,L i k e the hand that p lan t s o

’ er the tomba flower

,

O r the ivy that man t l es the fal l ing

towe r

Whi l e many a bl ossom o f l ove l ie st hueSpri ngs up o

’

er the ste rn o f the o ldcanoe .

But n ow,a s l l ean o

'e r the c rumbl i ng

side ,And look be low i n the sl uggi sh t ide ,The face that I see there i s graver grown ,

And the laugh that I hear has a sobe re r

tone,

The c u rre nt le ss waters are dead andSt i l l

B ut the l igh t w i nd plays wi th the boatat w i l l

,

And laz i ly i n and ou t agai nI t fl oat s the l e ngth o f i t s ru sty chai n

,

L i k e the weary march o f the han d s o ft ime ,

That meet and part at the n oon t idech im e ,

And the shore i s k i ssed at each tu rnan ew

By the d ri pp i ng bow o f the old canoe .

Oh,many a t ime

,w i th a carel ess hand ,

[have pu shed i t away from the pebbly

St rand ,And paddled i t dow n where the st ream

ru n s q u i ckWhere the wh i rl s a re w i ld and the ed

d ies are thi ckA nd laughed as I l eaned o

’

e r the rock

i ng side ,And looked bel ow i n the broken t ide .

To see that the faces and boat s were two

That we re m i rro red back from the O ld

canoe .

244 OH , TH E P LEASAN T DA rs OF OLD !

And the hands that l en t to the l igh t sk i ffW i ngs

Have grown fam i l iar w i th sterner th i ngs ,But I l ove to th ink of th e hou rs that

flewAs I rocked where the wh i r l s the i r wh i t e

spray th rew,

Ere the bl o ssom waved , o r the green

grass grew ,

O’

er th e m ou l der ing ste rn of th e O ld

canoe .EM ILY REBECCA PAGE

OH ,TH E PLEASANT DAYS OF

OLD !

O H , the p l easan t days o f O ld ,which so

Often peop l e p ra i se

T rue,they wan ted a l l th e l uxu ri es thatgrace ou r m odern days :

Bare floors were st rewed wi th ru shes , the

wal l s l e t i n th e co ld ;Oh , how they must have sh ivered i n those

p leasan t days of O ld

Oh , those anc i e n t l o rd s of O ld , how magn ific e nt they were !

They th rew down and impri soned k i ngs,

— to thwart them who m igh t dare ;They ru l ed the i r se rfs righ t s tern ly ; they

took from Jews the i r go ld,

Above both law and equ i ty were those

great lo rd s of O ld

Oh , the gal lan t kn igh t s of O ld , for thei r

val o r SO renownedWi th sword and l ance and armor st rong

they scou red the coun t ry rou nd ;

Oh,th ose , bl essed t imes of o l d , wi th thei rch i val ry an d state !

I l ove to read thei r ch ron i c l es, wh ichsuch brave deed s rel at e ;

And wheneve r augh t to tempt them theymet by wood or wold

,

By righ t o f sword they se ized the p rize,

—those gal l an t k n ight s of o l d

Oh , th e gen tle dames of o ld ! who , qu i tefree from fear or pain ,

Cou l d gaze on j ou s t and tournamen t ,and see the i r champ ion s la in ;

They l i ved on good beefs teak s and al e,

wh ich made them st ro ng and

bo ld ,Oh

,more l i k e m en t han women werethose gen t l e dam es of o ld !

Oh,tho se m igh ty towers of o l d ! wi ththe i r t u rre ts

,m oat

,and k eep

,

Thei r bat t l em en t s an d bast i on s , thei r

dungeon s dark and deep .

Fu l l many a baron hel d h i s cou rt w i th i n

the cast l e h o ld,

And many a capt i ve l angu i shed therei n those st rong tow ers o f O ld .

Oh ,t he t roubadou rs o f O ld wi th thegen t l e m instre l s ie

Of hope and j oy,o r deep despai r

,wh ich

e ’ er the i r l o t m igh t be ;For years they served the i r ladye - l ove

,

ere they the i r pass i ons to l d

Oh,wondrou s pat i en ce mu st haVe hadthose troubadou rs of o ld

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246 A GOOD TIM E GOIN G !

A GOOD TIME GO I NG !

ADDRESSED TO CH ARLES MACKAY,ON H IS

DEPARTURE FROM AM ER ICA .

B RAV E S inger of the com ing t ime ,Sweet m i n stre l o f the j oyou s p resen t ,

Crowned wi th the nob l es t wreath ofrhyme

,

The ho l ly- l eaf of Ayrsh i re ’ s peasan t ,Good-by l Good-by —Ou r hearts a n d

hands,

Our l i p s in ho nest Saxon phrases,

Cry, God be wi th h im , t i l l he standsH i s feet among the Engl i sh dai s i es !

’Ti s here we part —fo r o ther eyesThe bu sy deck , the flu ttering streamer,

The d ripp ing arms that p l unge and ri se,

The waves in foam , the sh ip i n t remor,The kerch i efs wav ing from th e p i e r

,

The c l oudy p i l la r gl i d ing o ’ e r h im ,

The deep b lu e desert , l one and drear,With heaven above and home be fo re

h im

H is home —the Western giant sm i l es,

And twi rl s the spotty gl obe to fi ndi t ;

Thi s l i tt l e Speck the Bri t i sh I s l es ?’Ti s bu t a freck l e

,—never m ind i t !

He l aughs , and al l h i s p raIr IeS ro l l ,Each gu rgl ing catarac t roars andchuck l es

,

And ridges stre tched from po le to po l eHeave t i l l they crack the i r i ron

k nuck l es !

Bu t Memory blu shes at the sneer,

And Honor tu rn s w i th frown defian t,

A nd Freedom , l ean ing on he r Spear,Laughs l ouder than the laugh i ng

gian tA n i s l et i s a w orld

, She sa id ,When glo ry wi th i t s d u st has b lended ,

And B ri tai n keeps her nobl e deadT i l l ear th and seas and Sk i es are rend

cd

Beneath each swi ngi ng fo re st-boughSome arm as stou t i n death repo ses

,

From wave-washed foo t to heaven-k i ssedbrow

Her valo r’ s l i fe-bl ood ru n s in ro ses ;Nay

,l e t ou r b rothers of the West

Wri te sm i l ing i n thei r fl ori d pages,One hal f her so i l ha s wal ked the res t

I n poets,heroes , martyrs , sages !

Hugged i n the c l inging b i l l ow ’ s c l asp ,From sea-weed fringe to mountai n

heather,The B ri t i sh oak w i th roo ted graspH er S l ender handfu l ho l ds together

Wi th c l iffs of whi te and bowers of green ,And O cean narrow ing to caress her,

And h i l l s and threaded st ream s between ,

Our l i tt l e m o ther i s l e , God bl ess her !

I n earth ’ s broad templ e where we stand ,Far med by the easte rn gale s that

brough t u s,

We hold the m i ssa l i n ou r hand,

B righ t wi th the l ines ou r Moth ertaugh t u s

Where’

e r i ts b lazoned page bet raysThe gl i sten i ng l ink s of gi l ded fet ters

TH E SEA . 247

Beho ld , the hal f- tu rn ed leaf d i sp laysH e r rubric sta ined in c r im son l e t te rs !

Enough ! To speed a part i ng fri end’Ti s vai n a l i k e to speak and l i sten ;

Yet stay,—these feeb l e accen t s b l end

Wi th rays of l igh t from eyes thatgl i sten .

Good -by once more,—and k i nd ly te l l

I n words of peace the young world ’ ssto ry

,

And say , bes ides , we love too wel l

Ou r mothers’ so i l , ou r fathers’ glo ry !

OL I VER WENDELL H OLMES .

THE SEA .

[The sp i ri ted lyr ic wh ich fo l lows was se t to a m e lody so

su i ted to it that it shou ld be re v ived for our mus ica l boys.

A famous E ng l ish tenor nam ed H e nry Ph i l l ips w as to s ing ata fine conce rt , and th is song had been w ri tten for h im . H e

heard the com pose r s ing it , and w as impressed that it was to

be a fa i lure . B ut when the orche stra p layed the pre lude ,he

caught the rea l sp ir i t of the p iece ,and sa id , I fe l t suddenly

insp ired, sang it w ith all my ene rgy , and ga ined a voc ife rousencore .

” Cheva l ie r N eukomm ,who composed it , w rote a

great quant i ty of music , inc lud ing o ratorios, bu t noth ing ofhis now l ives e xcep t th is song .]

TH E sea ! the sea the open sea !

The b l ue,the fre sh , the ever free

Wi thou t a mark , wi thou t a bou nd ,I t ru n neth the earth 's w ide regio n s round ;I t p l ays wi th the clouds , i t m oc k s the

sk i es,

O r l i k e a c rad led c rea tu re l i es .

I ’m on th e sea ! I ’m on the sea !

I am where I wou l d eve r be ,With the b l ue above , and the bl u e be low ,

A nd s i l ence wheresoe ’ er I go .

If a storm shou ld com e,and aw ake the

deep,

What matter ? I shal l r ide and sle ep .

I l ove,oh how I l ove to ride

On the fierce,foam i ng

,burst i ng t id e

,

When every mad wave drow n s the moon,

O r whi st l e s aloft his tempest tu n e,

And tel l s how goeth the world below,

And why the sou ’-west blast s do blow

I neve r was on the d u l l,tame shore

,

But I l oved the great sea more and more ,And backward flew to he r b i l l owy breast ,L i k e a bi rd tha t seeke th i ts m othe r

'

sn est ;

And a mother she wa s and i s to m e,

For I w a s born on the open sea

The waves w ere wh i te ,a nd red the m o rn ,

In the n o i sy hou r w hen I w as born ;And the whal e i t wh i st led , the porpo ise

rol l ed,

And the dol ph i n s bared the i r back s o f

gold ;And never was heard such an ou tc ry

wi l dAs welcomed to l i fe the ocean ch i ld !

I 've l ived si nce then,i n calm and st ri fe ,

Fu l l fi fty summ e rs a sai lo r'

s l i fe ,Wi th w eal th to spend , and a pow e r to

range,

But n ever have sough t no r sighe d fo r

Change ;And Death , whenever he com e s to m e

,

Shal l come on the w i ld ,u nbounded sea !

B RY AN WALLER PRUCTLR.

248 TH E H OM E S OF E N GLAN D .

THE HOMES OF ENGLAND . So l emn ye t sweet the chu rch be l l s ’ ch ime

TH E state ly homes o f Engl and ! Float s th rough thei r wood s at morn ;

H ow beau t i fu l they stand , Al l o ther sou nds i n tha t st i l l t ime,

Am id st the i r tal l ancest ral t rees, Of breez e and l eaf are born .

O’

e r al l th e pl easan t l and

The deer across the i r green sward bound ,Through shade and su nny gleam ,

And the swan gl ide s past them wi th th e

sou ndO f some rej o ic ing St ream .

The merry homes o f EnglandAround the i r hearths by n igh t,

What gladsom e l ooks of househo l d l oveMee t i n the ruddy l igh t !

There woman ’ s voice fl ows fo rth in song,O r ch i l d i sh tal e i s tol d

,

O r l i ps move tunefu l ly’

al ongSom e gl o r i ou s page of o ld.

The blessed homes of EnglandHow soft ly on the i r bowers

I s lai d the ho ly qu i etness

That b reathes from sabbath hou rs !

The co ttage homes o f England !By thou sand s on her p lai n s

They ’ re sm i l ing o ’ e r the s ilv ’

ry brook s,And rou nd the ham l et fan es .

Through glowi ng orchard s forth they

peep ,Each from i t s nook of l eaves ;

A nd fearl ess there the l owly s l eep,

As the bi rd beneath the i r eaves.

The free,fai r homes ofEngland !

Long,l ong

,in but and hal l

,

May hearts of n at i ve p roof be rearedTo guard each ha l l owed wal l

And greeni

fo reve r be the groves ,And brigh t the fl owery sod ,

Where fi rst the ch i l d ’s gl ad sp i r i t l ovesI ts cou n t ry and i t s God

FEL IC IA H EMANS.

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V ERSES .

[Supposed to have be en w r i t te n by A lexand e r Se lk i rk during his abode on the is land of Juan Fe rnande z . H e was a

Scott i sh sa i lor, and spent four years and fou r m on ths ( 17041709) a lone on the is land . The common be l ie f tha t De foe

sto le his story for Rob inson Crusoe"is probab ly e rroneous .]

I AM monarch of al l I su rvey,

My right there i s n o n e to d i spu te ;From the ce n t re al l rou nd to th e sea

,

I am l o rd o f the fowl and the bru te .

O So l i tu de where are the'

charm s

That sages have seen i n thy face ?

Better dwel l i n the m idst of al arm s,

Than re ign i n th i s ho rri bl e p lace .

I am ou t of human i ty’ s re ach

,

I mu st fi n i sh my j ourn ey al o ne ,Never hear the sweet mu si c o f spee ch ,

I s tart at the sou nd o f my own .

The beasts,that roam over the p la i n ,

My form wi th i n d iffe rence see ;They are so u nacq uai n ted w i th man ,Thei r tameness i s shock i ng to me .

Soc i e ty,fr i e ndsh i p , and l ove ,

Di v i nely bestowed upo n man ,Oh , had I the wings o f a dove ,H ow soon would I taste you agai n !

My so rrows I then m ight assuageI n the ways o f rel igi o n and t ru th ,

Might l earn from the w i sdom of age ,And be cheered by the sal l i es o f youth

Re l ig ion ! wha t t reasu re u n to ld

Resides i n that heave n ly w ordMo re p rec iou s than si l ve r and gol d ,

Or al l that th i s earth can affo rd .

But the sou nd o f the chu rch-go i ng bel lThese val l eys and rocks neve r heard

,

Never sighed at the sou nd o f a k ne l l ,O r sm i led when a sabbath appeared .

Ye wi nds , that have m ade m e you r SportConvey to thi s deso late sho re

Some cord ia l endeari ng report

O f a land I sha l l v i s i t n o more .

My fri ends , do they now and then se ndA wi sh o r a thought a fte r me ?

Oh ,tel l me I ye t have a fri e nd ,

Though a frie nd I am n eve r to se e .

i

How fleet i s a glance o f t he mi nd !Compared w i th the speed o f i ts fl ight

The tempest i t se l f lags beh i nd,

And the sw i ft -w i nged arrow s o f l ight .When I th i n k o f my ow n na t i ve land ,

I n a moment I se em to be the re ;But alas ! recol l ec t i on a t handSoon hu rri e s m e back to d e spa i r .

B u t the sea ’ fow l i s gon e to he r ne st ,The beast i s la id dow n i n his l ai r ;Even here i s a season o f re st

,

And I to my cabi n repai r .

There ’s mercy i n every p lace ,

And mercy,e ncourag i ng thought !

Gives eve n afli ic tio n a grace ,

And reco nc i le s man to his l ot .

WI LLIA“ Co w rua .

B RUCE AND TH E svunaa .

FO R Scot lan d'

s and fo r fre edom's r ight

The B ruce his part had pl ayed ,

In fi ve successi ve fi elds o f fight

Be e n conque red and d i smayed ;

TH E SP IDER AN D TH E FL Y .

lo re again st t he Engl i sh host

Id he led , and once more lo st

n eed fo r wh ich he fough t ;w from bat tl e, fa i n t an d worn ,mel ess fugi t i ve forl orn

t’

s l o n e she l ter sough t .

eerle ss was that rest i ng-p lace

i im who c la imed a th rone

opy, devo i d of grace ,“ude

,rough beam s al o ne ;

i ther couch hi s o n ly bed ,1 I ween had sl umber fl ed

l couch of e i der-downh dark some n ight t i l l daw n o f

lay,

ad i n wakefu l t hought he lay

ot land and her c rown .

l rose bright ly,and i t s gl eam

m that hap l e ss bed,

iged wi th l igh t each shape l essearnh roofed the l owly shed

ook ing up wi th wi st fu l eye ,i ce behe ld a spider t ry

lmy t hread to fl i ng

a m t o beam o f that rud e co t ;ll the i n sect ’ s to i l some l o t

i t Scot l and ’ s fu tu re k ing .

3 h i s go ssamery thread'ary sp ider threw ;the fi lmy l ine was sped ,)w e rless or u ntrue

n appeared , and back reco i l eden t in sect

,s ix t imes fo i l ed ,

Saw him p repare once more to'

t ryH i s cou rage , s t rength , and sk i l l .

One effort more, h i s seve n th and l ast !The hero ha i l ed the s ig n

And on the wi shed-fo r beam hu ng fastThat sl e nde r

,s i l k en l i n e ;

S l ight a s i t was,h i s sp i ri t caught

The mo re than omen,for h i s thought

The l e sson wel l cou l d t race ,Which even “ he who run s may read

,

’

That Perseverance ga in s i t s meed ,And Pat i en ce wi n s the race .

B ERNARD B ARTON .

TH E SPIDER AN D TH E FLY .

W I LL you wal k i n to my pa rlo r ?”

Said a sp i der to a fly’T i s the p re tt i est l i tt l e parl o r

That eve r you d id spy .

The way in to my parl orI s u p a wind ing stai r

,

And I have many p ret ty th ingsTo show when you are th ere.

0 n o , no ,” sa id the l i t t l e fly ,

To ask me i s i n vainFor who goes up you r wi nd i ng s ta i rs,Can ne ’ er come down agai n .

”

I ’m sure you must be wearyWi th soar ing up so h igh

Wi l l you rest upon my l i t t l e bed ?Said the sp i der to th e fly .

There are p retty cu rtain s d rawn arou nd ,The sheet s are fi ne and th in ;

A

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Ti l /ff 1618

O n o,n o

,sai d the l i t t l e fly

,

For I ’v e ofte n heard i t said,

Th ey n ever,never wake agai n

,

Who sleep upon you r bed .

”

Said the cun n i ng sp ide r to the fly,

Dear fri end,what shal l I do

,

To prove the warm affection

I ’ve always fel t fo r you

I have,wi th in my pan t ry ,

Good sto re of al l that ’ s n ice ;I ’m su re you ’ re very welcom eWi l l you p l ease to take a s l ice ?

O n o , no , sai d the l i t t l e fly,“ Ki n d si r

,that can n ot be ;

I 've heard what ’ s i n you r pan t ry ,And I do not wi sh to se e .

”

A/vl ) 25

Sw e e t c reat u re,sa id the Sp id e r ,

You ’

re w i t ty and you ’

re w i se ;H ow han dsom e a re you r ga u z y w i ngs .

How b r i l l ian t a re you r e ve s .

I hav e a l i t t le l ook i ng-g la ssUpon m y pa rl o r she l f ;

If you ’ l l step i n o ne m o m e n t,d e ar

,

You shal l beho ld you rse lf.

I thank you,gen t l e si r

,she said .

For w hat you’re pl eased to sa v .

And bidd i ng yo u g o m l-m o ru iugr n o w

,

I'

l l cal l an othe r d ay ,

The sp ide r tu rn ed him rou n d abou t ,And wen t i n to h i s d e n ,

For we l l he kn ew the s il lv llv

\Vo u ld soon be b ac k ag a i n

So he w ove a subt le w eb You r robes are green and purp l e,

In a l i t t l e co rn er s ly , There ’ s a c rest u pon you r headAnd set h is tab l e ready You r eyes a re l i k e the

—

d iamon d brigh t,

To d i n e upo n the fly . But m i n e are du l l as l ead.

”

He wen t ou t to h i s door again,

And merr i ly d i d S i ng,

Come h i ther,h i ther

,p retty fly

,

With pearl and si l ve r wi ng ;

Alas , alas ! how very soon

Th i s s i l ly l i t t l e fly,

H eari ng h i s w i ly,

fla tte r i ngw ords ,

Came sl owly fl i t t i ng by

Wi th buz z i ng w i ngs shehu ng aloft

,

The n n ear an d n eare r

drew

Thought on ly of h e r bri l l ian t eyes

,

A nd green and pu rp l e

hu e ;Thought on ly o f he r cre st

ed head

P oor foo l i sh th i ng ! At

last

Up j umped the cu n n ingsp i der

,

And fi erce ly he ld he r

fast .

H e dragged her up h is

W i nding stai r

I n to h i s d i smal den ‘

With i n h i s l i t t l e parl o r

bu t

She ne’ e r cam e ou t aga i n !

And n ow dear l ittle ch i l d ren

t o may th i s s to ry read,To i d le

,s i l ly

,flat teri ng word s ,

I p ray you,n e ’ e r g i ve heed

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I suppose,cr i ed the mu l e , some

fo l k s th i n k me a fool,

Bu t I ’m no t qu i te so s imp l e as that ;The poo r calf n ever k nows what she ’s

at .”

J ust that momen t the calf, w ho was al n

ways the l aughA nd the j es t o f the yard

,cam e i n sigh t

.

D id you shu t my barn ~door ?” askedthe farmer once more .

I d i d, s i r ; I c l osed i t l ast n igh t ,Sa i d the ca lf ;

“ an d I though t thatwas righ t .”

Then each one shook hi s head .

wil l catch i t,

” t hey sai d ;Serve her r igh t for her m edd lesome

way !”

Said the farmer,

Come here,l i tt l e

bossy,my dear ;

You have done what I cannot’

repay,

A nd you r fortu n e i s m ade from to -day .

For a wonder,l ast n igh t I forgo t the

door qu i te,

And if you had not shu t i t so neatAl l my co l ts had

'

s l i pped i n,and gone

right to the b in ,And got what they ough t n o t to ea tThey’d have fou ndered them selves

upon wheat .”

Then each hoof o f them al l began l ou dlyto bawl

The very mu l e sm i l ed the cock crew .

L i t t l e Spo tty,my dear

,you ’re a fa

vor ite here,

”

They cri ed .

“We al l sa id i t was you ;We were so glad to give you you r

due

And t he cal f an swered,k nowingly

,

BooPH cE B E CARY.

TH E [110 Tf/E/GLE SS

THE MOTHERLESS TURKEYS .

TH E whi te tu rkey was dead ! the w h i tetu rkey was dead !

H ow the n ews through the barnyardwen t flyi ng

Of a mother bereft, four smal l tu rk eyswere l eft

,

And thei r case fo r ass i stan ce was c ryi ng .

E ’en the peacock respectfu l ly fo lded hi sta i l

A s a su i tabl e symbo l o f sorrow,

And h i s p l ai ner wife sai d,

N ow the o ldbi rd i s dead

,

Who wi l l tend her poor ch ick s on the

morrow ?

And when even i ng a rou nd them com e sdreary an d ch i l l

,

Who above them w i l l w atchfu l l y

ho ver ?”

Two each n ight I wi l l tuck ’ n eath m y

wi ngs,

” sai d the duck,

Though I ’ve eigh t of m y ow n I m ust

cover ;I have so muck to do ! For the bugs

and the worm s

I n the garden ’ t i s t i resome p i ck i n’

;

I have noth i ng to spare—fo r my own Imust care

,

”

Said the hen wi th one ch i cken .

H ow I w i sh , sai d the goose ,“ I cou l d

be of some u se ,For my heart i s w i th love overbrim

m i ng !The nex t morn i ng that ’ s fine th ey shal l

go w i th my n i n e

L i t t l e yel l ow -back ed gosl i ngs o u t

sw 1m m 1ng .

”

I w i l l do what I can, the old Dork

i ng pu t i n ,And fo r hel p they m ay cal l upon m e

too,

Though I ’v e te n o f m y ow n that a re on lyhal f grow n ,

And a great deal o f t roubl e to se e to .

But those poor l i t t l e th i ngs,they are al l

head s and w i ngs ,And thei r bones through the i r fe a th

ers are st ic k in ’

V ery hard i t m ay be , bu t o h don't com e

to me !”

Said the he n w i th one c h icken .

Hal f my care , I Suppose ,t he re i s n o

body k now sI

’

m the most o ve rbu rde n ed o fm othe rs !They m us t l earn , l i t t l e e l ve s , how to

scratch fo r themsel ve s ,And not seek to depend upon othe rs .

She w en t by wi th a cluck , and the goose

to the duckExclaim ed

,i n su rpri se ,

\Ve l l , l

- neve r Y'

Said the duck,

“ I d ec lare , those who

have the l east care ,You wi l l fi nd ,

a re compla i n i ng fo r

ever !And when al l thi ngs appear to l ook

th reat e n i ng and d rear ,And when troubl e s you r pa thw ay a re

th i ck i n,

For a id i n you r woe , o h beware how yo u

goTo a he n w i th one ch i cken

MARIAN DOUGLAS.

260 TH E WH I TE K I TTE N .

THE WH ITE KITTEN .

MY l i tt l e wh i te k i t te n’

s asl eep on my

kn e e ;As w h i te as the snow or the l i l ie s i s she

She wakes up wi th a pu rrWhen I st roke her soft fu r

Was there ever an other wh i te k i t ten l i k eher ?

My l i tt l e wh ite kitten now wants to goou t

And fro l ic w i th no one to watch herabou t ;L i tt l e K i tten

,I say

Ju st an hou r you may stay,

And be carefu l i n choo sing you r p lacesto p lay .

”

Bu t n igh t has com e down when I h ear a

l oud Mew ,

”

I open the door and my k i t te n com e s

th rough ;My whi te k i t te n ah me !Can i t real ly be she

,

Thi s i l l -l ook i ng an d beggar- l i ke cat that

I see ?

What ugly gray st reak s on her si de andher back

H er n ose,once as p l uk as a rose-bud, i s

b l ack !O

,I very wel l k now

,

Though she does no t say so,

Sh e has bee n where wh i te k i t te n s oughtn ever t o go .

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That d ied a natura l death ;And he ’d undertak e to po i so n the cat

,

I f they ’ d l et h i m p repare that mou se .There ’ s n o t been a natu ral death

,

they shr i ek ed ,S ince the cat came i n to the house

The smal l est mou se in the cou nc i lA rose wi t h a so l em n ai r,

And,by way of i nc reasi ng h i s s tat u re

,

Rubbed up h i s wh i sk ers and hai r .He wai ted unt i l there was s i l enceA l l a l ong the pan try- shel f,

A nd then he sa i d wi th d ign i ty,

[ wi l l catch the cat myse l f !

'

When n ext I hear her com ing,

In stead of runn i ng away ,I shal l tu rn and face he r bo ld ly

,

And p re tend to be at p layShe wi l l no t see her danger

,

Poor creature ! I supposeBu t as she stoop s to catch me

,

I shal l catch lzer by the nose !”

The m ice began to l ook hopeful,

Yes,even th e o l d ones

,when

A gray -hai red sage sa id sl owly,

And what wi l l you do wi th her

then P”

The champ ion,di sconcerted

,

Repl i ed wi th d ign i ty,Wel l

,

I th ink,i f you ’ l l al l excu se me

,

’Twou l d be w i ser no t t o te l l .

We al l have ou r i n sp i rat ion sTh i s p roduced a general sm i rkBu t we are no t all at l i bertyTo expl ain j u st how they ’ l l wo rk .

The cat,I regre t to men t i on

,

S t i l l p rances abou t that hou se ,And n o message

,l e t te r

,Or t e l egram

Has come from the champ i on mou se.

I ask you , then , to t ru st meYou need have n o fu rther fears

Con s i der ou r enemy don e for !”

The counci l gave th ree cheers

I do bel i eve she ’s com ingSaid a smal l mou se

,n ervou sly .

Run, i f you l i ke ,

” sa i d the champ i on,

Bu t [ shal l wai t and seeA nd su re en ough she was coming ;The m ice al l scampered away

Excep t th e n obl e champion

Who had made up h i s m ind to stay.

Th e m ice had fa i t h—o f cou rse theyhad

They were al l o f them n obl e sou l s,

B ut a so rt of genera l feel i ng

Kep t them safely i n th ei r hol esUn t i l some t i me in the even i ng ;Then t he bo ldest ven tu red ou t

,

And saw , happi ly in the d istance ,The cat prance gayly abou t l

There was dreadfu l con s ternat i o n,

Ti l l some on e at last said, Oh

,

He ’s no t had t ime to do itLe t u s n o t p rej udge him so

I be l i eve i n h im , of cou rse I do,Said the n ervou s mou se wi th a sigh ,But the cat l ook s u ncommon l y happy ,And I wi sh I did k now why

Tl/A’

EE OLD SA M/S .

The m ice are a l i t t l e d i scou raged ;The demand fo r crape goes o n ;

They feel they’ d be happ i er if they

k newWhere the champ io n m ou se has gone .

Thi s story has a moralI t i s very short , you see ,

So no one,of course , wi l l sk i p i t ,

For fear o f offend i ng me .

I t i s we l l to be courageou s ,And val i an t

,and al l tha t ,

But—if you are m ice—you’

d bette r th i n k

twiceBefore you catch the ca t .

MARGARET VANDEGR IF'

I‘

.

THREE OLD SAWS .

IF the worl d seems co l d to you ,

Kindl e fi res to warm i t

Le t th e i r comfort h ide from view

Win ters that de form i t .

Heart s as frozen as you r own

To that rad i ance gather .

You wi l l soon forget to moan ,

Ah,the cheerl e ss weather l

If th e world’

s a w i ldern e ss ,

Go , bu i l d h ou ses i n i t !

\Vi l l i t he l p you r l o n el i n e ss

O n the w i n ds to d i n i t ?

Raise a hu t , howeve r sl igh t

Weed s and brambl es smother

And to roof and meal i n v i te

Some forl orne r brothe r .

263

If the world ’ s a vale o f tears,

Smi l e,t i l l rai nbow s span i t !

Breath e the l ove tha t l i fe e ndears,C l ear o f c l ouds to fan i t .

Of you r glad ness l end a g leam

Un to sou l s that sh ive r ;Show them how dark Sorrow

'

s s t reamB l end w i th Hope

’ s bright r ive r.

Luc v LARCOM .

NO SE AND EYES .

B ETW E E N Nose and Eye s a st range con

test aro se ;The spectacl es se t them un happi ly

w rong ;The poi n t i n d i spu te wa s , as all the

w orl d k now s ,To w hich the said spectac l e s o ught to

be l ong .

So the Tongue w as the l aw ye r , and ar

gued the cause

\Vi th a great deal o f sk i l l , and a w igfu l l o f l earn i ng ;

Wh i l e Ch i ef- j u s t ice Ea r sat to balance

the l aws,

So famed fo r h is ta l e n t i n n ice ly d is

cern i ng .

I n behal f o f the Nose , i t w i l l qu ick ly

appeauAnd you r - l o rd sh i p ,

he said ,

“w i l l

u ndoubted ly find ,

Tha t the Nose has had spe c tac le s a i

ways in w ear ,\Vh ich amoun t s to posse ss i on t im e ou t

o f mi nd .

"

Then ho ld i ng th e spec tac l es up to the

cou rt ,You r lordsh i p observes th ey aremade wi th a st raddle

A s wide as the ri dge of th e N ose i s ; i n

sho rg

Des igned to s i t c l o se to i t , j u st l i k e a

sadd l e .

Agai n,wou l d you r l o rd sh i p a momen t

suppose

(’Ti s a case that has happened

,and

may be aga i n)Tha t the V i sage or coun te nance had no t

a Nose ,Pray who wou ld o r w ho cou l d wear

spectac l e s the n

On the who l e i t appears,and my ar

gum en t shows ,With a reason i ng the cou rt w i l l n ever

condemn,

That the spec tac l es p la i n l y w ere made fo rthe N o se

,

And the No se was as p l a i n l y i n ten dedfor th em .

Then,

Sh i ft ing h i s s ide,as a l awyer

k now s how,

He p leaded agai n i n behalf of theEyes ;

Bu t what were h i s argumen t s few peop l e

kn ow ,

For the cou rt d i d n o t th i nk they wereequal ly wi se .

So h i s l o rdsh ip dec reed,wi th a grave

,

so l em n tone ,Dec i sive and c l ear

, W i thou t one if or52 d

,

That whenever the Nose pu t h i s sp ectae l es on ,

By dayl igh t o r cand lel ight,

shou l d be shu t .WILLIAM COW PER .

Eyes

BEAUT IFUL TH INGS .

BEAUT IFUL faces they that wear

The l igh t of a p l easan t sp i r i t t here ,I t m at ters l i t t l e if dark or fai r.

Beau t i fu l hands are they that doThe work of the nobl e

,good

,and t rue ,

Bu sy for them the l ong day th rough .

Beau t i fu l feet are they that go

Swi ft l y t o l igh ten an other’

s woeThrough summer ’s heat or wi n te r ’ s

s now .

Beau t i fu l ch i l d ren o f r ich o r poor,

Who wal k the pathway sweet an d pu reThat l eads to the man s ion s s t rong an d

su re..ANONYMOUS

TO AL ICE .

CH ILD of t he pure u nc l ouded brow ,

And dream ing eyes of wonder !Though t ime be fl eet

,and I and thou

Are hal f a l i fe asunder,

Thy l ov i ng sm i l e wi l l su rel y ha i l

The l ove—gi ft o f a fa i ry-tal e .

I have n ot seen thy su n ny face,

Nor heard thy s i l ve r l aughter ;No thought of me shal l fi nd a p laceI n thy young l ife

’ s hereafte r

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The el des t Oyster l ooked at h im ,

Bu t never a word h e saidThe e ldest Oyste r w inked h i s eye,A nd shook h i s heavy headM ean ing to say he d id n ot chooseTo leave the oyster-bed .

But fou r young Oysters hu rri ed upA l l eager for t he t reat :

Thei r coats were b ru shed , the i r face s

washed,

Thei r shoes were c l ean and n eat

An d th i s was odd,becau se, you k now ,

They hadn ’ t any feet .

Fou r other Oysters fol l owed them,

And yet another fou rA nd th ick an d fast they came at l ast

,

A nd more,an d more

,and more

A l l hopp ing through the frothy waves,

And scrambl i ng to the shore .

The Wal ru s and the Carpen te r

Wal k ed on a m i le o r so,

And the n they rested o n a rockCo nven i en t l y l ow

A nd a l l the l i t t l e Oysters stoodAn d wai ted i n a row .

The t ime has come,the Wal ru s sa id

,

To ta l k o f many th ings :

Of shoes—and sh ip s—and seal i ng-w ax

Of cabbages—and k i ngsAnd why the sea i s bo i l ing hotAnd whether p igs have wi ngs .

B ut wai t a bi t,the Oyste rs c ri ed ,

Before w e have ou r -chat ;

For some of u s are ou t o f breath,

And al l o f u s are fatNo hu rry

,sa id the Carpen ter,

They thanked him much for that .

A loaf o f bread,the Wal ru s said

I s what we ch i efly needPepper and v inegar bes idesA re very good indeed

Now i f you ’re ready,Oysters dear

,

We can begi n to feed .

”

Bu t not on u s !” the Oysters cr i ed ,Tu rn i ng a l i t t l e b l ue .

After such k i ndness , that wou l d beA di smal th ing to doThe n ight i s fi ne

,

” the Wal ru s said,

Do you adm i re the v i ew

I t was so k i n d of you to comeAnd you are ve ry n ice

The Carpen ter sa id noth ing bu t

Cu ‘. us another sl i ce :

I wi sh you were no t qu i te so deafI ’ve had to ask you tw ice l”

I t seems a shame,the Wal ru s sai d

,

To p lay them such a t rick,

After we ’ve brought them ou t so far,

And made them t ro t so qu ick

The Carpenter sai d n othi ng bu t“ The but ter ’ s Sp read too th i ck .

I weep for you,the Wal ru s said

“ I deep ly sympath i ze”

With sobs and tears be sorted ou t

Those of the l argest S ize ,Hold i ng h i s pock et—han dk erch i efBefore h i s st ream i ng eyes .

TH E 7 UM B L/E S .

O Oysters , sa i d the Carpen ter,“ You ’ ve had a p leasan t run

Shal l we be trott i ng home agai n

Bu t an swer came there none

And th i s was scarce l y odd , becau seThey ’d eaten every one.

CHARLES L. DODG SON .

TH E JUMELIES .

T H E Y wen t to sea i n a si eve , they d id ;I n a si eve they wen t to sea

In sp i t e of al l the i r fr i e n ds cou l d say ,On a w i n ter ’ s morn ,

o n a sto rmy day ,I n a si eve they wen t to sea .

A nd w hen the si eve tu rned rou n d and

round ,And every o ne c ri ed

,You ’ l l a ll be

d rown edThey cal l ed alou d

,

“ Ou r s i eve a i n’

t b ig

But we don ’ t care a bu tto n ; we don’

t

care a figI n a s i eve w e ’ l l go to sea !

F ar and f ea ', far a/zzz’

f ew ,

Ar e i/zc I'

a/ids ze/zer e t/ze j umé/[es live

Tlzez'

r beads a r e gr een , and l/zez'

r bands are

MM ,

Ana’they w ent fa sea in a sieve.

They sai l ed away in a s ieve , th ey d id ,I n a s i eve they sai led so fa st ,

With on ly a beau t i fu l pea -green ve i l

T i ed wi th a ribbon,by way of a sai l ,

To a smal l tobacco -p ipe mast They sai l ed to the WCS l fl

.

50 71, they d id ,

A nd eve ry one sai d who saw them go , To a land a l l c ove red W i th trees ;

Oh,won ’ t they soon be up se t

,you And they bought an ow l

, and a u sefu l

kn ow cart,

Fo r the sky is da rk ,a nd the voyage is lo ug ,

And,happe n w hat m ay,

i t ‘s e x t remelywrong

I n a si eve to sa i l so fast .

The water i t soon came i n,i t d id

The wate r i t soon cam e i n .

So,to keep them d ry

,they w rapped the i r

fee tIn a p inky pape r al l folded n eat .And they fas tened i t dow n w i th a pi n .

A nd they passed the n ight i n a c rockery

jar,And each o f them said ,

l—l ow w i se w e

are !Though the sky be d ark ,

and the voyage

be long,

Y e t w e n ever can th i n k w e w e re rash or

w rong ,

Whi l e rou nd i n o u r si e ve w e spi n .

And al l n ight l o ng they sai led away ;And

,when the su n w e n t down ,

They wh i st l ed and warbl ed a moony song ,

To the echo i ng sound o f a coppery gong,

In the shade o f the moun ta i n s brown ;

O Timbal loo ! I l ow happv we a re

\Vhen we l ive i n a sieve a nd a crock e ry

j ar !And al l n ight long , i n the m oon l ight

pa le,

\Ve sai l away w i th a pea -g reen sai l ,

In the shade o f the m oun tai n s brow n .

’

a u u I f'

E'

It’

IV-b'

E E U .

And a pou nd of ri ce, and a c ranberry

tart,A nd a h ive of s i l ve ry bees

And they bought a p ig,and some green

jackdaws,

And a l ovely monkey, wi th l o l l ipop paws ,A nd fo rty bot t l e s of r ing-bo -ree

,

And n o end of S ti l ton cheese .

And in twen ty years they al l cam e back ,I n twen ty years o r more

A nd every one said,

“ How tal l they ’vegrown

,

For they’ ve been to the Lakes,and the

To rrible Z on e,

And the h i l l s o f the Chank ly Bore .

And they d rank thei r heal th,and gave

them a feast,

Of dumpl i ngs made of beau t ifu l yeast ;A nd eve ry one said

,

“ I f we o n ly l ive,

We too w i l l go to sea i n a s i eve,

To the h i l l s of the Chank ly Bore .

F a r and f ew , far and f ew ,

Are Me lands wfiere i/ze j umblz'

es lz’

ve

Tfiez'

r fled a’

s ar e g reen ,and f/zez

'

r Izana’s ar e

H ue,

Ami {hey w ent a‘o sea in a sieve .

EDWARD LEAR.

FERN - SEED .

SH E fi l l ed her shoes w i th fe rn - se ed,

Th i s fool i sh l i t t l e Nel l,

And i n the summer sun sh i n e

Wen t danc i ng down the del l .

A frog mused by the brook- s id e“ Can you see m e ? she c ri ed ;

He l eaped across the water,

A flying l eap and wide.Oh that ’ s becau se I asked h imI must no t speak

,

” she thought,

A nd sk ipp ing o’

e r the meadow,

The shady wood she sough t .

The squ i rre l chat tered on the bough,

Nor n o t i ced her a t al l,

The bi rd s sang h igh,the b i rd s sang low

With many a c ry and cal l .The rabbi t n ibbled in t he grass

,

The snake basked i n the sun ,The bu t terfl i es , l i k e float ing flowers ,Wavered and gleamed and shone .

The sp ider in h i s hammock swu ng ,

The gay grasshoppers dancedAnd now and then a crick et sung,And sh in ing beet l e s glanced.

’Twas al l becau se the pret ty ch i l d

So softly,soft l y t rod

,

You cou l d no t hear a foo tfal lUpo n the yi e l d ing sod .

Bu t she was fi l l ed wi th such del igh tTh i s foo l i sh l i t t l e N el l

And wi th her fern -seed l aden shoe s,

Danced back acros s the del l“ I

’

ll fi nd my mother n ow,she th ought ;

“ What fu n ’ twi l l be to cal lM amma ! Mamma wh i l e she can see

No l i t t l e gi r l at al l !

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Thu s the ph i l o soph ic moon -manMu ttered manyyears ago ;

Set the babes w i th po l e and bucket ,To del igh t the fo l k s bel ow .

Never i s the bucke t empty ;Never are the ch i l dren ol d

Ever when t he moon i s sh i n i ngWe the ch i ld ren may beho l d .

Ever you ng and ever l i t t l e ,Ever sweet an d ever fai r 1

When thou art a man,my darl i ng

,

St i l l the ch i l d re n wi l l be there .

Ever young and ever l i t t l e,

They wi l l sm i l e when thou art o l d ;When thy l ock s are th i n and si lver ,Thei rs w i l l s t i l l be sh in ing go ld.

They wi l l hau n t thee from the i r heaven,

Soft ly becko n i ng down the gl oomSm i l i ng i n ete rna l sweet n essOn thy crad le

,on thy tomb l

ANONYMOUS .

THE P IED P I PER OF HAMEL IN .

HAM EL IN Town ’ s i n B ru n swick,

By famou s Hanover c i ty ;The r iver Weser

,deep and w ide

,

Washes i t s wal l on the southern s i deA p l easan ter sp o t you n ever sp i edBu t when begin s my d i tty,Almost five hu nd red years ago

,

To see the town sfo l k suffer soFrom verm in

,was a p i ty.

Rat s !They . fought the dogs, and k i l l ed the

ca t s,And bi t the bab i es i n the c rad l es

,

And a te the cheeses out o f the vat s,

And l i ck ed the soup from the cook ’ sown lad l es

,

Spl i t Open the kegs of sal ted sp rats,

Made nests in s i de men ’ s Su nday hats .And even spo i l ed the women ’ s chat s

,

By drown ing thei r speak ingWi th sh r iek i ng and squeak ing

I n fi fty difl’

e re nt sharp s and flats .

At l ast th e peop l e i n a bodyTo the Town Hal l came flock i ng

“ ’Ti s c l ear ,” cr i ed they ,

“ ou r Mayor ’ ;a n oddy

And as fo r ou r Co rporat i o n—shock ingTo th ink we buy gown s l ined wi th er

m i ne

For dol t s t hat can'

t or won ’

t determ i neWhat ’ s best to r i d u s of ou r verm i nYou hope

,becau se you

’ re o l d and obese,

To fi nd i n the fu rry c iv i c robe ease ?

Rou se up,s i rs ! Give you r brain s a rack

i ng

To fi nd the remedy we ’ re l ack i ng

Or,sure as fate

,we ’ l l send you pack ing !

A t th i s the Mayor an d Corporat ionQuaked wi th a m igh ty con ste rnat i on .

n

An hou r they sate i n coun se l

At l ength the Mayor b roke s i l enceFor a gu i l der I ’d my erm i ne gown se l l ;I wi sh I were a m i l e hence !

I t ’ s easy to b i d one rack on e ’ s bra i nI ’ m su re my poor head aches aga i n

,

I ’ve scratched i t so , and al l i n vain .

TH E P IED P I P ER OF I/AM E LIN .

Oh fo r a t rap,a t rap

,a t rap !

Just as he sai d th i s,what shou ld hap

A t the chamber door bu t a gen t l e tap ?

B le ss u s,

” c ri ed the Mayor,

“ what ’sthat ?

(Wi th the Corporat i o n as he sat ,Look ing l i t t l e though wond rou s fatNor brighte r was h i s eve

,n or moi ste r

Than a too - l ong-opened oyste r,

Save when at noon h i s paunch grew m u

t imou s

Fo r a plate o f tu rt l e,green and g l u t i n

ou s,)

On l y a scrap ing of shoes o n the matAnyth ing l ik e the sound of a ratM akes m y heart go p i t-a -pat

Come i n !” the Mayor c ri ed,l ook i ng

biggerA nd i n d id come the st ranges t figureH i s quee r l ong coat from hee l to headWas hal f o f yel l ow and hal f of red ;A nd he h im sel f was ta l l and th i n ;With sharp bl ue eyes

,each l i k e a p in ;

A nd l igh t l oose hai r,yet swarthy sk in ;

No tuft on cheek n or beard on ch i n ,Bu t l i p s where sm i les wen t ou t and in

There was no guessi ng h i s k i th and ki n ;A nd nobody cou ld enough admi reThe tal l man and h i s qua in t at t i re .

Quoth one,

“ I t ’s as my great grands i re ,S tart i ng up at the t rump o f doom ’ s tone ,Had wal ked th i s way from h i s pai n ted

tombsto n e

He advanced to the cou nc i l - tabl eA nd

,

“ P lease you r . hono rs,

” sa id he,

I ’m able,

27 x

I n to the st reet the Pipe r stept ,Smi l i ng fi rst a l i t t l e sm i le ,

A s if he k new w hat m agic sleptI n h i s qu iet p i pe the wh i l e ;

Then,l i ke a mu sical adept ,

To blow the pipe hi s l i ps he w ri n k l ed ,

By mean s o f a sec ret charm,to d raw

Al l c reatu res l i v i ng beneath the sunThat c reep , or sw im ,

or fly,or ru n

,

A fte r me so as yo u never sawAnd I chi efly use my charmO n c reatu res that do peopl e harmThe mole

,and toad

,and n ew t

,and

vipe r

And peopl e ca l l ed m e the Pied Piper .

(And here they not iced round hi s ne ckA scarf o f red and yel l ow st ri pe

,

To match wi th h i s coat o f the se l f-sam e

check ;And at the scarf

'

s e nd hu ng a pipe ;And h i s fi nge rs , they not iced , w ere e ve r

s t rayi ngA s if i mpatie n t to be play i ngUpon th i s p i pe

,as low i t dang led

Over hi s vestu re so o ld - fangl ed . )Yet

,

" sa id he , “ poor pi per as I am ,

In Tartary I freed the Cha in,

Last Ju ne,from hi s huge swarm o f gnat s ;

l eased i n Asia the N izam

Of a mon st rou s brood o f vampi re -bat s ;And

,as fo r w hat you r brai n bew i ld e rs

If I can r id you r tow n o f rat s ,Wil l you give me a thou sand gu i lde rs“ On e ? fi fty thou sand ! —w as the e x

c lamat io n

Of the aston i shed Mayor and Corpo ra

t ion .

L i k e a candl e flame where sal t i s sprin

k l ed

And ere th ree sh ri l l notes the p ipe u t

tered ,

You heard as i f an army muttered ;And the mu ttering grew to a grumbl ing ;A nd the grumbl ing grew to a m ighty

rumbl ingAnd ou t of the houses the rats came

tumbl ing.

Great rat s,smal l rat s, l ean rat s , brawny

rats ,Brown rat s

,black rat s

,gray rat s

,tawny

rats ,Grave o ld p l odders , gay you ng fri skers,Fathers, mo thers, unc l es , cou si n s ,

Cock ing ta i l s and p rick ing whi skers

Fam i l i e s by ten s and dozen s,

Brothers,s i sters , hu sbands , wives

Fo l l owed the P iper fo r thei r l i ves .From s t reet to st reet he p iped advanc

ing ,

And step fo r step they fol l ow ed danc ing,

Un t i l they came to the r i ver Wese r,

Where in al l p l unged and peri shed,

Save one who , stou t as Ju l i u s Caesar,Swam across and l i ved to carry

(As he the manu scr i p t he cher i shed)To rat- l and home h i s commen tary

,

Which was A t the fi rst shri l l notes of

the p ipe,

I heard a sound as of sc rap i ng tr ip e,

A nd pu tt i ng appl es, wondrou s ri pe,I nto a c i der-p ress ’ s gripe

A nd a moving away of p i ck l e -tub-boards ,

b oard s,

A nd a drawing the cork s of tra i n - O i l

flask s ,And b reak ing the hoop s o f bu tter-cask s ;A nd i t seem ed as i f a vo ice

(Sweeter far than by harp or by p sal teryI s b reathed) cal l ed ou t, O rat s , rej o iceThe worl d i s grown to one vast drysalt

ery !So munch on , crunch on , take you r nu n

cheon ,Breakfast , su pper, d inn er , l uncheonA nd ju st a s a bu lky sugar-punch eon ,A l l ready staved

,l i k e a great sun shon e

Glori ou s,scarce an i nch befo re me ,

Ju st as methough t i t said , Come, bore

me—I fou nd the Weser ro l l ing o ’ er me .

”

You shou ld have heard the Hame l in

peop l eR inging the bel l s t i l l they rocked the

steepl eGo ,

” c r i ed the Mayo r, and ge t l ong

po l esPoke ou t the nest s and b l ock up the

ho l es

Con su l t wi th carpenter s and bu i lders,And l eave in ou r t own no t even a t race

Of the rat s —when sudden ly , up' the

face

Of the P iper perked in th e market-p lace ,Wi th a F i rst

,i f you p l ease , my thou

san d gu i l ders

A thousand gu i l ders The Mayor lookedb l ue !

So d i d the Corpo rat i on too.

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Unabl e to move a step , or c ryTo the ch i ldren merri l y sk i pp i ng byAnd cou ld on ly fo l l ow wi th the eyeThat j oyous c rowd at t he P i pe r

’

s back .

Bu t how the Mayor was on the rack ,And the wretch ed Cou nc i l

’

s bosom s beat ,As the P i per tu rned from the H igh

S treetTo where the Weser ro l l ed i t s watersR igh t in the way of thei r son s and

daughtersHoweve r

,he tu rned from Sou th to West

,

And to Koppelberg H i l l h i s step s ad

d ressed ,And after h i m the ch i ldren pressed ;Great was the j oy in every breast .

He never can cross that m igh ty t op

He ’ s forced to l et the p ip ing drop ,A nd we shal l see ou r ch i l d ren stopWhen

,10,as they reached the mounta in ’ s

s i de ,A wondrou s portal opened wide,As i f a cavern was sudden ly ho l lowed ;And th e P iper advanced and the ch i ld ren

fo l l owed ;A nd when a l l were in , to the very l ast ,The door i n the moun ta in -S i de shu t fast .D id I say al l ? No ! One was l ame

,

And cou l d no t dance the who le of the

way ;And i n after-years , i f you wou ld b lameH i s sadness

,he was u sed to say ,

I t ’ s du l l in ou r town s i nce my p lay

mates l eft !I can ’ t fo rge t tha t I ’m bereftO f al l the p l easan t s igh t s they see ,Which the Piper a l so p rom i sed me

For he l ed u s, he sai d , to a j oyou s land ,Jo in ing the town and j u st at hand

,

Where waters gushed and fru i t-tree sgrew

,

And flowers pu t forth of a fai rer hue,

A nd every th i ng was st range and n ew ;The Sparrows were brighter than pea

cock s here,

And the i r dogs ou tran our fal l ow deer,

A nd honey-bees had l o st thei r st i ngs,

And horses were born wi th eagle s ’

W ings ;And j ust as I became assu redMy lame foo t wou ld be speed i ly cu red ,The music stopped and I stood st i l l

,

A nd found myse l f ou t s i de the H i l l,

Left al one aga in st my wi l l .

To go n ow l imp ing as befo re,

And neve r hear o f t hat cou ntry more !”

Alas, alas fo r Hamel i n

There came in to many a bu rgher ’s pateA t ex t wh ich says

,that Heaven ’ s gate

Opes to the ri ch a t as easy rateAs the need l e ’ s eye tak es a camel i nThe Mayo r sent East

,West

,Nor th

,and

Sou th ,To offer the P iper by word of mou th

,

Wherever i t was men ’ s l ot to fi nd h im,

S i l ver and go l d to h i s heart ’ s content,

I f he ’d on ly retu rn the way he went,

And bring the ch i l dren beh ind h im .

Bu t when they saw ’twas a l o st endeavor,

And p iper and dancers were gon e fo r ever,

They made a dec ree that lawyers n everShou l d th ink the i r reco rd s dated duly

I f,after the day of the mon th and year

,

These word s d i d no t as wel l appear,

TH E CH /LD/i’

EN 11V TII E I'VOOD .

An d so l o ng afte r what happened hereO n the Twen ty- second o f J u ly

,

Th i rteen Hundred and Sev en ty - s i xAn d the bette r in memory to fi xThe p lace o f th e Ch i ld ren ’ s l a st ret reatThey cal l ed i t the P ied Pi per ’ s S t reetW

'

here any on e p lay ing on p ipe o r tabor\Vas su re fo r the fu tu re to l o se h i s l abo r.Nor su ffe red they hoste l ry o r tavernTo shock w i th m i rth a st reet so solemnBu t oppo s i te the p lace of the cavernThey wrote the sto ry on a co l umn

,

And on the Great Church window pain t

edThe same

,to mak e the worl d acquai n ted

How thei r ch i l d re n were sto l en aw ayAn d th ere i t s tand s to th i s ve ry day .

A nd I must no t om i t to sayThat i n Tran sylvan ia there ’s a t r ibe

Of al i en peopl e that ascr ib eThe out land i sh w ays and dress

On which the i r n e ighbors lay such st re ssTo thei r fathe rs an d mothers havmg r i se n

O u t o f some subterran ean pri so nI n to wh ich they were t repan ned

Long t ime ago , i n a m ighty band ,Out of Hamel i n town i n Brun sw ick

l and,

Bu t h ow or why , they don’ t u nde rstan d .

So “f i l ly,l e t yo u an d m e be w i pe rs

O f sco res ou t wi th a l l men— espec i al ly

p i pers ;A nd

,whether they p ipe u s free from rat s

o r from m ice ,If we

’ ve prom i sed them augh t , l et u skeep ou r prom i se .

ROBERT B ROWNI NG .

THE CH ILDREN IN THE

WOOD .

N ow ponder wel l,you paren ts dear

,

These word s wh ich I shal l w ri te ;A dole fu l sto ry you shal l hear

,

I n t ime brought forth to l ightA gen t l eman o f good accou n tIn Norfol k dw e l t o f l ate

,

Who did i n honor fa r su rmoun tMost men of h i s e state .

Sore si ck he was,and l i ke to d ie

,

No hel p h i s l i fe cou l d save ;H i s wi fe by h im as s ick d id l i e ,And both possessed o ne grav e .

No l ove between these two w as l ost,

Each was to othe r k i nd ;I n l ove they l i ved

,i n l ove they d ied ,

And l eft two babes behi nd

The one a fi n e and p re ttv boy ,Not passi ng th re e years o l d ;

The othe r a g i rl,more young than he ,

And framed i n beau ty’

s mou ld .

The father l e ft h is l i t t l e son ,

As plai n ly d oth appear ,When he to perfect age shou ld come ,Three hu ndred pou nds a year .

And to h i s l i t t l e daughte r Jan eFi ve hu nd red pou nd s i n go ld ,

To be paid down on marriage -day ,

might n ot be con t ro l l ed ;

B u t if the ch i ld re n chance to d i e ,

Ere they to age shou l d com e,

Thei r un c l e shou ld possess the i r w eal th,

For so the w i l l d id run .

276 TH E CH I LDREN I N TH E IVOOD .

Now,brothe r

,sa i d the dying man ,

Look to my ch i l d ren dear ;Be good u n to my boy and gi r l ,No frie n ds e lse have they here

To God and you I recommend

My ch i l dre n dear th i s day

Bu t l i t t l e wh i l e,be su re , we have

With i n th i s wo rl d to stay .

You must be fathe r and mo ther both ,And u nc l e al l in o ne ;

God k nows what wi l l become of th em

Whe n I am dead an d gon e ?”

With that bespake thei r mothe r de ar

Oh,brother k i nd

,

” qu oth she,

“ You are the man must br i ng ou r babes

To weal th or m i sery .

And if you keep them carefu l ly,

Then God wi l l you reward ;Bu t i f you o therw i se shou ld dea l

,

God wi l l you r deeds regard .

”

With l ip s as co l d as any ston e

They k i s sed the i r ch i l dren smal l

God b less you both,my ch i l dre n dear .

With that the tears d id fal l .

These speeches then the i r brother

To th i s s ick coup l e there

The keep i ng of you r l i t t l e ones ,Sw ee t si ster

,do not fear

God n ever p ro sper m e no r m i n e ,Nor augh t el se that I have ,

If I do wrong you r ch i ld re n dear,

When you are lai d i n grav e.”

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2 7 8 M Y B A B E S IN TH E WOOD .

And now the heavy wrath of GodUpon the i r u nc l e fel l ;

Yea,fearfu l fi ends d i d hau n t h i s house ,

H i s con sc i ence fe l t a hel l .

H i s barn s were fi red , h i s good s con

sumed,

H is lan d s were barren made ;H i s catt l e d i ed w i th in the fi el d

,

A nd noth i ng wi th h im stayed .

I s i t a fa i ry story ? We l l,hal f fai ry

At l east i t dates far back as fai r i e s do,

A nd seems to me as beau t ifu l and ai ry ;Yet hal f, perhaps the fai ry hal f, i s

t rue .

And i n a voyage to PortugalTwo of h i s son s d id d i e ;

And , to conc l ude , h im sel f was brough tTo wan t and m i se ry .

He pawn ed and mortgaged a l l h i s l an dEre seven years came abou t

And now at l ength th i s wick ed ac tDid by th i s mean s come out

The fel l ow that did take i n handThese ch i l dren fo r to k i l l

,

Was fo r a robbery j udged to d i eSuch was God ’ s blessed wi l l

Who d id co nfess the very t ruth,

As here hath been d i sp layedThe i r u nc l e hav i ng d ied i n jai l ,Where he fo r debt was l a id .

You that execu tors be made ,And overseers eke

,

Of ch i l dren that be fatherl es s,An d i n fan t s m i l d and meek ,

Take you exampl e by th i s th i ng,And y i e l d to each h i s r igh t

,

Lest God w i th such—l i ke m i seryYour w icked m inds requ i te .

ANONYMOUS.

MY BAB ES IN THE WOOD .

I KNOW a sto ry,fa i re r

,d immer

,sadder

,

Than any sto ry p ri n ted i n you r book s,

You are so glad ? I t w i l l n ot make yougladder ;

Yet l i sten,wi th you r pretty rest l e ss

l ook s .

You had a baby s i ster and a bro therTwo very dain ty peop l e , rosy wh i te,

Sweete r than a l l th i ngs e l se excep t each

otherO l der yet you nge r—gon e from hum an

sight

An d I,who l oved them ,

and shal l l ove

them ever ,And th i n k w i t h yearn i ng tears how

each l igh t hand

C rep t toward bright bloom and berr i esI shal l n ever

Kn ow how I l ost them . Do you u n

de rstand ?

Poor sl ight l y go lden heads ! I th i n k I

m i ssed themFi rs t i n some dreamy

,p i teou s

,doubt

fu l way ;But when and where wi th l i ngeri ng l ip s

I k i ssed them,

My gradual part i ng,I can never say.

B E IVA/PE OF

Som e tim e s l fancy that they may haveperi shed

I n shadowy qu i et o f wet rock s andmoss

,

Near path s whose v ery pebble s I havecheri shed

,

For the i r smal l sakes,s i nce m y m os t

bi tte r l o ss .

I fan cy,too

,that they were soft l y covered

By rob i n s ou t o f appl e t re e s they

kn ew,

Whose n u rsl i ng wings i n fa r hom e su n

sh i ne hove red ,Befo re the t imi d worl d had dropped

the dew .

Thei r names were—what you rs are . At

th i s you w o nder ,Thei r p ic tu res are you r ow n

,as you

have seen ;And my bi rd -bu ri ed darl i ngs

,h idde n

u nderLost leaves—w hy, i t i s you r dead

sel ves I mean !

MRS . S . M . B . P IATT .

BEWARE O F TH E WO LF .

Y OU neve r n eed fear,l i t t l e c h i ld re n , to

meetA wol f i n the garden , the w ood

,o r the

st ree tR ed R id i ng-Hood ’ s sto ry i s o n ly a

fable ;I

’

l l g ive you i t s m oral as we l l as I’

m

abl e .

Tl/E WOLF . 270

B ad Tempe r ’ s the w o l f w h ic h w e me e teverywhere

B eware of th i s w o l f !beware !

l i t t l e ch i ld re n ,

I k now o f a boy nei the r ge n t l e no r

wise ;If you tel l h im a fau l t he g i ve s sauc y

rep l ies ;If kep t from h i s w ay, i n a fu ry he

flies

Ah,Passio n ’ s the w ol f w i th the very

la rge eyes’Ti s ready to snap , and to t ramp le and

tearBeware of th i s w ol f ! l i tt l e ch i ld re n ,

beware !

I k n ow o f a g i r l a lw ays t ry i ng to l earnAbou t th i ngs wi th w h ich she shou ld

have n o concern ;Such mean cu rio si ty real ly appea rsTo me l ike the w ol f w i th the very la rg e

ea rs,

A l l p rick ed t ip to l i ste n , each se c re t to

shareBew are o f th i s wol f ! l i t t l e ch i ld re n ,

bew are !

And G reed i ness ! that ’ s l ik e the wol f

i n the w ood

\'Vi th the vefy lm'

ge mau l/1, e ve r prow l i ng

fo r food

That eat s so m uch m ore than fo r he al th

can be goodThat w ould cl ear a w ho le pas t ry -c ook

'

s

shop if i t c ou ld

A e

r“ .

beware !

P ass i on,P ry i ng

,and Greed i n ess , each

t hu s appearsAs a wol f w i th fi erc e eyes

,l arge mouth

,

or big earsThey bri ng to ou r n u rseri es fight i ng

and fears,

They cause b i tter quarre l l i ng,t roubl e

,

and tears .Oh , chase them and cudgel them back

to the i r l a i r

Beware of the wol f ! l i t t l e ch i l drenbeware

CHARLOTTE TUCKER.

THE BL IND MEN AN D THE

ELEPHANT.

IT was six men o f IndostanTo l earn i ng m uch i nc l i n ed

,

Who wen t to see the El ephan t

(Though al l of them were b l i nd),That each by observat i onMigh t sat i sfy hi s m ind .

The Fi rst approached the E l ephan t,

And happen i ng to fal l

Again st h i s broad and stu rdy si de,

At once began to bawl '

“God bless me ! bu t the Elephan tI s very l i k e a wal l

The Second,fee l ing of the tu sk

,

C ri ed , Ho ! what have we hereSo very round and smooth and sharp ?

The Th i rd app roached the an imal,

And happen ing to tak eThe squ i rm ing t runk wi th i n h i s han ds

,

Thu s bo ld ly up and Spake :I see ,

” quoth he,

“ th e E l ephan tI s ve ry l i ke a snake

The Fou rth reached ou t h i s eager hand,

And fe l t abou t the k nee .

What most th i s wond rou s beast i s l i k eI s m ighty p la in

,

” quoth he ;’Ti s c l ear en ough the E l ephan tI s very l ike a t ree I”

The Fifth who chanced to touch an ear,

Said E ’ en the b l i n dest man

Can te l l what th i s resembles most ;Deny the fac t who can ,

Thi s m arve l o f an Elephan tI s ve ry l i ke a fan !”

The S ix th n o soon er had begu nAbout the beas t to grope

,

Than , se iz i ng on th e sw i nging tai lT hat fe l l wi th i n h i s scope

,

I see , quoth he ,“ the E lephan t

I s very l i k e a rope

And so tho se men o f I ndostan

D i spu ted l ou d and l ong ,

Each in h i s own opi n i o nExceed ing st iff and strong

,

Though each was part l y in th e r igh t,And al l were in the wrong !

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282 TH E M OUN TAIN AN D TH E SQUIRRE L .

Where every abl e man and goodI s certa in to be great !

I ’m very fond of see i ng s ight s,Bu t how shal l I get the re ?

S tra igh t dow n the C rook ed L an e,A nd al l rou nd the Square.

They say there i s a Temp l e t oo,

Where Chri st ian s come to p rayBu t can t ing k naves and hypocri tes

A nd bigot s keep away .

Oh that ’ s the pari sh chu rch fo r meBu t how Shal l I get the re ?

S traight down the Crooked Lane ,And al l rou nd the Square .

They say there i s a Garden fa i r,That ’ s haun ted by the dove ,Where l ove of go ld doth n e ’ e r ec l i p seThe go lden l igh t of l ove

The pl ace must be a parad i se ,But how shal l I get there ?Straight down the C rooked Lan e ,And al l. rou nd the Square .

I ’ve heard there i s a famou s LandFor pub l i c sp i r i t k n own

Whose pat ri o ts l ove i t s in terest sMuch bet te r than thei r own .

The l an d o f P rom i se sure i t i s !But how Shal l I get there ?Straigh t down the Crooked Lane

,

And al l round the Square .

”

I ’ve read abou t a fi ne estate ,A Man s i on l arge and st rong ;

A v iew al l over Ken t and back,

And going for a song.

L i t t l e

George Robbi n s k nows the ve ry spo t,

Bu t how shal l I get there ?S traight dow n the C ro oked Lane ,A nd al l rou nd the Square .

I ’ve heard there i s a C ompany,

Al l formal and en ro l l ed,

Wi l l take you r smal l es t si l ve r co inAnd give i t back i n go ld .

Of cou rse the offi ce-doo r i s m obbed,

Bu t how shal l I get there ?Straight down th e C rooke d Lane,A nd al l rou nd the Square.

I'

ve heard abou t a p l easan t Land ,Where ome let t es grow o n t rees,

A nd roasted p igs run c ry i ng 'out,

“ Come eat me,i f you pl ease .”

My appet i t e i s rather keen,

But how shal l I get there ?“ S traight down the C rooked Lane

,

And al l rou nd the Sq ua re .

”

THOMAS H OOD .

TH E MOUNTAIN AN D TH E

SQU IRREL .

TH E moun tain an d the squi rre lHad a quarre lA nd the fo rmer cal l ed the latter

P rigBun rep l i ed

,

‘You are doubt l ess very b ig ;But al l so rt s of th i ngs and weatherM ust be taken i n togetherTo make up a yea rA nd a sphere.And I t h ink i t n o d i sgraceTo occupy my place

.

TH E CII I LD OA’TII I? 7 UD UJl/EN T-SEA T.

If I’

m n o t so l arge as you ,You are n o t so smal l as I .

A nd n o t half so sp ry !

I ’ l l no t deny you mak e

A very pretty squ i rre l t rack . I c l im bed on the j udgm e n t- se at m vse l f

Talen t s d i ffer ; a l l i s wel l and wi se ly pu t ; I have sat e there al o n e a”day,

If I can no t carry forests o n my back , For i t gri e ved m e to see the ch i ld re n

Nei ther can you c rack a n u t . arou nd ,

RALPH WALuo H ummu sId l i ng the i r l i fe aw ay.

T II E CHI L I ) O N THE

MENT -SEAT .

NVH ERE hast thou be e n to i l i ng al l day ,

sweet heart ,Tha t thy b row i s bu rd e ned and

sad ?

The Maste r'

s W ork may m ak e

wea ry fe e t ,B u t i t l eave s the Spi ri t g l ad .

Was thy garde n n ipped w i th the

m id -n ight frosts ,O r sco rched w i th the m id -dav

glare ?

Were thy v i n e s l aid low, or thy

l i l ie s c ru shed ,

That thy face i s So fu l l o f care?

“ No pleasan t garde n - to i l s w e re

m i n e,

I have sa te on the judgm en t

sea tWhere the Ma ste r si t s a t e ve , and

cal l s

The ch i ld re n arou nd h is fe e t .

How camest thou on the j udg

me n t - seat ,Sweet heart , w ho se t the e the re ?

’Ti s a lo ne lv and l ofty seat fo r

thee ,And w el l m igh t fi l l the e w i th

CZI I'

C .

They wasted the Maste r ’s p reci ou s

seed,

They wasted the prec iou s hou rs ;They t ra i ned not the v ines, nor gathered

the fru i ts ,An d they t ramp led the sweet meek

flowers.”

A nd what d idst thou on the j udgmen tseat

,

Sweet hear t,what d id st thou there ?

Wou ld the i d l ers heed thy ch i ld i sh vo ice ?

Did the garden mend fo r thy care !

Nay, t hat grieved me more : I ca l l edand I c ri ed

,

But they l eft me there forl orn ;My vo ice was weak

,an d they heeded not

( )r they laughed my words to scorn .

Ah ! the j udgmen t -sea t was no t fo r t hee,

The servan ts were no t th in e ;A nd the eyes wh ich fi x the p ra i se and

the blame,

See farther than th ine o r m i ne .

The vo ice that sha l l sou nd there at eve,

swee t heart ,Wi l l not s t ri ve o r cry to be heard

It wi l l hu sh the earth,and hush the

hearts,

A nd non e wi l l res i s t i ts word .

Shou ld I see the Maste r’ s t reasu resl ost

,

The gi fts that shou ld feed h is poor,

A nd not l i ft my vo ice, (be i t weak as i t

may)A nd not be gri eved so re ?

Wai t t ill the even i ng fal l s,sweet heart

,

Wai t t i l l th e even i ng fal l sThe Master i s n ear , and k noweth al lWai t t i l l the Mas ter cal l s.

Bu t how fared l/zy garden-p lot,swee t

hearh

Whi l st thou sat’

st o n t he judgmentseat ?

Who watered thy roses,and t rai n ed thy

v i n esAnd kep t them from care l es s feet ?

Nay , that i s saddest of al l to me ,Tha t i s saddes t o f al l Y

My V i nes are t ra i l i ng,my roses are

parched,

My l i l i e s d roop and fal l .

Go back to thy garden p l ot,sweet heart ;

Go back t i l l t he even ing fal l s,

A nd bind thy l i l i es,an d t rain t hy v i n es

,

Ti l l fo r thee the Master cal l s.

Go make thy garden fai r as thou can st,

Thou workest never al one ;Perchance he whose p l ot i s nex t to th i n eWi l l see i t

,and men d h i s own .

And t he nex t may copy h i s,sweet heart

,

Ti l l a l l grows fai r and sweet

An d when the Maste r comes at eve,

Happy faces h i s com i ng wi l l greet .

Then Shal l thy j oy be fu l l , swee t heart ,I n t he garden so fai r to see

,

I n the Master ’ s word s of p rai se to a l l,

I n a l ook of h i s own fo r thee !

EL I ZABETH R. CHARLES .

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286 LI TTLE CH ILDREN .

There i s n o God,a you ngste r th i n ks

,And almost every on e when age ,

“ O r rea l ly i f there may be,

D i sease , and so rrow st ri k e h im ,

H e su re ly d id ’nt mean a man I n c l i n es to th i n k there i s a God,

Always to be a baby .

”Or someth ing very l ik e h im ,

Whethe r there be,

” t he r ich man th i nk s,

ARTHUR H UG H CLOUGH

It matte rs very l i tt l e ,For I and m i n e , thank somebody ,Are no t i n wan t o f v ic tua l .”

Some others a l so to themse l ves,

Who scarce so much as doubt i t ,Think there is n one , when they are wel l ,A nd do no t th ink abou t it.

Bu t cou ntry-fo l k s who l ive beneathThe shadow of the steep l e ;

The parson,and the parson ’s w ife

,

And most ly marri ed peop l e ;

You ths gree n and happy i n fi rst l ove ,So thank fu l for i l l u s i on

A nd men caught ou t in what the worl d

Cal l s gu i l t and fi rst con fu s i on

L ITTLE CH ILDREN .

SPORT I N G th rough the fo rest w i deP l aying by the water- s ideWandering o ’er the heathy fe l l s ;Down wi th i n the wood land del l s

Al l among the mou n tain s W i l d ,Dwel l e th many a l i t t l e ch i l d

In the baron ’ s ha l l o f pr ide ;By the poor man ’s du l l fi res ide’M id the m ighty

,

’m id the mean ,L i t t l e ch i ld ren may be seen ,L i k e the flowers that spr i ng up fai r ,Brigh t and count l e s s everywhere

. 1 CH I LD'

S SM ILE . 28 7

I n the fa r i s l e s o f the mai n Thy ch i ld hood i s remov ed

In the desert ’ s l on e domai n ; From sport s tha t d ear to othe r chi ld re n

In the savage mou n ta in -glen,

a re,

’Mong the t ribes of swarthy menWheresoe ’ er a foo t hath gone ;VVhe resoe

’

e r th e su n hath shone

On a l eague of peop l ed ground,

L i t t l e ch i l d ren may be found !Bless ings on them they i n me

On th i s pal e chee k has th row nThe brightn ess o f h i s cou n te nance

,and

madeA beau ty l i ke h is ow n

That,w h i l e w e se e i t , w e are hal f afra id ,

Move a k i n d ly sympathy , And m arve l , w i l l i t s tay ?With t he i r w i shes , hOPCS , and fears ; O r

,l o ng ere manhood

,w i l l that ange l

Wi th the i r l aughte r and thei r tears fai r,‘Vi th the i r wonder SO i n ten se , Depart i ng some sad day ,And thei r smal l ex peri ence i Stea l the ch i l d- sm i le and leave the shadL i t t l e ch i l d ren , n ot a lon e ow care ?

On the w i de earth are ye k nown ,’M id i t s l abo rs and i t s cares ,’M id i t s sufferi ngs and i t s snares ;Free from so rrow

,free from st rife ,

I n the wo rl d of l ove and l i fe ,Where n o s i n fu l th i ng hath t rod

I n the p resence o f you r God ,Spot l es s

,b lamel ess , glorified

L i t t l e ch i l d ren , ye abide

MARY H OW ITT .

A CH ILD’ S SM ILE .

A C H I LD’

S sm i l e ,—noth i ng more ;Qui et

,and soft , an d grave , an d seldom

seenL i k e summer l ightn i ng o

'

er ,

Leav i ng the l i t t le face agai n seren e .

I th i n k , boy wel l -bel oved ,Thi n e angel

,who d id gri eve t o se e how

far

Nay,fear not . As i s given

U n to th i s ch i l d the father watchi ng o'

e r,

H i s angel up i n heavenBeholds ou r Father ’s face foreve rm o re ,

And he w i l l hel p him bea rH i s bu rden

,as his fathe r helps h im now ;

So may he come to wearThat happy ch i ld - sm i l e on an o ld man

'

s

brow .

DI NAH MULOCK C RAIK .

THE BETTER LAN I) .

I H EAR thee speak o f a B et te r LandThou cal l

’

st i t s ch i ld ren a happy bandMother

,oh

,where i s tha t rad ian t shore ?

Shal l we n ot seek i t , and w ee p no more ?

“ I s i t where the flow e r o f the orange

blows ,And the fire - fl ie s glanc e through the

myrt le boughs ?"

Not there,n ot the re ,

my chi ld !

I s i t where the feathery palm-t reesI‘

ISC ,

And the date grows ripe u nder sunny

sk i es ?

Or midst the green i sl andsof gl i t teringseas ,

Where fragrant forest s perfume thebreeze ,

And st range brigh t b i rds o n thei r starry

W i ngsBear the r i ch hues of a l l glo r i ou s

th ings P”

Not there , n ot there , my ch i l d .

I s i t far away i n some regio n o ld,

Where the r i ve rs wander o ’er san ds o fgold

,

Where the bu rn i ng rays o f the ruby

sh i n e,

And the d iamon d l ights up the sec ret

m ine,

And the pearl gl eam s fo rt h from the

co ra l st randI s i t there

,dear mother,— that Bet te r

Land ?”

No t there,n o t there

,my ch i ld

Eye hath n o t see n i t,my gen t l e boy ;

Ear hath not heard i t s deep songs of

joy ;Dream s can n ot p ic tu re a worl d so fa i rSorrow and Death may no t e n ter there ;Time does n ot breathe on i t s fade l e s s

bl oom ,

For beyon d the c l oud s,and beyon d th e

tomb ,I t i s there

,i t i s the re , my ch i l d

FELIC IA H EMANS .

THE GREENWOOD SHR I FT .

GEORG E II I . AND A DY I NG WOMAN IN VVIND

SOR FOREST .

OUTSTR ETCH ED beneath the l eafy shade

Of Windso r forest ’ s deepes t glade ,A dying woman l ay

Th ree l i t t l e ch i l d ren rou nd her stood,

And there wen t u p from the greenwoodA woefu l wai l tha t day.

0 mother ! ” was t he m i ngl ed c ry ,0 mother

,mother ! do n o t d i e

,

And l eave u s al l a l one .

”

My bl essed babes she t ried to say,

Bu t the faint accen t s d i ed aa

I n a low sobb i ng moan .

And then,l i fe st ruggl i ng hard wi th death ,

An d fast and st rong she d rew her breath ,And up she ra i sed he r head

And,peer i ng through th e deep wood

mazeWith a l o ng

,sharp

,u nearth ly gaze

,

“Wi l l she n o t come ?” she sai d .

Ju st t hen,the part i ng bough s between ,

A l i t t l e maid ’ s l igh t form was seen ,Al l breath l ess wi th her speedA nd

,fo l l owing c l ose

,a man came on

(A port ly man to l ook upon),Who led a pan t ing steed .

Mother !” t he l i t t l e maiden c ri ed ,

O r e’

e r she reached the woman ’ s s i de,A nd k i ssed her c l ay -co l d cheek

,

I have no t i d l ed i n the town ,Bu t l o ng wen t wandering up and down ,The m i n i ste r t o seek .

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Such was the sigh t the i r wanderi ng eyesBehe ld

,i n heart- st ruck

,mute su rp r i se ,

Who re i ned the i r cou rsers back,

J u st as t hey foun d the l o ng ast ray,Who

,i n the heat Of chase that day,

Had wandered from thei r t rack .

Bu t each man re i n ed h is paw i ng steed,

A nd l ighted down,as if agreed

,

I n s i l ence at h i s s ide

And there , u ncovered al l , they stood ,It was a who lesome sigh t an d goodThat day for mortal p ri de .

For o f the n obl est of t he lan dWas that deep—hu shed

,bareheaded band ;

And,central i n the r i ng

,

By that dead pauper on the grou nd,

Her ragged orphan s c l ingi ng round,

Knel t the i r ano in ted k i ng .

ROBERT AND CAROLI NE SOUTHEY .

THE NO B LE NATURE .

IT i s not growi ng l i k e a t reeI n bu l k that make men bet ter be ;O r s tand ing l ong an oak

,th ree hu ndred

year,

TO fal l a l og at l ast,dry

,bald

,and sear

,

A l i ly of a day

I s fa i re r far i n May,

A l though i t fal l and d i e that n igh t,

I t was the p lan t and fl ower Of L ight

I n smal l p roport i on s we j u st beau t i es see,

And in short measu re l i fe may perfec t be .

B EN JON SON .

And honors are bu t b rand s to on e

Who wears them no t wi th natu re ’ sgrace .

The pri n ce may s i t w i th c l own or chu r l,

Nor feel h im sel f d i sgraced thereby ;But he who has bu t smal l e s teemHu sbands that l i t t l e carefu l ly .

Then,he th ou peasan t

,be thou peer ,

Cou n t i t s t i l l more thou art th i n e

ownStand o n a larger heral d ryThan that of n at i o n o r o f zon e.

What though no t b i d to k n igh t ly ha l l sThose hal l s have m i ssed a cou rt ly

guestThat man s ion i s n o t p ri v i l eged

,

Which i s n o t open t o the best .

G i ve honor du e when custom ask s,

Nor wrangl e fo r t h i s l es se r c l a im

I t i s no t to be dest i tu te ,To have the th i ng wi thou t the name .

Then dost thou come of gen t l e b l ood ,Di sgrace no t thy . good company ;

I f l owly born , so bear thysel fThat gen t l e b l ood may come of thee .

S t rive not wi th pai n to scale the he ight

Of som e fai r garden ’s pet ty wal l ,But cl i mb the open mou n ta i n-s i de,t ose summ i t ri ses over al l .

ANONYMOUS.

AL lCE .

A L IC E , A l ic e , l i t t l e Al ice ,My new- ch ri ste n ed baby Al ice

,

Can there eve r rhym e be fou ndTo exp ress my w i she s fo r theeI n a s i l ve ry flow i ng

,worthy

O f that s i l v e ry sou nd ?Bon n i e A l ice

,Lady Al ice ,

Su re,th i s sweetes t n ame m u st be

A t rue omen to thee , A l ice ,Of a l ife ’s l ong melody .

Al ice,Al ice

,l i t t l e A l i ce ,

Mayst thou prove a golden chal ice ,Fi l l ed w i t h hol i n ess l i ke w i n e ;

With r ich b less i ngs ru n n i ng o'

er ,Yet re pl en i shed e ver moreFrom a fou n t d iv i n e

A l i ce,A l i ce , l i t t l e A l ice ,

\Vhen th i s fu tu re comes t o the e ,

I n thy you ng l i fe ’ s brimm i ng chal ice

Keep some d rop s of balm fo r me

Al ice,A l ice

,l i t t l e A l i ce,

Mayst thou grow a good ly palace ,Fi t ly framed from roof to floors ,

Pu re u n to the i nmo st cen t re ,\Vhe n h igh though ts l i k e ange l s e n te rAt the Ope n doors ;

Al ice,Al ice

,l i t t l e Al i ce ,

When th i s beau teou s sigh t I se e,

I n thy woman—heart ’ s wide pal aceKeep one n ook o f l ove fo r me .

Al ice,Al ice

,l i t t l e A l i ce ,

Su re the rhyme hal t s o u t o f mal iceTo the thoughts i t feebly bears ,And thy n ame

’ s soft echoes , rangi ng ,

ALI CE . 29 1

F rom quai n t rhym e to rhym e a re chang

i ngI n to s i l en t p raye rs .

God be wi th thee,l i t t le A l ice

O f I l i s bou n teou sness may l l eFi l l the chal i ce

,bu i l d the palac e ,

Here,u n to ete rn i ty !

D l NAH MULOCK CRAIK .

MY PHILO SO PHY .

B R lG H T th i ngs can neve r d ie ,

Even though they fade ;Beau ty and m i n st re l syDeath l e ss were m ade .

\Vha t though the sum m er dayPasses at e ve aw ay

Doth no t the moon ’ s so ft raySol ace the n ight ?

Bright th i ng s can neve r d ie ,

Sai th my ph i l o sophyPhoebu s , w h i l e passi ng by ,

Leaves u s the l ight .

Ki nd w ord s can n e ve r d ie

Cheri shed and bl essed ,God k n ows how deep they l ie

Stored i n the breast

L i k e Ch i l dhood's s im ple rhym e s ,

Said o ’er a thou sand t ime s ,Ay, i n al l years and c l imes ,D i s tan t a nd near .

Ki nd w ord s can neve r d ie ,

Sai th my phi l o sophy ;Deep in the sou l they lie ,

God k now s how dear .

Ch i l dhood can never d i e ;Wreck s of the past

Fl oat o ’ e r the memory,Even to the last .

Many a happy th ing,Many a dai si ed sp ringFloat

,on T ime ’ s ceasel ess

Far,far away.

Ch i l dhood can neve r d ie,Sai th my ph i l o sophy ;Wreck s of Our i n fancyL i ve on fo r aye .

Sweet fanc ie s n ever d ieThey l eave beh ind

Some fa i ry l egacyS tored in t he m indSom e happy though t o r dream ,

P u re as day ’ s earl i est beam

Ki ss i ng the gen t l e s t reamI n the l o n e glade .

Yea,though these th ings pass by ,

Sai th my ph i l o sophy,

Brigh t th ings can n ever di e,Even th ough they fade .

ANONYMOUS .

WHAT IS THAT , MOTHER ?

WHAT i s tha t,mother

The Lark,my ch i ld

,

The morn has bu t j ust l ooked ou t,and

sm i l ed,

When he start s from h i s humble,grassy What i s that

,mother ?

nest,

The Swan my l ove,

And i s up and away, wi th the dew on h i s He i s float ing down from h i s n at i ve .

breast ; grove,

A nd a hym n in h i s heart,to yo u pu re ,

bright sphere ,To warbl e i t ou t in h i s Maker’ s ea r.Ever

,my ch i l d , be thy morn

’ s fi rs t l aysTuned , l i k e th e lark

’ s,to thy Maker ’ s

p rai se.

What i s t hat,mother 7

The Dove,my son

,

And that l ow,swee t vo ice

,l i ke the wid

ow ’ s moan,

I s flowing ou t from her gen t l e breast,

Cons tan t and pu re,by tha t l onel y n est

,_

As the wave i s poured from some crystalu rn

,

For the di stan t dear o ne ’ s qu ick retu rn .

Ever, my son , he thou l ik e the dove ,In fr i endsh ip as fa i th fu l , as con stan t i n

l ove .

What i s that,mother ?

The Eagl e,boy,

“

P roudly careering h i s cou rse Of j oy,

Fi rm , in h i s own mou n tain v igo r re lying

,

Breast ing the dark sto rm , the red bOltdefy ing

H i s wing on the w i n d , and h i s eye onthe sun ,

He swerves not a hai r,but bears on

ward,righ t on .

Boy,may the eagle ’ s fl ight ever be th ine ,

O nward and upward , t ru e to the l in e .

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We hope,we reso lve , we asp i re , w e

p ray,

A nd we th ink that we mount the ai r

on wingsBeyond the recal l of sen sua l th ings ,

Whi l e ou r feet st i l l c l ing to the heavy

c lay .

Wings for the angel , bu t feet for men !We may borrow the W i ngs to fi nd the

wayWe may hope

,an d reso l ve

,and asp i re

,

and pray

Bu t our feet must r i se , or we fal l

agai n .

O n ly i n dream s i s a l adder th rown

From the weary earth to the sapph i re

wal l s ;Bu t the dreams depart

,and the v i s i o n

fa l l s,

A nd the s l eeper wakes o n h i s p i l l ow o f

stone .

H eaven i s no t reached at a s i ng l e bound ;Bu t we bui ld the l adder by wh ich we

r i se

From the l owly earth to the v au l t ed

sk i es,

And we mou n t to i t s summ i t,rou nd by

round .

JOS IAH G ILBERT H OLLAND .

Does ever any th rob of painThri l l through thee ere thy song be

doneBecau se the summer flee ts SO fa st ;Because the au tumn fades so soon

Because th e dead ly winter t readsSo c lo sely on the step s o f June ?

0 sweet maid , open ing l i ke a roseIn Love’ s myste ri ou s , honeyed a i r,

Dost th ink somet i mes the day wi l l comeWhen thou shal t be no l o nger fai r :

When Love w i l l l eave thee and pass onTo younger and to brighter eyes

And thou shal t l i ve u n l oved , al o ne ,A du l l l i fe

,on l y dowered wi th s igh s ?

O brave you th , pan t ing fo r th e fight ,To conquer wrong and wi n thee fame ,

Dos t see thysel f grown O ld and spen t ,And th in e a st i l l u nhono red nam e

When al l thy hopes have come to n augh t ,And al l thy fai r schemes d roop and p ine ;

And Wrong st i l l l i ft s he r hyd ra headsTO fal l to st ronger arm s than th ine ?

Nay, song and l ove and l ofty aim sMay n ever be where fai th i s not

S t rong soul s w i t h i n the p re sen t l i veThe fu tu re ve i l ed

,-the past forgo t

G rasp ing what i s,wi th han d s o f steel

,

They bend what sha l l be to the i r wi l lA nd

,bl i n d al i ke to doubt and d read

,

The End,for which t hey are

,fu lfi l .

LEW I S MORR I S.

TO-DA V.

TO -DAY .

So here hath been dawn i ng anothe r b l ueday

Th in k ,w i l t th ou l et i t sl i p u sel ess away ?

Out O f Etern i ty th i s new day was bornI n to E tern i ty a t n igh t wi l l retu rn .

Beho ld i t aforet i me no eye eve r d i d ;SO soon i t foreve r from al l eyes i s h id .

Here hath been dawn i ng anothe r bl u e

dayTh in k

,wi l t t hou l et i t s l i p u sel es s aw ay

THOMAS CARLYLE .

DO GOOD .

AH,chi l d

,the s t ream that br i ngs

To th i rs ty l i ps the i r d ri nk,

I s se ldom drai n ed fo r sp ri ngsPou r water to i t s bri n k .

The wel l—sp ri ngs that supplyThe st reams

,are se l dom spen t

Fo r cl ouds Of ra i n com e byTo pay them w hat they l en t .

Th e clouds that cast the i r rai n

On l and s that y i e ld ou r foodHave water from the mai n

TO make the i r l o sse s good .

The sea i s paid by l andsWi th st ream s from eve ry sho re ;

SO give wi th k i nd ly hands ,For God can gi ve you more .

He wou ld tha t i n a ri ngHi s b le ss i ngs shou ld be sen t ,

295

From l i v i ng th i ng to th i ng,

B u t n owhe re sta id or Spen t.

And e very sou l t hat takes,

But yi e ld s n o t on agai n ,IS so a l i n k that break sI n I l eaven

'

s l ove -made chai n .

WI LLIAM B ARNES .

THEY THAT SEEK ME EARLYSHALL FIND ME .

”

COM E , whi l e the bl o ssoms of thy yearsare b rightest

,

Thou vou thfu l wanderer i n a flow e ryInaze ;

Come , w h i l e the re st l e ss heart i s boundi ng l ighte st

A nd j oy ’ s pu re su nbeam trembles i nthy ways ;

Come , whi le swee t thought s , l i ke sum

mer bud s u n fo ld i ng ,VVak e n rich feel i ng s i n the care l e ss

breast\Vhile yet thy hand the ephemera l wreath

i s ho ld i ng .

Come and secu re i n t e rm i nable re st .

Soon wi l l the fresh n e ss o f thydays be ove r ,And thy free buoyancy o f sou l be

flown ;Pl easu re w i l l fo ld he r w i ng—and frie n d

and love rWi l l to the embraces o f the w o rm have

gon e !Those who now l ove thee w i l l ha ve

passed foreve rThe i r l ook s O f k i ndness w i l l be l ost to

the e ;

Thou wil t need bal m to hea l thy Sp i r i t’

sfever

,

As thy Sick heart broods over years

to be

Come , wh i l e the morn ing of thy l i f e i sgl owing,

Ere the d im phan tom s thou ar t chas ing

d ieEre the gay spel l

,wh ich earth i s rou nd

thee throwing

Fades l i k es the c rim so n from a sun se tsky.

L i fe i s bu t shadows—save a p rom i seg i ven

That l ights the fu tu re w i th a fade l e ssray ;

Come , t ouch the sceptre—win a hope i nHeaven

A nd turn thy sp i ri t from th i s worl daway .

Then wi l l the shadows o f th i s b ri ef ex i s t

enceSeem ai ry noth i ngs to th i n e arden t

sou lAnd

,shadowed bright ly in the forwardd i stance ,

Wi l l,Of thy pat i en t race

,appear the

goal ;Home Of th e weary

,where in glad re

posing,

The sp i r i t l ingers in u nc l ouded bl i ss ,Whi l e o ’e r h i s du st the cu rta ined grave

i s c l o s ingWho wou l d no t early choose a l o t l i k e

th i sWILL I S GAYLORD CLARK .

B Y COOL S ILOAM’

S SHADYR ILL .

B Y coo l S iloam ’

s shady ri l l,

H OW fai r th e l i ly grows

H ow sweet th e breath,beneath the h i l l

,

O f Sharon ’ s dewv rose

LO such the ch i l d whose early fee tThe path s of peace have t rod

,

Whose secret hear t,with i nfluence

sweet,

I s upward drawn to God .

By cool S i loam ’

s Shady r i l lTh e l i ly mu st decay ;

The ro se that bl ooms beneath the h i l lMu st Short l y fade away .

0 thou whose i n fan t feet were fou nd

Wi th in thy Father ’ s Shri n e,

Whose year s,wi th cease l es s V i rtue

crowned ,Were a l l a l i k e d iv ine !

Dependent on thy bou nteou s breath ,We seek thy grace a l on e

,

I n ch i l dhood,manhood

,age , and death ,

To keep u s st i l l th i n e own

REG I NALD H EBER.

CH ILD—FAITH .

B Y A lp ine l ak e ,’neath shady rock ,

The herd -boy k nel t bes i de h i s flock ,And soft ly to ld

,wi th p i ou s a i r ,

H i s A,B

,C

,as even i ng p rayer

Un seen,the pasto r l i ngered near

My ch i l d,what mean s the sou nd

hear ?

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I scarce can th in k Thou art the same ,Thou art so much more sweet .

Changed and n o t cha nged,Thy p resen t

charm sThy past o n es o n ly p rov e

Oh,make my heart more st ro ng to bear

Th i s n ewness o f Thy l ove

These n ovel t i e s of l ove — when wi l lThy goodness fi nd a n endWhi ther wi l l Thy compassi o n s

,Lord

I nc red i bly ex tend

Father what hast Thou grow n to n owA j oy al l j oys above

,

Someth i ng more sac red than a fear,

More t ender than a love

Wi th gen t l e sw i ftness l ead me on,

Dear God to see Thy Face ;And meanwhi l e i n my narrow h eart

,

Oh,make Thysel f more space

FREDER ICK W. FABER .

SUFFER THE L I TTLE ONESTO COME UNTO ME .

”

TH E Maste r has come over Jo rdan,

Said Han nah the mother o n e dayH e i s h ea l ing the peop l e who th rong

H im,

With a touch o f H i s fi nger,they say .

And n ow I shal l carry the ch i l dren,

L i t t l e Rache l and Samuel and J ohn,

I f the ch i l dren were tortu red by dem on s,Or dyi ng of fever

,

’ twere wel l ;O r had they the tai n t O f the l eper

L i k e m any i n I srael .”

Nay,do not h i nder me , Nathan

I feel such a bu rden of care ,If I carry i t t o the Maste r ,Perhaps I shal l leave

'

it there .

If He lay H i s hand on the ch i l dren ,My heart wi l l be l igh ter

,I k now ,

For a bl ess ing for ever and everWi l l fo l l ow them as they go .

”

SO over the h i l l s Of Judah ,Along by the V i n e-rows green ,

lVith Esther asl eep on he r bosom ,

An d Rachel he r brothers b etween

’Mid the peop l e who hu ng on Hi s teach ing,Or wai ted H i s touch and H i s wo rd ,

Through the row o f p roud Phari see sl i s ten ing

,

She p ressed to the feet of the L ord .

Now why shou ldst thou h inder the

Master,

”

Said Peter,wi th ch i l dren l i ke these

Sees t not how from morn i ng to even i ngHe teacheth , an d heal e th d i sease ?

”

Then Chri st sai d , Forbi d not the ch i l

d ren ;Perm i t them to come u n to m e !

TH E (Tl/I L s DE S I/C

E . 299

And H e took i n H i s arm s l i t t le Esthe r ,And Rache l he set o n H i s k n ee ;

‘\nd the heavy heart o f the mothe rIVas l i fted al l earth-care above ,

As He la id H i s hand on the b rothers,

And bl essed them wi th tenderest l ove

A s H e sai d of the babes i n H i s bosom,

I shou ld l i k e to have be e n w i th them

O f such i s t he k i ngdom o f heaven ,” the n .

A nd st rength fo r al l du ty and t ria lThat hou r to he r spi ri t was g i ven .

I w i sh that h is hand s had be e n placed

JULIA G I LI o n mv

THE CHI LD'

S DES IR I'

I TH I NK , w he n I read tha t sw e e t s to rvo ld

\Vhen Jesu s was he re am ong m e n,

How he cal led l i t t l e ch i ld re n as lam bshi s fo ld

,

That h i s arm s had been th rown aroun d

me,And that I m ight have see n h i s k i n d l ook

when he said ,Le t the l i t t l e ones come u n to me.

But st i l l,to h i s foot stoo l i n p rayer I may

go ,And ask for a share i n h i s l ove ;

A nd i f I thu s earn est ly seek h im bel ow ,

I shal l see h i m and hear h im above,

In that beau t ifu l p lace he has gone to

prepareFor al l who are washed and forgi v en ,

And many dear ch i l d ren are gatheri ng

the re,

For of such i s the k i ngdom of heave n .

MRS . LUKE .

THE NEAREST FRI END .

DEAR Jesu s ! ever at my side ,H OW l ov i ng mu st Thou be ,

To leave Thy home In heaven to guardA l i t t l e ch i l d l i k e me !

Thy beaut i fu l an d sh i n i ng faceI see not

,though so n ear ;

The sweetness of Thy soft,l ow vo ice

I am too deaf to hear .

I can no t fee l Thee touch my handWith p ressu re l ight an d m i ld

,

TO check me,a s my mother d id

When I was bu t a ch i l d

Bu t I have fel t Thee i n my though ts,Figh ti ng wi th s in for me ;And when my heart l oves God

,I k n ow

The sweetness i s from Thee .

Yes ! when I p ray, Thou praye s t tooThy p rayer Is al l for me ;

B u t when I S l eep , Thou sl eepes t n ot ,But watche st pat i en t ly.

FREDER ICK W. FABER.

THE PARABLE OF ST . CHR I STOP H ER .

[Sa int Chr istopher—Christophoras, Christ-bearer —wasone of the m ost famous legendary sa ints of the early church .

H is feast is c e lebrated by the Greek and Roman churches.

H e w as sa id to have been of g igan t ic sta ture and nob le b ir th ,

to have been bap t ized by B abylos , B ishop ofAnt ioch, andthen to have gone to the dese rt and taken up h is abode near

a rap id stream, ove r wh ich he carried t rave l le rs on his back .)

To a k i ng ’ s cou rt a gian t came,

Oh,k ing

,both far and n ea r

I seek ,” he sa i d

,the greatest k ing ;

And thou art he,I hear.

If i t p l ease thee,I w i l l ab ide ;

TO thee my k nee Shal l bend ;O n ly u n to the greatest k ingsCan giant s con descen d .

”

R igh t glad the k ing the gian t tookIn to h i s serv ice then

,

For s ince Gol i ath ’ s m igh ty daysNo man so b ig was seen .

Wel l p l eased the g ian t too to serveThe greatest k ing on earth

He served h im we l l , in peace , i n war,I n so rrow

,and in

’

m i rth,

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I have such st re ngth as k ings desi re ,State to the i r state to l end ;

Bu t on ly to the greatest k ingCan gian t s condescend .

”

Then sai d the hermi t,pal e and wan

Oh, gian t man indeedThe K ing thou seekes t doth al l k i ngsIn gl ori ou s power exceed

Bu t they who see H im face to face,I n fu l l commu n i on c l ear

,

Crowned w i th H i s k ingdom ’ s sp l en dorbrigh t

,

Must buy th e v i s i on dear.

Dwel l here , Oh bro ther, and thy lo tWi th ours con ten ted cast ;

And fi rs t , that fl esh be wel l subdued ,For days and n igh t s thou ’ l t fast

I fast the giant c r i ed,amazed .

Good saint,I ’ l l no such th ing .

My st rength wou ld fai l ; withou t that , IWere fi t to serve no k ing !

”

Then thou must p ray , th e he rm i t sa i d

t“ We k neel on yonder stone

,

And tel l these bead s, and for each beadA p rayer, one by one .

The gian t flung the beads away,

Laugh ing i n sco rn fu l p ri de .

I w i l l no t wear my knees on sto n es

I know no p rayers, he cried .

Bu t go down to yo n r iver deep,

Where p i lgrim s dai ly s ink,

And bu i ld fo r thee a l i t t l e bu tC l ose on the r i ver ’ s br ink

,

And carry t rave l l ers back and forthAcross the raging st ream

Perchance th i s serv i ce to ou r K ing,

A worthy on e w i l l seem .

”

Now that i s good, t he gian t c ried

That work I u nderstan dA j oyou s ta sk ’ twi l l be t o bearPoor sou l s from land to l and

,

Who,bu t fo r me

,wou ld s i n k and

drown .

Good sain t , thou hast at l engthMade men t i on of a work which i sFi t for a gian t ’ s st rength .

”

For many a year,i n l owly bu t

The gian t dwel t con ten tUpon th e bank

,and back and forth

Acro ss the st ream he w en t ,

And on h i s giant shou l ders bo reAl l travel l ers who cam e

,

By n igh t , by day, or r i ch o r poorAl l i n King Jesu s ’ name .

But m uch he doub ted i f the K i ngH i s wo rk wou ld n ote o r k n ow ,

And oft en with a weary heartHe waded to and fro.

TH E I’

A II’

AE LE 01" S T. CH RI S TOP H ER .

O ne n ight , as wrapped i n sl eep he l ay ,He sudden heard a cal lOh

, Ch ri s tophe r, come carry m e

He sp rang,l ooked out

,bu t al l

Was dark and si l en t o n the shore .

It must be tha t I d reamed,

He sa id , and la id h im down agai nBu t in stan t ly th ere seemed

Again the feebl e,di stan t c ry °

“ Oh,come and carry m e 1”

Agai n he sp rang,and l ook ed aga i n

No l i v ing th i ng cou ld see .

The th i rd t ime came the p lai n t iv e voice,

L i k e i n fan t ’s soft and weak ;With l an tern s trode the gian t forth

,

More c arefu l lv to seek .

Dow n o n the bank a l i tt l e ch i ldH e fou nd—a p i teou s s ight

Who,weepi ng , earnest ly imp l ored

To cros s that very n ight .

With gru ff good -wil l h e p icked h im up,

And on h i s n eck to ride

He tossed h im , as men p lay wi th babes ,And plu nged i n to the t i de .

But as the wate r c l o sed arou ndH i s k n ees

,the i n fan t

'

s we igh tG rew heav i e r an d heavier

,

Unt i l i t was so great

The gian t scarce cou l d stand uprigh t ;H i s staff shook i n h i s hand

,

Hi s m ighty k n ees ben t u nde r h im,

He ba rely reached the land ,

303

And , stagge ri ng , se t the i n fan t dow n ,And tu rn ed to scan h i s face ;

\Vhen , l o he saw a hal o bright\Vhich l i t u p a l l the place .

Then Chri stophe r fel l dow n,afra id

A t marve l O f the th i ng,

And dreamed n o t that i t was the faceO f J esu s Ch ri st h i s Ki ng

,

Unt i l th e i n fan t spok e and said,

“ Oh,Ch ri st opher

,behold !

I am the Lo rd whom thou hast se rve dR i se up , be g l ad and bo ld

Fo r I have seen and noted w e l lThy work s O f chari ty ;

A nd that thou art my servan t go odA token thou shal t see .

P lan t fi rm ly here upo n thi s bankThy sta lwart staff o f n ine

,

And i t Shal l bl o ssom an d bear fru i tTh i s very hou r

,i n s ign .

”

Then,van i sh i ng

,the i n fan t sm i led .

The gian t , l eft a l on e ,

Saw on t he bank wi th l u sc iou s date sH i s s tou t p i n e staff ben t down .

For m any a year S t . Chri stophe rServed God i n many a land ;

And maste r pai n ters d rew h i s face ,\Vi th l ov i ng

‘

heart an d hand,

O n al tar fro n t s and chu rch ’ s wal l sAnd peasan t s u sed to say ,

To l ook on good S t . Chri stopherB rought l uck fo r al l the day.

304 CH RI S TMA 5 N I GH T.

I th ink the l esson i s as good We have wai ted so l ong for thee,Savi our"

To- day as i t was then Art thou come to u s, dearest , at l ast ?As good to u s cal l ed Chri st i an s Oh

,b less thee

,dear Joy of thy M o ther

A s to the heathen men Thi s i s worth al l the weari som e past

The l esson of S t . Chri s

tophe r,

Who spen t h i s st rength

for o thers,

And saved h i s sou l bywork i ng hard

TO help and save h i s

brothers !H ELEN H UNT JACKSON .

CHR I STMAS N IGHT .

AT l ast thou art come ,l i t t l e S av i ou r !

And th ine angel s fi l lm idn igh t wi th song ;

Thou art come to u s,gen t l e C reator !Whom thy c reatu reshave s ighed for sol ong.

Thou art come to thybeau t ifu l M otherShe hath l ooked on thy

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506 EP I P H AN Y .

Thi s day shal l Ch ri st ian l ip s be mute ,And Ch ri s t i an heart s be co l d ?

Oh ,catch the an them that from heave n

O’

e r J udah ’ s mou n tai n s ro l l edWhen n igh t l y bu rst from seraph -harp s

The high and so l em n l ay ,G l ory to God on ear th be peace ;Salvat io n comes t o -day l

”

EDMUND H AM ILTON SEARS .

EPI PHANY

BR IG H T EST and best of the so n s o f the

morn i ng,

Daw n on ou r dark ness, and l e nd u s

th i n e ai d !

Star of the east,the hori z on adorn ing

,

Gu ide where our in fan t Redeemer i sla i d

Col d on H i s c rad le t he dew -drop s aresh i n i ng ;

Low l i e s H is bed wi th the beas t s Of

the sta l l ;

Ange l s ado re H im,i n s l umber rec l in

i ngMaker

,an d monarch

,and Sav i ou r of al l .

Say,shal l we yi eld H im , i n cost ly devot i on ,

Odors of Edom , and offeri ngs d i v i n eGem s Of the moun tai n , and pearl s of the

oceanMyrrh from the forest , and gol d from

the m in e

Vai n ly we Offer each amp l e ob lat i on,

V ain l y wi th gol d wou l d H i s favor secure ;

R i cher by far i s the heart ’ s adorat i on,

Dearer t o God are the p rayers of thepoon

B righ test and bes t of the son s of themorn i ng,

Dawn o n ou r dark ness,and l en d u s

th ine ai dS tar O f th e east

,the ho ri z on adorn i ng ,

Gu i de where ou r i n fan t Redeemer i s

l ai dREG I NALD H EBER .

A CH ILD P EA YIN G.

A CH ILD PRAY ING .

FO LD thy l i t t l e hands i n prayer,

B ow down at thy mothe r’ s k nee ,

Now thy sun n y face i s fai r ,Shi n i ng th rough th i n e aubu rn hai r ;Thi ne eyes a re passi o n -free ;And pl easan t though t s , l i k e garland s ,

b ind theeUn to thy home

,yet gri ef may fi nd thee

Then pray,ch i l d , p ray !

Now,thy young heart

,l i ke a bi rd

,

Warbl es i n i t s summer nest ;N O ev i l thought , no u nk ind word ,No ch i l l i ng au tumn winds have st i rre dThe beau ty of thy restBu t wi n te r hasten s , and decayShal l waste thy ve rdan t home away

Then pray,ch i l d , p ray !

Thy bosom i s a hou se o f glee ,With g l ad ness harp ing at the doo r ;Whi l e ever

,wi th a j oyous Shout ,

Hope,the May queen

,dances ou t

,

Her l i ps wi th music ru n n ing o’

e r ;

B ut Time tho se str i n gs Of j oy wi l l sever ,And hope wi l l n o t dance on fo r ever

Then pray , ch i l d , p ray !

30 7

Now , thy mother’

s a rm i s SpreadBeneath thy p i l l ow i n the n ight ;

A nd l ov i ng feet c reep rou nd thy bed,

And o ’ er thy qu i e t face i s shedThe tape r's dark en ed l igh t ;But that fo nd arm wi l l pass away ,By thee no more tho se feet w i l l stay

Then p ray,ch i ld p ray !

RO BERT ARIs W ILLMO’

I‘

T .

A FAREWELL.

M Y fa i re st ch i ld,I have n o song to g i v e

youNo la rk cou l d p ipe to sk ie s so du l l an d

gray ;Y e t , e re we part , o ne l e sso n I c a n l e ave

youFor every day

B e good , sweet maid , and le t w ho wi l l

be c l ev er ;Do n oble thi ngs , n ot d ream them ,

al l

day l o ngA nd so make l i fe

,death , and that vast

foreverOne grand , sw e et song .

CHARLES K ING SLEY.

EP ILOGUE.

0 sw ee t and strong m ag ic ian , memory

The sudden sound ing of som e dear old tune ;

A dream of faces that we ne’

e r shall see

The m isty rising of an autum n moon

The busy humm ing of a dusty bee

The pregnant odor of a w oods in June ;The faint far scent of l i lac or of heather

And once again w e’

re boys and girls toge ther !

It is the realm of youth , so quaint and new ,

For l ife is fresh, and fee l ing s ti l l intense ,Where many an old rom ance r

’

s ta l e s are true ,

And fal se the m axim s of our riper sen se

The c i rcl ing hi l ls and arch ing sky,how b l ue

The cl ifl'

s how tal l , the shadowy wood s how d en se

What crash of storm s ; what gleam s of go ld en w eather

For once again w e’

re boys and g irls toge the r !

The b row that passing years have w reathed w ith fam e

P uts laure ls off, and tak e s on boyish graceThis com rade t inged w ith g r i e f, that touched w i th sham e ,

Are he re , glad-vo iced and innoc ent of face ;

The very loved asle e p in grave s w e claim

List for the ir silver laugh in soft emb raceFor Time

’

s turned back and flown w ith sw e ep ing feathe r,And once again w e

’

re boys and girls together

JOSEPH O’

CONNOR.

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i i CON 'TE N TS .

B ETH GELERT .

B ETTERB EWARE OF TH E

B INGEN ON TH E RH INEB IRD ’

S NEST,A .

B IRTHDAY B ALLAD . M ar ia f ewsbury F lele/ze

B L I ND MEN AND TH E ELEPHANT , TH E [ai m Godf rey Saxe .

B LUEB LUEB IRD,

TH E . .Em i ly H unting lon M i ller

B OBOLI NK . . Anonymous

B OYHOOD . Was/zz'

ng lon A llsta

B RAVE OLD OAK ,TH E

B RIGHT LITTLE G IRL, TH EB RUCE AND TH E SP IDERB UILD I NG OF TH E NEST , TH E

B USY B EE,TH E .

B UTTERCUPS AND DAI SIESB Y COOL S ILOAM

’

S SHADY RILLB Y TH E ALMA RI VERCAMEL ’

S NOSE , TH ECASAB IANCA.

CASTLES I N TH E AIR

CATARACT OF LODORE. TH ECATCH ING TH E CAT

CH ICKEN LITTLE ’ S DUTY .

CH ILD AND TH E B OATMAN , TH E

CH ILD FAITH .

CH ILDHOOD AND H IS VI S ITORSCH ILD MUSIC IAN , TH E

CH ILD ON TH E JUDGMENT SEAT,TH E

CH ILD PRAY I NG,A

CHILDREN I N TH E MOON ,

CH ILDREN I N TH E WOOD , TH E .

CH ILD ’

S DESIRE, TH E

CH ILD’

S OFFER I NG,

CH ILD ’

S SM ILE,A.

CH ILD ’

S TW IL IGHT, A

CH ILD ’

S W I SH, A . .

CH ILD TO A ROSE,A

CH IMNEY-TOPSCH IVALRY FOR TH E CRADLE .

CHR ISTMAS CAROL,A

CHR I STMAS N IGHT .

CHR ISTMAS SONG

B ernard B arton

I saac Wa tts

.M a 7y H ow itt

.Reg inala’ H eber .

D z’

na lz M u loc/e Cra ib

F elicia H emans

j ames B a llan lz’

ne

Robert Sou t/zey

M arian Douglas

.F rom z‘lze German

Win l/zrop M ac/ewort/z P raea’

Austin Dobson

.E lz'

zabetfi R . C/zar les

Rober t Aris Wi llm ott

Anonymous

Anonym ous

M rs . Lube

E liza Cook.

D ina/z Ill u locb Craz'

le .

H en ry S . Leiglz

Rose Terry Cooke

Anonymous

H enry S . Leig/z

.Dz'

na l1 M u lock Cra ik .

COA/TEN TS .

C IRCUS MEMORY,A

C LARI BEL’

S P RAYERCLOCK THAT GA IN S

,TI I E

CRADLE H Y H N

CR IMEAN EPI SODE,A .

C ROCUS , TH E

CUDDLEDAFFY—DOWN -D ILLYDAISY

,

DAME-SCHOOL,

DEAD DOLL , TH E

DEAR LITTLEDEATH OF NAPOLEON

,TH E

DI SCON '

I ENT

Do GOOD

DR I V I NG TH E COW .

EMPEROR'

S B IRDS-N EST,TH E .

EP I PHANYFAREWELL

,A

FARMYARD SONGFERN -SEEDF IFTI ETH B IRTH DAY OF AGASSIz .

F I ND ING ON TH E MAP

F IVE LESSONS .

FRO ST,

GAEL IC CRADLE—SONG , AN

G EORG E N ID IVER

GOD OF MY CH ILDHOOD,TH E

GOD’

S CARE O F AN IMALSGOOD-N IGHT AND Goon-MORN INGGOOD TI ME COM ING

,TI—IE

GOOD TI ME GO I NG , A

GRADAT I M .

GRANDPAPAG RANDPAPA ’

S SPECTACLESGRAVES O F A H OUSEHOLD

,TH E

G REENWOOD SHR IFT,TH E . Robert and Caroline

GROW I NG OLD

IIELVELLY N

H ERO O F T H F. COMMUNE,TI-Ir j7 . P res/ml.

H OMES OF ENGLAND,TH E Felicia I/emons .

IIORATIUS T/zomas B abmg/on Al um /flay

I l ow TH E NEW Y EAR CAM E Ill a ry Dodge

i i i

Anonymous

7 m m dc Caslro

F rom l lze German

B aya rd Taylor

A lexana’er Ann’erson

f70/zn l lIason Good

II en ry II’

z'

rbe IV/zz'

le

s'

llz'

am B arnes .

Ill a r z'

on D oug las .

Regi na ld H eber .

Clzar les K i ngsley .

yal m T. Trow brla’ge

Celia Tbar ter

Rossz'

ler yo/tnson

PVa l/er T/zornbu ry

H onna lz F . Gou ld

Anonym ous

Ano/zym ous

F reder i ck IV. Faber

R ic/l a rd ll'l on c/e/ou M z

'

ln cs

C/zarlc's ll'l acbay

Oliver IVen a’e/l H olmes

7 osta lz Gi lbert H olland

B ina lz Ill u locl ’ Crazl '.

CON TEN TS .

I HAVE , AND O IIAD I

IND IANIN SCHOOL

I REMEM BER, I REMEMBER

ITALIAN M OTHER,TH E

JEAN I E MORRISONJOHNNY ’

S O P IN ION OF GRANDMOTHERSJUMBLIES ,K I NG'

S RIDE,TH E

LADY B IRDLADY—B IRD AND TH E AUNT , TI I ELANDING OF TH E P ILGR I M FATHERS , TH E .

LAND OF N ODDY,TH E .

LANGLEY LANELEEDLE Y AWCOB STRAUSS .

LETTI NG TH E OLD CAT

L IFE AND DEATH Aa’elaz

'

a’

e A . P rocter

LILY ’

S B ALL Anonymous

LITTLE B ELL T/zomas Wes l woocl

L ITTLE CH ILDREN Mary H owz’

tt .

LITTLE COUS I N , TH E . .A . C. K endr ick

L ITTLE DANDELION H elen B arron B osz‘w ick

LITTLE G IRL ’

S FANC I ES, ALITTLE G IRL ’

S G OOD-B Y ,A

LITTLE G IRL’

S LETTER,A R . A

’

.

L ITTLE GOOSE ,A . E liza Sp roa t Turner

LITTLE H OME-B ODYL ITTLE MARTI N CRAGH AN

,. Zaa’el B arnes Gustaf son

L ITTLE NANNIE .

L ITTLE SORROWL ITTLE STARL ITTLE WH ITE LILYLOCH IEL

’

S WARN INGLOST ON TH E PRAIRI ELUCY ’

S LAMB .

LULLABYMARCO B ozzARIs

MARJOR I E’

S ALMANAC . Tbomas B a i ley Aldr icfi

M INSTREL B OY ,TH E

M ITH ERLESS B AIRN , TH EMONTHS , TH EMORNING H YMNMOTHERLESS TURKEYS, TH E M arzon

Aaga stas Langoein

7 o/i n G. Wlziz‘l ier

Win t/imp M aekwor l/zP raea’

Wi lliam M ot/zerwell

E Z/zel Lynn B eers

Lucy H am i lz‘on H oopCaroline B owles Sout/zey

Lya’ia H S igourney

Felicia H emans

Rossiter 7 o/znson

Robert B uc/zanan

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v i CON TEN TS .

PLANTING OF TH E APPLETREE , TH E . .

P LAY I NG K INGP OEMS BY A CH ILDP OET

'

S SONG,TH E .

P OLITICSP OLON IUS TO H IS SON

PRETTY IS THAT P RETTY DOESPURPLE DOVE

,TH E

PUSSY ’

S CLASS . M aoy M apes D odge

RAI N,TH E .

REL I EF OF LUCKNOW ,TH E Robert T. S . Low ell

RI VER , TH E . Caroline B ow les Son tlzey

ROBBER K ITTEN , TH E . Anonym ous

ROBERT OF L I NCOLN .

ROB IN REDBREAST .

ROB IN ’

S APPEAL , TH E .Anonymous

ROMANCE OF TH E SwAN’

s-N EST, TH E E lizabetlz B arrett B rown ing

ROOK AND TH E LARK , TH E Anonym ous

SAILOR B OY'S DREAM, TH E . Wi lliam D inzona’

SATURDAY AFTERNOON . N at/zan iel P . Wi ll isSEA

,TH E

SERENADE,A .

SEVEN TI MES ONESEVEN TIMES TWO .

SEW I NGSH I P THAT SAILED I NTO TH E SUN , TH E

SHORT SERMON , AS I NG I NG I N TH E RAI NS I NG I NG LESSON , TH ESLE IGH-SONGSOLD I ER’

S TEAR , TH E .

SOMEBODY ’

S DARL I NGSONG OF H ARVEST H OME

,A

SONG OF MAR ION ’SSONG OF SUMMER .

SPIDER AND TH E FLY,TH E

STANZAS .

STOP , STOP , PRETTY WATER . .E liza Fallen

SUFFER TH E L ITTLE,

ONESSUNSH INE AND SHOWERSUPPOSESWALLOW , TH E

CON TE /VTS . VIi

SW I NG ING I N TH E B ARNTHAT CALF

THEY TH AT SEEK ME

THREE LITTLE CHAI RS , TH E .

TH REE OLD SAWS ,

TO A C II ILD

TO A CH ILDTo A CH I LD F rancis Tu rner P a lg ra

'oe

TO A G IRL I N H ER TH IRTEENTH Y EARTO

TO L ITTLE MARY . .

To MY DAUGHTER.

TO MY L ITTLE S I STER ON H ER CAT

TO PSY-TURVEYTREASURE OF H OPE

,

TREE,

TR IUMPH,A .

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

TWO P I CTURESUNDER MY

UP I N TH E TREEVERSES (A l exand e r Se l k i rk ) .

VIOLET,TH E .

VIS IT FROM ST. N ICHOLAS , A . . . Clemen t C. M oore .

WALRUS AND TH E CARPENTER,TH E Clza rles L . Dodgso

WARREN ’

S ADDRESS . .

WATER B LOOM, TH E .

WATER LILY , TH E

\VEIG H ING TI I E B ABY E l li e! Lynn B eers

WHAT I S THAT ? MOTHE RWHAT TH E CHO IR SANG .

W IIAT TH E WI NDSWHAT W ILL BECOME OF

WHEN I WENT F I SH ING W ITH DAD .

\VH ITE K ITTEN , TH E ll/a r ion Douglas .

W ILL I E W I NK I E . . 2

W I NSTANLEY . .

W I NTERW I SHING .

WI VES OF B RIXHAM ,TN T

WOODMAN, SPARE T IIAT P . Afar/is

V l l l

Y ELLOW CLOUD ,

YE MARI NERS OF ENGLANDY OU B ID ME TRY

Y OUNG AMERICAN , TH E

Y OUNG VANDYCK , TH E

Y OUTH AND AGE .

0 0

Tlzomas Campbell

Austin Dobson

Alexander H . E verett

M argaret 7 . P reston