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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graded Poetry: Third Year, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Graded Poetry: Third Year
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Katherine D. Blake
+ Georgia Alexander
+
+Release Date: April 12, 2010 [EBook #31967]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRADED POETRY: THIRD YEAR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+GRADED POETRY
+
+THIRD YEAR
+
+EDITED BY
+
+KATHERINE D. BLAKE
+
+PRINCIPAL GIRLS' DEPARTMENT PUBLIC SCHOOL NO. 6, NEW YORK CITY
+
+AND
+
+GEORGIA ALEXANDER
+
+SUPERVISING PRINCIPAL, INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ NEW YORK
+ MAYNARD, MERRILL, & CO.
+ 1906
+
+
+
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1905,
+ BY
+ MAYNARD, MERRILL, & CO.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+POETRY is the chosen language of childhood and youth. The baby repeats
+words again and again for the mere joy of their sound: the melody of
+nursery rhymes gives a delight which is quite independent of the meaning
+of the words. Not until youth approaches maturity is there an equal
+pleasure in the rounded periods of elegant prose. It is in childhood
+therefore that the young mind should be stored with poems whose rhythm
+will be a present delight and whose beautiful thoughts will not lose
+their charm in later years.
+
+The selections for the lowest grades are addressed primarily to the
+feeling for verbal beauty, the recognition of which in the mind of the
+child is fundamental to the plan of this work. The editors have felt
+that the inclusion of critical notes in these little books intended for
+elementary school children would be not only superfluous, but, in the
+degree in which critical comment drew the child's attention from the
+text, subversive of the desired result. Nor are there any notes on
+methods. The best way to teach children to love a poem is to read it
+inspiringly to them. The French say: "The ear is the pathway to the
+heart." A poem should be so read that it will sing itself in the hearts
+of the listening children.
+
+In the brief biographies appended to the later books the human element
+has been brought out. An effort has been made to call attention to the
+education of the poet and his equipment for his life work rather than to
+the literary qualities of his style.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+FIRST HALF YEAR
+
+ PAGE
+ The Owl and the Pussy-cat. _Edward Lear_ 7
+ Wishing _William Allingham_ 9
+ The Piper _William Blake_ 10
+ A Year's Windfalls _Christina G. Rossetti_ 11
+ The Voice of Spring _Mary Howitt_ 16
+ The Spring Walk _Thomas Miller_ 18
+ "Over Hill, Over Dale" _William Shakespeare_ 21
+ The Throstle _Alfred Tennyson_ 22
+ The Violet _Jane Taylor_ 23
+ Bobolink _Clinton Scollard_ 24
+ The Four Winds _Frank Dempster Sherman_ 26
+ The Violet _Lucy Larcom_ 27
+ Pebbles _Frank Dempster Sherman_ 28
+ The Tree _Björnstjerne Björnson_ 29
+ September _Frank Dempster Sherman_ 30
+ The Swallow _Christina G. Rossetti_ 32
+ Thanksgiving Day _Lydia Maria Child_ 32
+ Hiawatha's Childhood _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 34
+ Hiawatha's Sailing _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 39
+ Child's Evening Prayer _Sabine Baring-Gould_ 44
+
+
+SECOND HALF YEAR
+
+ Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean 45
+ Corinna going a-Maying _Robert Herrick_ 47
+ Sweet Peas _John Keats_ 49
+ The Bluebird _Emily Huntington Miller_ 50
+ Where go the Boats? _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 51
+ The Magpie's Nest _Charles Lamb, Mary Lamb_ 52
+ The Sandman _Margaret Vandegrift_ 56
+ The Fairies of the Caldon-Low _Mary Howitt_ 58
+ Night-scented Flowers _Felicia Dorothea Hemans_ 63
+ Indian Summer _John Greenleaf Whittier_ 64
+ November _Alice Cary_ 65
+ The Frost Spirit _John Greenleaf Whittier_ 67
+ The Owl _Alfred Tennyson_ 69
+ The Wind and the Moon _George Macdonald_ 70
+ The Tempest _James T. Fields_ 74
+ A Visit from St. Nicholas _Clement C. Moore_ 76
+ Lucy Gray _William Wordsworth_ 81
+ The Wonderful World _William Brighty Rands_ 84
+ To a Child. Written in her Album _William Wordsworth_ 85
+ Consider _Christina G. Rossetti_ 86
+ Lullaby of an Infant Chief _Sir Walter Scott_ 87
+ Dutch Lullaby _Eugene Field_ 88
+ The Night Wind _Eugene Field_ 91
+ Marjorie's Almanac _Thomas Bailey Aldrich_ 93
+ A Child's Prayer _Betham Edwards_ 96
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The poems by Longfellow, Whittier, Alice Cary, J. T. Fields, and Frank
+Dempster Sherman are published by special arrangement with the
+publishers, Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin, & Company.
+
+
+
+
+THIRD YEAR--FIRST HALF
+
+
+
+
+EDWARD LEAR
+
+ENGLAND, 1812-1888
+
+
+The Owl and the Pussy-Cat
+
+ The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
+ In a beautiful pea-green boat.
+ They took some honey, and plenty of money
+ Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
+ The Owl looked up to the moon above, 5
+ And sang to a small guitar,
+ "O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love!
+ What a beautiful Pussy you are,--
+ You are;
+ What a beautiful Pussy you are!" 10
+
+ Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
+ How wonderful sweet you sing!
+ Oh let us be married,--too long we have tarried,--
+ But what shall we do for a ring?"
+ They sailed away for a year and a day
+ To the land where the Bong-tree grows,
+ And there in a wood, a piggy-wig stood 5
+ With a ring in the end of his nose,--
+ His nose;
+ With a ring in the end of his nose.
+
+ "Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
+ Your ring?" Said the piggy, "I will." 10
+ So they took it away, and were married next day
+ By the turkey who lives on the hill.
+ They dined upon mince and slices of quince,
+ Which they ate with a runcible spoon,
+ And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, 15
+ They danced by the light of the moon,--
+ The moon;
+ They danced by the light of the moon.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM ALLINGHAM
+
+IRELAND, 1828-1889
+
+
+Wishing
+
+ Ring ting! I wish I were a Primrose,
+ A bright yellow Primrose, blowing in the spring!
+ The stooping bough above me,
+ The wandering bee to love me,
+ The fern and moss to creep across, 5
+ And the Elm-tree for our king!
+
+ Nay,--stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree,
+ A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay!
+ The winds would set them dancing,
+ The sun and moonshine glance in, 10
+ And birds would house among the boughs,
+ And sweetly sing.
+
+ Oh--no! I wish I were a Robin,--
+ A Robin, or a little Wren, everywhere to go,
+ Through forest, field, or garden, 15
+ And ask no leave or pardon,
+ Till winter comes with icy thumbs
+ To ruffle up our wing!
+
+ Well,--tell! where should I fly to,
+ Where go sleep in the dark wood or dell?
+ Before the day was over, 5
+ Home must come the rover,
+ For mother's kiss,--sweeter this
+ Than any other thing.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM BLAKE
+
+ENGLAND, 1757-1827
+
+
+The Piper
+
+ Piping down the valleys wild,
+ Piping songs of pleasant glee, 10
+ On a cloud I saw a child,
+ And he, laughing, said to me:
+
+ "Pipe a song about a lamb."
+ So I piped with merry cheer,
+ "Piper, pipe that song again." 15
+ So I piped; he wept to hear.
+
+ "Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe,
+ Sing thy songs of happy cheer."
+ So I sung the same again,
+ While he wept with joy to hear.
+
+ "Piper, sit thee down and write 5
+ In a book that all may read."
+ So he vanish'd from my sight;
+ And I pluck'd a hollow reed,
+
+ And I made a rural pen,
+ And I stain'd the water clear, 10
+ And I wrote my happy songs
+ Every child may joy to hear.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI
+
+ENGLAND, 1830-1894
+
+
+A Year's Windfalls
+
+ On the wind of January
+ Down flits the snow,
+ Traveling from the frozen North 15
+ As cold as it can blow.
+ Poor robin redbreast,
+ Look where he comes;
+ Let him in to feel your fire,
+ And toss him of your crumbs.
+
+ On the wind in February 5
+ Snowflakes float still,
+ Half inclined to turn to rain,
+ Nipping, dripping, chill.
+ Then the thaws swell the streams,
+ And swollen rivers swell the sea:-- 10
+ If the winter ever ends
+ How pleasant it will be.
+
+ In the wind of windy March
+ The catkins drop down,
+ Curly, caterpillar-like, 15
+ Curious green and brown.
+ With concourse of nest-building birds
+ And leaf-buds by the way,
+ We begin to think of flower
+ And life and nuts some day. 20
+
+ With the gusts of April
+ Rich fruit-tree blossoms fall,
+ On the hedged-in orchard-green,
+ From the southern wall.
+ Apple trees and pear trees
+ Shed petals white or pink,
+ Plum trees and peach trees; 5
+ While sharp showers sink and sink.
+
+ Little brings the May breeze
+ Beside pure scent of flowers,
+ While all things wax and nothing wanes
+ In lengthening daylight hours. 10
+ Across the hyacinth beds
+ The wind lags warm and sweet,
+ Across the hawthorn tops,
+ Across the blades of wheat.
+
+ In the wind of sunny June 15
+ Thrives the red rose crop,
+ Every day fresh blossoms blow
+ While the first leaves drop;
+ White rose and yellow rose
+ And moss rose choice to find, 20
+ And the cottage cabbage rose
+ Not one whit behind.
+
+ On the blast of scorched July
+ Drives the pelting hail,
+ From thunderous lightning-clouds, that blot
+ Blue heaven grown lurid-pale.
+ Weedy waves are tossed ashore, 5
+ Sea-things strange to sight
+ Gasp upon the barren shore
+ And fade away in light.
+
+ In the parching August wind
+ Cornfields bow the head, 10
+ Sheltered in round valley depths,
+ On low hills outspread.
+ Early leaves drop loitering down
+ Weightless on the breeze,
+ First fruits of the year's decay 15
+ From the withering trees.
+
+ In brisk wind of September
+ The heavy-headed fruits
+ Shake upon their bending boughs
+ And drop from the shoots; 20
+ Some glow golden in the sun,
+ Some show green and streaked,
+ Some set forth a purple bloom,
+ Some blush rosy-cheeked.
+
+ In strong blast of October 5
+ At the equinox,
+ Stirred up in his hollow bed
+ Broad ocean rocks;
+ Plunge the ships on his bosom,
+ Leaps and plunges the foam, 10
+ It's oh! for mothers' sons at sea,
+ That they were safe at home.
+
+ In slack wind of November
+ The fog forms and shifts;
+ All the world comes out again 15
+ When the fog lifts.
+ Loosened from their sapless twigs
+ Leaves drop with every gust;
+ Drifting, rustling, out of sight
+ In the damp or dust. 20
+
+ Last of all, December,
+ The year's sands nearly run,
+ Speeds on the shortest day
+ Curtails the sun;
+ With its bleak raw wind
+ Lays the last leaves low,
+ Brings back the nightly frosts, 5
+ Brings back the snow.
+
+
+
+
+MARY HOWITT
+
+ENGLAND, 1804-1888
+
+
+The Voice of Spring
+
+ I am coming, I am coming!
+ Hark! the little bee is humming;
+ See, the lark is soaring high
+ In the blue and sunny sky; 10
+ And the gnats are on the wing,
+ Wheeling round in airy ring.
+
+ See, the yellow catkins cover
+ All the slender willows over!
+ And on the banks of mossy green 15
+ Starlike primroses are seen;
+ And, their clustering leaves below,
+ White and purple violets blow.
+
+ Hark! the new-born lambs are bleating,
+ And the cawing rooks are meeting
+ In the elms,--a noisy crowd; 5
+ All the birds are singing loud;
+ And the first white butterfly
+ In the sunshine dances by.
+
+ Look around thee, look around!
+ Flowers in all the fields abound; 10
+ Every running stream is bright;
+ All the orchard trees are white;
+ And each small and waving shoot
+ Promises sweet flowers and fruit.
+
+ Turn thine eyes to earth and heaven: 15
+ God for thee the spring has given,
+ Taught the birds their melodies,
+ Clothed the earth, and cleared the skies,
+ For thy pleasure or thy food:
+ Pour thy soul in gratitude.
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS MILLER
+
+ENGLAND, 1807-1874
+
+
+The Spring Walk
+
+ We had a pleasant walk to-day
+ Over the meadows and far away,
+ Across the bridge by the water-mill,
+ By the woodside and up the hill;
+ And if you listen to what I say, 5
+ I'll tell you what we saw to-day.
+
+ Amid a hedge, where the first leaves
+ Were peeping from their sheathes so sly,
+ We saw four eggs within a nest,
+ And they were blue as a summer sky. 10
+
+ An elder branch dipped in the brook;
+ We wondered why it moved, and found
+ A silken-haired smooth water-rat
+ Nibbling, and swimming round and round.
+
+ Where daisies open'd to the sun, 15
+ In a broad meadow, green and white,
+ The lambs were racing eagerly--
+ We never saw a prettier sight.
+
+ We saw upon the shady banks
+ Long rows of golden flowers shine,
+ And first mistook for buttercups 5
+ The star-shaped yellow celandine.
+
+ Anemones and primroses,
+ And the blue violets of spring,
+ We found, while listening by a hedge
+ To hear a merry plowman sing. 10
+
+ And from the earth the plow turned up
+ There came a sweet, refreshing smell,
+ Such as the lily of the vale
+ Sends forth from many a woodland dell.
+
+ And leaning from the old stone bridge, 15
+ Below, we saw our shadows lie;
+ And through the gloomy arches watched
+ The swift and fearless swallows fly.
+
+ We heard the speckle-breasted lark
+ As it sang somewhere out of sight, 20
+ And tried to find it, but the sky
+ Was filled with clouds of dazzling light.
+
+ We saw young rabbits near the woods
+ And heard the pheasant's wings go "whir";
+ And then we saw a squirrel leap 5
+ From an old oak tree to a fir.
+
+ We came back by the village fields,
+ A pleasant walk it was across 'em,
+ For all behind the houses lay
+ The orchards red and white with blossom. 10
+
+ Were I to tell you all we saw,
+ I'm sure that it would take me hours;
+ For the whole landscape was alive
+ With bees, and birds, and buds, and flowers.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
+
+ENGLAND, 1564-1616
+
+
+"Over Hill, Over Dale"
+
+ Over hill, over dale,
+ Thorough bush, thorough brier,
+ Over park, over pale,
+ Thorough flood, thorough fire.
+ I do wander everywhere, 5
+ Swifter than the moone's sphere.
+ And I serve the Fairy Queen,
+ To dew her orbs upon the green;
+ The cowslips tall her pensioners be,
+ In their gold coats spots you see,-- 10
+ Those be rubies, Fairy favors:
+ In those freckles live their savors.
+ I must go seek some dew-drops here,
+ And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
+
+
+
+
+ALFRED TENNYSON
+
+ENGLAND, 1809-1892
+
+
+The Throstle
+
+ "Summer is coming, summer is coming,
+ I know it, I know it, I know it.
+ Light again, leaf again, love again."
+ Yes, my wild little Poet.
+
+ Sing the new year in under the blue. 5
+ Last year you sang it as gladly.
+ "New, new, new, new!" Is it then _so_ new
+ That you should carol so madly?
+
+ "Love again, song again, nest again, young again."
+ Never a prophet so crazy! 10
+ And hardly a daisy as yet, little friend,
+ See, there is hardly a daisy.
+
+ "Here again, here, here, here, happy year!"
+ O warble, unchidden, unbidden!
+ Summer is coming, is coming, my dear, 15
+ And all the winters are hidden.
+
+
+
+
+JANE TAYLOR
+
+ENGLAND, 1783-1824
+
+
+The Violet
+
+ Down in a green and shady bed
+ A modest violet grew,
+ Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
+ As if to hide from view.
+
+ And yet it was a lovely flower, 5
+ Its colors bright and fair!
+ It might have graced a rosy bower
+ Instead of hiding there.
+
+ Yet there it was content to bloom
+ In modest tints arrayed; 10
+ And there diffused its sweet perfume
+ Within the silent shade.
+
+ Then let me to the valley go,
+ This pretty flower to see,
+ That I may also learn to grow 15
+ In sweet humility.
+
+
+
+
+CLINTON SCOLLARD[1]
+
+AMERICA, 1860-
+
+
+Bobolink
+
+ Bobolink--
+ He is here!
+ _Spink-a-chink!_
+ Hark, how clear
+ Drops the note 5
+ From his throat,
+ Where he sways
+ On the sprays
+ Of the wheat
+ In the heat! 10
+ Bobolink,
+ _Spink-a-chink!_
+
+ Bobolink
+ Is a beau.
+ See him prink! 15
+ Watch him go
+ Through the air
+ To his fair!
+ Hear him sing
+ On the wing,--
+ Sing his best
+ O'er her nest! 5
+ "Bobolink,
+ _Spink-a-chink!_"
+
+ Bobolink,
+ Linger long!
+ There's a kink 10
+ In your song
+ Like the joy
+ Of a boy
+ Left to run
+ In the sun,-- 15
+ Left to play
+ All the day.
+ Bobolink,
+ _Spink-a-chink!_
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[1] From "A Boy's Book of Rhyme."
+
+
+
+
+FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN
+
+AMERICA, 1860-
+
+
+The Four Winds
+
+ In winter, when the wind I hear,
+ I know the clouds will disappear;
+ For 'tis the wind who sweeps the sky
+ And piles the snow in ridges high.
+
+ In spring, when stirs the wind, I know 5
+ That soon the crocus buds will show;
+ For 'tis the wind who bids them wake
+ And into pretty blossoms break.
+
+ In summer, when it softly blows,
+ Soon red I know will be the rose; 10
+ For 'tis the wind to her who speaks,
+ And brings the blushes to her cheeks.
+
+ In autumn, when the wind is up,
+ I know the acorn's out its cup;
+ For 'tis the wind who takes it out,
+ And plants an oak somewhere about.
+
+
+
+
+LUCY LARCOM
+
+AMERICA, 1826-1893
+
+
+The Violet
+
+ Dear little violet, 5
+ Don't be afraid!
+ Lift your blue eyes
+ From the rock's mossy shade.
+
+ All the birds call for you,
+ Out of the sky; 10
+ May is here waiting,
+ And here, too, am I.
+
+ Why do you shiver so,
+ Violet, sweet?
+ Soft is the meadow grass, 15
+ Under my feet.
+
+ Wrapped in your hood of green,
+ Violet, why
+ Peep from your earth door,
+ So silent and shy?
+
+
+
+
+FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN
+
+AMERICA, 1860-
+
+
+Pebbles
+
+ Out of a pellucid brook 5
+ Pebbles round and smooth I took:
+ Like a jewel every one
+ Caught a color from the sun,--
+ Ruby red and sapphire blue,
+ Emerald and onyx too, 10
+ Diamond and amethyst,--
+ Not a precious stone I missed:
+ Gems I held from every land
+ In the hollow of my hand.
+ Workman Water these had made 15
+ Patiently through sun and shade,
+ With the ripples of the rill
+ He had polished them until,
+ Smooth, symmetrical, and bright,
+ Each one sparkling in the light
+ Showered within its burning heart
+ All the lapidary's art;
+ And the brook seemed thus to sing: 5
+ Patience conquers everything!
+
+
+
+
+BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
+
+NORWAY, 1832-
+
+
+The Tree
+
+ The Tree's early leaf buds were bursting their brown;
+ "Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down.
+ "No, leave them alone
+ Till the blossoms have grown," 10
+ Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown.
+
+ The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung;
+ "Shall I take them away?" said the Wind, as he swung.
+ "No, leave them alone
+ Till the berries have grown,"
+ Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung.
+
+ The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow; 5
+ Said the girl: "May I gather thy berries now?"
+ "Yes, all thou canst see:
+ Take them; all are for thee,"
+ Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low.
+
+
+
+
+FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN
+
+AMERICA, 1860-
+
+
+September
+
+ Here's a lyric for September, 10
+ Best of all months to remember;
+ Month when summer breezes tell
+ What has happened, wood and dell,
+ Of the joy the year has brought,
+ And the changes she has wrought.
+ She has turned the verdure red; 5
+ In the blue sky overhead,
+ She the harvest moon has hung,
+ Like a silver boat among
+ Shoals of stars--bright jewels set
+ In the earth's blue coronet; 10
+ She has brought the orchard's fruit
+ To repay the robin's flute
+ Which has gladdened half the year
+ With a music liquid, clear;
+ And she makes the meadow grass 15
+ Catch the sunbeams as they pass,
+ Till the autumn's floor is rolled
+ With a fragrant cloth of gold.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
+
+ENGLAND, 1830-1894
+
+
+The Swallow
+
+ Fly away, fly away, over the sea,
+ Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done.
+ Come again, come again, come back to me,
+ Bringing the summer, and bringing the sun.
+
+ When you come hurrying home o'er the sea, 5
+ Then we are certain that winter is past;
+ Cloudy and cold though your pathway may be,
+ Summer and sunshine will follow you fast.
+
+
+
+
+LYDIA MARIA CHILD
+
+AMERICA, 1802-1880
+
+
+Thanksgiving Day
+
+ Over the river and through the wood,
+ To grandfather's house we go; 10
+ The horse knows the way
+ To carry the sleigh
+ Through the white and drifted snow.
+
+ Over the river and through the wood--
+ Oh, how the wind does blow! 5
+ It stings the toes
+ And bites the nose,
+ As over the ground we go.
+
+ Over the river and through the wood,
+ To have a first-rate play; 10
+ Hear the bells ring,
+ "Ting-a-ling-ding!"
+ Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!
+
+ Over the river and through the wood,
+ Trot fast, my dapple-gray! 15
+ Spring over the ground,
+ Like a hunting hound!
+ For this is Thanksgiving Day.
+
+ Over the river and through the wood,
+ And straight through the barn-yard gate. 20
+ We seem to go
+ Extremely slow--
+ It is so hard to wait!
+
+ Over the river and through the wood--
+ Now grandmother's cap I spy! 5
+ Hurrah for the fun!
+ Is the pudding done?
+ Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!
+
+
+
+
+HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
+
+AMERICA, 1807-1882
+
+
+Hiawatha's Childhood
+
+ By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
+ By the shining Big-Sea-Water, 10
+ Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,
+ Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis.
+ Dark behind it rose the forest,
+ Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees,
+ Rose the firs with cones upon them; 15
+ Bright before it beat the water,
+ Beat the clear and sunny water,
+ Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.
+ There the wrinkled old Nokomis
+ Nursed the little Hiawatha,
+ Rocked him in his linden cradle,
+ Bedded soft in moss and rushes, 5
+ Safely bound with reindeer sinews;
+ Stilled his fretful wail by saying,
+ "Hush! the Naked Bear will hear thee!"
+ Lulled him into slumber, singing,
+ "Ewa-yea! my little owlet! 10
+ Who is this, that lights the wigwam?
+ With his great eyes lights the wigwam?
+ Ewa-yea! my little owlet!"
+ Many things Nokomis taught him
+ Of the stars that shine in heaven; 15
+ Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet,
+ Ishkoodah, with fiery tresses;
+ Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits,
+ Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs,
+ Flaring far away to northward 20
+ In the frosty nights of Winter;
+ Showed the broad white road in heaven,
+ Pathway of the ghosts, the shadows,
+ Running straight across the heavens,
+ Crowded with the ghosts, the shadows.
+ At the door on summer evenings,
+ Sat the little Hiawatha;
+ Heard the whispering of the pine-trees, 5
+ Heard the lapping of the water,
+ Sounds of music, words of wonder;
+ "Minne-wawa!" said the pine-trees,
+ "Mudway-aushka!" said the water.
+ Saw the fire-fly, Wah-wah-taysee, 10
+ Flitting through the dusk of evening,
+ With the twinkle of its candle
+ Lighting up the brakes and bushes.
+ And he sang the song of children,
+ Sang the song Nokomis taught him: 15
+ "Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly,
+ Little, flitting, white-fire insect,
+ Little, dancing, white-fire creature,
+ Light me with your little candle,
+ Ere upon my bed I lay me, 20
+ Ere in sleep I close my eyelids!"
+ Saw the moon rise from the water,
+ Rippling, rounding from the water,
+ Saw the flecks and shadows on it,
+ Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?"
+ And the good Nokomis answered:
+ "Once a warrior, very angry,
+ Seized his grandmother, and threw her 5
+ Up into the sky at midnight;
+ Right against the moon he threw her;
+ 'Tis her body that you see there."
+ Saw the rainbow in the heaven,
+ In the eastern sky the rainbow, 10
+ Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?"
+ And the good Nokomis answered:
+ "'Tis the heaven of flowers you see there:
+ All the wild-flowers of the forest,
+ All the lilies of the prairie, 15
+ When on earth they fade and perish,
+ Blossom in that heaven above us."
+ When he heard the owls at midnight,
+ Hooting, laughing in the forest,
+ "What is that?" he cried in terror; 20
+ "What is that," he said, "Nokomis?"
+ And the good Nokomis answered:
+ "That is but the owl and owlet,
+ Talking in their native language,
+ Talking, scolding at each other."
+ Then the little Hiawatha
+ Learned of every bird its language,
+ Learned their names and all their secrets, 5
+ How they built their nests in summer,
+ Where they hid themselves in winter,
+ Talked with them whene'er he met them,
+ Called them "Hiawatha's Chickens."
+ Of all beasts he learned the language, 10
+ Learned their names and all their secrets,
+ How the beavers built their lodges,
+ Where the squirrels hid their acorns,
+ How the reindeer ran so swiftly,
+ Why the rabbit was so timid, 15
+ Talked with them whene'er he met them,
+ Called them "Hiawatha's Brothers."
+
+
+
+
+HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
+
+AMERICA, 1807-1882
+
+
+Hiawatha's Sailing
+
+ "Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree!
+ Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!
+ Growing by the rushing river,
+ Tall and stately in the valley!
+ I a light canoe will build me, 5
+ Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing,
+ That shall float upon the river,
+ Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+ Like a yellow water lily!
+ "Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree! 10
+ Lay aside your white skin wrapper,
+ For the summer time is coming,
+ And the sun is warm in heaven,
+ And you need no white skin wrapper!"
+ Thus aloud cried Hiawatha 15
+ In the solitary forest,
+ By the rushing Taquamenaw,
+ When the birds were singing gaily,
+ In the Moon of Leaves were singing,
+ And the Sun, from sleep awaking,
+ Started up and said, "Behold me!
+ Geezis, the great Sun, behold me!"
+ And the tree with all its branches
+ Rustled in the breeze of morning, 5
+ Saying, with a sigh of patience,
+ "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"
+ With his knife the tree he girdled;
+ Just beneath its lowest branches,
+ Just above the roots, he cut it, 10
+ Till the sap came oozing outward;
+ Down the trunk, from top to bottom,
+ Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,
+ With a wooden wedge he raised it,
+ Stripped it from the trunk unbroken. 15
+ "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!
+ Of your strong and pliant branches,
+ My canoe to make more steady,
+ Make more strong and firm beneath me!"
+ Through the summit of the Cedar 20
+ Went a sound, a cry of horror,
+ Went a murmur of resistance;
+ But it whispered, bending downward,
+ "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"
+ Down he hewed the boughs of cedar,
+ Shaped them straightway to a framework,
+ Like two bows he formed and shaped them,
+ Like two bended bows together. 5
+ "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!
+ Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree!
+ My canoe to bind together,
+ So to bind the ends together
+ That the water may not enter, 10
+ That the river may not wet me!"
+ And the Larch with all its fibers,
+ Shivered in the air of morning,
+ Touched his forehead with its tassels,
+ Said, with one long sigh of sorrow, 15
+ "Take them all, O Hiawatha!"
+ From the earth he tore the fibers,
+ Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree,
+ Closely sewed the bark together,
+ Bound it closely to the framework. 20
+ "Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree!
+ Of your balsam and your resin,
+ So to close the seams together
+ That the water may not enter,
+ That the river may not wet me!"
+ And the Fir Tree, tall and somber,
+ Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,
+ Rattled like a shore with pebbles, 5
+ Answered wailing, answered weeping,
+ "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"
+ And he took the tears of balsam,
+ Took the resin of the Fir Tree,
+ Seamed therewith each seam and fissure, 10
+ Made each crevice safe from water.
+ "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!
+ All your quills, O Kagh, the Hedgehog!
+ I will make a necklace of them,
+ Make a girdle for my beauty, 15
+ And two stars to deck her bosom!"
+ From a hollow tree the Hedgehog
+ With his sleepy eyes looked at him,
+ Shot his shining quills, like arrows,
+ Saying, with a drowsy murmur, 20
+ Through the tangle of his whiskers,
+ "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"
+ From the ground the quills he gathered,
+ All the little shining arrows,
+ Stained them red and blue and yellow,
+ With the juice of roots and berries;
+ Into his canoe he wrought them,
+ Round its waist a shining girdle, 5
+ Round its bows a gleaming necklace,
+ On its breast two stars resplendent.
+ Thus the Birch Canoe was builded,
+ In the valley, by the river,
+ In the bosom of the forest; 10
+ And the forest's life was in it,
+ All its mystery and its magic,
+ All the lightness of the birch tree,
+ All the toughness of the cedar,
+ All the larch's supple sinews; 15
+ And it floated on the river
+ Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+ Like a yellow water lily.
+ Paddles none had Hiawatha,
+ Paddles none he had or needed, 20
+ For his thoughts as paddles served him,
+ And his wishes served to guide him;
+ Swift or slow at will he glided,
+ Veered to right or left at pleasure.
+
+
+
+
+SABINE BARING-GOULD
+
+ENGLAND, 1834-
+
+
+Child's Evening Prayer
+
+ Now the day is over, 5
+ Night is drawing nigh,
+ Shadows of the evening
+ Steal across the sky.
+
+ Now the darkness gathers,
+ Stars begin to peep,
+ Birds and beasts and flowers
+ Soon will be asleep.
+
+ Through the long night-watches
+ May Thine angels spread 10
+ Their white wings above me,
+ Watching round my bed.
+
+ When the morning wakens,
+ Then may I arise
+ Pure and fresh and sinless 15
+ In Thy holy eyes.
+
+
+
+
+THIRD YEAR--SECOND HALF
+
+
+Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean
+
+ O, Columbia, the gem of the ocean,
+ The home of the brave and the free,
+ The shrine of each patriot's devotion,
+ A world offers homage to thee;
+ Thy mandates make heroes assemble, 5
+ When Liberty's form stands in view;
+ Thy banners make tyranny tremble,
+ When borne by the red, white, and blue,
+ When borne by the red, white, and blue,
+ When borne by the red, white, and blue, 10
+ Thy banners make tyranny tremble,
+ When borne by the red, white, and blue.
+
+ When war wing'd its wide desolation,
+ And threaten'd the land to deform,
+ The ark then of freedom's foundation, 15
+ Columbia rode safe thro' the storm:
+ With the garlands of vict'ry around her,
+ When so proudly she bore her brave crew,
+ With her flag proudly floating before her,
+ The boast of the red, white, and blue,
+ The boast of the red, white, and blue, 5
+ The boast of the red, white, and blue,
+ With her flag proudly floating before her
+ The boast of the red, white, and blue.
+
+ The star-spangled banner bring hither,
+ O'er Columbia's true sons let it wave; 10
+ May the wreaths they have won never wither,
+ Nor its stars cease to shine on the brave.
+ May the service united ne'er sever,
+ But hold to their colors so true;
+ The army and navy forever, 15
+ Three cheers for the red, white, and blue,
+ Three cheers for the red, white, and blue,
+ Three cheers for the red, white, and blue,
+ The army and navy forever,
+ Three cheers for the red, white, and blue. 20
+
+
+
+
+ROBERT HERRICK
+
+ENGLAND, 1591-1674
+
+
+Corinna going a-Maying
+
+ Get up, get up, for shame the blooming morn
+ Upon her wings presents the gods unshorn.
+ See how Aurora throws her fair,
+ Fresh-quilted colors through the air;
+ Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see 5
+ The dew-bespangled herb and tree.
+
+ Each flower has wept, and bowed toward the East
+ Above an hour since, yet you are not drest,
+ Nay not so much as out of bed,
+ When all the birds have matins said, 10
+ And sung their thankful hymns; 'tis sin,
+ Nay, profanation to keep in,
+ When as a thousand virgins on this day
+ Spring sooner than the lark to fetch in May.
+
+ Come, my Corinna, come, and coming, mark
+ How each field turns a street--each street a park,
+ Made green and trimmed with trees! see how
+ Devotion gives each house a bough,
+ Or branch! each porch, each door, ere this 5
+ An ark, a tabernacle is,
+ Made up of whitethorn neatly interwove,
+ As if he were those cooler shades of love.
+ Can such delights be in the street
+ And open fields, and we not see't? 10
+ Come we'll abroad, and let's obey
+ The proclamation made for May.
+ And sin no more, as we have done, by staying,
+ But, my Corinna! come, let's go a-Maying.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN KEATS
+
+ENGLAND, 1795-1821
+
+
+Sweet Peas
+
+ Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight:
+ With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white,
+ And taper fingers catching at all things,
+ To bind them all about with tiny rings.
+ Linger awhile upon some bending planks 5
+ That lean against a streamlet's rushy banks,
+ And watch intently Nature's gentle doings,
+ They will be found softer than ringdove's cooings.
+ How silent comes the water round that bend!
+ Not the minutest whisper does it send 10
+ To the o'erhanging sallows: blades of grass
+ Slowly across the chequer'd shadows pass.
+
+
+
+
+EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER
+
+AMERICA, 1862-
+
+
+The Bluebird
+
+ I know the song that the bluebird is singing,
+ Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging:
+ Brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary:
+ Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery.
+
+ Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat-- 5
+ Hark! was there ever so merry a note?
+ Listen awhile, and you'll hear what he's saying,
+ Up in the apple-tree, swinging and swaying.
+
+ "Dear little blossoms, down under the snow,
+ You must be weary of winter, I know; 10
+ Hark while I sing you a message of cheer--
+ _Summer_ is coming! and _spring-time_ is here!
+
+ "Little white snowdrop! I pray you, arise;
+ Bright yellow crocus! come, open your eyes;
+ Sweet little violets, hid from the cold, 5
+ Put on your mantles of purple and gold:
+ Daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear?--
+ _Summer_ is coming! and _spring-time_ is here!"
+
+
+
+
+ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
+
+SCOTLAND, 1850-1894
+
+
+Where go the Boats?
+
+ Dark brown is the river,
+ Golden is the sand, 10
+ It flows along forever,
+ With trees on either hand.
+
+ Green leaves a-floating,
+ Castles of the foam,
+ Boats of mine a-boating--
+ Where will all come home?
+
+ On goes the river 5
+ And out past the mill,
+ Away down the valley,
+ Away down the hill.
+
+ Away down the river,
+ A hundred miles or more, 10
+ Other little children
+ Shall bring my boats ashore.
+
+
+
+
+CHARLES LAMB, MARY LAMB
+
+ENGLAND, 1775-1834, ENGLAND, 1764-1847
+
+
+The Magpie's Nest
+
+ When the arts in their infancy were,
+ In a fable of old 'tis expressed
+ A wise magpie constructed that rare 15
+ Little house for young birds, called a nest.
+
+ This was talked of the whole country round;
+ You might hear it on every bough sung;
+ "Now no longer upon the rough ground
+ Will fond mothers brood over their young:
+
+ "For the magpie with exquisite skill 5
+ Has invented a moss-covered cell
+ Within which a whole family will
+ In the utmost security dwell."
+
+ To her mate did each female bird say:
+ "Let us fly to the magpie, my dear; 10
+ If she will but teach us the way,
+ A nest we will build us up here.
+
+ "It's a thing that's close arched overhead,
+ With a hole made to creep out and in;
+ We, my bird, might make just such a bed 15
+ If we only knew how to begin."
+
+ To the magpie soon all the birds went,
+ And in modest terms made their request,
+ That she would be pleased to consent
+ To teach them to build up a nest.
+
+ She replied: "I will show you the way,
+ So observe everything that I do:
+ First, two sticks 'cross each other I lay--" 5
+ "To be sure," said the crow, "why I knew
+
+ "It must be begun with two sticks,
+ And I thought that they crossed should be."
+ Said the pie, "Then some straw and moss mix
+ In the way you now see done by me." 10
+
+ "Oh, yes, certainly," said the jackdaw,
+ "That must follow, of course, I have thought;
+ Though I never before building saw,
+ I guessed that without being taught."
+ "More moss, more straw, and feathers, I place 15
+ In this manner," continued the pie.
+ "Yes, no doubt, madam, that is the case;
+ Though no builder myself, so thought I."
+
+ Whatever she taught them beside,
+ In his turn every bird of them said,
+ Though the nest-making art he ne'er tried, 5
+ He had just such a thought in his head.
+
+ Still the pie went on showing her art,
+ Till the nest she had built up halfway;
+ She no more of her skill would impart,
+ But in her anger went fluttering away. 10
+
+ And this speech in their hearing she made,
+ As she perched o'er their heads on a tree:
+ "If ye all were well skilled in my trade,
+ Pray, why came ye to learn it of me?"
+
+
+
+
+MARGARET VANDEGRIFT
+
+AMERICA, 1845-
+
+
+The Sandman
+
+ The rosy clouds float overhead,
+ The sun is going down;
+ And now the sandman's gentle tread
+ Comes stealing through the town.
+ "White sand, white sand," he softly cries, 5
+ And as he shakes his hand,
+ Straightway there lies on babies' eyes
+ His gift of shining sand.
+ Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
+ As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through
+ the town, 10
+
+ From sunny beaches far away--
+ Yes, in another land--
+ He gathers up at break of day
+ His store of shining sand.
+ No tempests beat that shore remote, 15
+ No ships may sail that way;
+ His little boat alone may float
+ Within that lovely bay.
+ Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
+ As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.
+
+ He smiles to see the eyelids close 5
+ Above the happy eyes;
+ And every child right well he knows,--
+ Oh, he is very wise!
+ But if, as he goes through the land,
+ A naughty baby cries, 10
+ His other hand takes dull gray sand
+ To close the wakeful eyes.
+ Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
+ As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.
+
+ So when you hear the sandman's song 15
+ Sound through the twilight sweet,
+ Be sure you do not keep him long
+ A-waiting on the street.
+ Lie softly down, dear little head,
+ Rest quiet, busy hands,
+ Till, by your bed his good night said,
+ He strews the shining sands. 5
+ Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
+ As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.
+
+
+
+
+MARY HOWITT
+
+ENGLAND, 1804-1888
+
+
+The Fairies of the Caldon-Low
+
+A MIDSUMMER LEGEND
+
+ "And where have you been, my Mary,
+ And where have you been from me?"
+ "I've been to the top of the Caldon-Low, 10
+ The midsummer night to see!"
+
+ "And what did you see, my Mary,
+ All up on the Caldon-Low?"
+ "I saw the blithe sunshine come down,
+ And I saw the merry winds blow." 15
+ "And what did you hear, my Mary,
+ All up on the Caldon Hill?"
+ "I heard the drops the water made,
+ And I heard the corn-ears fill."
+
+ "Oh, tell me all, my Mary-- 5
+ All, all that ever you know;
+ For you must have seen the fairies
+ Last night on the Caldon-Low."
+
+ "Then take me on your knee, mother,
+ And listen, mother of mine: 10
+ A hundred fairies danced last night,
+ And the harpers they were nine;
+
+ "And merry was the glee of the harp-strings,
+ And their dancing feet so small;
+ But, oh! the sound of their talking 15
+ Was merrier far than all!"
+
+ "And what were the words, my Mary,
+ That you did hear them say?"
+ "I'll tell you all, my mother,
+ But let me have my way. 20
+ "And some they played with the water,
+ And rolled it down the hill;
+ 'And this,' they said, 'shall speedily turn
+ The poor old miller's mill;
+
+ "'For there has been no water 5
+ Ever since the first of May;
+ And a busy man shall the miller be
+ By the dawning of the day!
+
+ "'Oh, the miller, how he will laugh,
+ When he sees the mill-dam rise! 10
+ The jolly old miller, how he will laugh
+ Till the tears fill both his eyes!'
+
+ "And some they seized the little winds,
+ That sounded over the hill,
+ And each put a horn into his mouth, 15
+ And blew so sharp and shrill:
+
+ "'And there,' said they, 'the merry winds go
+ Away from every horn;
+ And those shall clear the mildew dank
+ From the blind old widow's corn: 20
+ "'Oh, the poor blind widow--
+ Though she has been blind so long,
+ She'll be merry enough when the mildew's gone,
+ And the corn stands stiff and strong!'
+
+ "And some they brought the brown linseed, 5
+ And flung it down from the Low:
+ 'And this,' said they, 'by the sunrise,
+ In the weaver's croft shall grow!
+
+ "'Oh, the poor lame weaver!
+ How he will laugh outright 10
+ When he sees his dwindling flax-field
+ All full of flowers by night!'
+
+ "And then up spoke a brownie,
+ With a long beard on his chin:
+ 'I have spun up all the tow,' said he, 15
+ 'And I want some more to spin.
+
+ "'I've spun a piece of hempen cloth,
+ And I want to spin another--
+ A little sheet for Mary's bed,
+ And an apron for her mother.'
+
+ "And with that I could not help but laugh,
+ And I laughed out loud and free;
+ And then on top of the Caldon-Low 5
+ There was no one left but me.
+
+ "And all on top of the Caldon-Low
+ The mists were cold and gray,
+ And nothing I saw but the mossy stones
+ That round about me lay. 10
+
+ "But, as I came down from the hill-top,
+ I heard, afar below,
+ How busy the jolly miller was,
+ And how merry the wheel did go.
+
+ "And I peeped into the widow's field, 15
+ And sure enough were seen
+ The yellow ears of the mildewed corn
+ All standing stiff and green!
+
+ "And down by the weaver's croft I stole,
+ To see if the flax were high;
+ But I saw the weaver at his gate,
+ With the good news in his eye!
+
+ "Now this is all I heard, mother, 5
+ And all that I did see;
+ So, prithee, make my bed, mother,
+ For I'm tired as I can be!"
+
+
+
+
+FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS
+
+ENGLAND, 1793-1835
+
+
+Night-scented Flowers
+
+ "Call back your odors, lonely flowers,
+ From the night-wind call them back; 10
+ And fold your leaves till the laughing hours
+ Come forth in the sunbeam's track.
+
+ "The lark lies couched in her grassy nest,
+ And the honey-bee is gone,
+ And all bright things are away to rest; 15
+ Why watch ye here alone?"
+
+ "Nay, let our shadowy beauty bloom
+ When the stars give quiet light,
+ And let us offer our faint perfume
+ On the silent shrine of night.
+
+ "Call it not wasted, the scent we lend 5
+ To the breeze when no step is nigh:
+ Oh! thus forever the earth should send
+ Her grateful breath on high!
+
+ "And love us as emblems, night's dewy flowers,
+ Of hopes unto sorrow given, 10
+ That spring through the gloom of the darkest hours,
+ Looking alone to heaven."
+
+
+
+
+JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER
+
+AMERICA, 1807-1892
+
+
+Indian Summer
+
+ From gold to gray
+ Our mild, sweet day
+ Of Indian summer fades too soon; 15
+ But tenderly
+ Above the sea
+ Hangs, white and calm, the hunter's moon.
+
+ In its pale fire
+ The village spire 5
+ Shows like the zodiac's spectral lance;
+ The painted walls
+ Whereon it falls
+ Transfigured stand in marble trance.
+
+
+
+
+ALICE CARY
+
+AMERICA, 1820-1871
+
+
+November
+
+ The leaves are fading and falling, 10
+ The winds are rough and wild,
+ The birds have ceased their calling,
+ But let me tell you, my child,
+
+ Though day by day, as it closes,
+ Doth darker and colder grow, 15
+ The roots of the bright red roses
+ Will keep alive in the snow.
+
+ And when the winter is over
+ The boughs will get new leaves,
+ The quail will come back to the clover,
+ And the swallow back to the eaves.
+
+ The robin will wear on his bosom 5
+ A vest that is bright and new,
+ And the loveliest wayside blossoms
+ Will shine with the sun and dew.
+
+ The leaves to-day are whirling,
+ The brooks are all dry and dumb, 10
+ But let me tell you, my darling,
+ The spring will be sure to come.
+
+ There must be rough, cold weather,
+ And winds and rains so wild;
+ Not all good things together 15
+ Come to us here, my child.
+
+ So when some dear joy loses
+ Its beauteous summer glow,
+ Think how the roots of the roses
+ Are kept alive in the snow. 20
+
+
+
+
+JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER
+
+
+The Frost Spirit
+
+ He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes! You may trace his
+ footsteps now
+ On the naked woods and the blasted fields and the brown hill's
+ withered brow.
+ He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees where their
+ pleasant green came forth,
+ And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, have shaken them
+ down to earth.
+
+ He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes!--from the frozen
+ Labrador,-- 5
+ From the icy bridge of the Northern seas, which the white bear
+ wanders o'er,--
+ Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice, and the luckless
+ forms below
+ In the sunless cold of the lingering night into marble statues
+ grow!
+
+ He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes!--on the rushing
+ Northern blast,
+ And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed as his fearful breath
+ went past.
+ With an unscorched wing he has hurried on, where the fires of
+ Hecla glow
+ On the darkly beautiful sky above and the ancient ice below.
+
+ He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes!--and the quiet lake
+ shall feel 5
+ The torpid touch of his glazing breath, and ring to the skater's
+ heel;
+ And the streams which danced on the broken rocks, or sang to the
+ leaning grass,
+ Shall bow again to their winter chain, and in mournful silence pass.
+
+ He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes!--let us meet him as we
+ may,
+ And turn with the light of the parlor-fire his evil power away;
+ And gather closer the circle round, when that firelight dances high,
+ And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend as his sounding wing goes
+ by!
+
+
+
+
+ALFRED TENNYSON
+
+ENGLAND, 1809-1892
+
+
+The Owl
+
+
+I
+
+ When cats run home and the light is come
+ And the dew is cold upon the ground, 5
+ And the far-off stream is dumb,
+ And the whirring sail goes round,
+ And the whirring sail goes round;
+ Alone and warming his five wits,
+ The white owl in the belfry sits. 10
+
+
+II
+
+ When merry milkmaids click the latch,
+ And rarely smells the new-mown hay,
+ And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch
+ Twice or thrice his roundelay,
+ Twice or thrice his roundelay;
+ Alone and warming his five wits,
+ The white owl in the belfry sits. 5
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE MACDONALD
+
+SCOTLAND, 1824-
+
+
+The Wind and the Moon
+
+ Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out.
+ You stare
+ In the air
+ Like a ghost in a chair,
+ Always looking what I am about; 10
+ I hate to be watched; I will blow you out."
+
+ The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.
+ So, deep,
+ On a heap
+ Of clouds, to sleep,
+ Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon--
+ Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."
+
+ He turned in his bed; she was there again! 5
+ On high
+ In the sky,
+ With her one ghost eye,
+ The Moon shone white and alive and plain.
+ Said the Wind--"I will blow you out again." 10
+
+ The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim.
+ "With my sledge
+ And my wedge
+ I have knocked off her edge!
+ If only I blow right fierce and grim, 15
+ The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."
+
+ He blew and blew, and she thinned to a thread.
+ "One puff
+ More's enough
+ To blow her to snuff!
+ One good puff more where the last was bred, 5
+ And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go the thread!"
+
+ He blew a great blast and the thread was gone;
+ In the air
+ Nowhere
+ Was a moonbeam bare; 10
+ Far off and harmless the shy stars shone;
+ Sure and certain the Moon was gone!
+
+ The Wind he took to his revels once more;
+ On down
+ In town, 15
+ Like a merry mad clown,
+ He leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar,
+ "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!
+
+ He flew in a rage--he danced and blew;
+ But in vain
+ Was the pain
+ Of his bursting brain; 5
+ For still the broader the Moon-scrap grew,
+ The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew.
+
+ Slowly she grew--till she filled the night,
+ And shone
+ On her throne 10
+ In the sky alone,
+ A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,
+ Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the Night.
+
+ Said the Wind--"What a marvel of power am I!
+ With my breath, 15
+ Good faith!
+ I blew her to death--
+ First blew her away right out of the sky--
+ Then blew her in; what a strength am I!"
+
+ But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair,
+ For, high
+ In the sky, 5
+ With her one white eye,
+ Motionless, miles above the air,
+ She had never heard the great Wind blare.
+
+
+
+
+JAMES T. FIELDS
+
+AMERICA, 1817-1881
+
+
+The Tempest
+
+ We were crowded in the cabin,
+ Not a soul would dare to sleep,-- 10
+ It was midnight on the waters,
+ And a storm was on the deep.
+
+ 'Tis a fearful thing in winter
+ To be shattered in the blast,
+ And to hear the rattling trumpet
+ Thunder, "Cut away the mast!"
+
+ So we shuddered there in silence,--
+ For the stoutest held his breath,
+ While the hungry sea was roaring, 5
+ And the breakers talked with Death.
+
+ As thus we sat in darkness,
+ Each one busy in his prayers,--
+ "We are lost!" the captain shouted,
+ As he staggered down the stairs. 10
+
+ But his little daughter whispered,
+ As she took his icy hand,
+ "Is not God upon the ocean,
+ Just the same as on the land?"
+
+ Then we kissed the little maiden, 15
+ And we spoke in better cheer;
+ And we anchored safe in harbor
+ When the morn was shining clear.
+
+
+
+
+CLEMENT C. MOORE
+
+AMERICA, 1779-1863
+
+
+A Visit from St. Nicholas
+
+ 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
+ Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
+ The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
+ In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
+ The children were nestled all snug in their beds, 5
+ While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
+ And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
+ Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
+ When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
+ I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
+ Away to the window I flew like a flash,
+ Tore open the shatters and threw up the sash.
+ The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
+ Gave a luster of midday to objects below; 5
+ When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
+ But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
+ With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
+ I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
+ More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, 10
+ And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
+ "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
+ On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen--
+ To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!
+ Now, dash away, dash away, dash away, all!"
+ As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
+ When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
+ So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 5
+ With the sleigh full of toys--and St. Nicholas, too.
+ And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof
+ The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
+ As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
+ Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 10
+ He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
+ And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
+ A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
+ And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
+ His eyes how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
+ His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
+ His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 5
+ And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
+ The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
+ And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
+ He had a broad face and a little round belly
+ That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. 10
+ He was chubby and plump--a right jolly old elf;
+ And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
+ A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
+ Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
+ He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
+ And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
+ And laying his finger aside of his nose, 5
+ And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
+ He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
+ And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;
+ But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
+ "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" 10
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
+
+ENGLAND, 1770-1850
+
+
+Lucy Gray
+
+ Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray;
+ And, when I crossed the wild,
+ I chanced to see at break of day
+ The solitary child.
+
+ No mate, no comrade, Lucy knew; 5
+ She dwelt on a wide moor,--
+ The sweetest thing that ever grew
+ Beside a human door!
+
+ You yet may spy the fawn at play,
+ The hare upon the green; 10
+ But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
+ Will never more be seen.
+
+ "To-night will be a stormy night--
+ You to the town must go:
+ And take a lantern, child, to light 15
+ Your mother through the snow."
+
+ "That, father, will I gladly do:
+ 'Tis scarcely afternoon--
+ The minster-clock has just struck two;
+ And yonder is the moon."
+
+ At this the father raised his hook, 5
+ And snapped a fagot-band;
+ He plied his work;--and Lucy took
+ The lantern in her hand.
+
+ Not blither is the mountain roe:
+ With many a wanton stroke 10
+ Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
+ That rises up like smoke.
+
+ The storm came on before its time,
+ She wandered up and down;
+ And many a hill did Lucy climb, 15
+ But never reached the town.
+
+ The wretched parents all that night
+ Went shouting far and wide;
+ But there was neither sound nor sight
+ To serve them for a guide. 20
+ At daybreak on a hill they stood
+ That overlooked the moor;
+ And thence they saw the bridge of wood,
+ A furlong from their door.
+
+ They wept--and, turning homeward, cried, 5
+ "In heaven we all shall meet!"
+ When in the snow the mother spied
+ The print of Lucy's feet.
+
+ Then downwards from the steep hill's edge
+ They tracked the footmarks small; 10
+ And through the broken hawthorn hedge,
+ And by the low stone wall:
+
+ And then an open field they crossed;
+ The marks were still the same;
+ They tracked them on, nor ever lost; 15
+ And to the bridge they came.
+
+ They follow from the snowy bank
+ Those footmarks, one by one,
+ Into the middle of the plank;
+ And further there were none! 20
+ --Yet some maintain that to this day
+ She is a living child;
+ That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
+ Upon the lonesome wild.
+
+ O'er rough and smooth she trips along. 5
+ And never looks behind;
+ And sings a solitary song
+ That whistles in the wind.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM BRIGHTLY RANDS
+
+ENGLAND, 1823-1880
+
+
+The Wonderful World
+
+ Great, wide, wonderful, beautiful world,
+ With the beautiful water about you curled, 10
+ And the wonderful grass upon your breast--
+ World, you are beautifully dressed!
+
+ The wonderful air is over me,
+ And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree;
+ It walks on the water and whirls the mills, 15
+ And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.
+
+ You friendly earth, how far do you go,
+ With wheat fields that nod, and rivers that flow,
+ And cities and gardens, and oceans and isles,
+ And people upon you for thousands of miles?
+
+ Ah, you are so great and I am so small, 5
+ I hardly can think of you, world, at all;
+ And yet, when I said my prayers to-day,
+ A whisper within me seemed to say:
+ "You are more than the earth, though you're such a dot;
+ You can love and think, and the world cannot." 10
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
+
+ENGLAND, 1770-1850
+
+
+To a Child
+
+WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM
+
+ Small service is true service while it lasts.
+ Of humblest friends, bright creature! scorn not one:
+ The daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
+ Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI
+
+ENGLAND, 1830-1894
+
+
+Consider
+
+ Consider
+ The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:
+ We are as they; 5
+ Like them we fade away,
+ As doth a leaf.
+
+ Consider
+ The sparrows of the air of small account:
+ Our God doth view 10
+ Whether they fall or mount,--
+ He guards us too.
+
+ Consider
+ The lilies that do neither spin nor toil,
+ Yet are most fair: 15
+ What profits all this care
+ And all this toil?
+
+ Consider
+ The birds that have no barn nor harvest-weeks;
+ God gives them food:
+ Much more our Father seeks
+ To do us good. 5
+
+
+
+
+SIR WALTER SCOTT
+
+SCOTLAND, 1771-1832
+
+
+Lullaby of an Infant Chief
+
+ Oh, hush thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight,
+ Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright;
+ The woods and the glens from the tower which we see,
+ They all are belonging, dear baby, to thee.
+
+ Oh, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, 10
+ It calls but the warders that guard thy repose;
+ Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red,
+ Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.
+
+ Oh, hush thee, my baby, the time will soon come,
+ When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum;
+ Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may,
+ For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day. 5
+
+
+
+
+EUGENE FIELD
+
+AMERICA, 1850-1895
+
+
+Dutch Lullaby[2]
+
+ Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
+ Sailed off in a wooden shoe--
+ Sailed on a river of crystal light,
+ Into a sea of dew.
+ "Where are you going, and what do you wish?" 10
+ The old moon asked the three.
+ "We have come to fish for the herring fish
+ That live in this beautiful sea;
+ Nets of silver and gold have we!"
+ Said Wynken,
+ Blynken,
+ And Nod. 5
+
+ The old moon laughed and sang a song,
+ As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
+ And the wind that sped them all night long
+ Ruffled the waves of dew.
+ The little stars were the herring fish 10
+ That lived in that beautiful sea--
+ "Now cast your nets wherever you wish--
+ Never afeard are we";
+ So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
+ Wynken, 15
+ Blynken,
+ And Nod.
+
+ All night long their nets they threw
+ To the stars in the twinkling foam--
+ Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, 20
+ Bringing the fishermen home;
+ "Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed
+ As if it could not be,
+ And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
+ Of sailing that beautiful sea--
+ But I shall name you the fishermen three: 5
+ Wynken,
+ Blynken,
+ And Nod.
+
+ Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes:
+ And Nod is a little head, 10
+ And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
+ Is a wee one's trundle-bed.
+ So shut your eyes while mother sings
+ Of wonderful sights that be,
+ And you shall see the beautiful things 15
+ As you rock in the misty sea,
+ Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:
+ Wynken,
+ Blynken,
+ And Nod. 20
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[2] From "Poems of Childhood," published by Messrs. Charles Scribner's
+Sons.
+
+
+
+
+EUGENE FIELD
+
+AMERICA, 1850-1895
+
+
+The Night Wind[3]
+
+ Have you ever heard the wind go "Yoooo"?
+ 'Tis a pitiful sound to hear!
+ It seems to chill you through and through
+ With a strange and speechless fear.
+ 'Tis the voice of the night that broods outside 5
+ When folks should be asleep,
+ And many and many's the time I've cried
+ To the darkness brooding far and wide
+ Over the land and the deep:
+ "Whom do you want, O lonely night, 10
+ That you wail the long hours through?"
+ And the night would say in its ghostly way:
+ "Yoooooooo!
+ Yoooooooo!
+ Yoooooooo!" 15
+
+ My mother told me long ago
+ (When I was a little lad)
+ That when the wind went wailing so
+ Somebody had been bad;
+ And then, when I was snug in bed,
+ Whither I had been sent,
+ With the blankets pulled up round my head, 5
+ I'd think of what my mother'd said,
+ And wonder what boy she meant!
+ And "Who's been bad to-day?" I'd ask
+ Of the wind that hoarsely blew,
+ And the voice would say in its meaningful way: 10
+ "Yoooooooo!
+ Yoooooooo!
+ Yoooooooo!"
+
+ That this was true I must allow--
+ You'll not believe it, though! 15
+ Yes, though I'm quite a model now,
+ I was not always so.
+ And if you doubt what things I say,
+ Suppose you make the test;
+ Suppose, when you've been bad some day 20
+ And up to bed are sent away
+ From mother and the rest--
+ Suppose you ask, "Who has been bad?"
+ And then you'll hear what's true;
+ For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone:
+ "Yoooooooo!
+ Yoooooooo! 5
+ Yoooooooo!"
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[3] From "Poems of Childhood," published by Messrs. Charles Scribner's
+Sons.
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH
+
+AMERICA, 1836-
+
+
+Marjorie's Almanac[4]
+
+ Robins in the tree top,
+ Blossoms in the grass,
+ Green things a-growing
+ Everywhere you pass
+ Sudden little breezes, 5
+ Showers of silver dew,
+ Black bough and bent twig
+ Budding out anew;
+ Pine tree and willow tree,
+ Fringed elm, and larch,--
+ Don't you think that May-time's
+ Pleasanter than March?
+
+ Apples in the orchard 5
+ Mellowing one by one;
+ Strawberries upturning
+ Soft cheeks to the sun;
+ Roses faint with sweetness,
+ Lilies fair of face, 10
+ Drowsy scents and murmurs
+ Haunting every place;
+ Lengths of golden sunshine,
+ Moonlight bright as day--
+ Don't you think that summer's 15
+ Pleasanter than May?
+
+ Roger in the corn patch
+ Whistling negro songs;
+ Pussy by the hearth side
+ Romping with the tongs; 20
+ Chestnuts in the ashes,
+ Bursting through the rind;
+ Red leaf and gold leaf
+ Rustling down the wind;
+ Mother "doin' peaches"
+ All the afternoon,-- 5
+ Don't you think that autumn's
+ Pleasanter than June?
+
+ Little fairy snow-flakes
+ Dancing in the flue;
+ Old Mr. Santa Claus, 10
+ What is keeping you?
+ Twilight and firelight
+ Shadows come and go;
+ Merry chime of sleigh bells
+ Tinkling through the snow; 15
+ Mother knitting stockings,
+ Pussy's got the ball,
+ Don't you think that winter's
+ Pleasanter than all?
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[4] Selections from Thomas B. Aldrich are used by permission of, and by
+special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers of his
+works.
+
+
+
+
+M. BETHAM EDWARDS
+
+AMERICA, 1836-
+
+
+A Child's Prayer
+
+ God make my life a little light,
+ Within the world to glow--
+ A tiny flame that burneth bright,
+ Wherever I may go.
+
+ God make my life a little flower, 5
+ That bringeth joy to all,
+ Content to bloom in native bower,
+ Although its place be small.
+
+ God make my life a little song,
+ That comforteth the sad, 10
+ That helpeth others to be strong,
+ And makes the singer glad.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Page 53, the line number for line 5 was added.
+
+Page 59, the line number 5 was moved up one line.
+
+Page 63, single quotation mark changed to a double quotation mark. ("The
+lark lies)
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graded Poetry: Third Year, by Various
+
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+ The Project Gutenberg eBook of Graded Poetry, edited by Katherine D. Blake and Georgia Alexander.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graded Poetry: Third Year, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Graded Poetry: Third Year
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Katherine D. Blake
+ Georgia Alexander
+
+Release Date: April 12, 2010 [EBook #31967]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRADED POETRY: THIRD YEAR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h1>GRADED POETRY</h1>
+
+<h2>THIRD YEAR</h2>
+
+<h4>EDITED BY</h4>
+
+<h3>KATHERINE D. BLAKE</h3>
+
+<div class='copyright'>PRINCIPAL GIRLS' DEPARTMENT PUBLIC SCHOOL NO. 6,<br />
+NEW YORK CITY<br />
+<br />
+AND</div>
+
+<h3>GEORGIA ALEXANDER</h3>
+
+<div class='copyright'>SUPERVISING PRINCIPAL, INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;">
+<img src="images/emblem.png" width="125" height="160" alt="Emblem" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class='center'><br /><br /><br />
+NEW YORK<br />
+MAYNARD, MERRILL, &amp; CO.<br />
+1906<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<div class='copyright'>
+<span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1905,<br />
+BY<br />
+MAYNARD, MERRILL, &amp; CO.<br /></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Poetry</span> is the chosen language of childhood and
+youth. The baby repeats words again and again for
+the mere joy of their sound: the melody of nursery
+rhymes gives a delight which is quite independent
+of the meaning of the words. Not until youth approaches
+maturity is there an equal pleasure in the
+rounded periods of elegant prose. It is in childhood
+therefore that the young mind should be stored with
+poems whose rhythm will be a present delight and
+whose beautiful thoughts will not lose their charm
+in later years.</p>
+
+<p>The selections for the lowest grades are addressed
+primarily to the feeling for verbal beauty, the recognition
+of which in the mind of the child is fundamental
+to the plan of this work. The editors have
+felt that the inclusion of critical notes in these little
+books intended for elementary school children would
+be not only superfluous, but, in the degree in which
+critical comment drew the child's attention from the
+text, subversive of the desired result. Nor are there
+any notes on methods. The best way to teach children
+to love a poem is to read it inspiringly to them.
+The French say: "The ear is the pathway to the
+heart." A poem should be so read that it will sing
+itself in the hearts of the listening children.</p>
+
+<p>In the brief biographies appended to the later books
+the human element has been brought out. An effort
+has been made to call attention to the education of
+the poet and his equipment for his life work rather
+than to the literary qualities of his style.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'>FIRST HALF YEAR</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='left'>PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Owl and the Pussy-cat.</td><td align='left'><i>Edward Lear</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Wishing</td><td align='left'><i>William Allingham</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Piper</td><td align='left'><i>William Blake</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Year's Windfalls</td><td align='left'><i>Christina G. Rossetti</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Voice of Spring</td><td align='left'><i>Mary Howitt</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Spring Walk</td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Miller</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"Over Hill, Over Dale"</td><td align='left'><i>William Shakespeare</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Throstle</td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Violet</td><td align='left'><i>Jane Taylor</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Bobolink</td><td align='left'><i>Clinton Scollard</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Four Winds</td><td align='left'><i>Frank Dempster Sherman</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Violet</td><td align='left'><i>Lucy Larcom</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Pebbles</td><td align='left'><i>Frank Dempster Sherman</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Tree</td><td align='left'><i>Bj&ouml;rnstjerne Bj&ouml;rnson</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>September</td><td align='left'><i>Frank Dempster Sherman</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Swallow</td><td align='left'><i>Christina G. Rossetti</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Thanksgiving Day</td><td align='left'><i>Lydia Maria Child</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hiawatha's Childhood</td><td align='left'><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hiawatha's Sailing</td><td align='left'><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Child's Evening Prayer</td><td align='left'><i>Sabine Baring-Gould</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br />SECOND HALF YEAR</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Corinna going a-Maying</td><td align='left'><i>Robert Herrick</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>Sweet Peas</td><td align='left'><i>John Keats</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Bluebird</td><td align='left'><i>Emily Huntington Miller</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Where go the Boats?</td><td align='left'><i>Robert Louis Stevenson</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Magpie's Nest</td><td align='left'><i>Charles Lamb, Mary Lamb</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Sandman</td><td align='left'><i>Margaret Vandegrift</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Fairies of the Caldon-Low</td><td align='left'><i>Mary Howitt</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Night-scented Flowers</td><td align='left'><i>Felicia Dorothea Hemans</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Indian Summer</td><td align='left'><i>John Greenleaf Whittier</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>November</td><td align='left'><i>Alice Cary</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Frost Spirit</td><td align='left'><i>John Greenleaf Whittier</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Owl</td><td align='left'><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Wind and the Moon</td><td align='left'><i>George Macdonald</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Tempest</td><td align='left'><i>James T. Fields</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Visit from St. Nicholas</td><td align='left'><i>Clement C. Moore</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Lucy Gray</td><td align='left'><i>William Wordsworth</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Wonderful World</td><td align='left'><i>William Brighty Rands</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>To a Child. Written in her Album&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align='left'><i>William Wordsworth</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Consider</td><td align='left'><i>Christina G. Rossetti</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Lullaby of an Infant Chief</td><td align='left'><i>Sir Walter Scott</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Dutch Lullaby</td><td align='left'><i>Eugene Field</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Night Wind</td><td align='left'><i>Eugene Field</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Marjorie's Almanac</td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Bailey Aldrich</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Child's Prayer</td><td align='left'><i>Betham Edwards</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The poems by Longfellow, Whittier, Alice Cary, J. T. Fields,
+and Frank Dempster Sherman are published by special arrangement
+with the publishers, Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin, &amp; Company.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THIRD YEAR&mdash;FIRST HALF</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>EDWARD LEAR</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1812-1888</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Owl and the Pussy-Cat</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a beautiful pea-green boat.</span><br />
+They took some honey, and plenty of money<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wrapped up in a five-pound note.</span><br />
+The Owl looked up to the moon above, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sang to a small guitar,</span><br />
+"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What a beautiful Pussy you are,&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">You are;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What a beautiful Pussy you are!" <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+<br />
+Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">How wonderful sweet you sing!</span><br />
+Oh let us be married,&mdash;too long we have tarried,&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But what shall we do for a ring?"</span><br />
+They sailed away for a year and a day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the land where the Bong-tree grows,</span><br />
+And there in a wood, a piggy-wig stood <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a ring in the end of his nose,&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">His nose;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a ring in the end of his nose.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your ring?" Said the piggy, "I will." <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+So they took it away, and were married next day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the turkey who lives on the hill.</span><br />
+They dined upon mince and slices of quince,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which they ate with a runcible spoon,</span><br />
+And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They danced by the light of the moon,&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">The moon;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They danced by the light of the moon.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
+<h2>WILLIAM ALLINGHAM</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Ireland</span>, 1828-1889</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Wishing</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Ring ting! I wish I were a Primrose,<br />
+A bright yellow Primrose, blowing in the spring!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The stooping bough above me,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wandering bee to love me,</span><br />
+The fern and moss to creep across, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the Elm-tree for our king!</span><br />
+<br />
+Nay,&mdash;stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree,<br />
+A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The winds would set them dancing,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sun and moonshine glance in, <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+And birds would house among the boughs,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sweetly sing.</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh&mdash;no! I wish I were a Robin,&mdash;<br />
+A Robin, or a little Wren, everywhere to go,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through forest, field, or garden, <span class='linenum'>15</span> </span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And ask no leave or pardon,</span><br />
+Till winter comes with icy thumbs<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To ruffle up our wing!</span><br />
+<br />
+Well,&mdash;tell! where should I fly to,<br />
+Where go sleep in the dark wood or dell?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before the day was over, <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Home must come the rover,</span><br />
+For mother's kiss,&mdash;sweeter this<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than any other thing.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>WILLIAM BLAKE</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1757-1827</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Piper</h3>
+
+<div class='poem3'>
+Piping down the valleys wild,<br />
+Piping songs of pleasant glee, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+On a cloud I saw a child,<br />
+And he, laughing, said to me:<br />
+<br />
+"Pipe a song about a lamb."<br />
+So I piped with merry cheer,<br />
+"Piper, pipe that song again." <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>So I piped; he wept to hear.<br />
+<br />
+"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe,<br />
+Sing thy songs of happy cheer."<br />
+So I sung the same again,<br />
+While he wept with joy to hear.<br />
+<br />
+"Piper, sit thee down and write <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+In a book that all may read."<br />
+So he vanish'd from my sight;<br />
+And I pluck'd a hollow reed,<br />
+<br />
+And I made a rural pen,<br />
+And I stain'd the water clear, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+And I wrote my happy songs<br />
+Every child may joy to hear.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1830-1894</h4>
+
+
+<h3>A Year's Windfalls</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+On the wind of January<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Down flits the snow,</span><br />
+Traveling from the frozen North <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">As cold as it can blow.</span><br />
+Poor robin redbreast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Look where he comes;</span><br />
+Let him in to feel your fire,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And toss him of your crumbs.</span><br />
+<br />
+On the wind in February <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Snowflakes float still,</span><br />
+Half inclined to turn to rain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nipping, dripping, chill.</span><br />
+Then the thaws swell the streams,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And swollen rivers swell the sea:&mdash; <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+If the winter ever ends<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How pleasant it will be.</span><br />
+<br />
+In the wind of windy March<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The catkins drop down,</span><br />
+Curly, caterpillar-like, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Curious green and brown.</span><br />
+With concourse of nest-building birds<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And leaf-buds by the way,</span><br />
+We begin to think of flower<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And life and nuts some day. <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+<br />
+With the gusts of April<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rich fruit-tree blossoms fall,</span><br />
+On the hedged-in orchard-green,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the southern wall.</span><br />
+Apple trees and pear trees<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shed petals white or pink,</span><br />
+Plum trees and peach trees; <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While sharp showers sink and sink.</span><br />
+<br />
+Little brings the May breeze<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beside pure scent of flowers,</span><br />
+While all things wax and nothing wanes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In lengthening daylight hours. <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+Across the hyacinth beds<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wind lags warm and sweet,</span><br />
+Across the hawthorn tops,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Across the blades of wheat.</span><br />
+<br />
+In the wind of sunny June <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thrives the red rose crop,</span><br />
+Every day fresh blossoms blow<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While the first leaves drop;</span><br />
+White rose and yellow rose<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And moss rose choice to find, <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+And the cottage cabbage rose<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not one whit behind.</span><br />
+<br />
+On the blast of scorched July<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Drives the pelting hail,</span><br />
+From thunderous lightning-clouds, that blot<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blue heaven grown lurid-pale.</span><br />
+Weedy waves are tossed ashore, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sea-things strange to sight</span><br />
+Gasp upon the barren shore<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fade away in light.</span><br />
+<br />
+In the parching August wind<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cornfields bow the head, <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+Sheltered in round valley depths,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On low hills outspread.</span><br />
+Early leaves drop loitering down<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Weightless on the breeze,</span><br />
+First fruits of the year's decay <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the withering trees.</span><br />
+<br />
+In brisk wind of September<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The heavy-headed fruits</span><br />
+Shake upon their bending boughs<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And drop from the shoots; <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+Some glow golden in the sun,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some show green and streaked,</span><br />
+Some set forth a purple bloom,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some blush rosy-cheeked.</span><br />
+<br />
+In strong blast of October <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At the equinox,</span><br />
+Stirred up in his hollow bed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Broad ocean rocks;</span><br />
+Plunge the ships on his bosom,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leaps and plunges the foam, <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+It's oh! for mothers' sons at sea,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That they were safe at home.</span><br />
+<br />
+In slack wind of November<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fog forms and shifts;</span><br />
+All the world comes out again <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the fog lifts.</span><br />
+Loosened from their sapless twigs<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leaves drop with every gust;</span><br />
+Drifting, rustling, out of sight<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the damp or dust. <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+<br />
+Last of all, December,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">The year's sands nearly run,</span><br />
+Speeds on the shortest day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Curtails the sun;</span><br />
+With its bleak raw wind<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lays the last leaves low,</span><br />
+Brings back the nightly frosts, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brings back the snow.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>MARY HOWITT</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1804-1888</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Voice of Spring</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+I am coming, I am coming!<br />
+Hark! the little bee is humming;<br />
+See, the lark is soaring high<br />
+In the blue and sunny sky;<span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+And the gnats are on the wing,<br />
+Wheeling round in airy ring.<br />
+<br />
+See, the yellow catkins cover<br />
+All the slender willows over!<br />
+And on the banks of mossy green<span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>Starlike primroses are seen;<br />
+And, their clustering leaves below,<br />
+White and purple violets blow.<br />
+<br />
+Hark! the new-born lambs are bleating,<br />
+And the cawing rooks are meeting<br />
+In the elms,&mdash;a noisy crowd; <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+All the birds are singing loud;<br />
+And the first white butterfly<br />
+In the sunshine dances by.<br />
+<br />
+Look around thee, look around!<br />
+Flowers in all the fields abound; <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Every running stream is bright;<br />
+All the orchard trees are white;<br />
+And each small and waving shoot<br />
+Promises sweet flowers and fruit.<br />
+<br />
+Turn thine eyes to earth and heaven: <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+God for thee the spring has given,<br />
+Taught the birds their melodies,<br />
+Clothed the earth, and cleared the skies,<br />
+For thy pleasure or thy food:<br />
+Pour thy soul in gratitude.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THOMAS MILLER</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1807-1874</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Spring Walk</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+We had a pleasant walk to-day<br />
+Over the meadows and far away,<br />
+Across the bridge by the water-mill,<br />
+By the woodside and up the hill;<br />
+And if you listen to what I say,<span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+I'll tell you what we saw to-day.<br />
+<br />
+Amid a hedge, where the first leaves<br />
+Were peeping from their sheathes so sly,<br />
+We saw four eggs within a nest,<br />
+And they were blue as a summer sky.<span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<br />
+An elder branch dipped in the brook;<br />
+We wondered why it moved, and found<br />
+A silken-haired smooth water-rat<br />
+Nibbling, and swimming round and round.<br />
+<br />
+Where daisies open'd to the sun,<span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>In a broad meadow, green and white,<br />
+The lambs were racing eagerly&mdash;<br />
+We never saw a prettier sight.<br />
+<br />
+We saw upon the shady banks<br />
+Long rows of golden flowers shine,<br />
+And first mistook for buttercups <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+The star-shaped yellow celandine.<br />
+<br />
+Anemones and primroses,<br />
+And the blue violets of spring,<br />
+We found, while listening by a hedge<br />
+To hear a merry plowman sing. <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<br />
+And from the earth the plow turned up<br />
+There came a sweet, refreshing smell,<br />
+Such as the lily of the vale<br />
+Sends forth from many a woodland dell.<br />
+<br />
+And leaning from the old stone bridge, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+Below, we saw our shadows lie;<br />
+And through the gloomy arches watched<br />
+The swift and fearless swallows fly.<br />
+<br />
+We heard the speckle-breasted lark<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>As it sang somewhere out of sight, <span class='linenum'>20</span><br />
+And tried to find it, but the sky<br />
+Was filled with clouds of dazzling light.<br />
+<br />
+We saw young rabbits near the woods<br />
+And heard the pheasant's wings go "whir";<br />
+And then we saw a squirrel leap <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+From an old oak tree to a fir.<br />
+<br />
+We came back by the village fields,<br />
+A pleasant walk it was across 'em,<br />
+For all behind the houses lay<br />
+The orchards red and white with blossom. <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<br />
+Were I to tell you all we saw,<br />
+I'm sure that it would take me hours;<br />
+For the whole landscape was alive<br />
+With bees, and birds, and buds, and flowers.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+<h2>WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1564-1616</h4>
+
+
+<h3>"Over Hill, Over Dale"</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Over hill, over dale,<br />
+Thorough bush, thorough brier,<br />
+Over park, over pale,<br />
+Thorough flood, thorough fire.<br />
+I do wander everywhere,<span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Swifter than the moone's sphere.<br />
+And I serve the Fairy Queen,<br />
+To dew her orbs upon the green;<br />
+The cowslips tall her pensioners be,<br />
+In their gold coats spots you see,&mdash;<span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Those be rubies, Fairy favors:<br />
+In those freckles live their savors.<br />
+I must go seek some dew-drops here,<br />
+And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+<h2>ALFRED TENNYSON</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England,</span> 1809-1892</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Throstle</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"Summer is coming, summer is coming,<br />
+I know it, I know it, I know it.<br />
+Light again, leaf again, love again."<br />
+Yes, my wild little Poet.<br />
+<br />
+Sing the new year in under the blue.<span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Last year you sang it as gladly.<br />
+"New, new, new, new!" Is it then <i>so</i> new<br />
+That you should carol so madly?<br />
+<br />
+"Love again, song again, nest again, young again."<br />
+Never a prophet so crazy!<span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+And hardly a daisy as yet, little friend,<br />
+See, there is hardly a daisy.<br />
+<br />
+"Here again, here, here, here, happy year!"<br />
+O warble, unchidden, unbidden!<br />
+Summer is coming, is coming, my dear,<span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+And all the winters are hidden.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+<h2>JANE TAYLOR</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1783-1824</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Violet</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Down in a green and shady bed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A modest violet grew,</span><br />
+Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if to hide from view.</span><br />
+<br />
+And yet it was a lovely flower, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its colors bright and fair!</span><br />
+It might have graced a rosy bower<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Instead of hiding there.</span><br />
+<br />
+Yet there it was content to bloom<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In modest tints arrayed; <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+And there diffused its sweet perfume<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within the silent shade.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then let me to the valley go,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This pretty flower to see,</span><br />
+That I may also learn to grow <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In sweet humility.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CLINTON SCOLLARD<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America,</span> 1860-</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Bobolink</h3>
+
+<div class='poem3'>
+Bobolink&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He is here!</span><br />
+<i>Spink-a-chink!</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hark, how clear</span><br />
+Drops the note <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+From his throat,<br />
+Where he sways<br />
+On the sprays<br />
+Of the wheat<br />
+In the heat! <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bobolink,</span><br />
+<i>Spink-a-chink!</i><br />
+<br />
+Bobolink<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is a beau.</span><br />
+See him prink! <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Watch him go</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>Through the air<br />
+To his fair!<br />
+Hear him sing<br />
+On the wing,&mdash;<br />
+Sing his best<br />
+O'er her nest! <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Bobolink,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Spink-a-chink!</i>"</span><br />
+<br />
+Bobolink,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Linger long!</span><br />
+There's a kink <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In your song</span><br />
+Like the joy<br />
+Of a boy<br />
+Left to run<br />
+In the sun,&mdash; <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+Left to play<br />
+All the day.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bobolink,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Spink-a-chink!</i></span><br />
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1860-</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Four Winds</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+In winter, when the wind I hear,<br />
+I know the clouds will disappear;<br />
+For 'tis the wind who sweeps the sky<br />
+And piles the snow in ridges high.<br />
+<br />
+In spring, when stirs the wind, I know <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+That soon the crocus buds will show;<br />
+For 'tis the wind who bids them wake<br />
+And into pretty blossoms break.<br />
+<br />
+In summer, when it softly blows,<br />
+Soon red I know will be the rose; <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+For 'tis the wind to her who speaks,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>And brings the blushes to her cheeks.<br />
+<br />
+In autumn, when the wind is up,<br />
+I know the acorn's out its cup;<br />
+For 'tis the wind who takes it out,<br />
+And plants an oak somewhere about.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>LUCY LARCOM</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1826-1893</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Violet</h3>
+
+<div class='poem3'>
+Dear little violet, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Don't be afraid!</span><br />
+Lift your blue eyes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the rock's mossy shade.</span><br />
+<br />
+All the birds call for you,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Out of the sky; <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+May is here waiting,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And here, too, am I.</span><br />
+<br />
+Why do you shiver so,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Violet, sweet?</span><br />
+Soft is the meadow grass, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under my feet.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wrapped in your hood of green,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Violet, why</span><br />
+Peep from your earth door,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So silent and shy?</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1860-</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Pebbles</h3>
+
+<div class='poem3'>
+Out of a pellucid brook <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Pebbles round and smooth I took:<br />
+Like a jewel every one<br />
+Caught a color from the sun,&mdash;<br />
+Ruby red and sapphire blue,<br />
+Emerald and onyx too, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Diamond and amethyst,&mdash;<br />
+Not a precious stone I missed:<br />
+Gems I held from every land<br />
+In the hollow of my hand.<br />
+Workman Water these had made <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+Patiently through sun and shade,<br />
+With the ripples of the rill<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>He had polished them until,<br />
+Smooth, symmetrical, and bright,<br />
+Each one sparkling in the light<br />
+Showered within its burning heart<br />
+All the lapidary's art;<br />
+And the brook seemed thus to sing: <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Patience conquers everything!<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>BJ&Ouml;RNSTJERNE BJ&Ouml;RNSON</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Norway</span>, 1832-</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Tree</h3>
+
+<div class='poem4'>
+The Tree's early leaf buds were bursting their brown;<br />
+"Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"No, leave them alone</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Till the blossoms have grown," <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown.<br />
+<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung;<br />
+"Shall I take them away?" said the Wind, as he swung.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"No, leave them alone</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Till the berries have grown,"</span><br />
+Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung.<br />
+<br />
+The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow; <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Said the girl: "May I gather thy berries now?"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Yes, all thou canst see:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Take them; all are for thee,"</span><br />
+Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1860-</h4>
+
+
+<h3>September</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Here's a lyric for September, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>Best of all months to remember;<br />
+Month when summer breezes tell<br />
+What has happened, wood and dell,<br />
+Of the joy the year has brought,<br />
+And the changes she has wrought.<br />
+She has turned the verdure red; <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+In the blue sky overhead,<br />
+She the harvest moon has hung,<br />
+Like a silver boat among<br />
+Shoals of stars&mdash;bright jewels set<br />
+In the earth's blue coronet; <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+She has brought the orchard's fruit<br />
+To repay the robin's flute<br />
+Which has gladdened half the year<br />
+With a music liquid, clear;<br />
+And she makes the meadow grass <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+Catch the sunbeams as they pass,<br />
+Till the autumn's floor is rolled<br />
+With a fragrant cloth of gold.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHRISTINA ROSSETTI</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1830-1894</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Swallow</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Fly away, fly away, over the sea,<br />
+Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done.<br />
+Come again, come again, come back to me,<br />
+Bringing the summer, and bringing the sun.<br />
+<br />
+When you come hurrying home o'er the sea, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Then we are certain that winter is past;<br />
+Cloudy and cold though your pathway may be,<br />
+Summer and sunshine will follow you fast.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>LYDIA MARIA CHILD</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1802-1880</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Thanksgiving Day</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Over the river and through the wood,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">To grandfather's house we go; <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The horse knows the way</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To carry the sleigh</span><br />
+Through the white and drifted snow.<br />
+<br />
+Over the river and through the wood&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, how the wind does blow! <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">It stings the toes</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And bites the nose,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As over the ground we go.</span><br />
+<br />
+Over the river and through the wood,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To have a first-rate play; <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hear the bells ring,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Ting-a-ling-ding!"</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!</span><br />
+<br />
+Over the river and through the wood,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Trot fast, my dapple-gray! <span class='linenum'>15</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Spring over the ground,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like a hunting hound!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For this is Thanksgiving Day.</span><br />
+<br />
+Over the river and through the wood,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And straight through the barn-yard gate. <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We seem to go</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Extremely slow&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It is so hard to wait!</span><br />
+<br />
+Over the river and through the wood&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now grandmother's cap I spy! <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hurrah for the fun!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Is the pudding done?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1807-1882</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Hiawatha's Childhood</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+By the shores of Gitche Gumee,<br />
+By the shining Big-Sea-Water, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,<br />
+Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis.<br />
+Dark behind it rose the forest,<br />
+Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees,<br />
+Rose the firs with cones upon them; <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+Bright before it beat the water,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>Beat the clear and sunny water,<br />
+Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.<br />
+There the wrinkled old Nokomis<br />
+Nursed the little Hiawatha,<br />
+Rocked him in his linden cradle,<br />
+Bedded soft in moss and rushes, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Safely bound with reindeer sinews;<br />
+Stilled his fretful wail by saying,<br />
+"Hush! the Naked Bear will hear thee!"<br />
+Lulled him into slumber, singing,<br />
+"Ewa-yea! my little owlet! <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Who is this, that lights the wigwam?<br />
+With his great eyes lights the wigwam?<br />
+Ewa-yea! my little owlet!"<br />
+Many things Nokomis taught him<br />
+Of the stars that shine in heaven; <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet,<br />
+Ishkoodah, with fiery tresses;<br />
+Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits,<br />
+Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs,<br />
+Flaring far away to northward <span class='linenum'>20</span><br />
+In the frosty nights of Winter;<br />
+Showed the broad white road in heaven,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>Pathway of the ghosts, the shadows,<br />
+Running straight across the heavens,<br />
+Crowded with the ghosts, the shadows.<br />
+At the door on summer evenings,<br />
+Sat the little Hiawatha;<br />
+Heard the whispering of the pine-trees, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Heard the lapping of the water,<br />
+Sounds of music, words of wonder;<br />
+"Minne-wawa!" said the pine-trees,<br />
+"Mudway-aushka!" said the water.<br />
+Saw the fire-fly, Wah-wah-taysee, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Flitting through the dusk of evening,<br />
+With the twinkle of its candle<br />
+Lighting up the brakes and bushes.<br />
+And he sang the song of children,<br />
+Sang the song Nokomis taught him: <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+"Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly,<br />
+Little, flitting, white-fire insect,<br />
+Little, dancing, white-fire creature,<br />
+Light me with your little candle,<br />
+Ere upon my bed I lay me, <span class='linenum'>20</span><br />
+Ere in sleep I close my eyelids!"<br />
+Saw the moon rise from the water,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>Rippling, rounding from the water,<br />
+Saw the flecks and shadows on it,<br />
+Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?"<br />
+And the good Nokomis answered:<br />
+"Once a warrior, very angry,<br />
+Seized his grandmother, and threw her <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Up into the sky at midnight;<br />
+Right against the moon he threw her;<br />
+'Tis her body that you see there."<br />
+Saw the rainbow in the heaven,<br />
+In the eastern sky the rainbow, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?"<br />
+And the good Nokomis answered:<br />
+"'Tis the heaven of flowers you see there:<br />
+All the wild-flowers of the forest,<br />
+All the lilies of the prairie, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+When on earth they fade and perish,<br />
+Blossom in that heaven above us."<br />
+When he heard the owls at midnight,<br />
+Hooting, laughing in the forest,<br />
+"What is that?" he cried in terror; <span class='linenum'>20</span><br />
+"What is that," he said, "Nokomis?"<br />
+And the good Nokomis answered:<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>"That is but the owl and owlet,<br />
+Talking in their native language,<br />
+Talking, scolding at each other."<br />
+Then the little Hiawatha<br />
+Learned of every bird its language,<br />
+Learned their names and all their secrets, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+How they built their nests in summer,<br />
+Where they hid themselves in winter,<br />
+Talked with them whene'er he met them,<br />
+Called them "Hiawatha's Chickens."<br />
+Of all beasts he learned the language, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Learned their names and all their secrets,<br />
+How the beavers built their lodges,<br />
+Where the squirrels hid their acorns,<br />
+How the reindeer ran so swiftly,<br />
+Why the rabbit was so timid, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+Talked with them whene'er he met them,<br />
+Called them "Hiawatha's Brothers."<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
+<h2>HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1807-1882</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Hiawatha's Sailing</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree!<br />
+Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!<br />
+Growing by the rushing river,<br />
+Tall and stately in the valley!<br />
+I a light canoe will build me, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing,<br />
+That shall float upon the river,<br />
+Like a yellow leaf in autumn,<br />
+Like a yellow water lily!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree! <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+Lay aside your white skin wrapper,<br />
+For the summer time is coming,<br />
+And the sun is warm in heaven,<br />
+And you need no white skin wrapper!"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thus aloud cried Hiawatha <span class='linenum'>15</span> </span><br />
+In the solitary forest,<br />
+By the rushing Taquamenaw,<br />
+When the birds were singing gaily,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>In the Moon of Leaves were singing,<br />
+And the Sun, from sleep awaking,<br />
+Started up and said, "Behold me!<br />
+Geezis, the great Sun, behold me!"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the tree with all its branches</span><br />
+Rustled in the breeze of morning, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Saying, with a sigh of patience,<br />
+"Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With his knife the tree he girdled;</span><br />
+Just beneath its lowest branches,<br />
+Just above the roots, he cut it, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Till the sap came oozing outward;<br />
+Down the trunk, from top to bottom,<br />
+Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,<br />
+With a wooden wedge he raised it,<br />
+Stripped it from the trunk unbroken. <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!</span><br />
+Of your strong and pliant branches,<br />
+My canoe to make more steady,<br />
+Make more strong and firm beneath me!"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through the summit of the Cedar <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+Went a sound, a cry of horror,<br />
+Went a murmur of resistance;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>But it whispered, bending downward,<br />
+"Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Down he hewed the boughs of cedar,</span><br />
+Shaped them straightway to a framework,<br />
+Like two bows he formed and shaped them,<br />
+Like two bended bows together. <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!</span><br />
+Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree!<br />
+My canoe to bind together,<br />
+So to bind the ends together<br />
+That the water may not enter, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+That the river may not wet me!"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the Larch with all its fibers,</span><br />
+Shivered in the air of morning,<br />
+Touched his forehead with its tassels,<br />
+Said, with one long sigh of sorrow, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+"Take them all, O Hiawatha!"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the earth he tore the fibers,</span><br />
+Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree,<br />
+Closely sewed the bark together,<br />
+Bound it closely to the framework. <span class='linenum'>20</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree!</span><br />
+Of your balsam and your resin,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>So to close the seams together<br />
+That the water may not enter,<br />
+That the river may not wet me!"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the Fir Tree, tall and somber,</span><br />
+Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,<br />
+Rattled like a shore with pebbles, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Answered wailing, answered weeping,<br />
+"Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he took the tears of balsam,</span><br />
+Took the resin of the Fir Tree,<br />
+Seamed therewith each seam and fissure, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Made each crevice safe from water.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!</span><br />
+All your quills, O Kagh, the Hedgehog!<br />
+I will make a necklace of them,<br />
+Make a girdle for my beauty, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+And two stars to deck her bosom!"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From a hollow tree the Hedgehog</span><br />
+With his sleepy eyes looked at him,<br />
+Shot his shining quills, like arrows,<br />
+Saying, with a drowsy murmur, <span class='linenum'>20</span><br />
+Through the tangle of his whiskers,<br />
+"Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the ground the quills he gathered,</span><br />
+All the little shining arrows,<br />
+Stained them red and blue and yellow,<br />
+With the juice of roots and berries;<br />
+Into his canoe he wrought them,<br />
+Round its waist a shining girdle, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Round its bows a gleaming necklace,<br />
+On its breast two stars resplendent.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thus the Birch Canoe was builded,</span><br />
+In the valley, by the river,<br />
+In the bosom of the forest; <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+And the forest's life was in it,<br />
+All its mystery and its magic,<br />
+All the lightness of the birch tree,<br />
+All the toughness of the cedar,<br />
+All the larch's supple sinews; <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+And it floated on the river<br />
+Like a yellow leaf in autumn,<br />
+Like a yellow water lily.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Paddles none had Hiawatha,</span><br />
+Paddles none he had or needed, <span class='linenum'>20</span><br />
+For his thoughts as paddles served him,<br />
+And his wishes served to guide him;<br />
+Swift or slow at will he glided,<br />
+Veered to right or left at pleasure.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
+<h2>SABINE BARING-GOULD</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1834-</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Child's Evening Prayer</h3>
+
+<div class='poem3'>
+Now the day is over, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Night is drawing nigh,</span><br />
+Shadows of the evening<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Steal across the sky.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now the darkness gathers,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stars begin to peep,</span><br />
+Birds and beasts and flowers<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Soon will be asleep.</span><br />
+<br />
+Through the long night-watches<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May Thine angels spread <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+Their white wings above me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Watching round my bed.</span><br />
+<br />
+When the morning wakens,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then may I arise</span><br />
+Pure and fresh and sinless <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Thy holy eyes.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THIRD YEAR&mdash;SECOND HALF</h2>
+
+
+<h3>Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+O, Columbia, the gem of the ocean,<br />
+The home of the brave and the free,<br />
+The shrine of each patriot's devotion,<br />
+A world offers homage to thee;<br />
+Thy mandates make heroes assemble, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+When Liberty's form stands in view;<br />
+Thy banners make tyranny tremble,<br />
+When borne by the red, white, and blue,<br />
+When borne by the red, white, and blue,<br />
+When borne by the red, white, and blue, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Thy banners make tyranny tremble,<br />
+When borne by the red, white, and blue.<br />
+<br />
+When war wing'd its wide desolation,<br />
+And threaten'd the land to deform,<br />
+The ark then of freedom's foundation, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>Columbia rode safe thro' the storm:<br />
+With the garlands of vict'ry around her,<br />
+When so proudly she bore her brave crew,<br />
+With her flag proudly floating before her,<br />
+The boast of the red, white, and blue,<br />
+The boast of the red, white, and blue, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+The boast of the red, white, and blue,<br />
+With her flag proudly floating before her<br />
+The boast of the red, white, and blue.<br />
+<br />
+The star-spangled banner bring hither,<br />
+O'er Columbia's true sons let it wave; <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+May the wreaths they have won never wither,<br />
+Nor its stars cease to shine on the brave.<br />
+May the service united ne'er sever,<br />
+But hold to their colors so true;<br />
+The army and navy forever, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+Three cheers for the red, white, and blue,<br />
+Three cheers for the red, white, and blue,<br />
+Three cheers for the red, white, and blue,<br />
+The army and navy forever,<br />
+Three cheers for the red, white, and blue. <span class='linenum'>20</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+<h2>ROBERT HERRICK</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1591-1674</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Corinna going a-Maying</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Get up, get up, for shame the blooming morn<br />
+Upon her wings presents the gods unshorn.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">See how Aurora throws her fair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fresh-quilted colors through the air;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The dew-bespangled herb and tree.</span><br />
+<br />
+Each flower has wept, and bowed toward the East<br />
+Above an hour since, yet you are not drest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nay not so much as out of bed,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When all the birds have matins said, <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And sung their thankful hymns; 'tis sin,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nay, profanation to keep in,</span><br />
+When as a thousand virgins on this day<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>Spring sooner than the lark to fetch in May.<br />
+<br />
+Come, my Corinna, come, and coming, mark<br />
+How each field turns a street&mdash;each street a park,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Made green and trimmed with trees! see how</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Devotion gives each house a bough,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or branch! each porch, each door, ere this <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">An ark, a tabernacle is,</span><br />
+Made up of whitethorn neatly interwove,<br />
+As if he were those cooler shades of love.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Can such delights be in the street</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And open fields, and we not see't? <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come we'll abroad, and let's obey</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The proclamation made for May.</span><br />
+And sin no more, as we have done, by staying,<br />
+But, my Corinna! come, let's go a-Maying.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
+<h2>JOHN KEATS</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1795-1821</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Sweet Peas</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight:<br />
+With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white,<br />
+And taper fingers catching at all things,<br />
+To bind them all about with tiny rings.<br />
+Linger awhile upon some bending planks <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+That lean against a streamlet's rushy banks,<br />
+And watch intently Nature's gentle doings,<br />
+They will be found softer than ringdove's cooings.<br />
+How silent comes the water round that bend!<br />
+Not the minutest whisper does it send <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+To the o'erhanging sallows: blades of grass<br />
+Slowly across the chequer'd shadows pass.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+<h2>EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1862-</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Bluebird</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+I know the song that the bluebird is singing,<br />
+Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging:<br />
+Brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary:<br />
+Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery.<br />
+<br />
+Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat&mdash; <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Hark! was there ever so merry a note?<br />
+Listen awhile, and you'll hear what he's saying,<br />
+Up in the apple-tree, swinging and swaying.<br />
+<br />
+"Dear little blossoms, down under the snow,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>You must be weary of winter, I know; <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Hark while I sing you a message of cheer&mdash;<br />
+<i>Summer</i> is coming! and <i>spring-time</i> is here!<br />
+<br />
+"Little white snowdrop! I pray you, arise;<br />
+Bright yellow crocus! come, open your eyes;<br />
+Sweet little violets, hid from the cold, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+Put on your mantles of purple and gold:<br />
+Daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear?&mdash;<br />
+<i>Summer</i> is coming! and <i>spring-time</i> is here!"<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Scotland</span>, 1850-1894</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Where go the Boats?</h3>
+
+<div class='poem3'>
+Dark brown is the river,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Golden is the sand, <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+It flows along forever,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">With trees on either hand.</span><br />
+<br />
+Green leaves a-floating,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Castles of the foam,</span><br />
+Boats of mine a-boating&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where will all come home?</span><br />
+<br />
+On goes the river <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And out past the mill,</span><br />
+Away down the valley,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Away down the hill.</span><br />
+<br />
+Away down the river,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A hundred miles or more, <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+Other little children<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall bring my boats ashore.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHARLES LAMB, MARY LAMB</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1775-1834, <span class="smcap">England</span>, 1764-1847</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Magpie's Nest</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+When the arts in their infancy were,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a fable of old 'tis expressed</span><br />
+A wise magpie constructed that rare <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little house for young birds, called a nest.</span><br />
+<br />
+This was talked of the whole country round;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You might hear it on every bough sung;</span><br />
+"Now no longer upon the rough ground<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will fond mothers brood over their young:</span><br />
+<br />
+"For the magpie with exquisite skill <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has invented a moss-covered cell</span><br />
+Within which a whole family will<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the utmost security dwell."</span><br />
+<br />
+To her mate did each female bird say:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Let us fly to the magpie, my dear; <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+If she will but teach us the way,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A nest we will build us up here.</span><br />
+<br />
+"It's a thing that's close arched overhead,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a hole made to creep out and in;</span><br />
+We, my bird, might make just such a bed <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If we only knew how to begin."</span><br />
+<br />
+To the magpie soon all the birds went,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in modest terms made their request,</span><br />
+That she would be pleased to consent<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To teach them to build up a nest.</span><br />
+<br />
+She replied: "I will show you the way,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So observe everything that I do:</span><br />
+First, two sticks 'cross each other I lay&mdash;" <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"To be sure," said the crow, "why I knew</span><br />
+<br />
+"It must be begun with two sticks,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I thought that they crossed should be."</span><br />
+Said the pie, "Then some straw and moss mix<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the way you now see done by me." <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+<br />
+"Oh, yes, certainly," said the jackdaw,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"That must follow, of course, I have thought;</span><br />
+Though I never before building saw,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I guessed that without being taught."</span><br />
+"More moss, more straw, and feathers, I place <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">In this manner," continued the pie.</span><br />
+"Yes, no doubt, madam, that is the case;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though no builder myself, so thought I."</span><br />
+<br />
+Whatever she taught them beside,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In his turn every bird of them said,</span><br />
+Though the nest-making art he ne'er tried, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He had just such a thought in his head.</span><br />
+<br />
+Still the pie went on showing her art,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till the nest she had built up halfway;</span><br />
+She no more of her skill would impart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But in her anger went fluttering away. <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+<br />
+And this speech in their hearing she made,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As she perched o'er their heads on a tree:</span><br />
+"If ye all were well skilled in my trade,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pray, why came ye to learn it of me?"</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+<h2>MARGARET VANDEGRIFT</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1845-</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Sandman</h3>
+
+<div class='poem4'>
+The rosy clouds float overhead,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sun is going down;</span><br />
+And now the sandman's gentle tread<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Comes stealing through the town.</span><br />
+"White sand, white sand," he softly cries, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And as he shakes his hand,</span><br />
+Straightway there lies on babies' eyes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His gift of shining sand.</span><br />
+Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,<br />
+As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town,<span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<br />
+From sunny beaches far away&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yes, in another land&mdash;</span><br />
+He gathers up at break of day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His store of shining sand.</span><br />
+No tempests beat that shore remote, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">No ships may sail that way;</span><br />
+His little boat alone may float<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within that lovely bay.</span><br />
+Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,<br />
+As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.<br />
+<br />
+He smiles to see the eyelids close <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Above the happy eyes;</span><br />
+And every child right well he knows,&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, he is very wise!</span><br />
+But if, as he goes through the land,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A naughty baby cries, &nbsp; &nbsp; 10</span><br />
+His other hand takes dull gray sand<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To close the wakeful eyes.</span><br />
+Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,<br />
+As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.<br />
+<br />
+So when you hear the sandman's song <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sound through the twilight sweet,</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>Be sure you do not keep him long<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A-waiting on the street.</span><br />
+Lie softly down, dear little head,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rest quiet, busy hands,</span><br />
+Till, by your bed his good night said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He strews the shining sands. <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,<br />
+As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>MARY HOWITT</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1804-1888</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Fairies of the Caldon-Low</h3>
+
+<div class='center'><b><small>A MIDSUMMER LEGEND</small></b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'><br />
+"And where have you been, my Mary,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And where have you been from me?"</span><br />
+"I've been to the top of the Caldon-Low, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The midsummer night to see!"</span><br />
+<br />
+"And what did you see, my Mary,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All up on the Caldon-Low?"</span><br />
+"I saw the blithe sunshine come down,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I saw the merry winds blow." <span class='linenum'>15</span> </span><br />
+"And what did you hear, my Mary,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All up on the Caldon Hill?"</span><br />
+"I heard the drops the water made,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I heard the corn-ears fill."</span><br />
+<br />
+"Oh, tell me all, my Mary&mdash; <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All, all that ever you know;</span><br />
+For you must have seen the fairies<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Last night on the Caldon-Low."</span><br />
+<br />
+"Then take me on your knee, mother,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And listen, mother of mine: <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+A hundred fairies danced last night,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the harpers they were nine;</span><br />
+<br />
+"And merry was the glee of the harp-strings,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And their dancing feet so small;</span><br />
+But, oh! the sound of their talking <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was merrier far than all!"</span><br />
+<br />
+"And what were the words, my Mary,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you did hear them say?"</span><br />
+"I'll tell you all, my mother,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">But let me have my way. <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+"And some they played with the water,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And rolled it down the hill;</span><br />
+'And this,' they said, 'shall speedily turn<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The poor old miller's mill;</span><br />
+<br />
+"'For there has been no water <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ever since the first of May;</span><br />
+And a busy man shall the miller be<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the dawning of the day!</span><br />
+<br />
+"'Oh, the miller, how he will laugh,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he sees the mill-dam rise! <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+The jolly old miller, how he will laugh<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till the tears fill both his eyes!'</span><br />
+<br />
+"And some they seized the little winds,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That sounded over the hill,</span><br />
+And each put a horn into his mouth, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And blew so sharp and shrill:</span><br />
+<br />
+"'And there,' said they, 'the merry winds go<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Away from every horn;</span><br />
+And those shall clear the mildew dank<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the blind old widow's corn: <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+"'Oh, the poor blind widow&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though she has been blind so long,</span><br />
+She'll be merry enough when the mildew's gone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the corn stands stiff and strong!'</span><br />
+<br />
+"And some they brought the brown linseed, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And flung it down from the Low:</span><br />
+'And this,' said they, 'by the sunrise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the weaver's croft shall grow!</span><br />
+<br />
+"'Oh, the poor lame weaver!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How he will laugh outright <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+When he sees his dwindling flax-field<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All full of flowers by night!'</span><br />
+<br />
+"And then up spoke a brownie,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a long beard on his chin:</span><br />
+'I have spun up all the tow,' said he, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'And I want some more to spin.</span><br />
+<br />
+"'I've spun a piece of hempen cloth,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I want to spin another&mdash;</span><br />
+A little sheet for Mary's bed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And an apron for her mother.'</span><br />
+<br />
+"And with that I could not help but laugh,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I laughed out loud and free;</span><br />
+And then on top of the Caldon-Low <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There was no one left but me.</span><br />
+<br />
+"And all on top of the Caldon-Low<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The mists were cold and gray,</span><br />
+And nothing I saw but the mossy stones<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That round about me lay. <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+<br />
+"But, as I came down from the hill-top,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I heard, afar below,</span><br />
+How busy the jolly miller was,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And how merry the wheel did go.</span><br />
+<br />
+"And I peeped into the widow's field, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sure enough were seen</span><br />
+The yellow ears of the mildewed corn<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">All standing stiff and green!</span><br />
+<br />
+"And down by the weaver's croft I stole,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see if the flax were high;</span><br />
+But I saw the weaver at his gate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the good news in his eye!</span><br />
+<br />
+"Now this is all I heard, mother, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all that I did see;</span><br />
+So, prithee, make my bed, mother,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I'm tired as I can be!"</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1793-1835</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Night-scented Flowers</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"Call back your odors, lonely flowers,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the night-wind call them back; <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+And fold your leaves till the laughing hours<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come forth in the sunbeam's track.</span><br />
+<br />
+"The lark lies couched in her grassy nest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the honey-bee is gone,</span><br />
+And all bright things are away to rest; <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why watch ye here alone?"</span><br />
+<br />
+"Nay, let our shadowy beauty bloom<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the stars give quiet light,</span><br />
+And let us offer our faint perfume<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the silent shrine of night.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Call it not wasted, the scent we lend <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the breeze when no step is nigh:</span><br />
+Oh! thus forever the earth should send<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her grateful breath on high!</span><br />
+<br />
+"And love us as emblems, night's dewy flowers,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of hopes unto sorrow given, <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+That spring through the gloom of the darkest hours,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Looking alone to heaven."</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1807-1892</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Indian Summer</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From gold to gray</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Our mild, sweet day</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>Of Indian summer fades too soon; <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But tenderly</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Above the sea</span><br />
+Hangs, white and calm, the hunter's moon.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In its pale fire</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The village spire <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+Shows like the zodiac's spectral lance;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The painted walls</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whereon it falls</span><br />
+Transfigured stand in marble trance.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ALICE CARY</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1820-1871</h4>
+
+
+<h3>November</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+The leaves are fading and falling, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The winds are rough and wild,</span><br />
+The birds have ceased their calling,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But let me tell you, my child,</span><br />
+<br />
+Though day by day, as it closes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doth darker and colder grow, <span class='linenum'>15</span> </span><br />
+The roots of the bright red roses<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will keep alive in the snow.</span><br />
+<br />
+And when the winter is over<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The boughs will get new leaves,</span><br />
+The quail will come back to the clover,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the swallow back to the eaves.</span><br />
+<br />
+The robin will wear on his bosom <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A vest that is bright and new,</span><br />
+And the loveliest wayside blossoms<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will shine with the sun and dew.</span><br />
+<br />
+The leaves to-day are whirling,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The brooks are all dry and dumb, <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+But let me tell you, my darling,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The spring will be sure to come.</span><br />
+<br />
+There must be rough, cold weather,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And winds and rains so wild;</span><br />
+Not all good things together <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come to us here, my child.</span><br />
+<br />
+So when some dear joy loses<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its beauteous summer glow,</span><br />
+Think how the roots of the roses<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are kept alive in the snow. <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>
+<h2>JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER</h2>
+
+
+<h3>The Frost Spirit</h3>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+He comes,&mdash;he comes,&mdash;the Frost Spirit comes! You may trace his footsteps now<br />
+On the naked woods and the blasted fields and the brown hill's withered brow.<br />
+He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees where their pleasant green came forth,<br />
+And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, have shaken them down to earth.<br />
+<br />
+He comes,&mdash;he comes,&mdash;the Frost Spirit comes!&mdash;from the frozen Labrador,&mdash; <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+From the icy bridge of the Northern seas, which the white bear wanders o'er,&mdash;<br />
+Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice, and the luckless forms below<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>In the sunless cold of the lingering night into marble statues grow!<br />
+<br />
+He comes,&mdash;he comes,&mdash;the Frost Spirit comes!&mdash;on the rushing Northern blast,<br />
+And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed as his fearful breath went past.<br />
+With an unscorched wing he has hurried on, where the fires of Hecla glow<br />
+On the darkly beautiful sky above and the ancient ice below.<br />
+<br />
+He comes,&mdash;he comes,&mdash;the Frost Spirit comes!&mdash;and the quiet lake shall feel <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+The torpid touch of his glazing breath, and ring to the skater's heel;<br />
+And the streams which danced on the broken rocks, or sang to the leaning grass,<br />
+Shall bow again to their winter chain, and in mournful silence pass.<br />
+<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>He comes,&mdash;he comes,&mdash;the Frost Spirit comes!&mdash;let us meet him as we may,<br />
+And turn with the light of the parlor-fire his evil power away;<br />
+And gather closer the circle round, when that firelight dances high,<br />
+And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend as his sounding wing goes by!<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ALFRED TENNYSON</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1809-1892</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Owl</h3>
+
+
+<h4>I</h4>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+When cats run home and the light is come<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the dew is cold upon the ground, <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+And the far-off stream is dumb,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the whirring sail goes round,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the whirring sail goes round;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Alone and warming his five wits,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The white owl in the belfry sits. <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<h4><br />II</h4>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+When merry milkmaids click the latch,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And rarely smells the new-mown hay,</span><br />
+And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Twice or thrice his roundelay,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Twice or thrice his roundelay;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Alone and warming his five wits,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The white owl in the belfry sits. <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>GEORGE MACDONALD</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Scotland</span>, 1824-</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Wind and the Moon</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out.<br />
+You stare<br />
+In the air<br />
+Like a ghost in a chair,<br />
+Always looking what I am about; <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+I hate to be watched; I will blow you out."<br />
+<br />
+The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>So, deep,<br />
+On a heap<br />
+Of clouds, to sleep,<br />
+Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon&mdash;<br />
+Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."<br />
+<br />
+He turned in his bed; she was there again! <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+On high<br />
+In the sky,<br />
+With her one ghost eye,<br />
+The Moon shone white and alive and plain.<br />
+Said the Wind&mdash;"I will blow you out again." <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<br />
+The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim.<br />
+"With my sledge<br />
+And my wedge<br />
+I have knocked off her edge!<br />
+If only I blow right fierce and grim, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."<br />
+<br />
+He blew and blew, and she thinned to a thread.<br />
+"One puff<br />
+More's enough<br />
+To blow her to snuff!<br />
+One good puff more where the last was bred, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go the thread!"<br />
+<br />
+He blew a great blast and the thread was gone;<br />
+In the air<br />
+Nowhere<br />
+Was a moonbeam bare; <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+Far off and harmless the shy stars shone;<br />
+Sure and certain the Moon was gone!<br />
+<br />
+The Wind he took to his revels once more;<br />
+On down<br />
+In town, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+Like a merry mad clown,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>He leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar,<br />
+"What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!<br />
+<br />
+He flew in a rage&mdash;he danced and blew;<br />
+But in vain<br />
+Was the pain<br />
+Of his bursting brain; <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+For still the broader the Moon-scrap grew,<br />
+The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew.<br />
+<br />
+Slowly she grew&mdash;till she filled the night,<br />
+And shone<br />
+On her throne <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+In the sky alone,<br />
+A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,<br />
+Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the Night.<br />
+<br />
+Said the Wind&mdash;"What a marvel of power am I!<br />
+With my breath, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+Good faith!<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>I blew her to death&mdash;<br />
+First blew her away right out of the sky&mdash;<br />
+Then blew her in; what a strength am I!"<br />
+<br />
+But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair,<br />
+For, high<br />
+In the sky, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+With her one white eye,<br />
+Motionless, miles above the air,<br />
+She had never heard the great Wind blare.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>JAMES T. FIELDS</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1817-1881</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Tempest</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+We were crowded in the cabin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not a soul would dare to sleep,&mdash; <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+It was midnight on the waters,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a storm was on the deep.</span><br />
+<br />
+'Tis a fearful thing in winter<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">To be shattered in the blast,</span><br />
+And to hear the rattling trumpet<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thunder, "Cut away the mast!"</span><br />
+<br />
+So we shuddered there in silence,&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the stoutest held his breath,</span><br />
+While the hungry sea was roaring, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the breakers talked with Death.</span><br />
+<br />
+As thus we sat in darkness,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each one busy in his prayers,&mdash;</span><br />
+"We are lost!" the captain shouted,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he staggered down the stairs. <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+<br />
+But his little daughter whispered,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As she took his icy hand,</span><br />
+"Is not God upon the ocean,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just the same as on the land?"</span><br />
+<br />
+Then we kissed the little maiden, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we spoke in better cheer;</span><br />
+And we anchored safe in harbor<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the morn was shining clear.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CLEMENT C. MOORE</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1779-1863</h4>
+
+
+<h3>A Visit from St. Nicholas</h3>
+
+<div class='poem4'>
+'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house<br />
+Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;<br />
+The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,<br />
+In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;<br />
+The children were nestled all snug in their beds, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;<br />
+And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,<br />
+Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,<br />
+I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.<br />
+Away to the window I flew like a flash,<br />
+Tore open the shatters and threw up the sash.<br />
+The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow,<br />
+Gave a luster of midday to objects below; <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,<br />
+But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,<br />
+With a little old driver, so lively and quick,<br />
+I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.<br />
+More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:<br />
+"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen&mdash;<br />
+To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!<br />
+Now, dash away, dash away, dash away, all!"<br />
+As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,<br />
+When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,<br />
+So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+With the sleigh full of toys&mdash;and St. Nicholas, too.<br />
+And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof<br />
+The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.<br />
+As I drew in my head, and was turning around,<br />
+Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;<br />
+A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,<br />
+And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.<br />
+His eyes how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!<br />
+His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;<br />
+His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.<br />
+The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,<br />
+And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;<br />
+He had a broad face and a little round belly<br />
+That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+He was chubby and plump&mdash;a right jolly old elf;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.<br />
+A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,<br />
+Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.<br />
+He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,<br />
+And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,<br />
+And laying his finger aside of his nose, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.<br />
+He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,<br />
+And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;<br />
+But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,<br />
+"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
+<h2>WILLIAM WORDSWORTH</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1770-1850</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Lucy Gray</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, when I crossed the wild,</span><br />
+I chanced to see at break of day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The solitary child.</span><br />
+<br />
+No mate, no comrade, Lucy knew; <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She dwelt on a wide moor,&mdash;</span><br />
+The sweetest thing that ever grew<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beside a human door!</span><br />
+<br />
+You yet may spy the fawn at play,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The hare upon the green; <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+But the sweet face of Lucy Gray<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will never more be seen.</span><br />
+<br />
+"To-night will be a stormy night&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You to the town must go:</span><br />
+And take a lantern, child, to light <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your mother through the snow."</span><br />
+<br />
+"That, father, will I gladly do:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis scarcely afternoon&mdash;</span><br />
+The minster-clock has just struck two;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yonder is the moon."</span><br />
+<br />
+At this the father raised his hook, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And snapped a fagot-band;</span><br />
+He plied his work;&mdash;and Lucy took<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The lantern in her hand.</span><br />
+<br />
+Not blither is the mountain roe:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With many a wanton stroke <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+Her feet disperse the powdery snow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That rises up like smoke.</span><br />
+<br />
+The storm came on before its time,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She wandered up and down;</span><br />
+And many a hill did Lucy climb, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But never reached the town.</span><br />
+<br />
+The wretched parents all that night<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Went shouting far and wide;</span><br />
+But there was neither sound nor sight<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">To serve them for a guide. <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+At daybreak on a hill they stood<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That overlooked the moor;</span><br />
+And thence they saw the bridge of wood,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A furlong from their door.</span><br />
+<br />
+They wept&mdash;and, turning homeward, cried, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"In heaven we all shall meet!"</span><br />
+When in the snow the mother spied<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The print of Lucy's feet.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then downwards from the steep hill's edge<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They tracked the footmarks small; <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+And through the broken hawthorn hedge,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by the low stone wall:</span><br />
+<br />
+And then an open field they crossed;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The marks were still the same;</span><br />
+They tracked them on, nor ever lost; <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And to the bridge they came.</span><br />
+<br />
+They follow from the snowy bank<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Those footmarks, one by one,</span><br />
+Into the middle of the plank;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And further there were none! <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+&mdash;Yet some maintain that to this day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She is a living child;</span><br />
+That you may see sweet Lucy Gray<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the lonesome wild.</span><br />
+<br />
+O'er rough and smooth she trips along. <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never looks behind;</span><br />
+And sings a solitary song<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That whistles in the wind.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>WILLIAM BRIGHTLY RANDS</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1823-1880</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Wonderful World</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Great, wide, wonderful, beautiful world,<br />
+With the beautiful water about you curled, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+And the wonderful grass upon your breast&mdash;<br />
+World, you are beautifully dressed!<br />
+<br />
+The wonderful air is over me,<br />
+And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree;<br />
+It walks on the water and whirls the mills, <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.<br />
+<br />
+You friendly earth, how far do you go,<br />
+With wheat fields that nod, and rivers that flow,<br />
+And cities and gardens, and oceans and isles,<br />
+And people upon you for thousands of miles?<br />
+<br />
+Ah, you are so great and I am so small, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+I hardly can think of you, world, at all;<br />
+And yet, when I said my prayers to-day,<br />
+A whisper within me seemed to say:<br />
+"You are more than the earth, though you're such a dot;<br />
+You can love and think, and the world cannot." <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>WILLIAM WORDSWORTH</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1770-1850</h4>
+
+
+<h3>To a Child</h3>
+
+<h4>WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM</h4>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Small service is true service while it lasts.<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of humblest friends, bright creature! scorn not one:</span><br />
+The daisy, by the shadow that it casts,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">England</span>, 1830-1894</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Consider</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Consider</span><br />
+The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We are as they; <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+Like them we fade away,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As doth a leaf.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Consider</span><br />
+The sparrows of the air of small account:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our God doth view <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+Whether they fall or mount,&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He guards us too.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Consider</span><br />
+The lilies that do neither spin nor toil,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet are most fair: <span class='linenum'>15</span> </span><br />
+What profits all this care<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all this toil?</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Consider</span><br />
+The birds that have no barn nor harvest-weeks;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">God gives them food:</span><br />
+Much more our Father seeks<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To do us good. <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>SIR WALTER SCOTT</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Scotland</span>, 1771-1832</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Lullaby of an Infant Chief</h3>
+
+<div class='poem4'>
+Oh, hush thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight,<br />
+Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright;<br />
+The woods and the glens from the tower which we see,<br />
+They all are belonging, dear baby, to thee.<br />
+<br />
+Oh, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+It calls but the warders that guard thy repose;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red,<br />
+Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.<br />
+<br />
+Oh, hush thee, my baby, the time will soon come,<br />
+When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum;<br />
+Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may,<br />
+For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day. <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>EUGENE FIELD</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1850-1895</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Dutch Lullaby<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sailed off in a wooden shoe&mdash;</span><br />
+Sailed on a river of crystal light,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into a sea of dew.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"Where are you going, and what do you wish?" <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The old moon asked the three.</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"We have come to fish for the herring fish</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That live in this beautiful sea;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nets of silver and gold have we!"</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Said Wynken,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Blynken,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">And Nod. <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+<br />
+The old moon laughed and sang a song,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As they rocked in the wooden shoe,</span><br />
+And the wind that sped them all night long<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ruffled the waves of dew.</span><br />
+The little stars were the herring fish <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That lived in that beautiful sea&mdash;</span><br />
+"Now cast your nets wherever you wish&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never afeard are we";</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So cried the stars to the fishermen three:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Wynken, <span class='linenum'>15</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Blynken,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">And Nod.</span><br />
+<br />
+All night long their nets they threw<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the stars in the twinkling foam&mdash;</span><br />
+Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, <span class='linenum'>20</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bringing the fishermen home;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if it could not be,</span><br />
+And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of sailing that beautiful sea&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I shall name you the fishermen three: <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Wynken,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Blynken,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">And Nod.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Nod is a little head, <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is a wee one's trundle-bed.</span><br />
+So shut your eyes while mother sings<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of wonderful sights that be,</span><br />
+And you shall see the beautiful things <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As you rock in the misty sea,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Wynken,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Blynken,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">And Nod. <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>EUGENE FIELD</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1850-1895</h4>
+
+
+<h3>The Night Wind<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Have you ever heard the wind go "Yoooo"?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis a pitiful sound to hear!</span><br />
+It seems to chill you through and through<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a strange and speechless fear.</span><br />
+'Tis the voice of the night that broods outside <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When folks should be asleep,</span><br />
+And many and many's the time I've cried<br />
+To the darkness brooding far and wide<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Over the land and the deep:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"Whom do you want, O lonely night, <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you wail the long hours through?"</span><br />
+And the night would say in its ghostly way:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">"Yoooooooo!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Yoooooooo!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Yoooooooo!" <span class='linenum'>15</span> </span><br />
+<br />
+My mother told me long ago<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">(When I was a little lad)</span><br />
+That when the wind went wailing so<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Somebody had been bad;</span><br />
+And then, when I was snug in bed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whither I had been sent,</span><br />
+With the blankets pulled up round my head, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+I'd think of what my mother'd said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wonder what boy she meant!</span><br />
+And "Who's been bad to-day?" I'd ask<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the wind that hoarsely blew,</span><br />
+And the voice would say in its meaningful way: <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">"Yoooooooo!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Yoooooooo!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Yoooooooo!"</span><br />
+<br />
+That this was true I must allow&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You'll not believe it, though! <span class='linenum'>15</span> </span><br />
+Yes, though I'm quite a model now,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I was not always so.</span><br />
+And if you doubt what things I say,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Suppose you make the test;</span><br />
+Suppose, when you've been bad some day <span class='linenum'>20</span><br />
+And up to bed are sent away<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">From mother and the rest&mdash;</span><br />
+Suppose you ask, "Who has been bad?"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And then you'll hear what's true;</span><br />
+For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">"Yoooooooo!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Yoooooooo! <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Yoooooooo!"</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1836-</h4>
+
+
+<h3>Marjorie's Almanac<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></h3>
+
+<div class='poem3'>
+Robins in the tree top,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blossoms in the grass,</span><br />
+Green things a-growing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Everywhere you pass</span><br />
+Sudden little breezes, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Showers of silver dew,</span><br />
+Black bough and bent twig<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Budding out anew;</span><br />
+Pine tree and willow tree,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fringed elm, and larch,&mdash;</span><br />
+Don't you think that May-time's<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pleasanter than March?</span><br />
+<br />
+Apples in the orchard <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mellowing one by one;</span><br />
+Strawberries upturning<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Soft cheeks to the sun;</span><br />
+Roses faint with sweetness,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lilies fair of face, <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+Drowsy scents and murmurs<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Haunting every place;</span><br />
+Lengths of golden sunshine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Moonlight bright as day&mdash;</span><br />
+Don't you think that summer's <span class='linenum'>15</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pleasanter than May?</span><br />
+<br />
+Roger in the corn patch<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whistling negro songs;</span><br />
+Pussy by the hearth side<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Romping with the tongs; <span class='linenum'>20</span> </span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>Chestnuts in the ashes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bursting through the rind;</span><br />
+Red leaf and gold leaf<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rustling down the wind;</span><br />
+Mother "doin' peaches"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All the afternoon,&mdash; <span class='linenum'>5</span> </span><br />
+Don't you think that autumn's<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pleasanter than June?</span><br />
+<br />
+Little fairy snow-flakes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dancing in the flue;</span><br />
+Old Mr. Santa Claus, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What is keeping you?</span><br />
+Twilight and firelight<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shadows come and go;</span><br />
+Merry chime of sleigh bells<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tinkling through the snow; <span class='linenum'>15</span> </span><br />
+Mother knitting stockings,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pussy's got the ball,</span><br />
+Don't you think that winter's<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pleasanter than all?</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>M. BETHAM EDWARDS</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">America</span>, 1836-</h4>
+
+
+<h3>A Child's Prayer</h3>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+God make my life a little light,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within the world to glow&mdash;</span><br />
+A tiny flame that burneth bright,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wherever I may go.</span><br />
+<br />
+God make my life a little flower, <span class='linenum'>5</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That bringeth joy to all,</span><br />
+Content to bloom in native bower,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Although its place be small.</span><br />
+<br />
+God make my life a little song,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That comforteth the sad, <span class='linenum'>10</span> </span><br />
+That helpeth others to be strong,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And makes the singer glad.</span><br />
+<br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> From "A Boy's Book of Rhyme."</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> From "Poems of Childhood," published by Messrs. Charles
+Scribner's Sons.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> From "Poems of Childhood," published by Messrs. Charles
+Scribner's Sons.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Selections from Thomas B. Aldrich are used by permission
+of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin &amp; Co.,
+publishers of his works.</p></div></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class='tnote'><p>Transcriber's Notes:</p>
+
+<p>On pages 22 and 24 the author's location was printed in all capitals
+instead of small capitals. These were changed to match the rest of the
+text.</p>
+
+<p>Page 53, the line number for line 5 was added.</p>
+
+<p>Page 59, the line number 5 was moved up one line.</p>
+
+<p>Page 63, single quotation mark changed to a double quotation mark. ("The
+lark lies)</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graded Poetry: Third Year, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRADED POETRY: THIRD YEAR ***
+
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+</body>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graded Poetry: Third Year, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Graded Poetry: Third Year
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Katherine D. Blake
+ Georgia Alexander
+
+Release Date: April 12, 2010 [EBook #31967]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRADED POETRY: THIRD YEAR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+GRADED POETRY
+
+THIRD YEAR
+
+EDITED BY
+
+KATHERINE D. BLAKE
+
+PRINCIPAL GIRLS' DEPARTMENT PUBLIC SCHOOL NO. 6, NEW YORK CITY
+
+AND
+
+GEORGIA ALEXANDER
+
+SUPERVISING PRINCIPAL, INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ NEW YORK
+ MAYNARD, MERRILL, & CO.
+ 1906
+
+
+
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1905,
+ BY
+ MAYNARD, MERRILL, & CO.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+POETRY is the chosen language of childhood and youth. The baby repeats
+words again and again for the mere joy of their sound: the melody of
+nursery rhymes gives a delight which is quite independent of the meaning
+of the words. Not until youth approaches maturity is there an equal
+pleasure in the rounded periods of elegant prose. It is in childhood
+therefore that the young mind should be stored with poems whose rhythm
+will be a present delight and whose beautiful thoughts will not lose
+their charm in later years.
+
+The selections for the lowest grades are addressed primarily to the
+feeling for verbal beauty, the recognition of which in the mind of the
+child is fundamental to the plan of this work. The editors have felt
+that the inclusion of critical notes in these little books intended for
+elementary school children would be not only superfluous, but, in the
+degree in which critical comment drew the child's attention from the
+text, subversive of the desired result. Nor are there any notes on
+methods. The best way to teach children to love a poem is to read it
+inspiringly to them. The French say: "The ear is the pathway to the
+heart." A poem should be so read that it will sing itself in the hearts
+of the listening children.
+
+In the brief biographies appended to the later books the human element
+has been brought out. An effort has been made to call attention to the
+education of the poet and his equipment for his life work rather than to
+the literary qualities of his style.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+FIRST HALF YEAR
+
+ PAGE
+ The Owl and the Pussy-cat. _Edward Lear_ 7
+ Wishing _William Allingham_ 9
+ The Piper _William Blake_ 10
+ A Year's Windfalls _Christina G. Rossetti_ 11
+ The Voice of Spring _Mary Howitt_ 16
+ The Spring Walk _Thomas Miller_ 18
+ "Over Hill, Over Dale" _William Shakespeare_ 21
+ The Throstle _Alfred Tennyson_ 22
+ The Violet _Jane Taylor_ 23
+ Bobolink _Clinton Scollard_ 24
+ The Four Winds _Frank Dempster Sherman_ 26
+ The Violet _Lucy Larcom_ 27
+ Pebbles _Frank Dempster Sherman_ 28
+ The Tree _Bjoernstjerne Bjoernson_ 29
+ September _Frank Dempster Sherman_ 30
+ The Swallow _Christina G. Rossetti_ 32
+ Thanksgiving Day _Lydia Maria Child_ 32
+ Hiawatha's Childhood _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 34
+ Hiawatha's Sailing _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 39
+ Child's Evening Prayer _Sabine Baring-Gould_ 44
+
+
+SECOND HALF YEAR
+
+ Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean 45
+ Corinna going a-Maying _Robert Herrick_ 47
+ Sweet Peas _John Keats_ 49
+ The Bluebird _Emily Huntington Miller_ 50
+ Where go the Boats? _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 51
+ The Magpie's Nest _Charles Lamb, Mary Lamb_ 52
+ The Sandman _Margaret Vandegrift_ 56
+ The Fairies of the Caldon-Low _Mary Howitt_ 58
+ Night-scented Flowers _Felicia Dorothea Hemans_ 63
+ Indian Summer _John Greenleaf Whittier_ 64
+ November _Alice Cary_ 65
+ The Frost Spirit _John Greenleaf Whittier_ 67
+ The Owl _Alfred Tennyson_ 69
+ The Wind and the Moon _George Macdonald_ 70
+ The Tempest _James T. Fields_ 74
+ A Visit from St. Nicholas _Clement C. Moore_ 76
+ Lucy Gray _William Wordsworth_ 81
+ The Wonderful World _William Brighty Rands_ 84
+ To a Child. Written in her Album _William Wordsworth_ 85
+ Consider _Christina G. Rossetti_ 86
+ Lullaby of an Infant Chief _Sir Walter Scott_ 87
+ Dutch Lullaby _Eugene Field_ 88
+ The Night Wind _Eugene Field_ 91
+ Marjorie's Almanac _Thomas Bailey Aldrich_ 93
+ A Child's Prayer _Betham Edwards_ 96
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The poems by Longfellow, Whittier, Alice Cary, J. T. Fields, and Frank
+Dempster Sherman are published by special arrangement with the
+publishers, Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin, & Company.
+
+
+
+
+THIRD YEAR--FIRST HALF
+
+
+
+
+EDWARD LEAR
+
+ENGLAND, 1812-1888
+
+
+The Owl and the Pussy-Cat
+
+ The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
+ In a beautiful pea-green boat.
+ They took some honey, and plenty of money
+ Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
+ The Owl looked up to the moon above, 5
+ And sang to a small guitar,
+ "O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love!
+ What a beautiful Pussy you are,--
+ You are;
+ What a beautiful Pussy you are!" 10
+
+ Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
+ How wonderful sweet you sing!
+ Oh let us be married,--too long we have tarried,--
+ But what shall we do for a ring?"
+ They sailed away for a year and a day
+ To the land where the Bong-tree grows,
+ And there in a wood, a piggy-wig stood 5
+ With a ring in the end of his nose,--
+ His nose;
+ With a ring in the end of his nose.
+
+ "Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
+ Your ring?" Said the piggy, "I will." 10
+ So they took it away, and were married next day
+ By the turkey who lives on the hill.
+ They dined upon mince and slices of quince,
+ Which they ate with a runcible spoon,
+ And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, 15
+ They danced by the light of the moon,--
+ The moon;
+ They danced by the light of the moon.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM ALLINGHAM
+
+IRELAND, 1828-1889
+
+
+Wishing
+
+ Ring ting! I wish I were a Primrose,
+ A bright yellow Primrose, blowing in the spring!
+ The stooping bough above me,
+ The wandering bee to love me,
+ The fern and moss to creep across, 5
+ And the Elm-tree for our king!
+
+ Nay,--stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree,
+ A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay!
+ The winds would set them dancing,
+ The sun and moonshine glance in, 10
+ And birds would house among the boughs,
+ And sweetly sing.
+
+ Oh--no! I wish I were a Robin,--
+ A Robin, or a little Wren, everywhere to go,
+ Through forest, field, or garden, 15
+ And ask no leave or pardon,
+ Till winter comes with icy thumbs
+ To ruffle up our wing!
+
+ Well,--tell! where should I fly to,
+ Where go sleep in the dark wood or dell?
+ Before the day was over, 5
+ Home must come the rover,
+ For mother's kiss,--sweeter this
+ Than any other thing.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM BLAKE
+
+ENGLAND, 1757-1827
+
+
+The Piper
+
+ Piping down the valleys wild,
+ Piping songs of pleasant glee, 10
+ On a cloud I saw a child,
+ And he, laughing, said to me:
+
+ "Pipe a song about a lamb."
+ So I piped with merry cheer,
+ "Piper, pipe that song again." 15
+ So I piped; he wept to hear.
+
+ "Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe,
+ Sing thy songs of happy cheer."
+ So I sung the same again,
+ While he wept with joy to hear.
+
+ "Piper, sit thee down and write 5
+ In a book that all may read."
+ So he vanish'd from my sight;
+ And I pluck'd a hollow reed,
+
+ And I made a rural pen,
+ And I stain'd the water clear, 10
+ And I wrote my happy songs
+ Every child may joy to hear.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI
+
+ENGLAND, 1830-1894
+
+
+A Year's Windfalls
+
+ On the wind of January
+ Down flits the snow,
+ Traveling from the frozen North 15
+ As cold as it can blow.
+ Poor robin redbreast,
+ Look where he comes;
+ Let him in to feel your fire,
+ And toss him of your crumbs.
+
+ On the wind in February 5
+ Snowflakes float still,
+ Half inclined to turn to rain,
+ Nipping, dripping, chill.
+ Then the thaws swell the streams,
+ And swollen rivers swell the sea:-- 10
+ If the winter ever ends
+ How pleasant it will be.
+
+ In the wind of windy March
+ The catkins drop down,
+ Curly, caterpillar-like, 15
+ Curious green and brown.
+ With concourse of nest-building birds
+ And leaf-buds by the way,
+ We begin to think of flower
+ And life and nuts some day. 20
+
+ With the gusts of April
+ Rich fruit-tree blossoms fall,
+ On the hedged-in orchard-green,
+ From the southern wall.
+ Apple trees and pear trees
+ Shed petals white or pink,
+ Plum trees and peach trees; 5
+ While sharp showers sink and sink.
+
+ Little brings the May breeze
+ Beside pure scent of flowers,
+ While all things wax and nothing wanes
+ In lengthening daylight hours. 10
+ Across the hyacinth beds
+ The wind lags warm and sweet,
+ Across the hawthorn tops,
+ Across the blades of wheat.
+
+ In the wind of sunny June 15
+ Thrives the red rose crop,
+ Every day fresh blossoms blow
+ While the first leaves drop;
+ White rose and yellow rose
+ And moss rose choice to find, 20
+ And the cottage cabbage rose
+ Not one whit behind.
+
+ On the blast of scorched July
+ Drives the pelting hail,
+ From thunderous lightning-clouds, that blot
+ Blue heaven grown lurid-pale.
+ Weedy waves are tossed ashore, 5
+ Sea-things strange to sight
+ Gasp upon the barren shore
+ And fade away in light.
+
+ In the parching August wind
+ Cornfields bow the head, 10
+ Sheltered in round valley depths,
+ On low hills outspread.
+ Early leaves drop loitering down
+ Weightless on the breeze,
+ First fruits of the year's decay 15
+ From the withering trees.
+
+ In brisk wind of September
+ The heavy-headed fruits
+ Shake upon their bending boughs
+ And drop from the shoots; 20
+ Some glow golden in the sun,
+ Some show green and streaked,
+ Some set forth a purple bloom,
+ Some blush rosy-cheeked.
+
+ In strong blast of October 5
+ At the equinox,
+ Stirred up in his hollow bed
+ Broad ocean rocks;
+ Plunge the ships on his bosom,
+ Leaps and plunges the foam, 10
+ It's oh! for mothers' sons at sea,
+ That they were safe at home.
+
+ In slack wind of November
+ The fog forms and shifts;
+ All the world comes out again 15
+ When the fog lifts.
+ Loosened from their sapless twigs
+ Leaves drop with every gust;
+ Drifting, rustling, out of sight
+ In the damp or dust. 20
+
+ Last of all, December,
+ The year's sands nearly run,
+ Speeds on the shortest day
+ Curtails the sun;
+ With its bleak raw wind
+ Lays the last leaves low,
+ Brings back the nightly frosts, 5
+ Brings back the snow.
+
+
+
+
+MARY HOWITT
+
+ENGLAND, 1804-1888
+
+
+The Voice of Spring
+
+ I am coming, I am coming!
+ Hark! the little bee is humming;
+ See, the lark is soaring high
+ In the blue and sunny sky; 10
+ And the gnats are on the wing,
+ Wheeling round in airy ring.
+
+ See, the yellow catkins cover
+ All the slender willows over!
+ And on the banks of mossy green 15
+ Starlike primroses are seen;
+ And, their clustering leaves below,
+ White and purple violets blow.
+
+ Hark! the new-born lambs are bleating,
+ And the cawing rooks are meeting
+ In the elms,--a noisy crowd; 5
+ All the birds are singing loud;
+ And the first white butterfly
+ In the sunshine dances by.
+
+ Look around thee, look around!
+ Flowers in all the fields abound; 10
+ Every running stream is bright;
+ All the orchard trees are white;
+ And each small and waving shoot
+ Promises sweet flowers and fruit.
+
+ Turn thine eyes to earth and heaven: 15
+ God for thee the spring has given,
+ Taught the birds their melodies,
+ Clothed the earth, and cleared the skies,
+ For thy pleasure or thy food:
+ Pour thy soul in gratitude.
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS MILLER
+
+ENGLAND, 1807-1874
+
+
+The Spring Walk
+
+ We had a pleasant walk to-day
+ Over the meadows and far away,
+ Across the bridge by the water-mill,
+ By the woodside and up the hill;
+ And if you listen to what I say, 5
+ I'll tell you what we saw to-day.
+
+ Amid a hedge, where the first leaves
+ Were peeping from their sheathes so sly,
+ We saw four eggs within a nest,
+ And they were blue as a summer sky. 10
+
+ An elder branch dipped in the brook;
+ We wondered why it moved, and found
+ A silken-haired smooth water-rat
+ Nibbling, and swimming round and round.
+
+ Where daisies open'd to the sun, 15
+ In a broad meadow, green and white,
+ The lambs were racing eagerly--
+ We never saw a prettier sight.
+
+ We saw upon the shady banks
+ Long rows of golden flowers shine,
+ And first mistook for buttercups 5
+ The star-shaped yellow celandine.
+
+ Anemones and primroses,
+ And the blue violets of spring,
+ We found, while listening by a hedge
+ To hear a merry plowman sing. 10
+
+ And from the earth the plow turned up
+ There came a sweet, refreshing smell,
+ Such as the lily of the vale
+ Sends forth from many a woodland dell.
+
+ And leaning from the old stone bridge, 15
+ Below, we saw our shadows lie;
+ And through the gloomy arches watched
+ The swift and fearless swallows fly.
+
+ We heard the speckle-breasted lark
+ As it sang somewhere out of sight, 20
+ And tried to find it, but the sky
+ Was filled with clouds of dazzling light.
+
+ We saw young rabbits near the woods
+ And heard the pheasant's wings go "whir";
+ And then we saw a squirrel leap 5
+ From an old oak tree to a fir.
+
+ We came back by the village fields,
+ A pleasant walk it was across 'em,
+ For all behind the houses lay
+ The orchards red and white with blossom. 10
+
+ Were I to tell you all we saw,
+ I'm sure that it would take me hours;
+ For the whole landscape was alive
+ With bees, and birds, and buds, and flowers.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
+
+ENGLAND, 1564-1616
+
+
+"Over Hill, Over Dale"
+
+ Over hill, over dale,
+ Thorough bush, thorough brier,
+ Over park, over pale,
+ Thorough flood, thorough fire.
+ I do wander everywhere, 5
+ Swifter than the moone's sphere.
+ And I serve the Fairy Queen,
+ To dew her orbs upon the green;
+ The cowslips tall her pensioners be,
+ In their gold coats spots you see,-- 10
+ Those be rubies, Fairy favors:
+ In those freckles live their savors.
+ I must go seek some dew-drops here,
+ And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
+
+
+
+
+ALFRED TENNYSON
+
+ENGLAND, 1809-1892
+
+
+The Throstle
+
+ "Summer is coming, summer is coming,
+ I know it, I know it, I know it.
+ Light again, leaf again, love again."
+ Yes, my wild little Poet.
+
+ Sing the new year in under the blue. 5
+ Last year you sang it as gladly.
+ "New, new, new, new!" Is it then _so_ new
+ That you should carol so madly?
+
+ "Love again, song again, nest again, young again."
+ Never a prophet so crazy! 10
+ And hardly a daisy as yet, little friend,
+ See, there is hardly a daisy.
+
+ "Here again, here, here, here, happy year!"
+ O warble, unchidden, unbidden!
+ Summer is coming, is coming, my dear, 15
+ And all the winters are hidden.
+
+
+
+
+JANE TAYLOR
+
+ENGLAND, 1783-1824
+
+
+The Violet
+
+ Down in a green and shady bed
+ A modest violet grew,
+ Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
+ As if to hide from view.
+
+ And yet it was a lovely flower, 5
+ Its colors bright and fair!
+ It might have graced a rosy bower
+ Instead of hiding there.
+
+ Yet there it was content to bloom
+ In modest tints arrayed; 10
+ And there diffused its sweet perfume
+ Within the silent shade.
+
+ Then let me to the valley go,
+ This pretty flower to see,
+ That I may also learn to grow 15
+ In sweet humility.
+
+
+
+
+CLINTON SCOLLARD[1]
+
+AMERICA, 1860-
+
+
+Bobolink
+
+ Bobolink--
+ He is here!
+ _Spink-a-chink!_
+ Hark, how clear
+ Drops the note 5
+ From his throat,
+ Where he sways
+ On the sprays
+ Of the wheat
+ In the heat! 10
+ Bobolink,
+ _Spink-a-chink!_
+
+ Bobolink
+ Is a beau.
+ See him prink! 15
+ Watch him go
+ Through the air
+ To his fair!
+ Hear him sing
+ On the wing,--
+ Sing his best
+ O'er her nest! 5
+ "Bobolink,
+ _Spink-a-chink!_"
+
+ Bobolink,
+ Linger long!
+ There's a kink 10
+ In your song
+ Like the joy
+ Of a boy
+ Left to run
+ In the sun,-- 15
+ Left to play
+ All the day.
+ Bobolink,
+ _Spink-a-chink!_
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[1] From "A Boy's Book of Rhyme."
+
+
+
+
+FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN
+
+AMERICA, 1860-
+
+
+The Four Winds
+
+ In winter, when the wind I hear,
+ I know the clouds will disappear;
+ For 'tis the wind who sweeps the sky
+ And piles the snow in ridges high.
+
+ In spring, when stirs the wind, I know 5
+ That soon the crocus buds will show;
+ For 'tis the wind who bids them wake
+ And into pretty blossoms break.
+
+ In summer, when it softly blows,
+ Soon red I know will be the rose; 10
+ For 'tis the wind to her who speaks,
+ And brings the blushes to her cheeks.
+
+ In autumn, when the wind is up,
+ I know the acorn's out its cup;
+ For 'tis the wind who takes it out,
+ And plants an oak somewhere about.
+
+
+
+
+LUCY LARCOM
+
+AMERICA, 1826-1893
+
+
+The Violet
+
+ Dear little violet, 5
+ Don't be afraid!
+ Lift your blue eyes
+ From the rock's mossy shade.
+
+ All the birds call for you,
+ Out of the sky; 10
+ May is here waiting,
+ And here, too, am I.
+
+ Why do you shiver so,
+ Violet, sweet?
+ Soft is the meadow grass, 15
+ Under my feet.
+
+ Wrapped in your hood of green,
+ Violet, why
+ Peep from your earth door,
+ So silent and shy?
+
+
+
+
+FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN
+
+AMERICA, 1860-
+
+
+Pebbles
+
+ Out of a pellucid brook 5
+ Pebbles round and smooth I took:
+ Like a jewel every one
+ Caught a color from the sun,--
+ Ruby red and sapphire blue,
+ Emerald and onyx too, 10
+ Diamond and amethyst,--
+ Not a precious stone I missed:
+ Gems I held from every land
+ In the hollow of my hand.
+ Workman Water these had made 15
+ Patiently through sun and shade,
+ With the ripples of the rill
+ He had polished them until,
+ Smooth, symmetrical, and bright,
+ Each one sparkling in the light
+ Showered within its burning heart
+ All the lapidary's art;
+ And the brook seemed thus to sing: 5
+ Patience conquers everything!
+
+
+
+
+BJOeRNSTJERNE BJOeRNSON
+
+NORWAY, 1832-
+
+
+The Tree
+
+ The Tree's early leaf buds were bursting their brown;
+ "Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down.
+ "No, leave them alone
+ Till the blossoms have grown," 10
+ Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown.
+
+ The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung;
+ "Shall I take them away?" said the Wind, as he swung.
+ "No, leave them alone
+ Till the berries have grown,"
+ Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung.
+
+ The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow; 5
+ Said the girl: "May I gather thy berries now?"
+ "Yes, all thou canst see:
+ Take them; all are for thee,"
+ Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low.
+
+
+
+
+FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN
+
+AMERICA, 1860-
+
+
+September
+
+ Here's a lyric for September, 10
+ Best of all months to remember;
+ Month when summer breezes tell
+ What has happened, wood and dell,
+ Of the joy the year has brought,
+ And the changes she has wrought.
+ She has turned the verdure red; 5
+ In the blue sky overhead,
+ She the harvest moon has hung,
+ Like a silver boat among
+ Shoals of stars--bright jewels set
+ In the earth's blue coronet; 10
+ She has brought the orchard's fruit
+ To repay the robin's flute
+ Which has gladdened half the year
+ With a music liquid, clear;
+ And she makes the meadow grass 15
+ Catch the sunbeams as they pass,
+ Till the autumn's floor is rolled
+ With a fragrant cloth of gold.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
+
+ENGLAND, 1830-1894
+
+
+The Swallow
+
+ Fly away, fly away, over the sea,
+ Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done.
+ Come again, come again, come back to me,
+ Bringing the summer, and bringing the sun.
+
+ When you come hurrying home o'er the sea, 5
+ Then we are certain that winter is past;
+ Cloudy and cold though your pathway may be,
+ Summer and sunshine will follow you fast.
+
+
+
+
+LYDIA MARIA CHILD
+
+AMERICA, 1802-1880
+
+
+Thanksgiving Day
+
+ Over the river and through the wood,
+ To grandfather's house we go; 10
+ The horse knows the way
+ To carry the sleigh
+ Through the white and drifted snow.
+
+ Over the river and through the wood--
+ Oh, how the wind does blow! 5
+ It stings the toes
+ And bites the nose,
+ As over the ground we go.
+
+ Over the river and through the wood,
+ To have a first-rate play; 10
+ Hear the bells ring,
+ "Ting-a-ling-ding!"
+ Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!
+
+ Over the river and through the wood,
+ Trot fast, my dapple-gray! 15
+ Spring over the ground,
+ Like a hunting hound!
+ For this is Thanksgiving Day.
+
+ Over the river and through the wood,
+ And straight through the barn-yard gate. 20
+ We seem to go
+ Extremely slow--
+ It is so hard to wait!
+
+ Over the river and through the wood--
+ Now grandmother's cap I spy! 5
+ Hurrah for the fun!
+ Is the pudding done?
+ Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!
+
+
+
+
+HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
+
+AMERICA, 1807-1882
+
+
+Hiawatha's Childhood
+
+ By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
+ By the shining Big-Sea-Water, 10
+ Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,
+ Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis.
+ Dark behind it rose the forest,
+ Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees,
+ Rose the firs with cones upon them; 15
+ Bright before it beat the water,
+ Beat the clear and sunny water,
+ Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.
+ There the wrinkled old Nokomis
+ Nursed the little Hiawatha,
+ Rocked him in his linden cradle,
+ Bedded soft in moss and rushes, 5
+ Safely bound with reindeer sinews;
+ Stilled his fretful wail by saying,
+ "Hush! the Naked Bear will hear thee!"
+ Lulled him into slumber, singing,
+ "Ewa-yea! my little owlet! 10
+ Who is this, that lights the wigwam?
+ With his great eyes lights the wigwam?
+ Ewa-yea! my little owlet!"
+ Many things Nokomis taught him
+ Of the stars that shine in heaven; 15
+ Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet,
+ Ishkoodah, with fiery tresses;
+ Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits,
+ Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs,
+ Flaring far away to northward 20
+ In the frosty nights of Winter;
+ Showed the broad white road in heaven,
+ Pathway of the ghosts, the shadows,
+ Running straight across the heavens,
+ Crowded with the ghosts, the shadows.
+ At the door on summer evenings,
+ Sat the little Hiawatha;
+ Heard the whispering of the pine-trees, 5
+ Heard the lapping of the water,
+ Sounds of music, words of wonder;
+ "Minne-wawa!" said the pine-trees,
+ "Mudway-aushka!" said the water.
+ Saw the fire-fly, Wah-wah-taysee, 10
+ Flitting through the dusk of evening,
+ With the twinkle of its candle
+ Lighting up the brakes and bushes.
+ And he sang the song of children,
+ Sang the song Nokomis taught him: 15
+ "Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly,
+ Little, flitting, white-fire insect,
+ Little, dancing, white-fire creature,
+ Light me with your little candle,
+ Ere upon my bed I lay me, 20
+ Ere in sleep I close my eyelids!"
+ Saw the moon rise from the water,
+ Rippling, rounding from the water,
+ Saw the flecks and shadows on it,
+ Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?"
+ And the good Nokomis answered:
+ "Once a warrior, very angry,
+ Seized his grandmother, and threw her 5
+ Up into the sky at midnight;
+ Right against the moon he threw her;
+ 'Tis her body that you see there."
+ Saw the rainbow in the heaven,
+ In the eastern sky the rainbow, 10
+ Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?"
+ And the good Nokomis answered:
+ "'Tis the heaven of flowers you see there:
+ All the wild-flowers of the forest,
+ All the lilies of the prairie, 15
+ When on earth they fade and perish,
+ Blossom in that heaven above us."
+ When he heard the owls at midnight,
+ Hooting, laughing in the forest,
+ "What is that?" he cried in terror; 20
+ "What is that," he said, "Nokomis?"
+ And the good Nokomis answered:
+ "That is but the owl and owlet,
+ Talking in their native language,
+ Talking, scolding at each other."
+ Then the little Hiawatha
+ Learned of every bird its language,
+ Learned their names and all their secrets, 5
+ How they built their nests in summer,
+ Where they hid themselves in winter,
+ Talked with them whene'er he met them,
+ Called them "Hiawatha's Chickens."
+ Of all beasts he learned the language, 10
+ Learned their names and all their secrets,
+ How the beavers built their lodges,
+ Where the squirrels hid their acorns,
+ How the reindeer ran so swiftly,
+ Why the rabbit was so timid, 15
+ Talked with them whene'er he met them,
+ Called them "Hiawatha's Brothers."
+
+
+
+
+HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
+
+AMERICA, 1807-1882
+
+
+Hiawatha's Sailing
+
+ "Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree!
+ Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!
+ Growing by the rushing river,
+ Tall and stately in the valley!
+ I a light canoe will build me, 5
+ Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing,
+ That shall float upon the river,
+ Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+ Like a yellow water lily!
+ "Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree! 10
+ Lay aside your white skin wrapper,
+ For the summer time is coming,
+ And the sun is warm in heaven,
+ And you need no white skin wrapper!"
+ Thus aloud cried Hiawatha 15
+ In the solitary forest,
+ By the rushing Taquamenaw,
+ When the birds were singing gaily,
+ In the Moon of Leaves were singing,
+ And the Sun, from sleep awaking,
+ Started up and said, "Behold me!
+ Geezis, the great Sun, behold me!"
+ And the tree with all its branches
+ Rustled in the breeze of morning, 5
+ Saying, with a sigh of patience,
+ "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"
+ With his knife the tree he girdled;
+ Just beneath its lowest branches,
+ Just above the roots, he cut it, 10
+ Till the sap came oozing outward;
+ Down the trunk, from top to bottom,
+ Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,
+ With a wooden wedge he raised it,
+ Stripped it from the trunk unbroken. 15
+ "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!
+ Of your strong and pliant branches,
+ My canoe to make more steady,
+ Make more strong and firm beneath me!"
+ Through the summit of the Cedar 20
+ Went a sound, a cry of horror,
+ Went a murmur of resistance;
+ But it whispered, bending downward,
+ "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"
+ Down he hewed the boughs of cedar,
+ Shaped them straightway to a framework,
+ Like two bows he formed and shaped them,
+ Like two bended bows together. 5
+ "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!
+ Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree!
+ My canoe to bind together,
+ So to bind the ends together
+ That the water may not enter, 10
+ That the river may not wet me!"
+ And the Larch with all its fibers,
+ Shivered in the air of morning,
+ Touched his forehead with its tassels,
+ Said, with one long sigh of sorrow, 15
+ "Take them all, O Hiawatha!"
+ From the earth he tore the fibers,
+ Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree,
+ Closely sewed the bark together,
+ Bound it closely to the framework. 20
+ "Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree!
+ Of your balsam and your resin,
+ So to close the seams together
+ That the water may not enter,
+ That the river may not wet me!"
+ And the Fir Tree, tall and somber,
+ Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,
+ Rattled like a shore with pebbles, 5
+ Answered wailing, answered weeping,
+ "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"
+ And he took the tears of balsam,
+ Took the resin of the Fir Tree,
+ Seamed therewith each seam and fissure, 10
+ Made each crevice safe from water.
+ "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!
+ All your quills, O Kagh, the Hedgehog!
+ I will make a necklace of them,
+ Make a girdle for my beauty, 15
+ And two stars to deck her bosom!"
+ From a hollow tree the Hedgehog
+ With his sleepy eyes looked at him,
+ Shot his shining quills, like arrows,
+ Saying, with a drowsy murmur, 20
+ Through the tangle of his whiskers,
+ "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"
+ From the ground the quills he gathered,
+ All the little shining arrows,
+ Stained them red and blue and yellow,
+ With the juice of roots and berries;
+ Into his canoe he wrought them,
+ Round its waist a shining girdle, 5
+ Round its bows a gleaming necklace,
+ On its breast two stars resplendent.
+ Thus the Birch Canoe was builded,
+ In the valley, by the river,
+ In the bosom of the forest; 10
+ And the forest's life was in it,
+ All its mystery and its magic,
+ All the lightness of the birch tree,
+ All the toughness of the cedar,
+ All the larch's supple sinews; 15
+ And it floated on the river
+ Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+ Like a yellow water lily.
+ Paddles none had Hiawatha,
+ Paddles none he had or needed, 20
+ For his thoughts as paddles served him,
+ And his wishes served to guide him;
+ Swift or slow at will he glided,
+ Veered to right or left at pleasure.
+
+
+
+
+SABINE BARING-GOULD
+
+ENGLAND, 1834-
+
+
+Child's Evening Prayer
+
+ Now the day is over, 5
+ Night is drawing nigh,
+ Shadows of the evening
+ Steal across the sky.
+
+ Now the darkness gathers,
+ Stars begin to peep,
+ Birds and beasts and flowers
+ Soon will be asleep.
+
+ Through the long night-watches
+ May Thine angels spread 10
+ Their white wings above me,
+ Watching round my bed.
+
+ When the morning wakens,
+ Then may I arise
+ Pure and fresh and sinless 15
+ In Thy holy eyes.
+
+
+
+
+THIRD YEAR--SECOND HALF
+
+
+Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean
+
+ O, Columbia, the gem of the ocean,
+ The home of the brave and the free,
+ The shrine of each patriot's devotion,
+ A world offers homage to thee;
+ Thy mandates make heroes assemble, 5
+ When Liberty's form stands in view;
+ Thy banners make tyranny tremble,
+ When borne by the red, white, and blue,
+ When borne by the red, white, and blue,
+ When borne by the red, white, and blue, 10
+ Thy banners make tyranny tremble,
+ When borne by the red, white, and blue.
+
+ When war wing'd its wide desolation,
+ And threaten'd the land to deform,
+ The ark then of freedom's foundation, 15
+ Columbia rode safe thro' the storm:
+ With the garlands of vict'ry around her,
+ When so proudly she bore her brave crew,
+ With her flag proudly floating before her,
+ The boast of the red, white, and blue,
+ The boast of the red, white, and blue, 5
+ The boast of the red, white, and blue,
+ With her flag proudly floating before her
+ The boast of the red, white, and blue.
+
+ The star-spangled banner bring hither,
+ O'er Columbia's true sons let it wave; 10
+ May the wreaths they have won never wither,
+ Nor its stars cease to shine on the brave.
+ May the service united ne'er sever,
+ But hold to their colors so true;
+ The army and navy forever, 15
+ Three cheers for the red, white, and blue,
+ Three cheers for the red, white, and blue,
+ Three cheers for the red, white, and blue,
+ The army and navy forever,
+ Three cheers for the red, white, and blue. 20
+
+
+
+
+ROBERT HERRICK
+
+ENGLAND, 1591-1674
+
+
+Corinna going a-Maying
+
+ Get up, get up, for shame the blooming morn
+ Upon her wings presents the gods unshorn.
+ See how Aurora throws her fair,
+ Fresh-quilted colors through the air;
+ Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see 5
+ The dew-bespangled herb and tree.
+
+ Each flower has wept, and bowed toward the East
+ Above an hour since, yet you are not drest,
+ Nay not so much as out of bed,
+ When all the birds have matins said, 10
+ And sung their thankful hymns; 'tis sin,
+ Nay, profanation to keep in,
+ When as a thousand virgins on this day
+ Spring sooner than the lark to fetch in May.
+
+ Come, my Corinna, come, and coming, mark
+ How each field turns a street--each street a park,
+ Made green and trimmed with trees! see how
+ Devotion gives each house a bough,
+ Or branch! each porch, each door, ere this 5
+ An ark, a tabernacle is,
+ Made up of whitethorn neatly interwove,
+ As if he were those cooler shades of love.
+ Can such delights be in the street
+ And open fields, and we not see't? 10
+ Come we'll abroad, and let's obey
+ The proclamation made for May.
+ And sin no more, as we have done, by staying,
+ But, my Corinna! come, let's go a-Maying.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN KEATS
+
+ENGLAND, 1795-1821
+
+
+Sweet Peas
+
+ Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight:
+ With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white,
+ And taper fingers catching at all things,
+ To bind them all about with tiny rings.
+ Linger awhile upon some bending planks 5
+ That lean against a streamlet's rushy banks,
+ And watch intently Nature's gentle doings,
+ They will be found softer than ringdove's cooings.
+ How silent comes the water round that bend!
+ Not the minutest whisper does it send 10
+ To the o'erhanging sallows: blades of grass
+ Slowly across the chequer'd shadows pass.
+
+
+
+
+EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER
+
+AMERICA, 1862-
+
+
+The Bluebird
+
+ I know the song that the bluebird is singing,
+ Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging:
+ Brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary:
+ Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery.
+
+ Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat-- 5
+ Hark! was there ever so merry a note?
+ Listen awhile, and you'll hear what he's saying,
+ Up in the apple-tree, swinging and swaying.
+
+ "Dear little blossoms, down under the snow,
+ You must be weary of winter, I know; 10
+ Hark while I sing you a message of cheer--
+ _Summer_ is coming! and _spring-time_ is here!
+
+ "Little white snowdrop! I pray you, arise;
+ Bright yellow crocus! come, open your eyes;
+ Sweet little violets, hid from the cold, 5
+ Put on your mantles of purple and gold:
+ Daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear?--
+ _Summer_ is coming! and _spring-time_ is here!"
+
+
+
+
+ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
+
+SCOTLAND, 1850-1894
+
+
+Where go the Boats?
+
+ Dark brown is the river,
+ Golden is the sand, 10
+ It flows along forever,
+ With trees on either hand.
+
+ Green leaves a-floating,
+ Castles of the foam,
+ Boats of mine a-boating--
+ Where will all come home?
+
+ On goes the river 5
+ And out past the mill,
+ Away down the valley,
+ Away down the hill.
+
+ Away down the river,
+ A hundred miles or more, 10
+ Other little children
+ Shall bring my boats ashore.
+
+
+
+
+CHARLES LAMB, MARY LAMB
+
+ENGLAND, 1775-1834, ENGLAND, 1764-1847
+
+
+The Magpie's Nest
+
+ When the arts in their infancy were,
+ In a fable of old 'tis expressed
+ A wise magpie constructed that rare 15
+ Little house for young birds, called a nest.
+
+ This was talked of the whole country round;
+ You might hear it on every bough sung;
+ "Now no longer upon the rough ground
+ Will fond mothers brood over their young:
+
+ "For the magpie with exquisite skill 5
+ Has invented a moss-covered cell
+ Within which a whole family will
+ In the utmost security dwell."
+
+ To her mate did each female bird say:
+ "Let us fly to the magpie, my dear; 10
+ If she will but teach us the way,
+ A nest we will build us up here.
+
+ "It's a thing that's close arched overhead,
+ With a hole made to creep out and in;
+ We, my bird, might make just such a bed 15
+ If we only knew how to begin."
+
+ To the magpie soon all the birds went,
+ And in modest terms made their request,
+ That she would be pleased to consent
+ To teach them to build up a nest.
+
+ She replied: "I will show you the way,
+ So observe everything that I do:
+ First, two sticks 'cross each other I lay--" 5
+ "To be sure," said the crow, "why I knew
+
+ "It must be begun with two sticks,
+ And I thought that they crossed should be."
+ Said the pie, "Then some straw and moss mix
+ In the way you now see done by me." 10
+
+ "Oh, yes, certainly," said the jackdaw,
+ "That must follow, of course, I have thought;
+ Though I never before building saw,
+ I guessed that without being taught."
+ "More moss, more straw, and feathers, I place 15
+ In this manner," continued the pie.
+ "Yes, no doubt, madam, that is the case;
+ Though no builder myself, so thought I."
+
+ Whatever she taught them beside,
+ In his turn every bird of them said,
+ Though the nest-making art he ne'er tried, 5
+ He had just such a thought in his head.
+
+ Still the pie went on showing her art,
+ Till the nest she had built up halfway;
+ She no more of her skill would impart,
+ But in her anger went fluttering away. 10
+
+ And this speech in their hearing she made,
+ As she perched o'er their heads on a tree:
+ "If ye all were well skilled in my trade,
+ Pray, why came ye to learn it of me?"
+
+
+
+
+MARGARET VANDEGRIFT
+
+AMERICA, 1845-
+
+
+The Sandman
+
+ The rosy clouds float overhead,
+ The sun is going down;
+ And now the sandman's gentle tread
+ Comes stealing through the town.
+ "White sand, white sand," he softly cries, 5
+ And as he shakes his hand,
+ Straightway there lies on babies' eyes
+ His gift of shining sand.
+ Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
+ As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through
+ the town, 10
+
+ From sunny beaches far away--
+ Yes, in another land--
+ He gathers up at break of day
+ His store of shining sand.
+ No tempests beat that shore remote, 15
+ No ships may sail that way;
+ His little boat alone may float
+ Within that lovely bay.
+ Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
+ As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.
+
+ He smiles to see the eyelids close 5
+ Above the happy eyes;
+ And every child right well he knows,--
+ Oh, he is very wise!
+ But if, as he goes through the land,
+ A naughty baby cries, 10
+ His other hand takes dull gray sand
+ To close the wakeful eyes.
+ Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
+ As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.
+
+ So when you hear the sandman's song 15
+ Sound through the twilight sweet,
+ Be sure you do not keep him long
+ A-waiting on the street.
+ Lie softly down, dear little head,
+ Rest quiet, busy hands,
+ Till, by your bed his good night said,
+ He strews the shining sands. 5
+ Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
+ As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.
+
+
+
+
+MARY HOWITT
+
+ENGLAND, 1804-1888
+
+
+The Fairies of the Caldon-Low
+
+A MIDSUMMER LEGEND
+
+ "And where have you been, my Mary,
+ And where have you been from me?"
+ "I've been to the top of the Caldon-Low, 10
+ The midsummer night to see!"
+
+ "And what did you see, my Mary,
+ All up on the Caldon-Low?"
+ "I saw the blithe sunshine come down,
+ And I saw the merry winds blow." 15
+ "And what did you hear, my Mary,
+ All up on the Caldon Hill?"
+ "I heard the drops the water made,
+ And I heard the corn-ears fill."
+
+ "Oh, tell me all, my Mary-- 5
+ All, all that ever you know;
+ For you must have seen the fairies
+ Last night on the Caldon-Low."
+
+ "Then take me on your knee, mother,
+ And listen, mother of mine: 10
+ A hundred fairies danced last night,
+ And the harpers they were nine;
+
+ "And merry was the glee of the harp-strings,
+ And their dancing feet so small;
+ But, oh! the sound of their talking 15
+ Was merrier far than all!"
+
+ "And what were the words, my Mary,
+ That you did hear them say?"
+ "I'll tell you all, my mother,
+ But let me have my way. 20
+ "And some they played with the water,
+ And rolled it down the hill;
+ 'And this,' they said, 'shall speedily turn
+ The poor old miller's mill;
+
+ "'For there has been no water 5
+ Ever since the first of May;
+ And a busy man shall the miller be
+ By the dawning of the day!
+
+ "'Oh, the miller, how he will laugh,
+ When he sees the mill-dam rise! 10
+ The jolly old miller, how he will laugh
+ Till the tears fill both his eyes!'
+
+ "And some they seized the little winds,
+ That sounded over the hill,
+ And each put a horn into his mouth, 15
+ And blew so sharp and shrill:
+
+ "'And there,' said they, 'the merry winds go
+ Away from every horn;
+ And those shall clear the mildew dank
+ From the blind old widow's corn: 20
+ "'Oh, the poor blind widow--
+ Though she has been blind so long,
+ She'll be merry enough when the mildew's gone,
+ And the corn stands stiff and strong!'
+
+ "And some they brought the brown linseed, 5
+ And flung it down from the Low:
+ 'And this,' said they, 'by the sunrise,
+ In the weaver's croft shall grow!
+
+ "'Oh, the poor lame weaver!
+ How he will laugh outright 10
+ When he sees his dwindling flax-field
+ All full of flowers by night!'
+
+ "And then up spoke a brownie,
+ With a long beard on his chin:
+ 'I have spun up all the tow,' said he, 15
+ 'And I want some more to spin.
+
+ "'I've spun a piece of hempen cloth,
+ And I want to spin another--
+ A little sheet for Mary's bed,
+ And an apron for her mother.'
+
+ "And with that I could not help but laugh,
+ And I laughed out loud and free;
+ And then on top of the Caldon-Low 5
+ There was no one left but me.
+
+ "And all on top of the Caldon-Low
+ The mists were cold and gray,
+ And nothing I saw but the mossy stones
+ That round about me lay. 10
+
+ "But, as I came down from the hill-top,
+ I heard, afar below,
+ How busy the jolly miller was,
+ And how merry the wheel did go.
+
+ "And I peeped into the widow's field, 15
+ And sure enough were seen
+ The yellow ears of the mildewed corn
+ All standing stiff and green!
+
+ "And down by the weaver's croft I stole,
+ To see if the flax were high;
+ But I saw the weaver at his gate,
+ With the good news in his eye!
+
+ "Now this is all I heard, mother, 5
+ And all that I did see;
+ So, prithee, make my bed, mother,
+ For I'm tired as I can be!"
+
+
+
+
+FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS
+
+ENGLAND, 1793-1835
+
+
+Night-scented Flowers
+
+ "Call back your odors, lonely flowers,
+ From the night-wind call them back; 10
+ And fold your leaves till the laughing hours
+ Come forth in the sunbeam's track.
+
+ "The lark lies couched in her grassy nest,
+ And the honey-bee is gone,
+ And all bright things are away to rest; 15
+ Why watch ye here alone?"
+
+ "Nay, let our shadowy beauty bloom
+ When the stars give quiet light,
+ And let us offer our faint perfume
+ On the silent shrine of night.
+
+ "Call it not wasted, the scent we lend 5
+ To the breeze when no step is nigh:
+ Oh! thus forever the earth should send
+ Her grateful breath on high!
+
+ "And love us as emblems, night's dewy flowers,
+ Of hopes unto sorrow given, 10
+ That spring through the gloom of the darkest hours,
+ Looking alone to heaven."
+
+
+
+
+JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER
+
+AMERICA, 1807-1892
+
+
+Indian Summer
+
+ From gold to gray
+ Our mild, sweet day
+ Of Indian summer fades too soon; 15
+ But tenderly
+ Above the sea
+ Hangs, white and calm, the hunter's moon.
+
+ In its pale fire
+ The village spire 5
+ Shows like the zodiac's spectral lance;
+ The painted walls
+ Whereon it falls
+ Transfigured stand in marble trance.
+
+
+
+
+ALICE CARY
+
+AMERICA, 1820-1871
+
+
+November
+
+ The leaves are fading and falling, 10
+ The winds are rough and wild,
+ The birds have ceased their calling,
+ But let me tell you, my child,
+
+ Though day by day, as it closes,
+ Doth darker and colder grow, 15
+ The roots of the bright red roses
+ Will keep alive in the snow.
+
+ And when the winter is over
+ The boughs will get new leaves,
+ The quail will come back to the clover,
+ And the swallow back to the eaves.
+
+ The robin will wear on his bosom 5
+ A vest that is bright and new,
+ And the loveliest wayside blossoms
+ Will shine with the sun and dew.
+
+ The leaves to-day are whirling,
+ The brooks are all dry and dumb, 10
+ But let me tell you, my darling,
+ The spring will be sure to come.
+
+ There must be rough, cold weather,
+ And winds and rains so wild;
+ Not all good things together 15
+ Come to us here, my child.
+
+ So when some dear joy loses
+ Its beauteous summer glow,
+ Think how the roots of the roses
+ Are kept alive in the snow. 20
+
+
+
+
+JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER
+
+
+The Frost Spirit
+
+ He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes! You may trace his
+ footsteps now
+ On the naked woods and the blasted fields and the brown hill's
+ withered brow.
+ He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees where their
+ pleasant green came forth,
+ And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, have shaken them
+ down to earth.
+
+ He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes!--from the frozen
+ Labrador,-- 5
+ From the icy bridge of the Northern seas, which the white bear
+ wanders o'er,--
+ Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice, and the luckless
+ forms below
+ In the sunless cold of the lingering night into marble statues
+ grow!
+
+ He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes!--on the rushing
+ Northern blast,
+ And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed as his fearful breath
+ went past.
+ With an unscorched wing he has hurried on, where the fires of
+ Hecla glow
+ On the darkly beautiful sky above and the ancient ice below.
+
+ He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes!--and the quiet lake
+ shall feel 5
+ The torpid touch of his glazing breath, and ring to the skater's
+ heel;
+ And the streams which danced on the broken rocks, or sang to the
+ leaning grass,
+ Shall bow again to their winter chain, and in mournful silence pass.
+
+ He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes!--let us meet him as we
+ may,
+ And turn with the light of the parlor-fire his evil power away;
+ And gather closer the circle round, when that firelight dances high,
+ And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend as his sounding wing goes
+ by!
+
+
+
+
+ALFRED TENNYSON
+
+ENGLAND, 1809-1892
+
+
+The Owl
+
+
+I
+
+ When cats run home and the light is come
+ And the dew is cold upon the ground, 5
+ And the far-off stream is dumb,
+ And the whirring sail goes round,
+ And the whirring sail goes round;
+ Alone and warming his five wits,
+ The white owl in the belfry sits. 10
+
+
+II
+
+ When merry milkmaids click the latch,
+ And rarely smells the new-mown hay,
+ And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch
+ Twice or thrice his roundelay,
+ Twice or thrice his roundelay;
+ Alone and warming his five wits,
+ The white owl in the belfry sits. 5
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE MACDONALD
+
+SCOTLAND, 1824-
+
+
+The Wind and the Moon
+
+ Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out.
+ You stare
+ In the air
+ Like a ghost in a chair,
+ Always looking what I am about; 10
+ I hate to be watched; I will blow you out."
+
+ The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.
+ So, deep,
+ On a heap
+ Of clouds, to sleep,
+ Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon--
+ Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."
+
+ He turned in his bed; she was there again! 5
+ On high
+ In the sky,
+ With her one ghost eye,
+ The Moon shone white and alive and plain.
+ Said the Wind--"I will blow you out again." 10
+
+ The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim.
+ "With my sledge
+ And my wedge
+ I have knocked off her edge!
+ If only I blow right fierce and grim, 15
+ The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."
+
+ He blew and blew, and she thinned to a thread.
+ "One puff
+ More's enough
+ To blow her to snuff!
+ One good puff more where the last was bred, 5
+ And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go the thread!"
+
+ He blew a great blast and the thread was gone;
+ In the air
+ Nowhere
+ Was a moonbeam bare; 10
+ Far off and harmless the shy stars shone;
+ Sure and certain the Moon was gone!
+
+ The Wind he took to his revels once more;
+ On down
+ In town, 15
+ Like a merry mad clown,
+ He leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar,
+ "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!
+
+ He flew in a rage--he danced and blew;
+ But in vain
+ Was the pain
+ Of his bursting brain; 5
+ For still the broader the Moon-scrap grew,
+ The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew.
+
+ Slowly she grew--till she filled the night,
+ And shone
+ On her throne 10
+ In the sky alone,
+ A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,
+ Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the Night.
+
+ Said the Wind--"What a marvel of power am I!
+ With my breath, 15
+ Good faith!
+ I blew her to death--
+ First blew her away right out of the sky--
+ Then blew her in; what a strength am I!"
+
+ But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair,
+ For, high
+ In the sky, 5
+ With her one white eye,
+ Motionless, miles above the air,
+ She had never heard the great Wind blare.
+
+
+
+
+JAMES T. FIELDS
+
+AMERICA, 1817-1881
+
+
+The Tempest
+
+ We were crowded in the cabin,
+ Not a soul would dare to sleep,-- 10
+ It was midnight on the waters,
+ And a storm was on the deep.
+
+ 'Tis a fearful thing in winter
+ To be shattered in the blast,
+ And to hear the rattling trumpet
+ Thunder, "Cut away the mast!"
+
+ So we shuddered there in silence,--
+ For the stoutest held his breath,
+ While the hungry sea was roaring, 5
+ And the breakers talked with Death.
+
+ As thus we sat in darkness,
+ Each one busy in his prayers,--
+ "We are lost!" the captain shouted,
+ As he staggered down the stairs. 10
+
+ But his little daughter whispered,
+ As she took his icy hand,
+ "Is not God upon the ocean,
+ Just the same as on the land?"
+
+ Then we kissed the little maiden, 15
+ And we spoke in better cheer;
+ And we anchored safe in harbor
+ When the morn was shining clear.
+
+
+
+
+CLEMENT C. MOORE
+
+AMERICA, 1779-1863
+
+
+A Visit from St. Nicholas
+
+ 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
+ Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
+ The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
+ In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
+ The children were nestled all snug in their beds, 5
+ While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
+ And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
+ Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
+ When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
+ I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
+ Away to the window I flew like a flash,
+ Tore open the shatters and threw up the sash.
+ The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
+ Gave a luster of midday to objects below; 5
+ When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
+ But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
+ With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
+ I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
+ More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, 10
+ And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
+ "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
+ On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen--
+ To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!
+ Now, dash away, dash away, dash away, all!"
+ As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
+ When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
+ So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 5
+ With the sleigh full of toys--and St. Nicholas, too.
+ And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof
+ The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
+ As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
+ Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 10
+ He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
+ And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
+ A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
+ And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
+ His eyes how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
+ His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
+ His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 5
+ And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
+ The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
+ And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
+ He had a broad face and a little round belly
+ That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. 10
+ He was chubby and plump--a right jolly old elf;
+ And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
+ A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
+ Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
+ He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
+ And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
+ And laying his finger aside of his nose, 5
+ And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
+ He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
+ And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;
+ But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
+ "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" 10
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
+
+ENGLAND, 1770-1850
+
+
+Lucy Gray
+
+ Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray;
+ And, when I crossed the wild,
+ I chanced to see at break of day
+ The solitary child.
+
+ No mate, no comrade, Lucy knew; 5
+ She dwelt on a wide moor,--
+ The sweetest thing that ever grew
+ Beside a human door!
+
+ You yet may spy the fawn at play,
+ The hare upon the green; 10
+ But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
+ Will never more be seen.
+
+ "To-night will be a stormy night--
+ You to the town must go:
+ And take a lantern, child, to light 15
+ Your mother through the snow."
+
+ "That, father, will I gladly do:
+ 'Tis scarcely afternoon--
+ The minster-clock has just struck two;
+ And yonder is the moon."
+
+ At this the father raised his hook, 5
+ And snapped a fagot-band;
+ He plied his work;--and Lucy took
+ The lantern in her hand.
+
+ Not blither is the mountain roe:
+ With many a wanton stroke 10
+ Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
+ That rises up like smoke.
+
+ The storm came on before its time,
+ She wandered up and down;
+ And many a hill did Lucy climb, 15
+ But never reached the town.
+
+ The wretched parents all that night
+ Went shouting far and wide;
+ But there was neither sound nor sight
+ To serve them for a guide. 20
+ At daybreak on a hill they stood
+ That overlooked the moor;
+ And thence they saw the bridge of wood,
+ A furlong from their door.
+
+ They wept--and, turning homeward, cried, 5
+ "In heaven we all shall meet!"
+ When in the snow the mother spied
+ The print of Lucy's feet.
+
+ Then downwards from the steep hill's edge
+ They tracked the footmarks small; 10
+ And through the broken hawthorn hedge,
+ And by the low stone wall:
+
+ And then an open field they crossed;
+ The marks were still the same;
+ They tracked them on, nor ever lost; 15
+ And to the bridge they came.
+
+ They follow from the snowy bank
+ Those footmarks, one by one,
+ Into the middle of the plank;
+ And further there were none! 20
+ --Yet some maintain that to this day
+ She is a living child;
+ That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
+ Upon the lonesome wild.
+
+ O'er rough and smooth she trips along. 5
+ And never looks behind;
+ And sings a solitary song
+ That whistles in the wind.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM BRIGHTLY RANDS
+
+ENGLAND, 1823-1880
+
+
+The Wonderful World
+
+ Great, wide, wonderful, beautiful world,
+ With the beautiful water about you curled, 10
+ And the wonderful grass upon your breast--
+ World, you are beautifully dressed!
+
+ The wonderful air is over me,
+ And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree;
+ It walks on the water and whirls the mills, 15
+ And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.
+
+ You friendly earth, how far do you go,
+ With wheat fields that nod, and rivers that flow,
+ And cities and gardens, and oceans and isles,
+ And people upon you for thousands of miles?
+
+ Ah, you are so great and I am so small, 5
+ I hardly can think of you, world, at all;
+ And yet, when I said my prayers to-day,
+ A whisper within me seemed to say:
+ "You are more than the earth, though you're such a dot;
+ You can love and think, and the world cannot." 10
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
+
+ENGLAND, 1770-1850
+
+
+To a Child
+
+WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM
+
+ Small service is true service while it lasts.
+ Of humblest friends, bright creature! scorn not one:
+ The daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
+ Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI
+
+ENGLAND, 1830-1894
+
+
+Consider
+
+ Consider
+ The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:
+ We are as they; 5
+ Like them we fade away,
+ As doth a leaf.
+
+ Consider
+ The sparrows of the air of small account:
+ Our God doth view 10
+ Whether they fall or mount,--
+ He guards us too.
+
+ Consider
+ The lilies that do neither spin nor toil,
+ Yet are most fair: 15
+ What profits all this care
+ And all this toil?
+
+ Consider
+ The birds that have no barn nor harvest-weeks;
+ God gives them food:
+ Much more our Father seeks
+ To do us good. 5
+
+
+
+
+SIR WALTER SCOTT
+
+SCOTLAND, 1771-1832
+
+
+Lullaby of an Infant Chief
+
+ Oh, hush thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight,
+ Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright;
+ The woods and the glens from the tower which we see,
+ They all are belonging, dear baby, to thee.
+
+ Oh, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, 10
+ It calls but the warders that guard thy repose;
+ Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red,
+ Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.
+
+ Oh, hush thee, my baby, the time will soon come,
+ When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum;
+ Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may,
+ For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day. 5
+
+
+
+
+EUGENE FIELD
+
+AMERICA, 1850-1895
+
+
+Dutch Lullaby[2]
+
+ Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
+ Sailed off in a wooden shoe--
+ Sailed on a river of crystal light,
+ Into a sea of dew.
+ "Where are you going, and what do you wish?" 10
+ The old moon asked the three.
+ "We have come to fish for the herring fish
+ That live in this beautiful sea;
+ Nets of silver and gold have we!"
+ Said Wynken,
+ Blynken,
+ And Nod. 5
+
+ The old moon laughed and sang a song,
+ As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
+ And the wind that sped them all night long
+ Ruffled the waves of dew.
+ The little stars were the herring fish 10
+ That lived in that beautiful sea--
+ "Now cast your nets wherever you wish--
+ Never afeard are we";
+ So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
+ Wynken, 15
+ Blynken,
+ And Nod.
+
+ All night long their nets they threw
+ To the stars in the twinkling foam--
+ Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, 20
+ Bringing the fishermen home;
+ "Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed
+ As if it could not be,
+ And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
+ Of sailing that beautiful sea--
+ But I shall name you the fishermen three: 5
+ Wynken,
+ Blynken,
+ And Nod.
+
+ Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes:
+ And Nod is a little head, 10
+ And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
+ Is a wee one's trundle-bed.
+ So shut your eyes while mother sings
+ Of wonderful sights that be,
+ And you shall see the beautiful things 15
+ As you rock in the misty sea,
+ Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:
+ Wynken,
+ Blynken,
+ And Nod. 20
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[2] From "Poems of Childhood," published by Messrs. Charles Scribner's
+Sons.
+
+
+
+
+EUGENE FIELD
+
+AMERICA, 1850-1895
+
+
+The Night Wind[3]
+
+ Have you ever heard the wind go "Yoooo"?
+ 'Tis a pitiful sound to hear!
+ It seems to chill you through and through
+ With a strange and speechless fear.
+ 'Tis the voice of the night that broods outside 5
+ When folks should be asleep,
+ And many and many's the time I've cried
+ To the darkness brooding far and wide
+ Over the land and the deep:
+ "Whom do you want, O lonely night, 10
+ That you wail the long hours through?"
+ And the night would say in its ghostly way:
+ "Yoooooooo!
+ Yoooooooo!
+ Yoooooooo!" 15
+
+ My mother told me long ago
+ (When I was a little lad)
+ That when the wind went wailing so
+ Somebody had been bad;
+ And then, when I was snug in bed,
+ Whither I had been sent,
+ With the blankets pulled up round my head, 5
+ I'd think of what my mother'd said,
+ And wonder what boy she meant!
+ And "Who's been bad to-day?" I'd ask
+ Of the wind that hoarsely blew,
+ And the voice would say in its meaningful way: 10
+ "Yoooooooo!
+ Yoooooooo!
+ Yoooooooo!"
+
+ That this was true I must allow--
+ You'll not believe it, though! 15
+ Yes, though I'm quite a model now,
+ I was not always so.
+ And if you doubt what things I say,
+ Suppose you make the test;
+ Suppose, when you've been bad some day 20
+ And up to bed are sent away
+ From mother and the rest--
+ Suppose you ask, "Who has been bad?"
+ And then you'll hear what's true;
+ For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone:
+ "Yoooooooo!
+ Yoooooooo! 5
+ Yoooooooo!"
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[3] From "Poems of Childhood," published by Messrs. Charles Scribner's
+Sons.
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH
+
+AMERICA, 1836-
+
+
+Marjorie's Almanac[4]
+
+ Robins in the tree top,
+ Blossoms in the grass,
+ Green things a-growing
+ Everywhere you pass
+ Sudden little breezes, 5
+ Showers of silver dew,
+ Black bough and bent twig
+ Budding out anew;
+ Pine tree and willow tree,
+ Fringed elm, and larch,--
+ Don't you think that May-time's
+ Pleasanter than March?
+
+ Apples in the orchard 5
+ Mellowing one by one;
+ Strawberries upturning
+ Soft cheeks to the sun;
+ Roses faint with sweetness,
+ Lilies fair of face, 10
+ Drowsy scents and murmurs
+ Haunting every place;
+ Lengths of golden sunshine,
+ Moonlight bright as day--
+ Don't you think that summer's 15
+ Pleasanter than May?
+
+ Roger in the corn patch
+ Whistling negro songs;
+ Pussy by the hearth side
+ Romping with the tongs; 20
+ Chestnuts in the ashes,
+ Bursting through the rind;
+ Red leaf and gold leaf
+ Rustling down the wind;
+ Mother "doin' peaches"
+ All the afternoon,-- 5
+ Don't you think that autumn's
+ Pleasanter than June?
+
+ Little fairy snow-flakes
+ Dancing in the flue;
+ Old Mr. Santa Claus, 10
+ What is keeping you?
+ Twilight and firelight
+ Shadows come and go;
+ Merry chime of sleigh bells
+ Tinkling through the snow; 15
+ Mother knitting stockings,
+ Pussy's got the ball,
+ Don't you think that winter's
+ Pleasanter than all?
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[4] Selections from Thomas B. Aldrich are used by permission of, and by
+special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers of his
+works.
+
+
+
+
+M. BETHAM EDWARDS
+
+AMERICA, 1836-
+
+
+A Child's Prayer
+
+ God make my life a little light,
+ Within the world to glow--
+ A tiny flame that burneth bright,
+ Wherever I may go.
+
+ God make my life a little flower, 5
+ That bringeth joy to all,
+ Content to bloom in native bower,
+ Although its place be small.
+
+ God make my life a little song,
+ That comforteth the sad, 10
+ That helpeth others to be strong,
+ And makes the singer glad.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Page 53, the line number for line 5 was added.
+
+Page 59, the line number 5 was moved up one line.
+
+Page 63, single quotation mark changed to a double quotation mark. ("The
+lark lies)
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graded Poetry: Third Year, by Various
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