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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:56:47 -0700 |
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diff --git a/31967-h/31967-h.htm b/31967-h/31967-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b8fe80 --- /dev/null +++ b/31967-h/31967-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2940 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Graded Poetry, edited by Katherine D. Blake and Georgia Alexander. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 70%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; text-align: left;} + .poem3 {margin-left: 40%; text-align: left;} + .poem4 {margin-left: 20%; text-align: left;} + + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align:baseline; + position: relative; + bottom: 0.33em; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<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, & 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, & 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'> </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>Björnstjerne Björnson</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'> </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 </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, & Company.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> +<h2>THIRD YEAR—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,—</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,—too long we have tarried,—<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,—</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,—</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,—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—no! I wish I were a Robin,—<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,—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,—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:— <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,—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—<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,—<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—<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,—<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,— <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,—<br /> +Ruby red and sapphire blue,<br /> +Emerald and onyx too, <span class='linenum'>10</span><br /> +Diamond and amethyst,—<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>BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON</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—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—<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—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It is so hard to wait!</span><br /> +<br /> +Over the river and through the wood—<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—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—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— <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—<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?—<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—<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—" <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—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yes, in another land—</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,—<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, 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— <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—<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—</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,—he comes,—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,—he comes,—the Frost Spirit comes!—from the frozen Labrador,— <span class='linenum'>5</span><br /> +From the icy bridge of the Northern seas, which the white bear wanders o'er,—<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,—he comes,—the Frost Spirit comes!—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,—he comes,—the Frost Spirit comes!—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,—he comes,—the Frost Spirit comes!—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—<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—"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—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—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—"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—<br /> +First blew her away right out of the sky—<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,— <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,—<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,—</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—<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—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—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,—</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—<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—</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;—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—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 /> +—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—<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,—<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—</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—</span><br /> +"Now cast your nets wherever you wish—<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—</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—</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—<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—</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,—</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—</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,— <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—</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 & 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. 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