Grandfather says that sometimes,When stars are twinkling andA new moon shines, there come timesWhen folks see fairy-land!So when there's next a new moon,I mean to watch all night!Grandfather says a blue moonIs best for fairy light,And in a peach-bloom, maybe,If I look I shall seeA little fairy babyNo bigger than a bee!
Grandfather says that sometimes,When stars are twinkling andA new moon shines, there come timesWhen folks see fairy-land!
So when there's next a new moon,I mean to watch all night!Grandfather says a blue moonIs best for fairy light,
And in a peach-bloom, maybe,If I look I shall seeA little fairy babyNo bigger than a bee!
Hey! little evergreens,Sturdy and strong!Summer and autumn timeHasten along;Harvest the sunbeams, then,Bind them in sheaves,Range them, and change themTo tufts of green leaves.Delve in the mellow mold,Far, far below,And so,Little evergreens, grow!Grow, grow!Grow, little evergreens, grow!Up, up so airilyTo the blue sky,Lift up your leafy tipsStately and high;Clasp tight your tiny cones,Tawny and brown;By and by, buffetingRains will pelt down;By and by, bitterlyChill winds will blow;And so,Little evergreens, grow!Grow, grow!Grow, little evergreens, grow!Gather all uttermostBeauty, because,—Hark, till I tell it now!How Santa Claus,Out of the northern land,Over the seas,Soon shall come seeking you,Evergreen trees!Seek you with reindeer soon,Over the snow;And so,Little evergreens, grow!Grow, grow!Grow, little evergreens, grow!What if the maples flareFlaunting and red,You shall wear waxen whiteTapers instead!What if now, otherwhere,Birds are beguiled,You shall yet nestleThe little Christ-child!Ah! the strange splendorThe fir-trees shall know!And so,Little evergreens, grow!Grow, grow!Grow, little evergreens, grow!
Hey! little evergreens,Sturdy and strong!Summer and autumn timeHasten along;Harvest the sunbeams, then,Bind them in sheaves,Range them, and change themTo tufts of green leaves.Delve in the mellow mold,Far, far below,And so,Little evergreens, grow!Grow, grow!Grow, little evergreens, grow!
Up, up so airilyTo the blue sky,Lift up your leafy tipsStately and high;Clasp tight your tiny cones,Tawny and brown;By and by, buffetingRains will pelt down;By and by, bitterlyChill winds will blow;And so,Little evergreens, grow!Grow, grow!Grow, little evergreens, grow!
Gather all uttermostBeauty, because,—Hark, till I tell it now!How Santa Claus,Out of the northern land,Over the seas,Soon shall come seeking you,Evergreen trees!Seek you with reindeer soon,Over the snow;And so,Little evergreens, grow!Grow, grow!Grow, little evergreens, grow!
What if the maples flareFlaunting and red,You shall wear waxen whiteTapers instead!What if now, otherwhere,Birds are beguiled,You shall yet nestleThe little Christ-child!Ah! the strange splendorThe fir-trees shall know!And so,Little evergreens, grow!Grow, grow!Grow, little evergreens, grow!
Yesterday I took my sawAnd some bits of wood,And I made a little houseNicely as I could.I put on a mossy-greenLittle pointed roof,And I cut a tiny doorThat is pussy-proof.For I hope some little wrensTo our yard will comeAnd will choose my little houseFor their little home.I shall hang it in the boughsOf the apple-tree,And I'm sure as rent for itThey will sing to me!
Yesterday I took my sawAnd some bits of wood,And I made a little houseNicely as I could.
I put on a mossy-greenLittle pointed roof,And I cut a tiny doorThat is pussy-proof.
For I hope some little wrensTo our yard will comeAnd will choose my little houseFor their little home.
I shall hang it in the boughsOf the apple-tree,And I'm sure as rent for itThey will sing to me!
Chee! Chee! Chickadee!Sing-time and sun!Aye, aye, baby-bye,Springtime has begun!
Chee! Chee! Chickadee!Sing-time and sun!Aye, aye, baby-bye,Springtime has begun!
In the little willow cart,On a downy bed,Pretty parasol of silkSwinging overhead,Let us go along the laneWhere a baby seesMighty tufts of grass, and weedsTall as forest trees!Bluebird on the apple-bough,Sing and sing and sing!Sing your very sweetest nowFor babyhood and spring!
In the little willow cart,On a downy bed,Pretty parasol of silkSwinging overhead,
Let us go along the laneWhere a baby seesMighty tufts of grass, and weedsTall as forest trees!
Bluebird on the apple-bough,Sing and sing and sing!Sing your very sweetest nowFor babyhood and spring!
"Bah! Bah!" from the pasture,And "Caw! Caw!" from the crow,And bleating from the little calfThat has not learned to low.
"Bah! Bah!" from the pasture,And "Caw! Caw!" from the crow,And bleating from the little calfThat has not learned to low.
Apple-buds, apple-buds breaking apart,The baby looks upward with love-laden gaze;Oh, shower some petals down here in his cart,One honey-sweet cluster of pretty pink sprays!Apple-buds, apple-buds, scornful and tooVain of your loveliness, stay where you are!The cheeks of the baby are pinker than you,And finer and softer and sweeter by far!
Apple-buds, apple-buds breaking apart,The baby looks upward with love-laden gaze;Oh, shower some petals down here in his cart,One honey-sweet cluster of pretty pink sprays!
Apple-buds, apple-buds, scornful and tooVain of your loveliness, stay where you are!The cheeks of the baby are pinker than you,And finer and softer and sweeter by far!
See the pretty little lambs,How they frisk and play!See their silky fleeces shineWhite as buds in May!White as are the fleecy cloudsSoftly blowing by—What if they were little lambsPlaying in the sky?
See the pretty little lambs,How they frisk and play!See their silky fleeces shineWhite as buds in May!
White as are the fleecy cloudsSoftly blowing by—What if they were little lambsPlaying in the sky?
Robin on the peach-bough,Swinging overhead,Sing a little song and sayWhy is your breast so red?Why is your voice so sweet, andYour song so merry, say?And wherefore do you spread your wingsAnd quickly fly away?
Robin on the peach-bough,Swinging overhead,Sing a little song and sayWhy is your breast so red?
Why is your voice so sweet, andYour song so merry, say?And wherefore do you spread your wingsAnd quickly fly away?
Ho, ho! see the queer little prints thereThat cover the road, baby, look!At the web-footed tangle that hints whereThe ducks have gone down to the brook!The Muscovy mammas that waddledZigzag, you can trace in their tracks,And the dear little ducklings that toddledAnd tumbled sometimes on their backs!
Ho, ho! see the queer little prints thereThat cover the road, baby, look!At the web-footed tangle that hints whereThe ducks have gone down to the brook!
The Muscovy mammas that waddledZigzag, you can trace in their tracks,And the dear little ducklings that toddledAnd tumbled sometimes on their backs!
Buttercup, buttercup, buttercup gold,O give us a handful of riches to hold!Ho, ho! laughs the baby, and grasps in his gleeHis wealth, but soon shows what a spend-thrift is he!—Nay, nay, he is king, though he never was crowned,And royally scatters his gold on the ground!
Buttercup, buttercup, buttercup gold,O give us a handful of riches to hold!
Ho, ho! laughs the baby, and grasps in his gleeHis wealth, but soon shows what a spend-thrift is he!—Nay, nay, he is king, though he never was crowned,And royally scatters his gold on the ground!
Bough of the willow-treeOver the brook,Down darts a kingfisher,Look, baby, look!Back on the willow-bough,Fishing is done;Happy and nappy nowThere in the sun.
Bough of the willow-treeOver the brook,Down darts a kingfisher,Look, baby, look!
Back on the willow-bough,Fishing is done;Happy and nappy nowThere in the sun.
Happy and nappy the baby is, too,Softly his eyelids droop over the blue,Golden his curls on the white pillow lie,Sleep, baby, sleep, baby, hush-a-by-bye.
Happy and nappy the baby is, too,Softly his eyelids droop over the blue,Golden his curls on the white pillow lie,Sleep, baby, sleep, baby, hush-a-by-bye.
Did you see some Indians passing,Just a short while back?Looks as if they must be massingFor a fierce attack!Buckskin fringes, turkey-featherHuge head-dresses andBows and arrows, altogetherQuite a frightful band!From the lilac-bushes springing,See them rushing! Ugh!Awful war-whoops wildly ringing!There'll be scalping, too!In their fearful frenzy leaping,It is very plainSoon around us they'll be heapingMountains of the slain!Soon their victims will be falling—But, above the noise,Hark! I hear somebody calling,"Come to dinner, boys!"
Did you see some Indians passing,Just a short while back?Looks as if they must be massingFor a fierce attack!
Buckskin fringes, turkey-featherHuge head-dresses andBows and arrows, altogetherQuite a frightful band!
From the lilac-bushes springing,See them rushing! Ugh!Awful war-whoops wildly ringing!There'll be scalping, too!
In their fearful frenzy leaping,It is very plainSoon around us they'll be heapingMountains of the slain!
Soon their victims will be falling—But, above the noise,Hark! I hear somebody calling,"Come to dinner, boys!"
O happy time of fleecy rimeAnd falling flakes, and OThe glad surprise in baby eyesThat never saw the snow!Down shining ways the flying sleighsGo jingling by, and see!Beside the gate the horses waitAnd neigh for you and me!
O happy time of fleecy rimeAnd falling flakes, and OThe glad surprise in baby eyesThat never saw the snow!
Down shining ways the flying sleighsGo jingling by, and see!Beside the gate the horses waitAnd neigh for you and me!
Hey, baby! Ho, baby! here upon my knee,See the firelight flicker over you and me!See the tiny people basking in the glow,Peering through the ruddy little coals, and soHow they dance and scamper! Merry fairy folk!Little sparks for spangles, little wings of smoke!Come baby, come baby, nestle in my arms;Hear the purring flames now sing their sleepy charms.All the firelight fairies, all the drowsy elves,In the downy ashes cover up themselves.And I fold the little blanket over you;Bye baby, my baby, let us slumber too.
Hey, baby! Ho, baby! here upon my knee,See the firelight flicker over you and me!
See the tiny people basking in the glow,Peering through the ruddy little coals, and so
How they dance and scamper! Merry fairy folk!Little sparks for spangles, little wings of smoke!
Come baby, come baby, nestle in my arms;Hear the purring flames now sing their sleepy charms.
All the firelight fairies, all the drowsy elves,In the downy ashes cover up themselves.
And I fold the little blanket over you;Bye baby, my baby, let us slumber too.
When they took their dollies walking,They were both so busy talking,(They had not met for half an hour and so had much to say)That they heedlessly kept goingDown the shady streets, not knowing,Till they wanted to come back again, they could not find the way!In their fright they felt forlornerEvery time they turned a corner,And they wailed to one another, "Oh, whatever shall we do?A big bear might come to bite us,Or a dreadful dog to fight us,Or the wicked gipsies get us!Oh, boo-hoo! Boo-hoo! Boo-hoo!"But this story, though a sad one,Has an end that's not a bad one,For at last somebody found them as they bade the world good-by;They took their dollies home again,And vowed they'd never roam again,And their mothers hugged and kissed them, saying, "There, my dears, don't cry!"
When they took their dollies walking,They were both so busy talking,(They had not met for half an hour and so had much to say)That they heedlessly kept goingDown the shady streets, not knowing,Till they wanted to come back again, they could not find the way!
In their fright they felt forlornerEvery time they turned a corner,And they wailed to one another, "Oh, whatever shall we do?A big bear might come to bite us,Or a dreadful dog to fight us,Or the wicked gipsies get us!Oh, boo-hoo! Boo-hoo! Boo-hoo!"
But this story, though a sad one,Has an end that's not a bad one,For at last somebody found them as they bade the world good-by;They took their dollies home again,And vowed they'd never roam again,And their mothers hugged and kissed them, saying, "There, my dears, don't cry!"
To-day at dawn there twinkled throughThe pearly mist a flash of blueSo dazzling bright I thought the skyShone through the rifted clouds on high,Till, by and by,A note so honey-sweet I heard,I knew that bright flash was a bird!
To-day at dawn there twinkled throughThe pearly mist a flash of blueSo dazzling bright I thought the skyShone through the rifted clouds on high,Till, by and by,A note so honey-sweet I heard,I knew that bright flash was a bird!
Hark! I hear the organ-grinderComing down the street,And the sudden clatter-patterOf the children's feet!Come, oh, let us run to meet him!Did you ever hearTunes so gay as he is playing,Or so sweet and clear?See the brown-faced little monkey,Impudent and bold,With his little scarlet jacketBraided all in gold!And his tiny cap and tasselBobbing to and fro,Look, oh, look! he plucks it off now,Bowing very low.And he's passing it politely—Can it be forpay?O dear me! I have no penny!Let us run away!
Hark! I hear the organ-grinderComing down the street,And the sudden clatter-patterOf the children's feet!
Come, oh, let us run to meet him!Did you ever hearTunes so gay as he is playing,Or so sweet and clear?
See the brown-faced little monkey,Impudent and bold,With his little scarlet jacketBraided all in gold!
And his tiny cap and tasselBobbing to and fro,Look, oh, look! he plucks it off now,Bowing very low.
And he's passing it politely—Can it be forpay?O dear me! I have no penny!Let us run away!
Pretty new moon, little new moon,Now, as first I look at you,I must make a wish, for wise folksSay it surely will come true!Little new moon, pretty new moon,I wish—but I must not tell!For if any one should hear it,Wise folks say it breaks the spell!
Pretty new moon, little new moon,Now, as first I look at you,I must make a wish, for wise folksSay it surely will come true!
Little new moon, pretty new moon,I wish—but I must not tell!For if any one should hear it,Wise folks say it breaks the spell!
The April rain-drops tinkleIn cuckoo-cups of gold,And warm south winds unwrinkleThe buds the peach-boughs hold.In countless fluted creasesThe little elm-leaves show,While white as carded fleecesThe dogwood blossoms blow.A rosy robe is wrappingThe early red-bud trees;But still the haws are napping,Nor heed the honey-bees.And still in lazy sleepingThe apple-buds are bound,But tulip-tips are peepingFrom out the garden ground.And yonder, gayly swingingUpon the turning vane,A robin redbreast singingMakes merry at the rain!
The April rain-drops tinkleIn cuckoo-cups of gold,And warm south winds unwrinkleThe buds the peach-boughs hold.
In countless fluted creasesThe little elm-leaves show,While white as carded fleecesThe dogwood blossoms blow.
A rosy robe is wrappingThe early red-bud trees;But still the haws are napping,Nor heed the honey-bees.
And still in lazy sleepingThe apple-buds are bound,But tulip-tips are peepingFrom out the garden ground.
And yonder, gayly swingingUpon the turning vane,A robin redbreast singingMakes merry at the rain!
Christ the Lord is risen to-day!Angels rolled the stone awayFrom the tomb wherein He lay!Little children, come and sing,"Glory, glory to the King,Christ the Lord of everything!"
Christ the Lord is risen to-day!Angels rolled the stone awayFrom the tomb wherein He lay!
Little children, come and sing,"Glory, glory to the King,Christ the Lord of everything!"
The Sandman! hark, I hear him!He's coming up the stair,And everybody near himIs nodding, I declare!He's peeping in the door now,And first of all he spies,As he has done before now,The little children's eyes!Then quickly does he throw it,His golden sleepy-sand,And all, before they know it,Are off for sleepy-land!
The Sandman! hark, I hear him!He's coming up the stair,And everybody near himIs nodding, I declare!
He's peeping in the door now,And first of all he spies,As he has done before now,The little children's eyes!
Then quickly does he throw it,His golden sleepy-sand,And all, before they know it,Are off for sleepy-land!
Ah, ha, ha, now! who comes hereWreathed in flowers of gold and queerTiny tangled curls of greenGayly bobbing in between?Pretty token of the spring!Hark! we hear the bluebirds singWhen we thus see little girlsDecked in dandelion curls.
Ah, ha, ha, now! who comes hereWreathed in flowers of gold and queerTiny tangled curls of greenGayly bobbing in between?
Pretty token of the spring!Hark! we hear the bluebirds singWhen we thus see little girlsDecked in dandelion curls.
Pop! Pop!—Poppetty-pop!Shake and rattle and rattle and shakeThe golden grains as they bounce and breakTo fluffy puffiness—Poppetty-pop!Bursting and banging the popper's top!Poppetty-pop!Pop! Pop!The yellow kernels, oh, see them growWhite as cotton or flakes of snow!Pop! Pop!O-ho, how they frolic and fly aboutAnd turn themselves suddenly inside out!Pop-pop-poppetty! Pop-pop-pop!The popper's full and we'll have to stop;Pile the bowl with the tempting treat,Children, come, it is time to eat!
Pop! Pop!—Poppetty-pop!Shake and rattle and rattle and shakeThe golden grains as they bounce and breakTo fluffy puffiness—Poppetty-pop!Bursting and banging the popper's top!Poppetty-pop!Pop! Pop!The yellow kernels, oh, see them growWhite as cotton or flakes of snow!Pop! Pop!O-ho, how they frolic and fly aboutAnd turn themselves suddenly inside out!Pop-pop-poppetty! Pop-pop-pop!The popper's full and we'll have to stop;Pile the bowl with the tempting treat,Children, come, it is time to eat!
Rash little sparrowUp in the nest;Feathers not long enough,Wee wings not strong enough!Poor little sparrow!Poor little breast!
Rash little sparrowUp in the nest;Feathers not long enough,Wee wings not strong enough!Poor little sparrow!Poor little breast!
When I see the new moon lightlyThrough cloud ripples slip,Then I'm sure that shining brightlyIt's a fairy ship!What if in it we were sailingFar and far away,With a wake of silver trailing,Till the golden day?Why, we'd fly back home togetherSafely from the sky,For the moon's a fairy featherWhen the sun is high!
When I see the new moon lightlyThrough cloud ripples slip,Then I'm sure that shining brightlyIt's a fairy ship!
What if in it we were sailingFar and far away,With a wake of silver trailing,Till the golden day?
Why, we'd fly back home togetherSafely from the sky,For the moon's a fairy featherWhen the sun is high!
Seven little nests of hayWe have made, for Easter dayIs to-morrow, and you knowWe must have them ready, soWhen the Rabbit comes she'll seeWe expected her, that weChildren tried our very bestEach to make the nicest nest.One is in the lilac-bush,Near the ground—last year a thrushBuilt a nest there—let me see,Two are by the apple-tree,In the clover—that makes three—One beside the playhouse door,—Three plus one, that must be four—Two are in the tulip-bed—Was it seven that I said?Oh, yes! six I've counted, andOne is in our pile of sand.
Seven little nests of hayWe have made, for Easter dayIs to-morrow, and you knowWe must have them ready, soWhen the Rabbit comes she'll seeWe expected her, that weChildren tried our very bestEach to make the nicest nest.
One is in the lilac-bush,Near the ground—last year a thrushBuilt a nest there—let me see,Two are by the apple-tree,In the clover—that makes three—One beside the playhouse door,—Three plus one, that must be four—Two are in the tulip-bed—Was it seven that I said?Oh, yes! six I've counted, andOne is in our pile of sand.
Come and see! Oh, hurry, hurry!For the Rabbit, kind and furry,Has been here again and laidEggs in every nest we made!Purple, orange, red, and blue,Pink and green and yellow, too,Like a bunch of finest flowersEver seen, and all are ours!And oh,look!Whatdoyou think!Here our names are in white ink,All spelled nicely so we knowJust where every egg should go!Is it not surprising, quite,How well Easter Rabbits write?
Come and see! Oh, hurry, hurry!For the Rabbit, kind and furry,Has been here again and laidEggs in every nest we made!Purple, orange, red, and blue,Pink and green and yellow, too,Like a bunch of finest flowersEver seen, and all are ours!And oh,look!Whatdoyou think!Here our names are in white ink,All spelled nicely so we knowJust where every egg should go!Is it not surprising, quite,How well Easter Rabbits write?
In our garden we have madeSuch a pretty little pool,Lined with pebbles neatly laid,Filled with water clean and cool.
In our garden we have madeSuch a pretty little pool,Lined with pebbles neatly laid,Filled with water clean and cool.
THE BIRDS' BATHTHE BIRDS' BATH
When the sun shines warm and highRobins cluster round its brink,Never one comes flying byBut will flutter down to drink.Then they splash and splash and splash,Spattering little showers brightAll around, till off they flashSinging sweetly their delight.
When the sun shines warm and highRobins cluster round its brink,Never one comes flying byBut will flutter down to drink.
Then they splash and splash and splash,Spattering little showers brightAll around, till off they flashSinging sweetly their delight.
A tingling, misty marvelBlew hither in the night,And now the little peach-treesAre clasped in frozen light.Upon the apple-branchesAn icy film is caught,With trailing threads of gossamerIn pearly patterns wrought.The autumn sun, in wonder,Is gayly peering throughThis silver-tissued networkAcross the frosty blue.The weather-vane is fire-tipped,The honeysuckle showsA dazzling icy splendor,And crystal is the rose.Around the eaves are fringesOf icicles that seemTo mock the summer rainbowsWith many-colored gleam.Along the walk, the pebblesAre each a precious stone;The grass is tasseled hoarfrost,The clover jewel-sown.Such sparkle, sparkle, sparkleFills all the frosty air,Oh, can it be that darknessIs ever anywhere!
A tingling, misty marvelBlew hither in the night,And now the little peach-treesAre clasped in frozen light.
Upon the apple-branchesAn icy film is caught,With trailing threads of gossamerIn pearly patterns wrought.
The autumn sun, in wonder,Is gayly peering throughThis silver-tissued networkAcross the frosty blue.
The weather-vane is fire-tipped,The honeysuckle showsA dazzling icy splendor,And crystal is the rose.
Around the eaves are fringesOf icicles that seemTo mock the summer rainbowsWith many-colored gleam.
Along the walk, the pebblesAre each a precious stone;The grass is tasseled hoarfrost,The clover jewel-sown.
Such sparkle, sparkle, sparkleFills all the frosty air,Oh, can it be that darknessIs ever anywhere!
A frantic clatter of horses' feet!A runaway's coming down the street!Flurry, scurry,Children, hurry!Drop your playthings! Quick! don't wait!Run and get within the gate!Push the baby in the door,Scramble in yourselves before—Whoa! Whoa!There they go!Pell-mell rushing, snorting, quaking,Wagon rumbling, harness breaking,Frightened so they cannot knowEverybody's shrieking "Whoa!"O my, don't cry!Whiz, bang, they've galloped by!No one hurt, but horses dashedRound a post and wagon smashed!Dear me! Dear me!When a runaway we see,Children, too, must run, oh, fast!Run and hide as it goes past!
A frantic clatter of horses' feet!A runaway's coming down the street!Flurry, scurry,Children, hurry!Drop your playthings! Quick! don't wait!Run and get within the gate!Push the baby in the door,Scramble in yourselves before—Whoa! Whoa!There they go!Pell-mell rushing, snorting, quaking,Wagon rumbling, harness breaking,Frightened so they cannot knowEverybody's shrieking "Whoa!"O my, don't cry!Whiz, bang, they've galloped by!No one hurt, but horses dashedRound a post and wagon smashed!Dear me! Dear me!When a runaway we see,Children, too, must run, oh, fast!Run and hide as it goes past!
"Peep! Peep! Peep!" Poor little chick!Little cry so weak and small,Meadow grass so tall and thick,And the clover tufts so tall!Little heart in sore distress,Longing for the mother wing;Through the weedy wildernessSearching for its sheltering!
"Peep! Peep! Peep!" Poor little chick!Little cry so weak and small,Meadow grass so tall and thick,And the clover tufts so tall!
Little heart in sore distress,Longing for the mother wing;Through the weedy wildernessSearching for its sheltering!
Once I was a little pageTo a May-day queen,And I wore a little coatMade of Lincoln green.Oh, the queen was beautiful!And she had a brightCrown of golden cuckoo-budsAnd violets blue and white.On the step beside her throneI sat very still,Ready, as a page should be,To obey her will.And before us little girls,Each with garlands gay,Round a May-pole danced and sangAlmost all the day.
Once I was a little pageTo a May-day queen,And I wore a little coatMade of Lincoln green.
Oh, the queen was beautiful!And she had a brightCrown of golden cuckoo-budsAnd violets blue and white.
On the step beside her throneI sat very still,Ready, as a page should be,To obey her will.
And before us little girls,Each with garlands gay,Round a May-pole danced and sangAlmost all the day.
Grandfather says the tree-toad,That to our yard has come,Is just a little wee toadNo bigger than his thumb!And that his coat's so queer itCan turn from green to blue!Whatever color's near it,Why, that's its color, too!And then Grandfather snickersAnd says, "Would you supposeHe climbs with little stickersOn all his little toes?"And don't you wish your toes nowWere fixed like his? For, see,Right up the elm he goes nowAnd sticks tight to the tree!""But then," he says, "O dear me!If all the little boysCouldscreechas loud, I fear meThere'd be a dreadful noise!"
Grandfather says the tree-toad,That to our yard has come,Is just a little wee toadNo bigger than his thumb!
And that his coat's so queer itCan turn from green to blue!Whatever color's near it,Why, that's its color, too!
And then Grandfather snickersAnd says, "Would you supposeHe climbs with little stickersOn all his little toes?
"And don't you wish your toes nowWere fixed like his? For, see,Right up the elm he goes nowAnd sticks tight to the tree!"
"But then," he says, "O dear me!If all the little boysCouldscreechas loud, I fear meThere'd be a dreadful noise!"
Down among the water-weeds,Darting through the grass,Round about the tasseled reeds,See the minnows pass!See the little turtles there,Hiding, half asleep,Tucked in tangled mosses whereTiny crayfish creep!Watch the trailing grasses stringStrands of purple shellsThat the lazy ripples ring,Sweet as silver bells;Watch the sunshine sift and driftDown the eddy whirls,Whence the laden whiteweeds liftLoads of blossom pearls;While the limpid shadows slipSoftly in between,And the pussy-willows dipLightly in the greenOf the mocking trees that growDown the water-sky,Flecked with fleecy clouds that blowWhere the reed-birds fly.Oh, such marvels manifoldFill the summer stream,Such enticing things untoldThrough the ripples gleam,If you could a moment turnInto what you wish,Would it not be fun to beYonder little fish?
Down among the water-weeds,Darting through the grass,Round about the tasseled reeds,See the minnows pass!See the little turtles there,Hiding, half asleep,Tucked in tangled mosses whereTiny crayfish creep!
Watch the trailing grasses stringStrands of purple shellsThat the lazy ripples ring,Sweet as silver bells;Watch the sunshine sift and driftDown the eddy whirls,Whence the laden whiteweeds liftLoads of blossom pearls;
While the limpid shadows slipSoftly in between,And the pussy-willows dipLightly in the greenOf the mocking trees that growDown the water-sky,Flecked with fleecy clouds that blowWhere the reed-birds fly.
Oh, such marvels manifoldFill the summer stream,Such enticing things untoldThrough the ripples gleam,If you could a moment turnInto what you wish,Would it not be fun to beYonder little fish?
Of course I've heard the moon's green cheese,But will somebody tell me, please,Who was it took so big a biteThere's scarcely any left to-night?
Of course I've heard the moon's green cheese,But will somebody tell me, please,Who was it took so big a biteThere's scarcely any left to-night?
I'll wear the striped skirt that trails,And you the flowered one,And we will take our parasolsAnd walk out in the sun.We'll leave our dolly-carts at home,For ladies, when they call,Must not have children with them, no,That would not do at all.And I'll be "Mrs. Wilkinson,"And you'll be "Mrs. Brown,"And we will call and call and callOn every one in town!
I'll wear the striped skirt that trails,And you the flowered one,And we will take our parasolsAnd walk out in the sun.
We'll leave our dolly-carts at home,For ladies, when they call,Must not have children with them, no,That would not do at all.
And I'll be "Mrs. Wilkinson,"And you'll be "Mrs. Brown,"And we will call and call and callOn every one in town!
If you will be my True-Love,I'll tell you what I'll do,I'll ask a little bluebirdTo sing a song to you.When first you see a violetAnd softly pricking throughThe garden-bed come crocusesAnd golden tulips, too,Then watch! for he'll be coming,The little bird of blue;He'll sing, "I love you, Sweetheart,It's true, true, true!"
If you will be my True-Love,I'll tell you what I'll do,I'll ask a little bluebirdTo sing a song to you.
When first you see a violetAnd softly pricking throughThe garden-bed come crocusesAnd golden tulips, too,
Then watch! for he'll be coming,The little bird of blue;He'll sing, "I love you, Sweetheart,It's true, true, true!"
Look! Look down in the garden howThe firefly lights are flitting now!A million tiny sparks I knowFlash through the pinks and golden-glow,And I am very sure that allHave come to light a fairy ball,And if I could stay up I'd seeHow gay the fairy folks can be!
Look! Look down in the garden howThe firefly lights are flitting now!A million tiny sparks I knowFlash through the pinks and golden-glow,And I am very sure that allHave come to light a fairy ball,And if I could stay up I'd seeHow gay the fairy folks can be!
Let's sail all day, away, awayTo the splendid Spanish MainAnd the sultry seas of the CaribbeesAnd skies that never rain!As pirates bold with bags of goldAnd cutlasses and things,We'll pack doubloons and silver spoonsIn chests with iron rings.And these we'll carry and secretly buryIn cannibal isles afar;Like Captain Kidd, when they're safely hidWe won't tell where they are.Let's sail all day, away, awayTo the splendid Spanish MainAnd the sultry seas of the Caribbees—But at night sail home again!
Let's sail all day, away, awayTo the splendid Spanish MainAnd the sultry seas of the CaribbeesAnd skies that never rain!
As pirates bold with bags of goldAnd cutlasses and things,We'll pack doubloons and silver spoonsIn chests with iron rings.
And these we'll carry and secretly buryIn cannibal isles afar;Like Captain Kidd, when they're safely hidWe won't tell where they are.
Let's sail all day, away, awayTo the splendid Spanish MainAnd the sultry seas of the Caribbees—But at night sail home again!
I heard a song at daybreak,So honey-sweet and clear,The essence of all joyous thingsSeemed mingling in its cheer.The frosty world about meI searched with eager gaze,But all was slumber-bound and wrappedIn violet-tinted haze.Then suddenly a sunbeamShot slanting o'er the hill,And once again from out the skyI heard that honied trill.And there upon a poplar,Poised at its topmost height,I saw a little singer cladIn scarlet plumage bright.The poplar branches quivered,By dawn winds lightly blown,And like a breeze-swept poppy-flowerThe red-bird rocked and shone.The blue sky, and his feathersFlashed o'er by golden light,Oh, all my heart with rapture thrilled,It was so sweet a sight!
I heard a song at daybreak,So honey-sweet and clear,The essence of all joyous thingsSeemed mingling in its cheer.
The frosty world about meI searched with eager gaze,But all was slumber-bound and wrappedIn violet-tinted haze.
Then suddenly a sunbeamShot slanting o'er the hill,And once again from out the skyI heard that honied trill.
And there upon a poplar,Poised at its topmost height,I saw a little singer cladIn scarlet plumage bright.
The poplar branches quivered,By dawn winds lightly blown,And like a breeze-swept poppy-flowerThe red-bird rocked and shone.
The blue sky, and his feathersFlashed o'er by golden light,Oh, all my heart with rapture thrilled,It was so sweet a sight!