Turn, turn, when pelting rainRushes down the window-pane;Turn, turn, and turn againWhen the sun shines, weather-vane!Fie! Fie! to always beEmblem of uncertainty!Followed by the restless sea,Changeful moons may wax and wane,Yet the moons and sea-tides, too,Constant are compared to you!Fickle still you must remainLong as winds blow, weather-vane!
Turn, turn, when pelting rainRushes down the window-pane;Turn, turn, and turn againWhen the sun shines, weather-vane!
Fie! Fie! to always beEmblem of uncertainty!Followed by the restless sea,Changeful moons may wax and wane,Yet the moons and sea-tides, too,Constant are compared to you!Fickle still you must remainLong as winds blow, weather-vane!
Stately swan, so proud and whiteGlistening in the morning light,Come and tell me is it trueThat a snow-white swan like you,Guided by bright golden chainsIn his beak for bridle reins,Once upon a time from farFabled lands where fairies areBrought a magic boat whereinRode the brave knight Lohengrin?Stately swan, so proud and whiteGlistening in the morning light,If you only wore a goldHarness, like that swan of old,And if trailing in your wakeSailing on the silver lakeWas a boat of magic andYou could float to fairy-land,Then I'd jump in and beginTraveling like Lohengrin!
Stately swan, so proud and whiteGlistening in the morning light,Come and tell me is it trueThat a snow-white swan like you,Guided by bright golden chainsIn his beak for bridle reins,Once upon a time from farFabled lands where fairies areBrought a magic boat whereinRode the brave knight Lohengrin?
Stately swan, so proud and whiteGlistening in the morning light,If you only wore a goldHarness, like that swan of old,And if trailing in your wakeSailing on the silver lakeWas a boat of magic andYou could float to fairy-land,Then I'd jump in and beginTraveling like Lohengrin!
So, so, spade and hoe,Little pile of sand;See it turning into doughIn the baby's hand!Little pie with crimpy crust,Set it in the sun;Sugar it with powdered dust,And bake it till it's done.
So, so, spade and hoe,Little pile of sand;See it turning into doughIn the baby's hand!
Little pie with crimpy crust,Set it in the sun;Sugar it with powdered dust,And bake it till it's done.
When you see upon the walkCircles newly made of chalk,And around them all the dayLittle boys in eager playRolling marbles, agates fine,Banded, polished, red as wine,Marbles crystal as the dew,Each with rainbows twisted through,Marbles gay in painted clay,Flashing, twinkling in your way,When the walk has blossomed so,Surely every one must knowNone need wonder who has heardRobin, wren, or Peter-bird;Sure the sign as song or wing,It is spring!
When you see upon the walkCircles newly made of chalk,And around them all the dayLittle boys in eager playRolling marbles, agates fine,Banded, polished, red as wine,Marbles crystal as the dew,Each with rainbows twisted through,Marbles gay in painted clay,Flashing, twinkling in your way,When the walk has blossomed so,Surely every one must knowNone need wonder who has heardRobin, wren, or Peter-bird;Sure the sign as song or wing,It is spring!
When pink-cheeked on every handLittle girls are seen to standTurning skipping ropes,—swish-swash!—While their laughing playmates runJumping over,—oh, what fun!—Swish-swash! Swish-swash!Two and two now, see them dash!One, two, one, two,Round they scamper, safely through,Swish-swash!such merry skipping,One, two,—some one is tripping!Ah, she's out now and must payTurning rope while others play!See the bobbing golden curls,Little skirts in rhythmic swirlsRising, falling, to the beatOf the little skipping feet!When these pretty sights appear,It is surely very clearApril's here!
When pink-cheeked on every handLittle girls are seen to standTurning skipping ropes,—swish-swash!—While their laughing playmates runJumping over,—oh, what fun!—Swish-swash! Swish-swash!Two and two now, see them dash!One, two, one, two,Round they scamper, safely through,Swish-swash!such merry skipping,One, two,—some one is tripping!Ah, she's out now and must payTurning rope while others play!See the bobbing golden curls,Little skirts in rhythmic swirlsRising, falling, to the beatOf the little skipping feet!When these pretty sights appear,It is surely very clearApril's here!
A flash and flicker of dripping wings,A wet red breast that glowsBright as the newly opened budThe first red poppy shows,A sparkle of flying rainbow drops,A glint of golden sunOn ruffled feathers, a snatch of song,And the robin's bath is done.
A flash and flicker of dripping wings,A wet red breast that glowsBright as the newly opened budThe first red poppy shows,A sparkle of flying rainbow drops,A glint of golden sunOn ruffled feathers, a snatch of song,And the robin's bath is done.
When I wakened, very early,All my window-pane was pearlyWith a sparkling little picture traced in lines of shining white;Some magician with a gleamingFrosty brush, while I was dreaming,Must have come and by the starlight worked through all the quiet night.He had painted frosty people,And a frosty church and steeple,And a frosty bridge and river tumbling over frosty rocks;Frosty mountain peaks that glimmered,And fine frosty ferns that shimmered,And a frosty little pasture full of frosty little flocks.It was all touched in so lightlyAnd it glittered, oh, so whitely,That I gazed and gazed in wonder at the lovely painted pane;Then the sun rose high and higherWith his wand of golden fireTill, alas, my picture vanished and I looked for it in vain!
When I wakened, very early,All my window-pane was pearlyWith a sparkling little picture traced in lines of shining white;Some magician with a gleamingFrosty brush, while I was dreaming,Must have come and by the starlight worked through all the quiet night.
He had painted frosty people,And a frosty church and steeple,And a frosty bridge and river tumbling over frosty rocks;Frosty mountain peaks that glimmered,And fine frosty ferns that shimmered,And a frosty little pasture full of frosty little flocks.
It was all touched in so lightlyAnd it glittered, oh, so whitely,That I gazed and gazed in wonder at the lovely painted pane;Then the sun rose high and higherWith his wand of golden fireTill, alas, my picture vanished and I looked for it in vain!
The snow! the snow! Whoop! Hooray! Ho! Ho!Plunge in the deep drifts and toss it up so!Rollick and roll in the feathery fleecePlucked out of the breasts of the marvelous geeseBy the little old woman who lives in the sky;Have ever you seen her? No, neither have I!
The snow! the snow! Whoop! Hooray! Ho! Ho!Plunge in the deep drifts and toss it up so!Rollick and roll in the feathery fleecePlucked out of the breasts of the marvelous geeseBy the little old woman who lives in the sky;Have ever you seen her? No, neither have I!
Grandfather says of all thingsThe silliest he's heardIs that some children call thingsThey've never seen, "absurd!"And have their doubts of true things,And won't believe, becauseThey say, "If you but knew things,Thereisno Santa Claus!"Grandfather says heknowshim,And sees him every year,And Santa often shows himThe playthings he brings here;He says, too, Santa told himIf any girls and boysLaugh at and won't uphold him,They'll not get any toys!
Grandfather says of all thingsThe silliest he's heardIs that some children call thingsThey've never seen, "absurd!"And have their doubts of true things,And won't believe, becauseThey say, "If you but knew things,Thereisno Santa Claus!"
Grandfather says heknowshim,And sees him every year,And Santa often shows himThe playthings he brings here;He says, too, Santa told himIf any girls and boysLaugh at and won't uphold him,They'll not get any toys!
Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle!Happy winter-time!Baby's eyes a-twinkle,Hear the sleigh-bells chime!Each one rings a merryTing-a-ling-a-ling!For a sleigh-bell fairyHides inside to sing.See them quake and quiver,Up and downward tossed,Seems as if they shiverIn the nipping frost!Shiver into laughter,Jolly little elves!Till we laugh thereafter,Merry as themselves!
Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle!Happy winter-time!Baby's eyes a-twinkle,Hear the sleigh-bells chime!
Each one rings a merryTing-a-ling-a-ling!For a sleigh-bell fairyHides inside to sing.
See them quake and quiver,Up and downward tossed,Seems as if they shiverIn the nipping frost!
Shiver into laughter,Jolly little elves!Till we laugh thereafter,Merry as themselves!
Swept lightly by the south windThe elm-leaves softly stirred,And in their pale green clustersThere straightway bloomed a bird!His glossy feathers glistenedWith dyes as richly redAs any tulip flamingFrom out the garden bed.But ah, unlike the tulips,In joyous strain, ere long,This red-bird flower unfoldedA heart of golden song!
Swept lightly by the south windThe elm-leaves softly stirred,And in their pale green clustersThere straightway bloomed a bird!
His glossy feathers glistenedWith dyes as richly redAs any tulip flamingFrom out the garden bed.
But ah, unlike the tulips,In joyous strain, ere long,This red-bird flower unfoldedA heart of golden song!
I will be a lionAnd you shall be a bear,And each of us will have a denBeneath a nursery chair;And you must growl and growl and growl,And I will roar and roar,And then—why, then—you'll growl again,And I will roar some more!
I will be a lionAnd you shall be a bear,And each of us will have a denBeneath a nursery chair;And you must growl and growl and growl,And I will roar and roar,And then—why, then—you'll growl again,And I will roar some more!
Heigho, sparrow! Reckless of the rain;When chill the cheerless wind grows,Chirping might and main!Is it naught, then, when the roseBlows again?Beating, sleeting on your draggled coat!Surely, 'tis enough to drownAny happy noteNestling in that downy brownLittle throat.Ah me, sparrow! Had I but your power,Think you in the freezing sleetI would waste an hour?—I'd sing my sweetest to a sweetOrange flower!
Heigho, sparrow! Reckless of the rain;When chill the cheerless wind grows,Chirping might and main!Is it naught, then, when the roseBlows again?
Beating, sleeting on your draggled coat!Surely, 'tis enough to drownAny happy noteNestling in that downy brownLittle throat.
Ah me, sparrow! Had I but your power,Think you in the freezing sleetI would waste an hour?—I'd sing my sweetest to a sweetOrange flower!
Frosty winter chased awayBy the blessed sun,Down upon the garden walksBasking has begun.Oh, the happy, happy heat!How the pulses stir,How it warms the hearts beneathLittle coats of fur!Oh, the happy pussy-cats!Days to doze and doze,And what pleasant dreams they dreamOnly pussy knows.
Frosty winter chased awayBy the blessed sun,Down upon the garden walksBasking has begun.
Oh, the happy, happy heat!How the pulses stir,How it warms the hearts beneathLittle coats of fur!
Oh, the happy pussy-cats!Days to doze and doze,And what pleasant dreams they dreamOnly pussy knows.
Peach-buds to meet thee,Robins to greet thee,Hey, little Sweetheart! and May morning, hey!Sunbeam and sing time,Bluebird and wing time,This time is kiss time for sweethearts, I say!Dearest, God bless thee,Fold and caress thee,Unto thy cradle may good fairies fly!Fortune be fair for thee,This is my prayer for thee,Lullaby, little one, hush-a-by-bye!So for a love nowToken thereof now,Sweet, see this tiny May-basket I bring;Posies to play with,Pinks to be gay with,Dear little baby of sunshine and spring!
Peach-buds to meet thee,Robins to greet thee,Hey, little Sweetheart! and May morning, hey!Sunbeam and sing time,Bluebird and wing time,This time is kiss time for sweethearts, I say!
Dearest, God bless thee,Fold and caress thee,Unto thy cradle may good fairies fly!Fortune be fair for thee,This is my prayer for thee,Lullaby, little one, hush-a-by-bye!
So for a love nowToken thereof now,Sweet, see this tiny May-basket I bring;Posies to play with,Pinks to be gay with,Dear little baby of sunshine and spring!
A little picture haunts me;It comes and comes again;It is a tiny bird's-nest,All ragged from the rain.It clings within a birch-treeUpon the moorland's edge,Between the barren branches,Above the swaying sedge.The sky is gray behind it,And when the north winds blow,The birch-tree bends and shivers,And tosses to and fro.I wonder, does it haunt them,The birds that flew away?And will they come to seek it,Some sunny summer day?I wonder, does some redbreastUpon an orange-bough,Still picture it as plainlyAs I can see it now?Ah me! I would forget it,Yet still, with sense of pain,I see this little bird's-nestWithin the driving rain.
A little picture haunts me;It comes and comes again;It is a tiny bird's-nest,All ragged from the rain.
It clings within a birch-treeUpon the moorland's edge,Between the barren branches,Above the swaying sedge.
The sky is gray behind it,And when the north winds blow,The birch-tree bends and shivers,And tosses to and fro.
I wonder, does it haunt them,The birds that flew away?And will they come to seek it,Some sunny summer day?
I wonder, does some redbreastUpon an orange-bough,Still picture it as plainlyAs I can see it now?
Ah me! I would forget it,Yet still, with sense of pain,I see this little bird's-nestWithin the driving rain.
When the Christ-child comes againSoftly down the street to-night,Twinkling through the window paneLet our candles shed their light.Though the clouds are dark aboveAnd the golden stars are dim,We can tell Him of our loveIf we set a light for Him.Oh, the blessed Christ-child dear,In His robe of shining white,Let our candles give Him cheerAs He passes by to-night!
When the Christ-child comes againSoftly down the street to-night,Twinkling through the window paneLet our candles shed their light.
Though the clouds are dark aboveAnd the golden stars are dim,We can tell Him of our loveIf we set a light for Him.
Oh, the blessed Christ-child dear,In His robe of shining white,Let our candles give Him cheerAs He passes by to-night!
CHRISTMAS CANDLESCHRISTMAS CANDLES
We can tell Him of our loveIf we set a light for Him.
We can tell Him of our loveIf we set a light for Him.
Hurrah! Hurrah! for the Christmas-treeWith its glory and glitter and mystery!Its twinkling candles that bud and bloomLike strange bright flowers in the darkened room,Its glistening gold and silver balls,Its candy canes and its blue-eyed dolls,The sugary fruits it bears,—for oh,Where else do such wonderful sweetmeats grow?—Its tasseled horns and its pop-corn stringsAnd all its myriad marvelous things!O-ho! and ah-ha!And a hip hurrah!For our dear and beautiful tree, becauseIt grew in the gardens of Santa ClausAnd he brought it here in his reindeer sleighFrom ever and ever so far away!So, children, come, let us make a ringAnd all clasp hands as we dance and singTo the blessed tree and the blessed nightWhen the Christ-child walks in the candles' light!Hurrah! Hurrah! for the Christmas-treeThat Santa Claus brought to you and me!He cut it down with a silver axe—There's a tree in each of his million packs!—And carried it safely over the snowAnd down our chimney and here, you know;Its golden cobwebs that glint and gleamHe took from a lovely Christmas dreamAnd tangled them over it till, behold,It shines like the fabled Fleece of Gold!Oh, Santa Claus, here'sA thrice three cheersFor garlands green and berries of red,And mistletoe clustering overhead,For the joy of our Christmas festival!But our beautiful tree, it is best of all!And circling still in a merry ringWe'll still clasp hands as we dance and singTo the blessed tree and the blessed nightWhen the Christ-child walks in the candles' light!Hurrah! Hurrah! for the Christmas-tree!And look, O look to its tip and seeThe feathery slim fir leaves and where,In the topmost boughs, is the image fairOf the Christ-child nestling amid the greenAnd the little brown cones that peep between!And high above Him glittering brightA gold star sparkles with golden light,And we children think, as we gaze on them,Of the wonderful Star of Bethlehem,Of the lovely StarAnd the Kings who far,Oh, far, came seeking a Babe and broughtTheir love and worship to Him they sought,And made Him gifts, as the gifts we makeWith loving hearts for that Baby's sake.Oh, come, come all, and join the ring!Let all clasp hands as we dance and singTo the blessed tree and the blessed nightWhen the Christ-child walks in the candles' light!
Hurrah! Hurrah! for the Christmas-treeWith its glory and glitter and mystery!Its twinkling candles that bud and bloomLike strange bright flowers in the darkened room,Its glistening gold and silver balls,Its candy canes and its blue-eyed dolls,The sugary fruits it bears,—for oh,Where else do such wonderful sweetmeats grow?—Its tasseled horns and its pop-corn stringsAnd all its myriad marvelous things!O-ho! and ah-ha!And a hip hurrah!For our dear and beautiful tree, becauseIt grew in the gardens of Santa Claus
And he brought it here in his reindeer sleighFrom ever and ever so far away!So, children, come, let us make a ringAnd all clasp hands as we dance and singTo the blessed tree and the blessed nightWhen the Christ-child walks in the candles' light!
Hurrah! Hurrah! for the Christmas-treeThat Santa Claus brought to you and me!He cut it down with a silver axe—There's a tree in each of his million packs!—And carried it safely over the snowAnd down our chimney and here, you know;Its golden cobwebs that glint and gleamHe took from a lovely Christmas dreamAnd tangled them over it till, behold,It shines like the fabled Fleece of Gold!
Oh, Santa Claus, here'sA thrice three cheersFor garlands green and berries of red,And mistletoe clustering overhead,For the joy of our Christmas festival!But our beautiful tree, it is best of all!And circling still in a merry ringWe'll still clasp hands as we dance and singTo the blessed tree and the blessed nightWhen the Christ-child walks in the candles' light!
Hurrah! Hurrah! for the Christmas-tree!And look, O look to its tip and seeThe feathery slim fir leaves and where,In the topmost boughs, is the image fairOf the Christ-child nestling amid the greenAnd the little brown cones that peep between!
And high above Him glittering brightA gold star sparkles with golden light,And we children think, as we gaze on them,Of the wonderful Star of Bethlehem,Of the lovely StarAnd the Kings who far,Oh, far, came seeking a Babe and broughtTheir love and worship to Him they sought,And made Him gifts, as the gifts we makeWith loving hearts for that Baby's sake.Oh, come, come all, and join the ring!Let all clasp hands as we dance and singTo the blessed tree and the blessed nightWhen the Christ-child walks in the candles' light!
Our kittens have the softest fur,And the sweetest little purr,And such little velvet pawsWith such cunning little claws,And blue eyes, just like the sky!(Mustthey turn green, by and by?)Two are striped like tigers, threeAre as black as black can be,And they run so fast and playWith their tails, and are so gay,Is it not a pity thatEach must grow into a cat?
Our kittens have the softest fur,And the sweetest little purr,And such little velvet pawsWith such cunning little claws,And blue eyes, just like the sky!(Mustthey turn green, by and by?)Two are striped like tigers, threeAre as black as black can be,And they run so fast and playWith their tails, and are so gay,Is it not a pity thatEach must grow into a cat?
Let us find a shady wadyPretty little brook;Let us have some candy handy,And a picture-book.There all day we'll stay and play andNever mind the heat,While the water gleaming, streaming,Ripples round our feet.And we'll gather curly pearlyMussel-shells while brightFrightened minnows darting, parting,Scurry out of sight.What if, what if,—heigho! my oh!—All the "ifs" were true,And the little fishes wishes,Now, what would you do?
Let us find a shady wadyPretty little brook;Let us have some candy handy,And a picture-book.
There all day we'll stay and play andNever mind the heat,While the water gleaming, streaming,Ripples round our feet.
And we'll gather curly pearlyMussel-shells while brightFrightened minnows darting, parting,Scurry out of sight.
What if, what if,—heigho! my oh!—All the "ifs" were true,And the little fishes wishes,Now, what would you do?
Dear heart, on this thrice-blessed day,An thou my sweetheart be,The rose of love shall bide alwayUpon the red-rose tree.And in the garden of my heartSo ceaselessly shall shine,The little birds will know thou artMine own true Valentine.And I will bid them wing and singTo all good winds that blow,That to thy little feet they bringAll blessings, even so.And o'er thy cradle I will coax,By every lucky charm,The friendship of the fairy folksTo fold thee from all harm.So may they hover round thy headAnd gently thereupon,As doth the April sunshine, shedMost gracious benison.And all fair gifts that Fortune hath,I'll pray she promise these,And that she loose about thy pathAll sweet influences.Then here's a kiss! and there's a kiss!And kisses, one, two, three!I seal them in the folds of this,And speed them unto thee!
Dear heart, on this thrice-blessed day,An thou my sweetheart be,The rose of love shall bide alwayUpon the red-rose tree.
And in the garden of my heartSo ceaselessly shall shine,The little birds will know thou artMine own true Valentine.
And I will bid them wing and singTo all good winds that blow,That to thy little feet they bringAll blessings, even so.
And o'er thy cradle I will coax,By every lucky charm,The friendship of the fairy folksTo fold thee from all harm.
So may they hover round thy headAnd gently thereupon,As doth the April sunshine, shedMost gracious benison.
And all fair gifts that Fortune hath,I'll pray she promise these,And that she loose about thy pathAll sweet influences.
Then here's a kiss! and there's a kiss!And kisses, one, two, three!I seal them in the folds of this,And speed them unto thee!
When we went to drive the cows homeDown the lane to-day,There was such a funny bunnyJumped across the way!All we saw as he ran past us,Faster than a quail,Was his snow-white fuzzy-wuzzyLittle cotton tail!
When we went to drive the cows homeDown the lane to-day,There was such a funny bunnyJumped across the way!
All we saw as he ran past us,Faster than a quail,Was his snow-white fuzzy-wuzzyLittle cotton tail!
Welcome, little Brother!Lowly, holy One!Hail thee, Virgin Mother,More than any otherBlessed in thy Son!Child, since the poor mangerOnce thou didst not scorn,Rest thee, little Stranger,Folded from all danger,In our hearts new-born!Nestle thus, we pray thee,In our love's caress;Fain we are to pay theeWorship, and obey thee,Babe, and Prince no less!
Welcome, little Brother!Lowly, holy One!Hail thee, Virgin Mother,More than any otherBlessed in thy Son!
Child, since the poor mangerOnce thou didst not scorn,Rest thee, little Stranger,Folded from all danger,In our hearts new-born!
Nestle thus, we pray thee,In our love's caress;Fain we are to pay theeWorship, and obey thee,Babe, and Prince no less!
Honey-dew drippity-drops for a feast,Dreams of delight when the feasting has ceased,Poppy and rose,Drain them and doze;This is a song that the butterfly knows.
Honey-dew drippity-drops for a feast,Dreams of delight when the feasting has ceased,Poppy and rose,Drain them and doze;This is a song that the butterfly knows.
When the Christmas-tide drew nigh,On a shelf three candles bright,Two were red and one was white,Waited for who came to buy.Said the first one, "I shall beChosen for a Christmas-tree!"Said the second, "I shall lightChrist Jesus on His way to-night!"Then the third one sighed, "Ah me,I know not what my lot will be!"When the dark fell, bright and gayThe first candle burned away,Red as all the berries redOn the holly overhead,While the children in their gleeDanced around the Christmas-tree.And the second, twinkling bright,Poured forth all its golden lightThrough a window decked with greenGarlands and red ribbons' sheen,So the Christ-child when He cameMight be guided by its flame.But the third one in the gloomOf a bare and cheerless roomSoftly burned where long had lainA poor little child in pain,And the baby in its bedBy the light was comforted.When the Christ-child passed that nightAll three candles gave Him light,But the brightest was the sparkBy the baby in the dark.
When the Christmas-tide drew nigh,On a shelf three candles bright,Two were red and one was white,Waited for who came to buy.
Said the first one, "I shall beChosen for a Christmas-tree!"Said the second, "I shall lightChrist Jesus on His way to-night!"Then the third one sighed, "Ah me,I know not what my lot will be!"
When the dark fell, bright and gayThe first candle burned away,Red as all the berries redOn the holly overhead,While the children in their gleeDanced around the Christmas-tree.
And the second, twinkling bright,Poured forth all its golden lightThrough a window decked with greenGarlands and red ribbons' sheen,So the Christ-child when He cameMight be guided by its flame.
But the third one in the gloomOf a bare and cheerless roomSoftly burned where long had lainA poor little child in pain,And the baby in its bedBy the light was comforted.
When the Christ-child passed that nightAll three candles gave Him light,But the brightest was the sparkBy the baby in the dark.