But the big round eyes of the wise old catSee what the five little mice are at.Quickly she jumps!—but the mice run away,And hide in their snug little holes all day.“Feasting in pantries may be very nice;But home is the best!” say the five little mice.
But the big round eyes of the wise old catSee what the five little mice are at.
Quickly she jumps!—but the mice run away,And hide in their snug little holes all day.“Feasting in pantries may be very nice;But home is the best!” say the five little mice.
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Emilie Poulsson.Cornelia C. Roeske.
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X. THE SQUIRREL
X.—THE SQUIRREL
“Little squirrel, living thereIn the hollow tree,I’ve a pretty cage for you;Come and live with me!“You may turn the little wheel—That will be great fun!Slowly round, or very fastIf you faster run.
“Little squirrel, living thereIn the hollow tree,I’ve a pretty cage for you;Come and live with me!
“You may turn the little wheel—That will be great fun!Slowly round, or very fastIf you faster run.
“Little squirrel, I will bringIn my basket hereEvery day a feast of nuts!Come, then, squirrel dear.”But the little squirrel saidFrom his hollow tree:“Oh! no, no! I’d rather farLive here and be free!”So my cage is empty yet,And the wheel is still;But my little basket hereOft with nuts I fill.If you like, I’ll crack the nuts,Some for you and me,For the squirrel has enoughIn his hollow tree.
“Little squirrel, I will bringIn my basket hereEvery day a feast of nuts!Come, then, squirrel dear.”But the little squirrel saidFrom his hollow tree:“Oh! no, no! I’d rather farLive here and be free!”
So my cage is empty yet,And the wheel is still;But my little basket hereOft with nuts I fill.If you like, I’ll crack the nuts,Some for you and me,For the squirrel has enoughIn his hollow tree.
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Emilie Poulsson.Cornelia C. Roeske.
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XI. THE SPARROWS
XI.—THE SPARROWS.“Little brown sparrows,Flying around,Up in the tree-tops,Down on the ground,“Come to my window,Dear sparrows, come!See! I will give youMany a crumb.
XI.—THE SPARROWS.
“Little brown sparrows,Flying around,Up in the tree-tops,Down on the ground,“Come to my window,Dear sparrows, come!See! I will give youMany a crumb.
“Here is some water,Sparkling and clear;Come, little sparrows,Drink without fear.“If you are tired,Here is a nest;Wouldn’t you like toCome here to rest?”All the brown sparrowsFlutter away,Chirping and singing,“We cannot stay;“For in the tree-tops,’Mong the gray boughs,There is the sparrows’Snug little house.”
“Here is some water,Sparkling and clear;Come, little sparrows,Drink without fear.
“If you are tired,Here is a nest;Wouldn’t you like toCome here to rest?”
All the brown sparrowsFlutter away,Chirping and singing,“We cannot stay;“For in the tree-tops,’Mong the gray boughs,There is the sparrows’Snug little house.”
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Emilie Poulsson.C.C. Roeske.
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XII. THE COUNTING LESSON
XII.—THE COUNTING LESSON.
counting
(Left hand.)Once I saw an ant-hillWith no ants about;So I said, “Dear little ants,Won’t you please come out?”Then as if the little antsHad heard my call—One! two! three! four!fivecame out!And that was all!
(Left hand.)Once I saw an ant-hillWith no ants about;So I said, “Dear little ants,Won’t you please come out?”Then as if the little antsHad heard my call—One! two! three! four!fivecame out!And that was all!
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Emilie Poulsson.C.C. Roeske.
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XIII. MRS. PUSSY'S DINNER
XIII.—MRS. PUSSY’S DINNER.Mrs. Pussy, sleek and fat,With her kittens four,Went to sleep upon the matBy the kitchen door.Mrs. Pussy heard a noise—Up she jumped in glee:“Kittens, maybe that’s a mouse!Let us go and see!”
XIII.—MRS. PUSSY’S DINNER.
Mrs. Pussy, sleek and fat,With her kittens four,Went to sleep upon the matBy the kitchen door.
Mrs. Pussy heard a noise—Up she jumped in glee:“Kittens, maybe that’s a mouse!Let us go and see!”
CREEPINGCreeping, creeping, creeping on,Silently they stole;But the little mouse had goneBack within its hole.
“Well,” said Mrs. Pussy then,“To the barn we’ll go;We shall find the swallow thereFlying to and fro.”So the cat and kittens fourTried their very best;But the swallows flying fastSafely reached the nest!Home went hungry Mrs. PussAnd her kittens four;Found their dinner on a plateBy the kitchen door.As they gathered round the plate,They agreed ’twas niceThat it could not run awayLike the birds and mice!
“Well,” said Mrs. Pussy then,“To the barn we’ll go;We shall find the swallow thereFlying to and fro.”
So the cat and kittens fourTried their very best;But the swallows flying fastSafely reached the nest!
Home went hungry Mrs. PussAnd her kittens four;Found their dinner on a plateBy the kitchen door.As they gathered round the plate,They agreed ’twas niceThat it could not run awayLike the birds and mice!
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Emilie Poulsson.C.C. Roeske.
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XIV. HOW THE CORN GREW
XIV.—HOW THE CORN GREW.There was a field that waiting lay,All hard and brown and bare;There was a thrifty farmer cameAnd fenced it in with care.Then came a plowman with his plow;From early until late,Across the field and back again,He plowed the furrows straight.The harrow then was brought to makeThe ground more soft and loose;And soon the farmer said with joy,“My field is fit for use.”
XIV.—HOW THE CORN GREW.There was a field that waiting lay,All hard and brown and bare;There was a thrifty farmer cameAnd fenced it in with care.
Then came a plowman with his plow;From early until late,Across the field and back again,He plowed the furrows straight.The harrow then was brought to makeThe ground more soft and loose;And soon the farmer said with joy,“My field is fit for use.”
For many days the farmer thenWas working with his hoe;And little Johnny brought the cornAnd dropped the kernels—so!And there they lay, until awakedBy tapping rains that fell,Then pushed their green plumes up to greetThe sun they loved so well.Then flocks and flocks of hungry crowsCame down the corn to taste;But ba-ang!—went the farmer’s gunAnd off they flew in haste.Then grew and grew the corn, until,When autumn days had come,With sickles keen they cut it down,And sang the “Harvest Home.”
For many days the farmer thenWas working with his hoe;And little Johnny brought the cornAnd dropped the kernels—so!And there they lay, until awakedBy tapping rains that fell,Then pushed their green plumes up to greetThe sun they loved so well.
Then flocks and flocks of hungry crowsCame down the corn to taste;But ba-ang!—went the farmer’s gunAnd off they flew in haste.Then grew and grew the corn, until,When autumn days had come,With sickles keen they cut it down,And sang the “Harvest Home.”
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Emilie Poulsson.Cornelia C. Roeske.
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XV. THE MILL
XV.—THE MILL.A merry little riverWent singing day by day,Until it reached a mill-damThat stretched across its way.And there it spread its waters,A quiet pond, to waitUntil the busy millerShould lift the water-gate.Then, hurrying through the gateway,The dashing waters foundA mighty millwheel waiting,And turned it swiftly round.
XV.—THE MILL.
A merry little riverWent singing day by day,Until it reached a mill-damThat stretched across its way.And there it spread its waters,A quiet pond, to waitUntil the busy millerShould lift the water-gate.Then, hurrying through the gateway,The dashing waters foundA mighty millwheel waiting,And turned it swiftly round.
But faster turned the millstonesUp in the dusty mill,And quickly did the millerWith corn the hopper fill.And faster yet and fasterThe heavy stones went round,Until the golden kernelsTo golden meal were ground.“Now fill the empty hopperWithwheat,” the miller said;“We’ll grind this into flourTo make the children’s bread.”And still, as flowed the water,The mighty wheel went round;And still, as turned the millstones,The corn and grain were ground.And busy was the millerThe livelong day, untilThe water-gate he fastened,And silent grew the mill.
But faster turned the millstonesUp in the dusty mill,And quickly did the millerWith corn the hopper fill.And faster yet and fasterThe heavy stones went round,Until the golden kernelsTo golden meal were ground.“Now fill the empty hopperWithwheat,” the miller said;“We’ll grind this into flourTo make the children’s bread.”
And still, as flowed the water,The mighty wheel went round;And still, as turned the millstones,The corn and grain were ground.And busy was the millerThe livelong day, untilThe water-gate he fastened,And silent grew the mill.
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Emilie Poulsson.Cornelia C. Roeske.
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XVI. MAKING BREAD
XVI.—MAKING BREAD.
“The farmer and the millerHave worked,” the mother said,“And got the flour ready,So I will make the bread.”She scooped from out the barrelThe flour white as snow,And in her sieve she put itAnd shook it to and fro.
“The farmer and the millerHave worked,” the mother said,“And got the flour ready,So I will make the bread.”She scooped from out the barrelThe flour white as snow,And in her sieve she put itAnd shook it to and fro.
Then in the pan of flourA little salt she threw;A cup of yeast she added,And poured in water, too.To mix them all togetherShe stirred with busy might,Then covered it and left itUntil the bread was light.More flour then she siftedAnd kneaded well the dough,And in the waiting ovenThe loaves of bread did go.The mother watched the baking,And turned the loaves, each one,Until at last, rejoicing,She said, “My bread is done!”
Then in the pan of flourA little salt she threw;A cup of yeast she added,And poured in water, too.To mix them all togetherShe stirred with busy might,Then covered it and left itUntil the bread was light.
More flour then she siftedAnd kneaded well the dough,And in the waiting ovenThe loaves of bread did go.The mother watched the baking,And turned the loaves, each one,Until at last, rejoicing,She said, “My bread is done!”
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Emilie Poulsson.C.C. Roeske.
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XVII. MAKING BUTTER
XVII.—MAKING BUTTER.
Skim, skim, skim,With the skimmer bright;Take the rich and yellow cream,Leave the milk so white.Churn, churn, churn,Now ’tis churning day;Till the cream to butter turnDasher must not stay.
Skim, skim, skim,With the skimmer bright;Take the rich and yellow cream,Leave the milk so white.Churn, churn, churn,Now ’tis churning day;Till the cream to butter turnDasher must not stay.
Press, press, press;All the milk must beFrom the golden butter nowPressed out carefully.Pat, pat, pat;Make it smooth and round.See! the roll of butter’s done—Won’t you buy a pound?Taste, oh! taste,This is very nice;Spread it on the children’s bread,Give them each a slice.
Press, press, press;All the milk must beFrom the golden butter nowPressed out carefully.
Pat, pat, pat;Make it smooth and round.See! the roll of butter’s done—Won’t you buy a pound?Taste, oh! taste,This is very nice;Spread it on the children’s bread,Give them each a slice.
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Emilie Poulsson.C.C. Roeske.
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XVIII. SANTA CLAUS
XVIII.—SANTA CLAUS.O, clap, clap the hands,And sing out with gleeFor Christmas is comingAnd merry are we!Now swift o’er the snowThe tiny reindeerAre trotting and bringingGood Santa Claus near.
XVIII.—SANTA CLAUS.
O, clap, clap the hands,And sing out with gleeFor Christmas is comingAnd merry are we!
Now swift o’er the snowThe tiny reindeerAre trotting and bringingGood Santa Claus near.
Our stockings we’ll hang,And while we’re asleepThen down through the chimneyWill Santa Claus creep.He’ll empty his pack,Then up he will comeAnd, calling his reindeer,Will haste away home.Then clap, clap the hands!And sing out with glee,For Christmas is comingAnd merry are we!
Our stockings we’ll hang,And while we’re asleepThen down through the chimneyWill Santa Claus creep.
He’ll empty his pack,Then up he will comeAnd, calling his reindeer,Will haste away home.
Then clap, clap the hands!And sing out with glee,For Christmas is comingAnd merry are we!
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Emilie Poulsson.Cornelia C. Roeske.
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