TO MY LITTLE BOOK.
May many a merry girl and boyPrize thee, my book, above each toy.May bat and ball aside be laid,And dolly quite cast into shade.Thy pages tell of the timid bird,Whose voice by the sedgy stream is heard;And of the hawk, who, with wings of speed,Darts on the prey which his young ones need;And of the glow-worm’s fairy light,Which shines like a gem through the summer night.They tell of the north, with its ice and snow,Where roses and violets never will blow;Where the rein-deer, fleet, doth lightly bound,With its fur-lined sledge o’er the frozen ground.Of the clever rat’s skill thy pages show,Who makes his snug home where the waters flow,And when any dangerous foe is near,He dives ’neath the stream, and hides in fear.But if each bright eye should more brightly shine,When it reads these simple tales of thine,I shall fondly hope that not all in vainHave been the glad labours of my pen.
May many a merry girl and boyPrize thee, my book, above each toy.May bat and ball aside be laid,And dolly quite cast into shade.Thy pages tell of the timid bird,Whose voice by the sedgy stream is heard;And of the hawk, who, with wings of speed,Darts on the prey which his young ones need;And of the glow-worm’s fairy light,Which shines like a gem through the summer night.They tell of the north, with its ice and snow,Where roses and violets never will blow;Where the rein-deer, fleet, doth lightly bound,With its fur-lined sledge o’er the frozen ground.Of the clever rat’s skill thy pages show,Who makes his snug home where the waters flow,And when any dangerous foe is near,He dives ’neath the stream, and hides in fear.But if each bright eye should more brightly shine,When it reads these simple tales of thine,I shall fondly hope that not all in vainHave been the glad labours of my pen.
May many a merry girl and boyPrize thee, my book, above each toy.May bat and ball aside be laid,And dolly quite cast into shade.Thy pages tell of the timid bird,Whose voice by the sedgy stream is heard;And of the hawk, who, with wings of speed,Darts on the prey which his young ones need;And of the glow-worm’s fairy light,Which shines like a gem through the summer night.They tell of the north, with its ice and snow,Where roses and violets never will blow;Where the rein-deer, fleet, doth lightly bound,With its fur-lined sledge o’er the frozen ground.Of the clever rat’s skill thy pages show,Who makes his snug home where the waters flow,And when any dangerous foe is near,He dives ’neath the stream, and hides in fear.But if each bright eye should more brightly shine,When it reads these simple tales of thine,I shall fondly hope that not all in vainHave been the glad labours of my pen.
May many a merry girl and boy
Prize thee, my book, above each toy.
May bat and ball aside be laid,
And dolly quite cast into shade.
Thy pages tell of the timid bird,
Whose voice by the sedgy stream is heard;
And of the hawk, who, with wings of speed,
Darts on the prey which his young ones need;
And of the glow-worm’s fairy light,
Which shines like a gem through the summer night.
They tell of the north, with its ice and snow,
Where roses and violets never will blow;
Where the rein-deer, fleet, doth lightly bound,
With its fur-lined sledge o’er the frozen ground.
Of the clever rat’s skill thy pages show,
Who makes his snug home where the waters flow,
And when any dangerous foe is near,
He dives ’neath the stream, and hides in fear.
But if each bright eye should more brightly shine,
When it reads these simple tales of thine,
I shall fondly hope that not all in vain
Have been the glad labours of my pen.