THE BIRD.

conducting girl and rest pointing to one girl

"Birdie, Birdie, will you pet?Summer-time is far away yet,You'll have silken quilts and a velvet bed,And a pillow of satin for your head!""I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall;No rain comes through, tho' I hear it fall;The sun peeps gay at dawn of day,And I sing, and wing away, away!""O Birdie, Birdie, will you pet?Diamond-stones and amber and jetWe'll string for a necklace fair and fineTo please this pretty bird of mine!""O thanks for diamonds, and thanks for jet,But here is something daintier yet,—A feather-necklace round and round,That I wouldn't sell for a thousand pound!""O Birdie, Birdie, won't you pet?We'll buy you a dish of silver fret,A golden cup and an ivory seat,And carpets soft beneath your feet!""Can running water be drunk from gold?Can a silver dish the forest hold?A rocking twig is the finest chair,And the softest paths lie through the air,—Good-bye, good-bye to my lady fair!"

"Birdie, Birdie, will you pet?Summer-time is far away yet,You'll have silken quilts and a velvet bed,And a pillow of satin for your head!"

"Birdie, Birdie, will you pet?

Summer-time is far away yet,

You'll have silken quilts and a velvet bed,

And a pillow of satin for your head!"

"I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall;No rain comes through, tho' I hear it fall;The sun peeps gay at dawn of day,And I sing, and wing away, away!"

"I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall;

No rain comes through, tho' I hear it fall;

The sun peeps gay at dawn of day,

And I sing, and wing away, away!"

"O Birdie, Birdie, will you pet?Diamond-stones and amber and jetWe'll string for a necklace fair and fineTo please this pretty bird of mine!"

"O Birdie, Birdie, will you pet?

Diamond-stones and amber and jet

We'll string for a necklace fair and fine

To please this pretty bird of mine!"

"O thanks for diamonds, and thanks for jet,But here is something daintier yet,—A feather-necklace round and round,That I wouldn't sell for a thousand pound!"

"O thanks for diamonds, and thanks for jet,

But here is something daintier yet,—

A feather-necklace round and round,

That I wouldn't sell for a thousand pound!"

"O Birdie, Birdie, won't you pet?We'll buy you a dish of silver fret,A golden cup and an ivory seat,And carpets soft beneath your feet!"

"O Birdie, Birdie, won't you pet?

We'll buy you a dish of silver fret,

A golden cup and an ivory seat,

And carpets soft beneath your feet!"

"Can running water be drunk from gold?Can a silver dish the forest hold?A rocking twig is the finest chair,And the softest paths lie through the air,—Good-bye, good-bye to my lady fair!"

"Can running water be drunk from gold?

Can a silver dish the forest hold?

A rocking twig is the finest chair,

And the softest paths lie through the air,—

Good-bye, good-bye to my lady fair!"

Ring-ting!I wish I were a Primrose,A bright yellow Primrose blowing in the Spring!The stooping boughs above me,The wandering bee to love me,The fern and moss to creep across,And the Elm-tree for our king!

Ring-ting!I wish I were a Primrose,

A bright yellow Primrose blowing in the Spring!

The stooping boughs above me,

The wandering bee to love me,

The fern and moss to creep across,

And the Elm-tree for our king!

flowers

Nay—stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree,A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay!The winds would set them dancing,The sun and moonshine glancing,The Birds would house among the boughs,And sweetly sing!

Nay—stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree,

A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay!

The winds would set them dancing,

The sun and moonshine glancing,

The Birds would house among the boughs,

And sweetly sing!

flying birds

O—no! I wish I were a Robin,A Robin or a little Wren, everywhere to go;Through forest, field, or garden,And ask no leave or pardon,Till Winter comes with icy thumbsTo ruffle up our wing.Well—tell! Where should I fly to,Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell?Before a day was over,Home comes the rover,For Mother's kiss,—sweeter thisThan any other thing!

O—no! I wish I were a Robin,A Robin or a little Wren, everywhere to go;Through forest, field, or garden,And ask no leave or pardon,Till Winter comes with icy thumbsTo ruffle up our wing.

O—no! I wish I were a Robin,

A Robin or a little Wren, everywhere to go;

Through forest, field, or garden,

And ask no leave or pardon,

Till Winter comes with icy thumbs

To ruffle up our wing.

Well—tell! Where should I fly to,Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell?Before a day was over,Home comes the rover,For Mother's kiss,—sweeter thisThan any other thing!

Well—tell! Where should I fly to,

Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell?

Before a day was over,

Home comes the rover,

For Mother's kiss,—sweeter this

Than any other thing!

seated mother holding child

I sawa little Birdie fly,Merrily piping came he;"Whom d'ye sing to, Bird?" said I;"Sing?—I sing to Amy!""Very sweet you sing," I said;"Then," quoth he, "to pay me,Give one little crumb of bread,A little smile from Amy.""Just," he sings, "one little smile;O, a frown would slay me!Thanks, and now I'm gone awhile,—Fare-you-well, dear Amy!"

I sawa little Birdie fly,Merrily piping came he;"Whom d'ye sing to, Bird?" said I;"Sing?—I sing to Amy!"

I sawa little Birdie fly,

Merrily piping came he;

"Whom d'ye sing to, Bird?" said I;

"Sing?—I sing to Amy!"

"Very sweet you sing," I said;"Then," quoth he, "to pay me,Give one little crumb of bread,A little smile from Amy."

"Very sweet you sing," I said;

"Then," quoth he, "to pay me,

Give one little crumb of bread,

A little smile from Amy."

"Just," he sings, "one little smile;O, a frown would slay me!Thanks, and now I'm gone awhile,—Fare-you-well, dear Amy!"

"Just," he sings, "one little smile;

O, a frown would slay me!

Thanks, and now I'm gone awhile,—

Fare-you-well, dear Amy!"

flower

girl seated on bench around a tree, reading

(Tyrol.)

music

[Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clickinghere.]

Takehands, merry neighbours, for dancing the round!Moonlight is fair and delicious the air;From valley to valley our music shall sound,And startle the wolf in his lair.From summits of snow to the forest below,Let vulture and crow hear the echoes, O-ho! (O-ho!)While shadow on meadow in dancing the roundGoes whirligig, pair after pair!

Takehands, merry neighbours, for dancing the round!

Moonlight is fair and delicious the air;

From valley to valley our music shall sound,

And startle the wolf in his lair.

From summits of snow to the forest below,

Let vulture and crow hear the echoes, O-ho! (O-ho!)

While shadow on meadow in dancing the round

Goes whirligig, pair after pair!

LittleCowboy, what have you heard,Up on the lonely rath's green mound?Only the plaintive yellow birdSighing in sultry fields around,Chary, chary, chary, chee-ee!—Only the grasshopper and the bee?—"Tip-tap, rip-rap,Tick-a-tack-too!Scarlet leather sewn together,This will make a shoe.Left, right, pull it tight;Summer days are warm;Underground in winter,Laughing at the storm!"Lay your ear close to the hill.Do you not catch the tiny clamour,Busy click of an Elfin hammer,Voice of the Lepracaun singing shrillAs he merrily plies his trade?He's a spanAnd a quarter in height.Get him in sight, hold him tight,And you're a madeMan!

LittleCowboy, what have you heard,

Up on the lonely rath's green mound?

Only the plaintive yellow bird

Sighing in sultry fields around,

Chary, chary, chary, chee-ee!—

Only the grasshopper and the bee?—

"Tip-tap, rip-rap,

Tick-a-tack-too!

Scarlet leather sewn together,

This will make a shoe.

Left, right, pull it tight;

Summer days are warm;

Underground in winter,

Laughing at the storm!"

Lay your ear close to the hill.

Do you not catch the tiny clamour,

Busy click of an Elfin hammer,

Voice of the Lepracaun singing shrill

As he merrily plies his trade?

He's a span

And a quarter in height.

Get him in sight, hold him tight,

And you're a made

Man!

You watch your cattle the summer day,Sup on potatoes, sleep in the hay:How would you like to roll in your carriage,Look for a Duchess's daughter in marriage?Seize the Shoemaker—then you may!"Big boots a-hunting,Sandals in the hall,White for a wedding-feast,Pink for a ball.This way, that way,So we make a shoe;Getting rich every stitch,Tick-tack-too!"Nine-and-ninety treasure-crocksThis keen miser-fairy hath,Hid in mountains, woods, and rocks,And where the cormorants build;From times of oldGuarded by him;Each of them fill'dFull to the brimWith gold!

You watch your cattle the summer day,

Sup on potatoes, sleep in the hay:

How would you like to roll in your carriage,

Look for a Duchess's daughter in marriage?

Seize the Shoemaker—then you may!

"Big boots a-hunting,

Sandals in the hall,

White for a wedding-feast,

Pink for a ball.

This way, that way,

So we make a shoe;

Getting rich every stitch,

Tick-tack-too!"

Nine-and-ninety treasure-crocks

This keen miser-fairy hath,

Hid in mountains, woods, and rocks,

And where the cormorants build;

From times of old

Guarded by him;

Each of them fill'd

Full to the brim

With gold!

I caught him at work one day, myself,In the castle-ditch where foxglove grows,—A wrinkled, wizen'd, and bearded Elf,Spectacles stuck on his pointed nose,Silver buckles to his hose,Leather apron-shoe in his lap—"Rip-rap, tip-tap,Tack-tack-too!(A green cricket on my cap!Away the moth flew!)Buskins for a fairy prince,Brogues for his son,—Pay me well, pay me well,When the job is done!"The rogue was mine, beyond a doubt.I stared at him, he stared at me;"Servant, Sir!" "Humph!" says he,And pull'd a snuff-box out.He took a long pinch, look'd better pleased,The queer little Lepracaun;Offer'd the box with a whimsical grace,Pouf! he flung the dust in my face,And, while I sneezed,Was gone!

I caught him at work one day, myself,

In the castle-ditch where foxglove grows,—

A wrinkled, wizen'd, and bearded Elf,

Spectacles stuck on his pointed nose,

Silver buckles to his hose,

Leather apron-shoe in his lap—

"Rip-rap, tip-tap,

Tack-tack-too!

(A green cricket on my cap!

Away the moth flew!)

Buskins for a fairy prince,

Brogues for his son,—

Pay me well, pay me well,

When the job is done!"

The rogue was mine, beyond a doubt.

I stared at him, he stared at me;

"Servant, Sir!" "Humph!" says he,

And pull'd a snuff-box out.

He took a long pinch, look'd better pleased,

The queer little Lepracaun;

Offer'd the box with a whimsical grace,

Pouf! he flung the dust in my face,

And, while I sneezed,

Was gone!

flower

Raths, very ancient forts or entrenched dwelling-places, usually on hills; the remains of these are common in Ireland, and resemble what are called "Rings" in England.Yellow bird, the yellow bunting, or "yorlin."

Raths, very ancient forts or entrenched dwelling-places, usually on hills; the remains of these are common in Ireland, and resemble what are called "Rings" in England.

Yellow bird, the yellow bunting, or "yorlin."

person looking at leprachaun

Children leaving boy behind while he decides

Yesor No?Stay or Go?He never can tell, he never will know!We must not wait,We'll all be late,While Barnaby puzzles his queer little pate!What do you say?Off and away!Make up your mind to go or to stay.Fix on your plan,Step out like a man,And follow your nose as fast as you can!

Yesor No?Stay or Go?He never can tell, he never will know!We must not wait,We'll all be late,While Barnaby puzzles his queer little pate!

Yesor No?

Stay or Go?

He never can tell, he never will know!

We must not wait,

We'll all be late,

While Barnaby puzzles his queer little pate!

What do you say?Off and away!Make up your mind to go or to stay.Fix on your plan,Step out like a man,And follow your nose as fast as you can!

What do you say?

Off and away!

Make up your mind to go or to stay.

Fix on your plan,

Step out like a man,

And follow your nose as fast as you can!

flowers

child asleep

Doall your sleeping at night,For then niddy-noddy is right;But awake you must keep,And it won't do to sleep,In the middle of broad daylight.The sun at the end of the dayTakes his mighty great candle away;A curtain on highIs drawn over the sky,And the stars peep thro' if they may.There's the curtain of night over all,There's our own window-curtain so small,And least in their size,Over Emily's eyesHer fringed little eyelids will fall.She kneels at the side of her bed,And softly her prayers are said;Now, a kiss, my Dear;Come, Angels, near,And keep watch round the little one's bed.

Doall your sleeping at night,For then niddy-noddy is right;But awake you must keep,And it won't do to sleep,In the middle of broad daylight.

Doall your sleeping at night,

For then niddy-noddy is right;

But awake you must keep,

And it won't do to sleep,

In the middle of broad daylight.

The sun at the end of the dayTakes his mighty great candle away;A curtain on highIs drawn over the sky,And the stars peep thro' if they may.

The sun at the end of the day

Takes his mighty great candle away;

A curtain on high

Is drawn over the sky,

And the stars peep thro' if they may.

There's the curtain of night over all,There's our own window-curtain so small,And least in their size,Over Emily's eyesHer fringed little eyelids will fall.

There's the curtain of night over all,

There's our own window-curtain so small,

And least in their size,

Over Emily's eyes

Her fringed little eyelids will fall.

She kneels at the side of her bed,And softly her prayers are said;Now, a kiss, my Dear;Come, Angels, near,And keep watch round the little one's bed.

She kneels at the side of her bed,

And softly her prayers are said;

Now, a kiss, my Dear;

Come, Angels, near,

And keep watch round the little one's bed.

vase of flowers

Swing, swing,Sing, sing,Here's my throne, and I am a King!Swing, sing,Swing, sing,Farewell earth, for I'm on the wing!Low, high,Here I fly,Like a bird through sunny sky;Free, free,Over the lea,Over the mountain, over the sea!Up, down,Up and down,Which is the way to London Town?Where, where?Up in the air,Close your eyes, and now you are there!Soon, soon,Afternoon,Over the sunset, over the moon;Far, far,Over all bar,Sweeping on from star to star!No, no,Low, low,Sweeping daisies with my toe.Slow, slow,To and fro,Slow——slow———slow————slow.

Swing, swing,Sing, sing,Here's my throne, and I am a King!Swing, sing,Swing, sing,Farewell earth, for I'm on the wing!

Swing, swing,

Sing, sing,

Here's my throne, and I am a King!

Swing, sing,

Farewell earth, for I'm on the wing!

Low, high,Here I fly,Like a bird through sunny sky;Free, free,Over the lea,Over the mountain, over the sea!

Low, high,

Here I fly,

Like a bird through sunny sky;

Free, free,

Over the lea,

Over the mountain, over the sea!

Up, down,Up and down,Which is the way to London Town?Where, where?Up in the air,Close your eyes, and now you are there!

Up, down,

Up and down,

Which is the way to London Town?

Where, where?

Up in the air,

Close your eyes, and now you are there!

Soon, soon,Afternoon,Over the sunset, over the moon;Far, far,Over all bar,Sweeping on from star to star!

Soon, soon,

Afternoon,

Over the sunset, over the moon;

Far, far,

Over all bar,

Sweeping on from star to star!

No, no,Low, low,Sweeping daisies with my toe.Slow, slow,To and fro,Slow——slow———slow————slow.

No, no,

Low, low,

Sweeping daisies with my toe.

Slow, slow,

To and fro,

Slow——

slow———

slow————

slow.

music and illustration of girl on swing

[Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clickinghere.]

birdi in nest

OfCreatures with Feathers, come let us seeWhich have names like you and me.Hook-nosed Poll, that thinks herself pretty,Everyone knows, of all birds most witty.Friendly Daw, in suit of gray,Ask him his name, and 'Jack!' he'll say.Pert Philip Sparrow hopping you meet,"Philip! Philip!"—in garden and street.Bold Robin Redbreast perches near,And sings his best in the fall of the year.Grave Madge Owlet shuns the light,And shouts "hoo! hoo!" in the woods at night.Nightingale sweet, that May loves well,Old Poets have call'd her Philomel,But Philomelus,hesings best,Whileshesits listening in her nest.Darting Martin!—tell me whyThey call you Martin, I know not, I;Martin the black, under cottage eaves,Martin the small, in sandy caves.Merry Willy Wagtail, what runs he takes!Wherever he stops, his tail he shakes.Head and tail little Jenny Wren perks,As in and out of the hedge she jerks.Brisk Tom Tit, the lover of trees,Picks-off every fly and grub he sees.Mag, the cunning chattering Pie,Builds her home in a tree-top high,—Mag, you're a terrible thief, O fie!Tom and Philip and Jenny and Polly,Madge and Martin and Robin and Willy,Philomelus and friendly Jack,—Mag the rogue, half-white, half-black,Stole an egg from every Bird;Such an uproar was never heard;All of them flew upon Mag together,And pluck'd her naked of every feather."You're not a Bird!" they told her then,"You may go away and live among men!"

OfCreatures with Feathers, come let us see

Which have names like you and me.

Hook-nosed Poll, that thinks herself pretty,

Everyone knows, of all birds most witty.

Friendly Daw, in suit of gray,

Ask him his name, and 'Jack!' he'll say.

Pert Philip Sparrow hopping you meet,

"Philip! Philip!"—in garden and street.

Bold Robin Redbreast perches near,

And sings his best in the fall of the year.

Grave Madge Owlet shuns the light,

And shouts "hoo! hoo!" in the woods at night.

Nightingale sweet, that May loves well,

Old Poets have call'd her Philomel,

But Philomelus,hesings best,

Whileshesits listening in her nest.

Darting Martin!—tell me why

They call you Martin, I know not, I;

Martin the black, under cottage eaves,

Martin the small, in sandy caves.

Merry Willy Wagtail, what runs he takes!

Wherever he stops, his tail he shakes.

Head and tail little Jenny Wren perks,

As in and out of the hedge she jerks.

Brisk Tom Tit, the lover of trees,

Picks-off every fly and grub he sees.

Mag, the cunning chattering Pie,

Builds her home in a tree-top high,—

Mag, you're a terrible thief, O fie!

Tom and Philip and Jenny and Polly,Madge and Martin and Robin and Willy,Philomelus and friendly Jack,—Mag the rogue, half-white, half-black,Stole an egg from every Bird;Such an uproar was never heard;All of them flew upon Mag together,And pluck'd her naked of every feather."You're not a Bird!" they told her then,"You may go away and live among men!"

Tom and Philip and Jenny and Polly,

Madge and Martin and Robin and Willy,

Philomelus and friendly Jack,—

Mag the rogue, half-white, half-black,

Stole an egg from every Bird;

Such an uproar was never heard;

All of them flew upon Mag together,

And pluck'd her naked of every feather.

"You're not a Bird!" they told her then,

"You may go away and live among men!"

holly sprig with berries

flowers

Downon the shore, on the sunny shore!Where the salt smell cheers the land;Where the tide moves bright under boundless light,And the surge on the glittering strand;Where the children wade in the shallow pools,Or run from the froth in play;While the swift little boats with milk-white wingsAre crossing the sapphire bay,And the ship in full sail, with a fortunate galeHolds proudly on her way;Where the nets are spread on the grass to dry,And asleep, hard by, the fishermen lie,Under the tent of the warm blue sky,With the hushing wave on its golden floorTo sing their lullaby.

Downon the shore, on the sunny shore!

Where the salt smell cheers the land;

Where the tide moves bright under boundless light,

And the surge on the glittering strand;

Where the children wade in the shallow pools,

Or run from the froth in play;

While the swift little boats with milk-white wings

Are crossing the sapphire bay,

And the ship in full sail, with a fortunate gale

Holds proudly on her way;

Where the nets are spread on the grass to dry,

And asleep, hard by, the fishermen lie,

Under the tent of the warm blue sky,

With the hushing wave on its golden floor

To sing their lullaby.

Down on the shore, on the stormy shore!Beset by a growling sea,Whose mad waves leap on the rocky steepLike wolves up a traveller's tree:Where the foam flies wide, and an angry blastBlows the curlew off, with a screech;Where the brown sea-wrack, torn up by the roots,Is flung out of fishes' reach;And the tall ship rolls on the hidden shoals,And scatters her planks on the beach;Where slate and straw through the village spin,And a cottage fronts the fiercest dinWith a sailor's wife sitting sad within,Hearkening the wind and the water's roar,Till at last her tears begin.

Down on the shore, on the stormy shore!

Beset by a growling sea,

Whose mad waves leap on the rocky steep

Like wolves up a traveller's tree:

Where the foam flies wide, and an angry blast

Blows the curlew off, with a screech;

Where the brown sea-wrack, torn up by the roots,

Is flung out of fishes' reach;

And the tall ship rolls on the hidden shoals,

And scatters her planks on the beach;

Where slate and straw through the village spin,

And a cottage fronts the fiercest din

With a sailor's wife sitting sad within,

Hearkening the wind and the water's roar,

Till at last her tears begin.

honeysuckle

See, the pretty Planet!Floating sphere!Faintest breeze will fan itFar or near;World as light as feather;Moonshine rays,Rainbow tints, together,As it plays;Drooping, sinking, failing,Nigh to earth,Mounting, whirling, sailing,Full of mirth;Life there, welling, flowing,Waving round;Pictures coming, going,Without sound.Quick now! be this airyGlobe repell'd!Never can the fairyStar be held.Touch'd—it in a twinkleDisappears!Leaving but a sprinkle,As of tears.

See, the pretty Planet!Floating sphere!Faintest breeze will fan itFar or near;

See, the pretty Planet!

Floating sphere!

Faintest breeze will fan it

Far or near;

World as light as feather;Moonshine rays,Rainbow tints, together,As it plays;

World as light as feather;

Moonshine rays,

Rainbow tints, together,

As it plays;

Drooping, sinking, failing,Nigh to earth,Mounting, whirling, sailing,Full of mirth;

Drooping, sinking, failing,

Nigh to earth,

Mounting, whirling, sailing,

Full of mirth;

Life there, welling, flowing,Waving round;Pictures coming, going,Without sound.

Life there, welling, flowing,

Waving round;

Pictures coming, going,

Without sound.

Quick now! be this airyGlobe repell'd!Never can the fairyStar be held.

Quick now! be this airy

Globe repell'd!

Never can the fairy

Star be held.

Touch'd—it in a twinkleDisappears!Leaving but a sprinkle,As of tears.

Touch'd—it in a twinkle

Disappears!

Leaving but a sprinkle,

As of tears.

two girls looknig at bubble

standing man talking to man sitting on ground leaning against fence

Nick Spence, Nick Spence,Sold the Cow for sixpence!When his Master scolded him,Nicky didn't care.Put him in the farmyard,The stableyard, the stackyard,Send him to the pigsty,And Johnny to the fair!

Nick Spence, Nick Spence,

Sold the Cow for sixpence!

When his Master scolded him,

Nicky didn't care.

Put him in the farmyard,

The stableyard, the stackyard,

Send him to the pigsty,

And Johnny to the fair!

flower on stalk

TheSea! as smooth as silk,And the froth of it like new milk,And the sky a wonderful blue,The cliff harebells have it too,And scatter'd all over the shoreA thousand Children or more!Suppose we join, one-will'd,A City of Sand to build,With a rampart broad and strongFrom rock to rock along,Solid and firm enoughTo last till the sea grows roughAnd the days turn chilly and short,The end of our seaside sport,When all must bundle and packAnd swift in the train go back,Big folk and little folk,To London lamps and smoke?Let's draw out our plan to-night,Begin it with morning light.We'll bring all the Children togetherAnd build in the sweet sunny weather.What use in a House of Sand?But a City—thatwouldbe grand!O yes, I am sure it will stand!And I, who first thought of the thing,Perhaps they will make me King?

TheSea! as smooth as silk,And the froth of it like new milk,And the sky a wonderful blue,The cliff harebells have it too,And scatter'd all over the shoreA thousand Children or more!

TheSea! as smooth as silk,

And the froth of it like new milk,

And the sky a wonderful blue,

The cliff harebells have it too,

And scatter'd all over the shore

A thousand Children or more!

Suppose we join, one-will'd,A City of Sand to build,With a rampart broad and strongFrom rock to rock along,Solid and firm enoughTo last till the sea grows roughAnd the days turn chilly and short,The end of our seaside sport,When all must bundle and packAnd swift in the train go back,Big folk and little folk,To London lamps and smoke?

Suppose we join, one-will'd,

A City of Sand to build,

With a rampart broad and strong

From rock to rock along,

Solid and firm enough

To last till the sea grows rough

And the days turn chilly and short,

The end of our seaside sport,

When all must bundle and pack

And swift in the train go back,

Big folk and little folk,

To London lamps and smoke?

Let's draw out our plan to-night,Begin it with morning light.We'll bring all the Children togetherAnd build in the sweet sunny weather.What use in a House of Sand?But a City—thatwouldbe grand!O yes, I am sure it will stand!And I, who first thought of the thing,Perhaps they will make me King?

Let's draw out our plan to-night,

Begin it with morning light.

We'll bring all the Children together

And build in the sweet sunny weather.

What use in a House of Sand?

But a City—thatwouldbe grand!

O yes, I am sure it will stand!

And I, who first thought of the thing,

Perhaps they will make me King?

children at seashore

Allmen, black, brown, red, yellow, whiteAre brethren in their Father's sight.To do each other good is right,But not to wrangle, steal, or fight.A thousand millions, young and old,Some in the heat, some in the cold,Upon this Ball of Earth are roll'dAround the Sun's great flame of gold.

Allmen, black, brown, red, yellow, whiteAre brethren in their Father's sight.To do each other good is right,But not to wrangle, steal, or fight.

Allmen, black, brown, red, yellow, white

Are brethren in their Father's sight.

To do each other good is right,

But not to wrangle, steal, or fight.

A thousand millions, young and old,Some in the heat, some in the cold,Upon this Ball of Earth are roll'dAround the Sun's great flame of gold.

A thousand millions, young and old,

Some in the heat, some in the cold,

Upon this Ball of Earth are roll'd

Around the Sun's great flame of gold.

earth in space

And this great Sun is like indeedOne daisy in a daisied mead;ForGod'spower doth all thought exceed.And of us also He takes heed.

And this great Sun is like indeed

One daisy in a daisied mead;

ForGod'spower doth all thought exceed.

And of us also He takes heed.

HisLordship's SteedOf a noble breedIs trotting it fleetly, fleetly,Her Ladyship's pony,Sleek and bonny,Cantering neatly, neatly.How shall they passThe Turf-Cadger's Ass,Creels and all, creels and all?Man on him bumping,Shouting and thumping,Heels and all, heels and all!Lane is not wide,A hedge on each side,The Ass is beginning to bray;"Now," says my Lord,With an angry word,"Fellow, get out of the way!""Ha!" says the Cadger,As bold as a badger,"This way ismyway too!"Says the Lady mild,And sweetly smiled,"My Friend, that's perfectly true."The Cadger look'd round,Then jump'd to the ground,And into the hedge pull'd Neddy."O thank you!" says she,"Ax pardon!" says he,And touch'd his old hat to the Lady.His Lordship's SteedOf a noble breedWent trotting it fleetly, fleetly,Her Ladyship's pony,Sleek and bonnyCantering neatly, neatly.The Cadger he rodeAs well as he could,Heels and all, heels and all,Jolting and bumping,Shouting and thumping,Creels and all, creels and all.

HisLordship's SteedOf a noble breedIs trotting it fleetly, fleetly,Her Ladyship's pony,Sleek and bonny,Cantering neatly, neatly.

HisLordship's Steed

Of a noble breed

Is trotting it fleetly, fleetly,

Her Ladyship's pony,

Sleek and bonny,

Cantering neatly, neatly.

How shall they passThe Turf-Cadger's Ass,Creels and all, creels and all?Man on him bumping,Shouting and thumping,Heels and all, heels and all!

How shall they pass

The Turf-Cadger's Ass,

Creels and all, creels and all?

Man on him bumping,

Shouting and thumping,

Heels and all, heels and all!

Lane is not wide,A hedge on each side,The Ass is beginning to bray;"Now," says my Lord,With an angry word,"Fellow, get out of the way!"

Lane is not wide,

A hedge on each side,

The Ass is beginning to bray;

"Now," says my Lord,

With an angry word,

"Fellow, get out of the way!"

"Ha!" says the Cadger,As bold as a badger,"This way ismyway too!"Says the Lady mild,And sweetly smiled,"My Friend, that's perfectly true."

"Ha!" says the Cadger,

As bold as a badger,

"This way ismyway too!"

Says the Lady mild,

And sweetly smiled,

"My Friend, that's perfectly true."

The Cadger look'd round,Then jump'd to the ground,And into the hedge pull'd Neddy."O thank you!" says she,"Ax pardon!" says he,And touch'd his old hat to the Lady.

The Cadger look'd round,

Then jump'd to the ground,

And into the hedge pull'd Neddy.

"O thank you!" says she,

"Ax pardon!" says he,

And touch'd his old hat to the Lady.

His Lordship's SteedOf a noble breedWent trotting it fleetly, fleetly,Her Ladyship's pony,Sleek and bonnyCantering neatly, neatly.

His Lordship's Steed

Of a noble breed

Went trotting it fleetly, fleetly,

Her Ladyship's pony,

Sleek and bonny

Cantering neatly, neatly.

The Cadger he rodeAs well as he could,Heels and all, heels and all,Jolting and bumping,Shouting and thumping,Creels and all, creels and all.

The Cadger he rode

As well as he could,

Heels and all, heels and all,

Jolting and bumping,

Shouting and thumping,

Creels and all, creels and all.

flower

rosebud branch

Tom Crickethe sat in his hole in the wall,Close to the kitchen fire,Up and down ran the Cockroaches all,Red coats and black coats, great and small;"Ho, Tom! our hearts are set on a ball,And your music we desire!"Tom sat in his hole, his horns hung out,He play'd away on his fiddle;The Cockroaches danced in a rabble rout,Scrambling and scurrying all about,Tho' they had their own steps and figures no doubt,Hands across, and down the middle.Till, "Stay!" says a Fat One,—"We're no Elves,To dance all night without stopping!Now for supper!" They help'd themselves,For the servants were gone to bed; on shelvesAnd tables they quested by tens and twelves,And quick to the floor kept dropping.As a Cockroach ran by, says Tom Cricket to him,"Fetch me up a piece of potato,Good Sir!—to mix in the crowd I'm too slim."Says Jack Cockroach, "I see you are proud and prim;To eat alone is merely your whim,—Which I never will give way to!""Come down," says he, "and look out for your share!""I won't do that," says Tom Cricket.And when for another dance they care,And call upon Tom for a lively air,They find he has drawn himself back in his lair."How shameful," they cry, "How wicked!""Let's fill up the mouth of his cave with soot,Because he's behaved so badly!"They ran up and down the wall to do't;But ere half-done—a dreadful salute!In came the Cook, and the Scullion to boot,And off they all scampered madly.

Tom Crickethe sat in his hole in the wall,

Close to the kitchen fire,

Up and down ran the Cockroaches all,

Red coats and black coats, great and small;

"Ho, Tom! our hearts are set on a ball,

And your music we desire!"

Tom sat in his hole, his horns hung out,He play'd away on his fiddle;The Cockroaches danced in a rabble rout,Scrambling and scurrying all about,Tho' they had their own steps and figures no doubt,Hands across, and down the middle.

Tom sat in his hole, his horns hung out,

He play'd away on his fiddle;

The Cockroaches danced in a rabble rout,

Scrambling and scurrying all about,

Tho' they had their own steps and figures no doubt,

Hands across, and down the middle.

Till, "Stay!" says a Fat One,—"We're no Elves,To dance all night without stopping!Now for supper!" They help'd themselves,For the servants were gone to bed; on shelvesAnd tables they quested by tens and twelves,And quick to the floor kept dropping.

Till, "Stay!" says a Fat One,—"We're no Elves,

To dance all night without stopping!

Now for supper!" They help'd themselves,

For the servants were gone to bed; on shelves

And tables they quested by tens and twelves,

And quick to the floor kept dropping.

As a Cockroach ran by, says Tom Cricket to him,"Fetch me up a piece of potato,Good Sir!—to mix in the crowd I'm too slim."Says Jack Cockroach, "I see you are proud and prim;To eat alone is merely your whim,—Which I never will give way to!"

As a Cockroach ran by, says Tom Cricket to him,

"Fetch me up a piece of potato,

Good Sir!—to mix in the crowd I'm too slim."

Says Jack Cockroach, "I see you are proud and prim;

To eat alone is merely your whim,—

Which I never will give way to!"

"Come down," says he, "and look out for your share!""I won't do that," says Tom Cricket.And when for another dance they care,And call upon Tom for a lively air,They find he has drawn himself back in his lair."How shameful," they cry, "How wicked!"

"Come down," says he, "and look out for your share!"

"I won't do that," says Tom Cricket.

And when for another dance they care,

And call upon Tom for a lively air,

They find he has drawn himself back in his lair.

"How shameful," they cry, "How wicked!"

"Let's fill up the mouth of his cave with soot,Because he's behaved so badly!"They ran up and down the wall to do't;But ere half-done—a dreadful salute!In came the Cook, and the Scullion to boot,And off they all scampered madly.

"Let's fill up the mouth of his cave with soot,

Because he's behaved so badly!"

They ran up and down the wall to do't;

But ere half-done—a dreadful salute!

In came the Cook, and the Scullion to boot,

And off they all scampered madly.

flower and vine

man hiking by craggy mountains

January,Bitter, very!February damp, Sir;March blowsOn April's nose,May has caught the cramp, Sir;June,Without a sun or moon!July, August,Many a raw gust;September, October, November, December,Ten times worse than I ever remember.No apples, or hay, or honey, or corn;I'm sure it wasn't a fat year.Whenever you and I were born,Good-luck it wasn't inthatyear!

January,

Bitter, very!

February damp, Sir;

March blows

On April's nose,

May has caught the cramp, Sir;

June,

Without a sun or moon!

July, August,

Many a raw gust;

September, October, November, December,

Ten times worse than I ever remember.

No apples, or hay, or honey, or corn;

I'm sure it wasn't a fat year.

Whenever you and I were born,

Good-luck it wasn't inthatyear!

flower

WhatI say you'll scarce believe,Yet my words shall not deceive.I saw what seem'd a little Boy,With a face of life and joy;He danced, he ran, he nodded, he smiled,Just like any other Child;But could not speak, (how strange was this!)Or cry, or breathe, nor could I kiss,To save my life, the cherry redOf lips, not living and not dead!He was no picture, statue, doll;He was not a Child at all;He was Nothing, as near as could be,He was as real as you or me.—There he is: turn and see!

WhatI say you'll scarce believe,

Yet my words shall not deceive.

I saw what seem'd a little Boy,

With a face of life and joy;

He danced, he ran, he nodded, he smiled,

Just like any other Child;

But could not speak, (how strange was this!)

Or cry, or breathe, nor could I kiss,

To save my life, the cherry red

Of lips, not living and not dead!

He was no picture, statue, doll;

He was not a Child at all;

He was Nothing, as near as could be,

He was as real as you or me.

—There he is: turn and see!

bell flowers

girl looking in mirror

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