 | Childhood songs |  |
121
JESSIE'S BOOK.
Here lingering, Jessie?
And what is your book?
And what the gay picture
That fastens your look?
I cannot guess, Jessie;
Still seems it to me
A lovelier picture
Your raised eyes would see.
And what is your book?
And what the gay picture
That fastens your look?
I cannot guess, Jessie;
Still seems it to me
A lovelier picture
Your raised eyes would see.
122
The late birds are flying
Through sunshine's soft floods;
Cool shadows are lying
Beside the warm woods;
There are gentians and frost-flowers
In dim dingles hid;
Sleeps beauty the bowers
Of autumn amid.
Through sunshine's soft floods;
Cool shadows are lying
Beside the warm woods;
There are gentians and frost-flowers
In dim dingles hid;
Sleeps beauty the bowers
Of autumn amid.
To sit here and read
On the pleasant old stile
Is a fine thing indeed;
Yet those pages may wile
Your thoughts from a story
More wonderful still,
That hangs a wild glory
Round meadow and hill.
On the pleasant old stile
Is a fine thing indeed;
Yet those pages may wile
Your thoughts from a story
More wonderful still,
That hangs a wild glory
Round meadow and hill.
For Nature, dear Jessie,
Has something to say
She will not say over
Again, any day.
And if I were Jessie
My book I would close,
And read the fresh marvels
Her latest page shows.
Has something to say
123
Again, any day.
And if I were Jessie
My book I would close,
And read the fresh marvels
Her latest page shows.
When angry November
Has torn the bright leaves,
You will not remember
What tints Autumn weaves.
Go, con the blue river,
The torrent, the brook,
Ere winter forever
Seal up this year's book!
Has torn the bright leaves,
You will not remember
What tints Autumn weaves.
Go, con the blue river,
The torrent, the brook,
Ere winter forever
Seal up this year's book!
| Childhood songs | |