 | Snow-berries. A book for young folks |  |
COUNTING THE CHICKENS.
Come, Joe! come, Johnny! the chickens are out,
As true as I am alive!
Let me count,—one, two, three, four,—
O, if I can find but one more
Of the beauties, that will be five!
As true as I am alive!
Let me count,—one, two, three, four,—
O, if I can find but one more
Of the beauties, that will be five!
Just look and see how they hop about!
And see what a pretty thing
The little gray one is, and oh!
There is another one! see it, Joe,
With its head through its mother's wing!
And see what a pretty thing
The little gray one is, and oh!
There is another one! see it, Joe,
With its head through its mother's wing!
30
My dainty darlings, be still, be still!
Just a minute till I can see
Which is prettiest,—that with down
Softly yellow and striped with brown,
Or that with the golden bill.
Just a minute till I can see
Which is prettiest,—that with down
Softly yellow and striped with brown,
Or that with the golden bill.
That one is cunning, with back and breast
Black as a raven, and so small,—
No bigger than one of its mother's eggs,
And the tiniest little rosy legs,—
I hardly saw it at all.
Black as a raven, and so small,—
No bigger than one of its mother's eggs,
And the tiniest little rosy legs,—
I hardly saw it at all.
I will double up my hand to a nest,
Afraid though I am of the mother hen,
And put them into it one by one,
The gray, the yellow, the black, and dun,
And see which is prettiest then!
Afraid though I am of the mother hen,
And put them into it one by one,
The gray, the yellow, the black, and dun,
And see which is prettiest then!
| Snow-berries. A book for young folks | |