 | Snow-berries. A book for young folks |  |
86
THREE LITTLE WOMEN.
There were three little women,
Each fair in the face,
And their laughter, like music,
Filled all the green place,
As they sat knitting talk with the
Threads of their lace.
Each fair in the face,
And their laughter, like music,
Filled all the green place,
As they sat knitting talk with the
Threads of their lace.
Of the winds in the tree-tops,
The flowers in the glen,—
The birds, the brown robin,
The wood-dove, the wren,—
They talked, but their thoughts were
Of three little men!
The flowers in the glen,—
The birds, the brown robin,
The wood-dove, the wren,—
They talked, but their thoughts were
Of three little men!
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The sea lay before them,
With ships going by;
Behind them the hills shone,
So grand and so high;
And above them, blue beautiful
Patches of sky.
With ships going by;
Behind them the hills shone,
So grand and so high;
And above them, blue beautiful
Patches of sky.
But they felt not the sweetness
That smiled from the lea,
And they knew not the way of
The wind through the tree;
And they saw not the sea,
When they looked at the sea!
That smiled from the lea,
And they knew not the way of
The wind through the tree;
And they saw not the sea,
When they looked at the sea!
The wood-dove tapped note of the storm,
The shy wren
Twittered fearful, and low
Hung the mist o'er the fen,
But all that they thought of
Was three little men!
The shy wren
Twittered fearful, and low
Hung the mist o'er the fen,
But all that they thought of
Was three little men!
The wind rose, the clouds gathered,
Mass upon mass,
The sun drew his long lines
Of light from the grass,—
Alas! for the three little
Women, alas!
Mass upon mass,
The sun drew his long lines
Of light from the grass,—
Alas! for the three little
Women, alas!
Fast home ran the robin,
Fast home flew the wren;
The blacksnake led all his
Black sons to the fen,
That lay 'twixt the three
Little women and men.
Fast home flew the wren;
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Black sons to the fen,
That lay 'twixt the three
Little women and men.
The sky was all over
One horrible frown;
The rain from the hill-tops
In torrents dashed down,
The three little short-sighted
Women to drown.
One horrible frown;
The rain from the hill-tops
In torrents dashed down,
The three little short-sighted
Women to drown.
They died: pray their watery
Graves may atone
For their folly, in trusting
To see things alone
Through the eyes of the
Three little men,—not their own.
Graves may atone
For their folly, in trusting
To see things alone
Through the eyes of the
Three little men,—not their own.
| Snow-berries. A book for young folks | |