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 | The white dove, and Other Poems for Children |  |
7
The Milk-White Dove;
OR, LITTLE JACOB'S TEMPTATION.
Will you have a story, darling,
I know one very old,
For when I was a little child
I used to hear it told.
It is about a little boy,
And the pigeons which he sold.
I know one very old,
For when I was a little child
I used to hear it told.
It is about a little boy,
And the pigeons which he sold.
My father had a pleasant voice—
When he came home to tea,
He used to say “Come here my child,
And sit upon my knee;
I'll sing a song, or tell a tale,
Which ever pleaseth thee.”
When he came home to tea,
He used to say “Come here my child,
And sit upon my knee;
I'll sing a song, or tell a tale,
Which ever pleaseth thee.”
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I almost always chose a song;
At other times I said,
“To-night a story, father dear,”
And then I leaned my head
Against that loving father's breast,
Till it was time for bed.
At other times I said,
“To-night a story, father dear,”
And then I leaned my head
Against that loving father's breast,
Till it was time for bed.
He used to tell me fairy tales,
And stories strange and old;
Of ladies fair with silken hair,
And kings and chieftains bold.
I wish I could remember all
The wondrous things he told.
And stories strange and old;
Of ladies fair with silken hair,
And kings and chieftains bold.
I wish I could remember all
The wondrous things he told.
Of flying gardens which a king
Could call for anywhere,
Of birds that talked, and fish that walked,
And castles in the air.
With walls of gold, and silver spires,
And windows broad and fair.
Could call for anywhere,
Of birds that talked, and fish that walked,
And castles in the air.
With walls of gold, and silver spires,
And windows broad and fair.
Of camels, far in eastern lands,
Living in deserts wide;
Of spotted tigers, who among
The pathless jungles hide.
And tropic birds whose feathers seem,
In rainbow colors dyed.
Living in deserts wide;
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The pathless jungles hide.
And tropic birds whose feathers seem,
In rainbow colors dyed.
The songs he sung were mournful ones,
As solemn as a hymn;
But these he never sang for me,
Except at twilight dim.
As solemn as a hymn;
But these he never sang for me,
Except at twilight dim.
I noticed it was always so,
And used to wonder why,
Until I found the darkness hid,
The tear-drops in his eye.
And used to wonder why,
Until I found the darkness hid,
The tear-drops in his eye.
I cannot tell you how I loved,
This Father good and mild!
I lost him, darling, when I was
A very little child.
This Father good and mild!
I lost him, darling, when I was
A very little child.
The story I shall tell you now,
He used to say was true;
It is about a little boy,
Not older much than you.
He used to say was true;
It is about a little boy,
Not older much than you.
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His mother, she was very poor,
And kept a rich man's gate:
Until the carriages pass'd thro',
There Jacob had to wait.
And kept a rich man's gate:
Until the carriages pass'd thro',
There Jacob had to wait.
Now Jacob was a patient lad,
A loving faithful son:
Of all the things the rich man had,
He wanted only one.
A loving faithful son:
Of all the things the rich man had,
He wanted only one.
A pigeon—with a crested head,
And feathers soft as silk,
With crimson feet and crimson bill—
The rest as white as milk.
And feathers soft as silk,
With crimson feet and crimson bill—
The rest as white as milk.
He had some pigeons of his own,
He loved them very well;
But then his mother was so poor,
He reared them all to sell.
He loved them very well;
But then his mother was so poor,
He reared them all to sell.
He kept them in a little shed,
That sloped down from the roof;
Great trouble had he every spring,
To make it water-proof.
That sloped down from the roof;
Great trouble had he every spring,
To make it water-proof.
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He used to count them every day,
To see he had them all;
They knew his footstep when he came,
And answered to his call.
To see he had them all;
They knew his footstep when he came,
And answered to his call.
Now two were gray, and two were black,
And two were slaty brown—
(One had a ring around its neck,
And one a crested crown.)
And two were slaty brown—
(One had a ring around its neck,
And one a crested crown.)
And one—a chocolate-colored hen—
Was prettier than the rest,
Because there was a gloss like gold
All round its throat and breast.
Was prettier than the rest,
Because there was a gloss like gold
All round its throat and breast.
Now, darling, if you count them all
How many does it make?
The gray—the black—the slaty brown—
Be sure there's no mistake.
How many does it make?
The gray—the black—the slaty brown—
Be sure there's no mistake.
You know the little birds in spring,
Build houses where they dwell,
And feed and rear their little ones,
And love each other well.
Build houses where they dwell,
And feed and rear their little ones,
And love each other well.
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So the black pigeons Jacob had,
Were mated with the gray;
And crested-crown and ring-neck, made
Their nest the first of May.
Were mated with the gray;
And crested-crown and ring-neck, made
Their nest the first of May.
For God hath made each little bird
To love and need a mate;
And so, the little chocolate hen,
Was very desolate.
To love and need a mate;
And so, the little chocolate hen,
Was very desolate.
And Jacob thought if he could get
The rich man's milk-white dove,
And keep it—always—for his own!—
Now, listen to me, love.
The rich man's milk-white dove,
And keep it—always—for his own!—
Now, listen to me, love.
He wanted that which was not his,
That which another had;
And so, a great temptation grew
Around the little lad.
That which another had;
And so, a great temptation grew
Around the little lad.
The rich man had whole flocks of birds,
And Jacob reasoned so;
“If I should take this one white dove,
How can he ever know.
And Jacob reasoned so;
“If I should take this one white dove,
How can he ever know.
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“Among so many, can he miss,
The one which I shall take;
Among so many, many birds,
What difference can it make?”
The one which I shall take;
Among so many, many birds,
What difference can it make?”
But, darling, even while his heart
Throbbed, with these wishes strong,
A something always troubled him!
He knew that it was wrong.
Throbbed, with these wishes strong,
A something always troubled him!
He knew that it was wrong.
So time passed on—he watched the dove,
How every day it came,
Nearer and nearer to the shed,
More gentle and more tame.
How every day it came,
Nearer and nearer to the shed,
More gentle and more tame.
He watched it with a longing eye,
At last one summer day,
He saw it settle on the roof
As if it meant to stay.
At last one summer day,
He saw it settle on the roof
As if it meant to stay.
It pruned its feathers in the sun,
And drest them all with care;
And with a soft and loving coo
Unfurled its pinions fair.
And drest them all with care;
And with a soft and loving coo
Unfurled its pinions fair.
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The lonely little chocolate hen,
Seemed very happy too;
And answered always when she heard,
The milk-white pigeon coo.
Seemed very happy too;
And answered always when she heard,
The milk-white pigeon coo.
Now Jacob was a happy boy—
Said he “It has a right
To choose the dwelling anywhere,
Most pleasant in its sight.”
Said he “It has a right
To choose the dwelling anywhere,
Most pleasant in its sight.”
And so he scattered grains of corn,
And crumbs of wheaten bread;
Because he thought the dove would stay,
Where it was kindly fed.
And crumbs of wheaten bread;
Because he thought the dove would stay,
Where it was kindly fed.
If ever little boy was glad,
Why Jacob was that one!
But, darling, from your little heart,
Say, what would you have done?
Why Jacob was that one!
But, darling, from your little heart,
Say, what would you have done?
Would you have kept what was not yours,
Because you thought you might;
Without your mother's voice to say,
My child, it is not right?
Because you thought you might;
Without your mother's voice to say,
My child, it is not right?
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Well, time passed on—the milk-white dove,
Well pleased with Jacob's care,
Soon learned to know him like the rest,
And seemed right happy there.
Well pleased with Jacob's care,
Soon learned to know him like the rest,
And seemed right happy there.
One morning he had called them all,
Around him to be fed;
And on the ground he scattered corn,
And peas, and crumbs of bread.
Around him to be fed;
And on the ground he scattered corn,
And peas, and crumbs of bread.
When all at once he heard a man,
Outside the road-gate, call
“Boy, if these pigeons are for sale
I think I'll take them, all.”
Outside the road-gate, call
“Boy, if these pigeons are for sale
I think I'll take them, all.”
All!—how it smote on Jacob's ear!
“I see there are but eight;
If you will take two dollars, down,
I'll pay you at that rate.”
“I see there are but eight;
If you will take two dollars, down,
I'll pay you at that rate.”
Now, at that moment, all the birds
Were feeding in the sun,
But, Jacob, in his startled heart
Could think of only one.
Were feeding in the sun,
But, Jacob, in his startled heart
Could think of only one.
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And never since the milk-white dove,
Had joined the chocolate hen,
Had he felt in his inmost heart,
As he was feeling then!
Had joined the chocolate hen,
Had he felt in his inmost heart,
As he was feeling then!
“Come—hurry, hurry!” said the man,
I have no time to lose;
Between the dollars, and the birds,
It can't be hard to choose.”
I have no time to lose;
Between the dollars, and the birds,
It can't be hard to choose.”
Poor Jacob, having once begun
To do what was not right;
Forgetting he was standing in
His heavenly Father's sight;
To do what was not right;
Forgetting he was standing in
His heavenly Father's sight;
And knowing how his mother had,
A quarter's rent to pay;
Felt in his heart the sense of right,
Was melting fast away.
A quarter's rent to pay;
Felt in his heart the sense of right,
Was melting fast away.
When, from the open cottage door,
There came a murmuring low—
It was his mother's morning hymn,
Solemn, and sweet, and slow.
There came a murmuring low—
It was his mother's morning hymn,
Solemn, and sweet, and slow.
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“O, Domini Deus!
We know thy eyes see us
By day and by night.
O Father hear us!
O God be near us!
Guide us aright.”
We know thy eyes see us
By day and by night.
O Father hear us!
O God be near us!
Guide us aright.”
He listened—and a holy fear,
Was wakened in his heart,
And strength was given him that hour,
To choose the better part.
Was wakened in his heart,
And strength was given him that hour,
To choose the better part.
And turning to the stranger man
A frank untroubled eye,
He said, “But seven birds are mine,
But seven you can buy.”
A frank untroubled eye,
He said, “But seven birds are mine,
But seven you can buy.”
“O,” said the man, “They go in pairs,
And will not suit me then;”
So Jacob sold him only six,
And kept the chocolate hen.
And will not suit me then;”
So Jacob sold him only six,
And kept the chocolate hen.
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And when the evening shadows came,
And dew was on the grass,
He watched outside the garden gate,
To see the rich man pass.
And dew was on the grass,
He watched outside the garden gate,
To see the rich man pass.
And in his hand the milk-white dove,
He held with gentle care;
And many a soft caress he laid,
Upon its feathers fair.
He held with gentle care;
And many a soft caress he laid,
Upon its feathers fair.
And when, at last, the rich man came,
Poor Jacob rendered bold
By feeling he was in the right,
His artless story told.
Poor Jacob rendered bold
By feeling he was in the right,
His artless story told.
And after he had owned to all,
The wrong which he had done,
And the worse wrong he wished to do,
He lifted to the sun,
The wrong which he had done,
And the worse wrong he wished to do,
He lifted to the sun,
A happy, open, fearless face,
Which won the rich man's love;
And so he bade him always keep
For his, the milk-white dove.
Which won the rich man's love;
And so he bade him always keep
For his, the milk-white dove.
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“I wish that boy were old enough,
My steward's place to take;
For such an honest little boy,
A worthy man will make.”
My steward's place to take;
For such an honest little boy,
A worthy man will make.”
So thought the rich man, as he sought
His lordly hall, to dine;
So thought the rich man, as he sat,
And drank his costly wine.
His lordly hall, to dine;
So thought the rich man, as he sat,
And drank his costly wine.
And Jacob, once more good and true,
Stood in his mother's sight;
The struggle of temptation past,
The wrong all turned to right.
Stood in his mother's sight;
The struggle of temptation past,
The wrong all turned to right.
And tho', perhaps, she never knew
Her early morning hymn,
As God's own voice had reached her child,
And given strength to him;
Her early morning hymn,
As God's own voice had reached her child,
And given strength to him;
Yet, peace was in her holy heart,
And faith and hope were strong;
She drew him gently to her breast,
And held him close and long.
And faith and hope were strong;
She drew him gently to her breast,
And held him close and long.
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And Jacob with a heart at rest,
Laid down upon his bed;
And whiter wings than his white dove's
Were round his pillow spread.
Laid down upon his bed;
And whiter wings than his white dove's
Were round his pillow spread.
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Grasses.
Do you love the humble grasses?
Such grasses as we see
By the wayside, in the meadow,
Growing profuse and free.
Such grasses as we see
By the wayside, in the meadow,
Growing profuse and free.
Nourished by dew and sunshine,
And genial summer rain;
And waving in the autumn,
Among the fields of grain.
And genial summer rain;
And waving in the autumn,
Among the fields of grain.
They are lovely in the spring time,
In their rich and living green;
And dainty fair in summer,
When their tiny bloom is seen.
In their rich and living green;
And dainty fair in summer,
When their tiny bloom is seen.
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The rich warm days of summer!
When every breath of air,
Is scented with their soft perfume,
So delicate and rare.
When every breath of air,
Is scented with their soft perfume,
So delicate and rare.
And in the bright clear autumn,
When their various colored seeds,
Give the warmth of sunset shadows,
To the stubble fields and meads.
When their various colored seeds,
Give the warmth of sunset shadows,
To the stubble fields and meads.
How gracefully they bow and bend;
How finely soft they shade
The sharper outlines into grace,
Of distant hill and glade.
How finely soft they shade
The sharper outlines into grace,
Of distant hill and glade.
There is one kind standing straightly,
With sharp and lance-shaped head;
Some, with a tinge of purple,
Some, with a shade of red.
With sharp and lance-shaped head;
Some, with a tinge of purple,
Some, with a shade of red.
Some have soft little downy tufts,
Some sharp and pin-like spines;
Some stand as straight as arrows,
Some bend in waving lines.
Some sharp and pin-like spines;
Some stand as straight as arrows,
Some bend in waving lines.
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And one suspends its glossy seeds,
On slender hair-like stem,
Which yet require the winter storm,
To break and scatter them.
On slender hair-like stem,
Which yet require the winter storm,
To break and scatter them.
The tawny rush by marshy streams,
Scatters its countless seeds,
Where, waving like a field of maize,
Grow tall and graceful reeds.
Scatters its countless seeds,
Where, waving like a field of maize,
Grow tall and graceful reeds.
One grows among the fields of wheat,
A pale, green plume of down;
Another rears a shiny cone,
With seeds of purply brown.
A pale, green plume of down;
Another rears a shiny cone,
With seeds of purply brown.
There is orchard-grass, and herd-grass,
And white, sweet scented clover;
And meadow-grass, and spear-grass—
'Tis vain to name them over.
And white, sweet scented clover;
And meadow-grass, and spear-grass—
'Tis vain to name them over.
Go out beneath the sunshine,
Examine blade and stem;
Observe them how they thrive and grow,
“Where no man planted them.”
Examine blade and stem;
Observe them how they thrive and grow,
“Where no man planted them.”
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Be Watchful.
Nothing in this world is dumb,
Or silent, if we do but come
The very inmost truth anear,
And listen with awaken'd ear.
Or silent, if we do but come
The very inmost truth anear,
And listen with awaken'd ear.
Nothing is inconsequent,
If the eye is really bent,
The deeper mysteries to read,
Of Nature's universal creed.
If the eye is really bent,
The deeper mysteries to read,
Of Nature's universal creed.
Wisdom may we often learn
From smallest things—a waving fern,
Growing in a shady place
May be a minister of grace!
From smallest things—a waving fern,
Growing in a shady place
May be a minister of grace!
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Litanies the Harebells be!
Windflowers blooming wild and free,
May a serious lesson teach;
Sermons may the Daisies preach
Windflowers blooming wild and free,
May a serious lesson teach;
Sermons may the Daisies preach
Under cloistered arches green,
With the wind to chant between;
And the Violet low and dim,
Have the sweetness of a hymn.
With the wind to chant between;
And the Violet low and dim,
Have the sweetness of a hymn.
There is not a place so bare,
But some beauty lingers there;
Not a spot so low and cold,
But has its dwellers manifold.
But some beauty lingers there;
Not a spot so low and cold,
But has its dwellers manifold.
Everywhere the heart awake,
Finds the pleasure it can make,
Everywhere the light and shade
By the gazer's eye is made.
Finds the pleasure it can make,
Everywhere the light and shade
By the gazer's eye is made.
In ourselves, the sunshine dwells,
From ourselves the music swells,
By ourselves, our life is fed,
With sweet or bitter daily bread!
From ourselves the music swells,
By ourselves, our life is fed,
With sweet or bitter daily bread!
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Mosses.
Have you ever gathered mosses
In the lone and quiet woods?
Do you know their dim cool places,
In the shady solitudes?
In the lone and quiet woods?
Do you know their dim cool places,
In the shady solitudes?
Where the interlacing branches
Let no ray of sunshine fall;
Where nimble squirrels leap and run,
And noisy blue-jays call.
Let no ray of sunshine fall;
Where nimble squirrels leap and run,
And noisy blue-jays call.
Where wild flowers in the dim, soft light,
In pale sweet beauty bloom;
And you find the low Arbutus,
By its rare and fine perfume.
In pale sweet beauty bloom;
And you find the low Arbutus,
By its rare and fine perfume.
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Forgetting skirts that trail too low,
Regardless of your shoe,
Step you the long high grass among,
Though wet with early dew:
Regardless of your shoe,
Step you the long high grass among,
Though wet with early dew:
Go you abroad when April's wind,
By May's warm sun is met,
From every wild untrodden spot,
The fairy moss to get.
By May's warm sun is met,
From every wild untrodden spot,
The fairy moss to get.
That velvet kind, whose rich bright green,
On moist, cold earth is found,
Where clear, distilled spring waters
Ooze from the upper ground.
On moist, cold earth is found,
Where clear, distilled spring waters
Ooze from the upper ground.
Or seek you for the star-moss,
Or wood-moss gray and pale,
Which hangs around the lofty pines,
Its soft and mist-like veil.
Or wood-moss gray and pale,
Which hangs around the lofty pines,
Its soft and mist-like veil.
Search you in sheltered hollows,
The slender ferns among,
For that which bears its blossoms,
Like bells by fairies hung.
The slender ferns among,
For that which bears its blossoms,
Like bells by fairies hung.
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Or roam you far and wide to find,
The rough stones turning over,
That richer kind with crimson balls
One rarely can discover.
The rough stones turning over,
That richer kind with crimson balls
One rarely can discover.
There is one which like a naiad,
Lives in the running stream;
And through the waves its tiny leaves,
Like sprays of emerald seem.
Lives in the running stream;
And through the waves its tiny leaves,
Like sprays of emerald seem.
Another, with its slender roots,
Clings to the rough brown bark,
And brightens, with its vivid green,
The tree-stems tall and dark.
Clings to the rough brown bark,
And brightens, with its vivid green,
The tree-stems tall and dark.
Another overspreads the rocks,
And clothes the barren steeps;
And through the winter's frost and snow,
Its pallid beauty keeps.
And clothes the barren steeps;
And through the winter's frost and snow,
Its pallid beauty keeps.
Truly this pleasant earth is full,
Of wild and sylvan graces,
Which lend a nameless charm to all
Its wilderness waste places.
Of wild and sylvan graces,
Which lend a nameless charm to all
Its wilderness waste places.
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Flora's Birthday.
A little girl named Flora,
Stood by her father's chair;
He gently kissed her rosy cheek,
And stroked her shining hair.
Stood by her father's chair;
He gently kissed her rosy cheek,
And stroked her shining hair.
Said he, “My darling daughter,
Attend to what I say,
“This is the first of June, and you
Are five years old to-day.
Attend to what I say,
“This is the first of June, and you
Are five years old to-day.
“Now what shall be your birth-day gift,
What shall I give my child?”
And Flora as she raised her head,
Looked in his face and smiled.
What shall I give my child?”
And Flora as she raised her head,
Looked in his face and smiled.
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Her father gently took her hand,
And held it in his own;
And then again he spoke to her,
In the same loving tone.
And held it in his own;
And then again he spoke to her,
In the same loving tone.
And said “My precious little child!
I look into thy face,
And all the years since thou wert born,
In fancy I retrace.
I look into thy face,
And all the years since thou wert born,
In fancy I retrace.
“I see the soft and dimpled hand,
Its aimless efforts make,
I see the rounded foot attempt
The step it could not take.
Its aimless efforts make,
I see the rounded foot attempt
The step it could not take.
“I hear the lisping voice which tried
To call me by my name;
I feel the warm and twining arms,
That blessed me when I came.
To call me by my name;
I feel the warm and twining arms,
That blessed me when I came.
“And now my child is five years old,
And growing large and tall;
What shall we do to keep her still,
A blessing to us all!
And growing large and tall;
What shall we do to keep her still,
A blessing to us all!
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“How shall we teach the sinless lips,
The words that they should say;
How train the little feet to walk
And never go astray.
The words that they should say;
How train the little feet to walk
And never go astray.
“How shall we keep her pure and good,
A maiden, meek and mild;
What kind of womanhood is hid
In thee, my precious child?
A maiden, meek and mild;
What kind of womanhood is hid
In thee, my precious child?
“What hath the future, little one,
In store for thee and me?
Thank God! what e'er it is, I have
No prophet's eye to see!
In store for thee and me?
Thank God! what e'er it is, I have
No prophet's eye to see!
“My priceless household treasure!
Look up at me and say,
What gift that I can give to thee,
Will please thee most to-day?
Look up at me and say,
What gift that I can give to thee,
Will please thee most to-day?
“A book—a doll—a bird—a toy?
Speak freely, dear, to me,
For I should like this birthday gift,
A pleasant gift to be.
Speak freely, dear, to me,
For I should like this birthday gift,
A pleasant gift to be.
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“No answer? put your hand within,
The pocket of my vest;
And you shall have which ever coin,
Pleases your fancy best.”
The pocket of my vest;
And you shall have which ever coin,
Pleases your fancy best.”
So Flora gathered in her hand,
The money which was there,
And then she ranged it piece by piece,
Upon the great arm-chair;
The money which was there,
And then she ranged it piece by piece,
Upon the great arm-chair;
Dollars and dimes, all bright and new,
She counted one by one;
And chose the only golden coin
She found, when all was done.
She counted one by one;
And chose the only golden coin
She found, when all was done.
Her father smiled, and said her choice
Was better than she knew;
And wiser, older heads than her's,
Had often done so too.
Was better than she knew;
And wiser, older heads than her's,
Had often done so too.
“Now I can buy the waxen doll,
Oh! may I, mother dear?
Say yes, say yes—you know there is
A toy-shop very near.
Oh! may I, mother dear?
Say yes, say yes—you know there is
A toy-shop very near.
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“And in the window lies a doll,
With flaxen curls of hair;
With sweet blue eyes, and rosy cheeks,
And neck and bosom fair.”
With flaxen curls of hair;
With sweet blue eyes, and rosy cheeks,
And neck and bosom fair.”
That charming doll to Flora's thought,
A perfect wonder seemed,
From those sweet eyes, that could be moved,
A living lustre beamed.
A perfect wonder seemed,
From those sweet eyes, that could be moved,
A living lustre beamed.
So quickly dressed, and full of joy,
With restless dancing feet;
And holding by her mother's hand,
She hurried to the street.
With restless dancing feet;
And holding by her mother's hand,
She hurried to the street.
But when she reached the toy-shop, where
This wondrous doll was found,
And Flora saw the countless toys,
Profusely scattered round;
This wondrous doll was found,
And Flora saw the countless toys,
Profusely scattered round;
Kittens and dogs, and masks and men,
Horses, and cows, and pigs;
Tables and chairs, and hoops and balls,
And curious whirligigs;
Horses, and cows, and pigs;
Tables and chairs, and hoops and balls,
And curious whirligigs;
34
She wondered if the waxen doll,
Were really such a prize;
And asked her mother, if she thought,
It really moved its eyes.
Were really such a prize;
And asked her mother, if she thought,
It really moved its eyes.
“And mother, dear, that pretty cow!
And mother, if you please,
Just buy that baby-house for me—
And mother, there are trees!
And mother, if you please,
Just buy that baby-house for me—
And mother, there are trees!
“And mother, Harry loves a hoop;
And Lewis loves a ball—
And there is such a rocking-horse!
Dear mother, buy them all.”
And Lewis loves a ball—
And there is such a rocking-horse!
Dear mother, buy them all.”
Before her mother could reply,
A little ragged child,
Approached the counter where they stood,
And said in accents mild,
A little ragged child,
Approached the counter where they stood,
And said in accents mild,
“Please lady, I am poor and sick,
And weak for want of food;
O give me something if you please—
Dear lady be so good.”
And weak for want of food;
O give me something if you please—
Dear lady be so good.”
35
Tears gathered fast in Flora's eyes;
She bent her little head,
And pressing to her mother's side,
In faltering tone she said,
She bent her little head,
And pressing to her mother's side,
In faltering tone she said,
“Oh mother! mother! take her home,
For we have bread to spare;
And she shall sleep upon my bed,
And have my clothes to wear.
For we have bread to spare;
And she shall sleep upon my bed,
And have my clothes to wear.
“Oh, mother, see! she really has
No shoes upon her feet!
I wonder if she ever had
As much as she could eat?”
No shoes upon her feet!
I wonder if she ever had
As much as she could eat?”
Her mother listened thoughtfully;
And then she gently led
Her steps aside; and in her ear,
With serious voice she said,
And then she gently led
Her steps aside; and in her ear,
With serious voice she said,
“I pity this poor little girl,
But listen, Flora dear;
For you have in your hand the means,
Her heavy heart to cheer.
But listen, Flora dear;
For you have in your hand the means,
Her heavy heart to cheer.
36
“Can you resign this pretty doll,
To purchase bread for her?
I want you dear, to choose yourself,
Just which you would prefer.”
To purchase bread for her?
I want you dear, to choose yourself,
Just which you would prefer.”
But Flora did not pause to think;
The glittering coin of gold,
Her father's precious birthday gift,
She loosened in her hold:
The glittering coin of gold,
Her father's precious birthday gift,
She loosened in her hold:
And dropped it in her mother's purse,
With joyous eager look;
Then turning to the ragged child,
Her meagre hand she took.
With joyous eager look;
Then turning to the ragged child,
Her meagre hand she took.
And as they passed from shop to shop,
To purchase clothes and bread,
She understood the meaning in
The words her father said.
To purchase clothes and bread,
She understood the meaning in
The words her father said.
Her heart rejoiced in power to aid,
A fellow creature's need;
And so she proved her birthday gift
Was chosen well, indeed.
A fellow creature's need;
And so she proved her birthday gift
Was chosen well, indeed.
37
Wild-Flowers.
I do not wish to gather them,
The wild flowers fresh and fair;
My touch would only wither them,
Children of sun and air!
I fill no water-vase with them,
Bind not with them my hair,
Wild solitudes were made for them,
Else desolate and bare.
The wild flowers fresh and fair;
My touch would only wither them,
Children of sun and air!
I fill no water-vase with them,
Bind not with them my hair,
Wild solitudes were made for them,
Else desolate and bare.
I look at them with loving eyes;
I bless them as I pass,
Sown thick as stars in midnight skies,
Among the moss and grass,
Wooing the dainty butterflies,
Their honey dew to sip;
And opening to the restless bees,
Their cool and fragrant lip.
I bless them as I pass,
Sown thick as stars in midnight skies,
Among the moss and grass,
38
Their honey dew to sip;
And opening to the restless bees,
Their cool and fragrant lip.
Where that old tree so far extends,
Its roots into the stream;
Just where the mossy green-sward ends
And sand and pebbles gleam;
The broad leaved water-lily bends,
As in a pleasant dream;
Most fit for dew the midnight sends,
Those golden goblets seem!
Its roots into the stream;
Just where the mossy green-sward ends
And sand and pebbles gleam;
The broad leaved water-lily bends,
As in a pleasant dream;
Most fit for dew the midnight sends,
Those golden goblets seem!
The wind-flowers nodding to the breeze,
In all wild places blow;
Sweet violets, whose localities,
The village children know.
Tall columbines that woo the bees,
On rocky ledges grow,
And swing beneath the forest trees
Their bright bells too and fro.
In all wild places blow;
Sweet violets, whose localities,
The village children know.
Tall columbines that woo the bees,
On rocky ledges grow,
And swing beneath the forest trees
Their bright bells too and fro.
39
The dandelion, broadcast sown,
In meadow, field, and street,
Like golden coin at random thrown
Beneath the passing feet,
Thrives with a vigor all its own,
Defies the summer heat,
And far and wide, by breezes blown,
Its plumed seeds we meet.
In meadow, field, and street,
Like golden coin at random thrown
Beneath the passing feet,
Thrives with a vigor all its own,
Defies the summer heat,
And far and wide, by breezes blown,
Its plumed seeds we meet.
Bright blooms the kingly buttercup:
And smiling in the grass
The honest daisy looking up,
Salutes us as we pass.
And many an urn, and cup, and bell,
Blooming without a name;
But fairer far than tongue can tell,
Puts mimic art to shame.
And smiling in the grass
The honest daisy looking up,
Salutes us as we pass.
And many an urn, and cup, and bell,
Blooming without a name;
But fairer far than tongue can tell,
Puts mimic art to shame.
Fair blossoms scattered everywhere,
Sweet tokens manifest,
Of God's abounding love and care;
Who knoweth what is best.
Who giveth them the summer air,
Out of the sweet south-west;
Bids earth a genial soil prepare,
And warms them in her breast.
Sweet tokens manifest,
Of God's abounding love and care;
Who knoweth what is best.
40
Out of the sweet south-west;
Bids earth a genial soil prepare,
And warms them in her breast.
41
The Promise.
Good evening, little Lizzie,
You see me safe at last;
Have you been counting every hour,
And moment as it pass'd?
You see me safe at last;
Have you been counting every hour,
And moment as it pass'd?
Right glad am I to see you, dear,
How often through the day,
I thought about my little girl,
At study, work, or play.
How often through the day,
I thought about my little girl,
At study, work, or play.
Come, tell me all that you have done,
How pass'd the time with you?
Did you contrive to finish, all
The work you had to do?
How pass'd the time with you?
Did you contrive to finish, all
The work you had to do?
42
The sum begun upon your slate,
The page you had to spell,
The copy in your writing-book,
I hope is written well.
The page you had to spell,
The copy in your writing-book,
I hope is written well.
And then for dolly's dress, you know,
You had the skirt to hem,
And the new shoe-strings in your shoes,
Have you remembered them?
You had the skirt to hem,
And the new shoe-strings in your shoes,
Have you remembered them?
Come, tell me, when your play-time came,
What merry games you played?
And where you walked this afternoon,
When all your tasks were said.
What merry games you played?
And where you walked this afternoon,
When all your tasks were said.
And then your promise, Lizzie, dear,
About the little bird—
I hope you have remembered that,
And kept it to the word?
About the little bird—
I hope you have remembered that,
And kept it to the word?
Come close to me, my darling child—
Now look into my face;
Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie! what is wrong?
Here is some sad disgrace!
Now look into my face;
Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie! what is wrong?
Here is some sad disgrace!
43
You do not wish to tell me so,
But why are you afraid,
If you have kept right honestly
The promises you made?
But why are you afraid,
If you have kept right honestly
The promises you made?
Do you remember, Lizzie, dear,
In talking yesterday,
I told you of a little child
Whose name was Minnie Gray?
In talking yesterday,
I told you of a little child
Whose name was Minnie Gray?
One day, quite early in the spring,
Her grandmamma thought fit,
To carry to the nearest town,
The stockings she had knit.
Her grandmamma thought fit,
To carry to the nearest town,
The stockings she had knit.
In summer time she spun the yarn,
In winter dark and cold,
She made it into socks and mits,
Which every spring she sold.
In winter dark and cold,
She made it into socks and mits,
Which every spring she sold.
So, as I said, one morning fine,
Quite early in the spring;
When sunshine lay upon the grass,
And birds were on the wing.
Quite early in the spring;
When sunshine lay upon the grass,
And birds were on the wing.
44
She hung her basket on her arm,
Took up her stout old cane;
Looked upwards at the sunny sky,
And down the shady lane.
Took up her stout old cane;
Looked upwards at the sunny sky,
And down the shady lane.
But e'er she left the cottage door,
She called to Minnie Gray,
And bade her listen carefully,
To all she had to say.
She called to Minnie Gray,
And bade her listen carefully,
To all she had to say.
And though her voice was sometimes stern,
Her heart was warm and kind;
For well she loved the little girl,
Whom she must leave behind.
Her heart was warm and kind;
For well she loved the little girl,
Whom she must leave behind.
“Now, Minnie, sweep the kitchen floor,
And dust the table well;
While I am gone to Dreamingdale,
These socks and mits to sell.
And dust the table well;
While I am gone to Dreamingdale,
These socks and mits to sell.
“Clear up the litter in the yard,
Scrub the old door-step clean;
Nor stop till not a speck of dust
Can anywhere be seen.
Scrub the old door-step clean;
Nor stop till not a speck of dust
Can anywhere be seen.
45
“Remember, too, the old brown hen,
At noon she must be fed;
Give her a dozen grains of corn,
Besides the crumbs of bread.
At noon she must be fed;
Give her a dozen grains of corn,
Besides the crumbs of bread.
“Then there is bread and milk for you,
After your work is done;
And—water the geranium,
And set it in the sun.
After your work is done;
And—water the geranium,
And set it in the sun.
“And one thing, Minnie, keep in mind,
Watch over pussy, too;
No knowing when my back is turned,
What mischief it may do.
Watch over pussy, too;
No knowing when my back is turned,
What mischief it may do.
“But child, before I go to town
One promise you must make;
For well I know my little girl,
A promise will not break.
One promise you must make;
For well I know my little girl,
A promise will not break.
“Promise you will not leave the house,
However long I stay;
For Dreamingdale is three miles off,
I may be gone all day:
However long I stay;
For Dreamingdale is three miles off,
I may be gone all day:
46
“But if you say you will not go,
A step beyond the gate,
I shall not feel concerned for you,
However long you wait.”
A step beyond the gate,
I shall not feel concerned for you,
However long you wait.”
So Minnie promised she would do,
The work as she was bid;
And keep within the garden gate—
For so she always did.
The work as she was bid;
And keep within the garden gate—
For so she always did.
Then slowly the old woman took
Her way along the lane,
Beneath the over-arching trees,
Nor once looked back again.
Her way along the lane,
Beneath the over-arching trees,
Nor once looked back again.
And Minnie, standing at the door,
A happy child was she!
Watched the old woman on her road,
As far as she could see.
A happy child was she!
Watched the old woman on her road,
As far as she could see.
And then she turned to do her work,
And hunted up the broom,
To brush the litter from the path,
And sweep and dust the room.
And hunted up the broom,
To brush the litter from the path,
And sweep and dust the room.
47
A merry song she sung the while,
Glad as a bird; and then
She watered the geranium,
And fed the old brown hen.
Glad as a bird; and then
She watered the geranium,
And fed the old brown hen.
She talked at times to pussy, who
Laid sleeping on a mat,
Dreaming of mice, and things that please
The fancies of a cat.
Laid sleeping on a mat,
Dreaming of mice, and things that please
The fancies of a cat.
Puss answered not a word she said,
Not even by a mew,
Though there is not a doubt she had
Her own opinions too.
Not even by a mew,
Though there is not a doubt she had
Her own opinions too.
But Minnie wished her young again,
A kitten, full of play;
She looked so stupid, dozing there,
On such a sunny day.
A kitten, full of play;
She looked so stupid, dozing there,
On such a sunny day.
And Minnie thought if she could go,
Like puss, where she might please,
How she would skip along the lane,
Beneath the shady trees!
Like puss, where she might please,
How she would skip along the lane,
Beneath the shady trees!
48
And as she thought so, in her heart
She heard the waters run
In tuneful song—she saw the waves
Go dancing in the sun.
She heard the waters run
In tuneful song—she saw the waves
Go dancing in the sun.
She thought the violets must be blown,
Blue violets fresh and sweet;
She seemed to feel the soft green moss
Yield gently to her feet.
Blue violets fresh and sweet;
She seemed to feel the soft green moss
Yield gently to her feet.
She knew a water-lily, too,
Had lifted up its head;
Just where the waters of the brook,
Into a pool had spread.
Had lifted up its head;
Just where the waters of the brook,
Into a pool had spread.
And in the meadow, just beyond,
Stood blooming cherry trees;
With fragrant blossoms, all alive
With merry humming bees.
Stood blooming cherry trees;
With fragrant blossoms, all alive
With merry humming bees.
Just then a splendid butterfly,
With wings of gold and green,
Went sailing by the open door,
The sky and her between.
With wings of gold and green,
Went sailing by the open door,
The sky and her between.
49
And darker grew the little room,
And closer seemed the air;
And every moment more she felt,
Herself a prisoner there.
And closer seemed the air;
And every moment more she felt,
Herself a prisoner there.
And out-doors brighter grew the sky,
More deep the shadow lay;
And ever chiming in her ear,
She heard the waters play.
More deep the shadow lay;
And ever chiming in her ear,
She heard the waters play.
Oh! what should keep her, what detain
Those little active feet,
When bird and bee seemed calling her
With voices kind and sweet?
Those little active feet,
When bird and bee seemed calling her
With voices kind and sweet?
Oh! what should keep her longer there?
Her work, it all was done
And grandmamma would not return
Before the setting sun.
Her work, it all was done
And grandmamma would not return
Before the setting sun.
She sprang up from her little chair,
Took down her old straw hat,
And bounding to the open door,
Leaped o'er the sleeping cat.
Took down her old straw hat,
And bounding to the open door,
Leaped o'er the sleeping cat.
50
She darted down the garden path,
She reached the outer gate,
But something whispered in her heart,
Stop, Minnie! stop, and wait.
She reached the outer gate,
But something whispered in her heart,
Stop, Minnie! stop, and wait.
A robin caroled in the tree,
He seemed to bid her go;
But something speaking in her heart
Said still more clearly, no!
He seemed to bid her go;
But something speaking in her heart
Said still more clearly, no!
Again the butterfly sailed past,
Almost within her grasp;
But, though her hand was on the gate,
She did not loose the hasp.
Almost within her grasp;
But, though her hand was on the gate,
She did not loose the hasp.
With firm resolve she put aside
The restless wish to roam,
And turning from the shady lane,
Walked slowly to her home.
The restless wish to roam,
And turning from the shady lane,
Walked slowly to her home.
Hung up again her old straw hat,
Roused pussy with a start;
And perfect was the peace that filled,
Her faithful little heart.
Roused pussy with a start;
And perfect was the peace that filled,
Her faithful little heart.
51
Long hours must slowly pass along,
Before the day was done;
For now, the distant old church clock,
Was only chiming one.
Before the day was done;
For now, the distant old church clock,
Was only chiming one.
Yet fearless, happy in herself,
The patient, truthful child,
With all around, within, without,
The long bright hours beguiled.
The patient, truthful child,
With all around, within, without,
The long bright hours beguiled.
A sparrow hopped across the path;
And Minnie thought it clear,
Because some hay was in its bill,
Its nest was very near.
And Minnie thought it clear,
Because some hay was in its bill,
Its nest was very near.
A spider wove his net-like web,
With wondrous art and skill;
She watched him spin out thread by thread,
And fasten it at will.
With wondrous art and skill;
She watched him spin out thread by thread,
And fasten it at will.
There came a glittering dragon fly,
Unconscious of the snare;
And quickly all his gauzy wings,
Were closely fettered there.
Unconscious of the snare;
And quickly all his gauzy wings,
Were closely fettered there.
52
But Minnie gently broke his chains,
And set the prisoner free;
Then watched him as he darted off
Beyond the apple-tree.
And set the prisoner free;
Then watched him as he darted off
Beyond the apple-tree.
Then, on the fence, a busy wren,
With restless eye she saw,
Looking about until he found
A slender piece of straw.
With restless eye she saw,
Looking about until he found
A slender piece of straw.
And having poised it in his bill,
With balance nice and true,
He spread his sober-colored wings,
And darted from her view.
With balance nice and true,
He spread his sober-colored wings,
And darted from her view.
She watched the dappling shadows move,
Across the cottage floor;
As the wind waved the great oak tree,
Before the open door.
Across the cottage floor;
As the wind waved the great oak tree,
Before the open door.
Saw the swift swallows dart between
The green wind-parted leaves;
And thought she heard their little ones,
Chirp, chirping in the eaves.
The green wind-parted leaves;
And thought she heard their little ones,
Chirp, chirping in the eaves.
53
Till she forgot the rippling brook,
The merry humming bees;
And thought no longer of the lane,
And over-arching trees.
The merry humming bees;
And thought no longer of the lane,
And over-arching trees.
So wore the afternoon away—
To Minnie's happy thought,
Each moment of the passing time,
Some new, fresh interest brought.
To Minnie's happy thought,
Each moment of the passing time,
Some new, fresh interest brought.
And sooner far than she had hoped,
Long e'er the twilight came,
Slow creeping up the garden path,
She saw the weary dame.
Long e'er the twilight came,
Slow creeping up the garden path,
She saw the weary dame.
Who said, the folks in Dreamingdale,
Had all her stockings bought;
And so she had reached home again,
Much sooner than she thought.
Had all her stockings bought;
And so she had reached home again,
Much sooner than she thought.
“Now, Minnie, you may go,” said she,
“An hour or two and play;
And you may stay till supper-time
With little Susan May.”
“An hour or two and play;
And you may stay till supper-time
With little Susan May.”
54
And there was Susan, on her way,
Just going home from school;
And so they went to see the fair
White lily in the pool.
Just going home from school;
And so they went to see the fair
White lily in the pool.
And then they crossed the mossy bank,
Where violets white and blue,
Bloom always earliest in the spring,
As little Minnie knew.
Where violets white and blue,
Bloom always earliest in the spring,
As little Minnie knew.
Joyous they climbed the meadow stile,
To see the cherry trees;
And hear the pleasant murmuring sounds,
Made by the golden bees.
To see the cherry trees;
And hear the pleasant murmuring sounds,
Made by the golden bees.
And long they lingered on the plank,
Across the rippling brook;
And crimson sunshine slanted low,
Athwart the path they took.
Across the rippling brook;
And crimson sunshine slanted low,
Athwart the path they took.
And glorious shone the setting sun,
And golden seemed the air;
Nature to Minnie's happy heart
Seemed smiling everywhere.
And golden seemed the air;
Nature to Minnie's happy heart
Seemed smiling everywhere.
55
And thankfully her evening prayer,
She said before she slept,
Because, that day right faithfully,
Her promise had been kept.
She said before she slept,
Because, that day right faithfully,
Her promise had been kept.
56
Honeysuckle.
Honeysuckle wild and free,
Poets do not sing of thee!
Art thou flower? or art thou gem?
Red as any coral stem,
Brought up by the diver bold,
From the ocean deep and cold?
Poets do not sing of thee!
Art thou flower? or art thou gem?
Red as any coral stem,
Brought up by the diver bold,
From the ocean deep and cold?
Bright and glowing in the sun—
Tube-like blossoms one by one,
Ranged the slender stem around;
Tuneful always with the sound,
Of restless humming-bird and bee,
Honey-won to come to thee;
Blooming all the summer through,
Full of sunshine, full of dew,
Fearless of the changing weather,
Taking cloud and shine together;
Type of use and beauty too,
Honeysuckle, thanks to you!
Tube-like blossoms one by one,
Ranged the slender stem around;
Tuneful always with the sound,
Of restless humming-bird and bee,
Honey-won to come to thee;
57
Full of sunshine, full of dew,
Fearless of the changing weather,
Taking cloud and shine together;
Type of use and beauty too,
Honeysuckle, thanks to you!
When I see thee wreathing thus,
With the pale convolvolus,
Straightway fancy comes and tells,
Tales of rose-lip'd Indian shells;
Tells of fair and orient pearls,
Worn by dusky Island girls;
Brings the low and plashing sound,
Blent with murmur more profound;
Caused by foamy rushing waves,
Through the hollow ocean caves;
Where the Nereides hold their court,
And the wild sea monsters sport;
While the white surf chafes and wrangles,
And the dulse and sea-weed tangles—
Shows me where the tropic night,
With its moonbeams calm and white,
Bathes the wide and sandy beaches,
Of the vast Pacific reaches;
And the broad Atlantic waves,
Madeira's spicy islands laves.
With the pale convolvolus,
Straightway fancy comes and tells,
Tales of rose-lip'd Indian shells;
Tells of fair and orient pearls,
Worn by dusky Island girls;
Brings the low and plashing sound,
Blent with murmur more profound;
Caused by foamy rushing waves,
Through the hollow ocean caves;
Where the Nereides hold their court,
And the wild sea monsters sport;
While the white surf chafes and wrangles,
And the dulse and sea-weed tangles—
Shows me where the tropic night,
With its moonbeams calm and white,
58
Of the vast Pacific reaches;
And the broad Atlantic waves,
Madeira's spicy islands laves.
And guided still by Fancy's hand,
I wander on o'er sea and land;
The strangest wildest tracts explore,
And tread thy desert streets, Tadmore!
Walk in the camel's footsteps, and
Approach the gates of Samarcand.
See the huge bales of ivory white,
And ostrich plumes and gold-dust bright,
By the swart negroes brought to trade,
For glass and beads by white men made.
Or wander 'neath the giant pines,
Where sunset on Columbia shines;
And trace the bounds in silent awe,
Of that fair lake which Fremont saw,
High on the Rocky Mountain's crest,
With stars like jewels on its breast.
Or seek repose beneath the shade,
By fair Sumatra's palm tree made;
Where mingled airs of spice and balm
Are wafted o'er the waters calm.
Or visit in the northern seas
The bleak, wind-beaten Hebrides;
Or count on Norway's barren strands,
The huge seals sleeping on the sands.
I wander on o'er sea and land;
The strangest wildest tracts explore,
And tread thy desert streets, Tadmore!
Walk in the camel's footsteps, and
Approach the gates of Samarcand.
See the huge bales of ivory white,
And ostrich plumes and gold-dust bright,
By the swart negroes brought to trade,
For glass and beads by white men made.
Or wander 'neath the giant pines,
Where sunset on Columbia shines;
And trace the bounds in silent awe,
Of that fair lake which Fremont saw,
High on the Rocky Mountain's crest,
With stars like jewels on its breast.
Or seek repose beneath the shade,
By fair Sumatra's palm tree made;
59
Are wafted o'er the waters calm.
Or visit in the northern seas
The bleak, wind-beaten Hebrides;
Or count on Norway's barren strands,
The huge seals sleeping on the sands.
Laugh at me who can and will—
Am I not a gainer still?
Since these fancies all were bred,
By saying thou wert coral red!
Am I not a gainer still?
Since these fancies all were bred,
By saying thou wert coral red!
60
The Nest.
Farmer Gray had a field of sweet clover,
The bees left the flowers to go to it;
There were strawberries red in his garden bed,
And the little brown singing birds knew it.
The bees left the flowers to go to it;
There were strawberries red in his garden bed,
And the little brown singing birds knew it.
He lived in a house with old out-spreading eaves,
The swallows built there without number;
At the dawning of day they twittered away,
And roused the old man from his slumber.
The swallows built there without number;
At the dawning of day they twittered away,
And roused the old man from his slumber.
Yet he was not so old, tho' the neighbors did say,
They remembered him when he was younger;
The beggars would wait, at his old garden gate,
Quite sure of relief from their hunger.
They remembered him when he was younger;
The beggars would wait, at his old garden gate,
Quite sure of relief from their hunger.
61
He lived all alone—the dear happy old man—
And care seemed afraid to molest him,
And gentle and wise were his tranquil old eyes,
Not a soul in the village but blessed him.
And care seemed afraid to molest him,
And gentle and wise were his tranquil old eyes,
Not a soul in the village but blessed him.
I remember him well—I have sat on his knee,
And played with his weather-browned fingers;
And still in my dreams, kind and loving he seems,
So freshly the memory lingers.
And played with his weather-browned fingers;
And still in my dreams, kind and loving he seems,
So freshly the memory lingers.
He was healthy and hearty, the merry old man!
And down on his shoulders the locks
Of shining white hair used to float in the air,
As white as the fleece of his flocks.
And down on his shoulders the locks
Of shining white hair used to float in the air,
As white as the fleece of his flocks.
One day as I passed by his moss-covered gate,
He said, with his eyes full of glee,
“Come here, little one, when your lessons are done,
I have something will charm you to see.”
He said, with his eyes full of glee,
“Come here, little one, when your lessons are done,
I have something will charm you to see.”
All that day my lessons seemed,
Very useless toil to me;
All that I could care for, was,
That same “something” I should see.
Very useless toil to me;
All that I could care for, was,
That same “something” I should see.
62
Verbs I had to conjugate,
Weary lines of words to spell;
Maps to study—it was all
Dropping water in a well.
Weary lines of words to spell;
Maps to study—it was all
Dropping water in a well.
Ah those days! the restless fly
'Neath the ceiling circling round,
Not more active was than I,
More impatient of a bound!
'Neath the ceiling circling round,
Not more active was than I,
More impatient of a bound!
Noon at length, to dine and play,
Then the short bright afternoon;
Then dismissal—Farmer Gray
I was with you very soon!
Then the short bright afternoon;
Then dismissal—Farmer Gray
I was with you very soon!
Dancing down the garden path,
With the child-like dear old man;
Feeling in my eager heart,
That which childhood only can:
With the child-like dear old man;
Feeling in my eager heart,
That which childhood only can:
That expecting, open trust,
Which no wonder can amaze;
When the wildest, strangest dreams,
Are the food of common days.
Which no wonder can amaze;
When the wildest, strangest dreams,
Are the food of common days.
63
Had he led me to a cavern
Where the giants made their home;
Had he shown me golden dwellings
Fit for fairy or for gnome;
Where the giants made their home;
Had he shown me golden dwellings
Fit for fairy or for gnome;
Led me to the singing water,
Flying fish, or talking bird;
In those days my faith was ready,
Trusting all I saw or heard.
Flying fish, or talking bird;
In those days my faith was ready,
Trusting all I saw or heard.
Not as wonders, not as marvels,
Only beautiful and new;
In those days I never questioned
What was false or what was true.
Only beautiful and new;
In those days I never questioned
What was false or what was true.
But the old man had no marvel,
Roc's egg, or wild winged horse;
Not a Hippogriff or griffin,
To be but a thing of course.
Roc's egg, or wild winged horse;
Not a Hippogriff or griffin,
To be but a thing of course.
Only by the old stone gate-way,
In the handle of a spade,
With the strangest want of caution,
Jenny Wren a nest had made.
In the handle of a spade,
With the strangest want of caution,
Jenny Wren a nest had made.
64
Trees were near, she might have built it
Safely in their mossy arms;
In the hedge was many a corner,
More secure from all alarms.
Safely in their mossy arms;
In the hedge was many a corner,
More secure from all alarms.
By her side all farm-yard travel,
Inward, outward, daily led,
There went prancing colts to pasture—
Oxen bent with horned head.
Inward, outward, daily led,
There went prancing colts to pasture—
Oxen bent with horned head.
Bleating sheep, and lowing cattle,
Frisking calves and cows sedate;
Crowing cocks and strutting bantams,
Night and morning passed the gate.
Frisking calves and cows sedate;
Crowing cocks and strutting bantams,
Night and morning passed the gate.
Jenny thought them all good neighbors,
Never fluttered from her nest;
While her mate in careless freedom,
Came and went as pleased him best.
Never fluttered from her nest;
While her mate in careless freedom,
Came and went as pleased him best.
Strange to tell, no careless passing,
Injured nest or frightened bird;
All day long their merry music
Through the barn-yard could be heard.
Injured nest or frightened bird;
All day long their merry music
Through the barn-yard could be heard.
65
Days passed on—and every evening,
Farmer Gray and I had peeped
In the nest, and gently listened
If the little wrens had cheeped.
Farmer Gray and I had peeped
In the nest, and gently listened
If the little wrens had cheeped.
Days passed on—at last the mother,
Underneath her downy wings,
Hides four curious little creatures!
And how proud the father sings.
Underneath her downy wings,
Hides four curious little creatures!
And how proud the father sings.
Now, indeed, may Jenny tremble,
All her risk is more than doubled;
Yet above her unfledged darlings,
On her nest she sits untroubled.
All her risk is more than doubled;
Yet above her unfledged darlings,
On her nest she sits untroubled.
Wary, watchful, never tiring,
Glancing here, and glancing there;
One might think her fearless trusting,
Made her every creature's care.
Glancing here, and glancing there;
One might think her fearless trusting,
Made her every creature's care.
Day by day the little fledglings,
Grew more stout, and grew more strong;
Day by day the busy parents,
Came and went with merry song.
Grew more stout, and grew more strong;
Day by day the busy parents,
Came and went with merry song.
66
Day by day the feathers gathered,
Closer on their breast and wings;
The warm nest was quite too narrow,
Long to keep the restless things.
Closer on their breast and wings;
The warm nest was quite too narrow,
Long to keep the restless things.
Then what planning—what contriving!
No safe twigs were in their reach;
How they twittered—how they chattered!
Bird-talk, almost human speech.
No safe twigs were in their reach;
How they twittered—how they chattered!
Bird-talk, almost human speech.
One by one, at last they ventured,
First with slow and cautious play,
Then with stronger, bolder freedom,
One and all they flew away.
First with slow and cautious play,
Then with stronger, bolder freedom,
One and all they flew away.
67
Garden-Flowers.
The dear old fashioned garden flowers,
My childhood thought so fair and sweet,
Are records now of happy hours,
And bloom with memories replete.
Smile not—for ah! they seem to be
Kindred, and dear old friends to me!
My childhood thought so fair and sweet,
Are records now of happy hours,
And bloom with memories replete.
Smile not—for ah! they seem to be
Kindred, and dear old friends to me!
Who plants the Morning-glory now?
Who trains a woodbine round his door?
The Cacti droop, the Dahlias bow,
Where scented Wall-flowers stood before.
Camelias with their scentless bloom,
Have left for Roses little room.
Who trains a woodbine round his door?
The Cacti droop, the Dahlias bow,
Where scented Wall-flowers stood before.
Camelias with their scentless bloom,
Have left for Roses little room.
68
Where is the Sweet-brier, closely armed,
With thorns in fierce array:
Yet when the sun its foliage warmed,
Sweet as the breath of May.
When Daisies dappled o'er the ground,
And Heart's-ease everywhere was found!
With thorns in fierce array:
Yet when the sun its foliage warmed,
Sweet as the breath of May.
When Daisies dappled o'er the ground,
And Heart's-ease everywhere was found!
The Damask roses, early blown,
In every garden once were seen;
Convolvolus—now scarcely known—
And blossoms of the Scarlet bean.
And underneath the cottage eaves,
Grew purple Flags with lance-shaped leaves,
In every garden once were seen;
Convolvolus—now scarcely known—
And blossoms of the Scarlet bean.
And underneath the cottage eaves,
Grew purple Flags with lance-shaped leaves,
Where is the yellow Daffodil?
The little Snow-drop's waxen cells?
Phlox blowing at its own sweet will,
And graceful Canterbury bells?
Who gives the honest Cowslip place,
Or Rosemary, “the herb of grace.”
The little Snow-drop's waxen cells?
Phlox blowing at its own sweet will,
And graceful Canterbury bells?
Who gives the honest Cowslip place,
Or Rosemary, “the herb of grace.”
69
Sweet Williams, warm with varied dyes,
Rich spicy Pinks—pale Lavender;
Sweet peas, with wings like butterflies,
And Southernwood, like scented myrrh:
The Crocus, smiling in the snow,
The Peony with its crimson glow.
Rich spicy Pinks—pale Lavender;
Sweet peas, with wings like butterflies,
And Southernwood, like scented myrrh:
The Crocus, smiling in the snow,
The Peony with its crimson glow.
The small pale rose of fragrant musk,
The Hyacinth of fragrant bloom;
The Primrose opening in the dusk,
The Gilliflower of rare perfume:
The Balsams bright with every hue,
The Larkspur gay in pink and blue.
The Hyacinth of fragrant bloom;
The Primrose opening in the dusk,
The Gilliflower of rare perfume:
The Balsams bright with every hue,
The Larkspur gay in pink and blue.
Fair Lilies, which would never blow
Upon our cold and sordid earth,
But that God planted them to show,
What perfect purity was worth:
Tulips in rainbow colors drest,
Tall Sunflowers nodding towards the west:
Upon our cold and sordid earth,
But that God planted them to show,
What perfect purity was worth:
Tulips in rainbow colors drest,
Tall Sunflowers nodding towards the west:
70
Dear are they each and every one!
And tho' my pleasant youth is gone,
Sweet thoughts for me are treasured up,
In every leaf and fragrant cup.
And let me meet them where I will,
Youth comes back to me, with a thrill,
Recalling by-past happy hours—
Blest be the common Garden-Flowers!
And tho' my pleasant youth is gone,
Sweet thoughts for me are treasured up,
In every leaf and fragrant cup.
And let me meet them where I will,
Youth comes back to me, with a thrill,
Recalling by-past happy hours—
Blest be the common Garden-Flowers!
71
The Snow-Storm.
Yes, patiently, dear, you have waited,
And quietly played by my chair;
And though sometimes I seemed not to see you,
Yet always I felt you were there.
And quietly played by my chair;
And though sometimes I seemed not to see you,
Yet always I felt you were there.
And now that my labor is finished,
The last pages numbered and read:
Call Helen away from her music,
And send to the nursery for Fred.
The last pages numbered and read:
Call Helen away from her music,
And send to the nursery for Fred.
There is one hour, at least, before sunset,
And that, little Kate, is for you;
You shall have your own choice how to use it,
And plan for us what we must do.
And that, little Kate, is for you;
You shall have your own choice how to use it,
And plan for us what we must do.
72
Shall we go to the pleasant green meadow,
Where we found the first violet last spring?
Or walk to the mill-race and listen,
To hear the sweet wood-robin sing?
Where we found the first violet last spring?
Or walk to the mill-race and listen,
To hear the sweet wood-robin sing?
Or shall we go into the village,
Blind Mary I hear is not well,
Shall we take her some cream? I must ask her
If she has any stockings to sell.
Blind Mary I hear is not well,
Shall we take her some cream? I must ask her
If she has any stockings to sell.
Let me fasten the strings of your bonnet,
And Fred must walk close by your side;
Stop, Katie, one moment for Helen!
There, one of your shoes is untied.
And Fred must walk close by your side;
Stop, Katie, one moment for Helen!
There, one of your shoes is untied.
I see you are looking for Bruno,
Well, let the old fellow come too;
Do you know he has two little children,
And both of them older than you?
Well, let the old fellow come too;
Do you know he has two little children,
And both of them older than you?
You laugh—but I do not deceive you,
If Bruno could speak he would say,
“Yes, Kate, I have two little children,
Come see them, I'll show you the way.”
If Bruno could speak he would say,
“Yes, Kate, I have two little children,
Come see them, I'll show you the way.”
73
We have time to go round by the meadow,
And so by the race to the mill;
Where Bruno's two children are living,
In the cot at the foot of the hill.
And so by the race to the mill;
Where Bruno's two children are living,
In the cot at the foot of the hill.
As we walk, I will tell you the story,
Of the storm when the children were lost;
And how, but for brave noble Bruno,
They both would have died in the frost.
Of the storm when the children were lost;
And how, but for brave noble Bruno,
They both would have died in the frost.
Now listen, my darlings; the spring time,
The summer, the autumn, the snow,
Have pass'd since the winter I speak of,
For now it is two years ago.
The summer, the autumn, the snow,
Have pass'd since the winter I speak of,
For now it is two years ago.
Little Fred was asleep in his cradle,
And you undisturbed by the storm,
With kisses and blessings, my darlings,
In your own bed were covered up warm.
And you undisturbed by the storm,
With kisses and blessings, my darlings,
In your own bed were covered up warm.
Mamma sat close by with her knitting;
She thought of the poor and the old,
Of houses, where closets were empty,
And hearths, where the ashes were cold.
She thought of the poor and the old,
Of houses, where closets were empty,
And hearths, where the ashes were cold.
74
Of mothers, who hungered and shivered,
With babies as tender as Fred;
And then, with the tears on her eyelids,
She turned to your warm little bed,
With babies as tender as Fred;
And then, with the tears on her eyelids,
She turned to your warm little bed,
And prayed to the merciful Father,
Who sheltered her lambs in the fold;
For faster and faster the snow fell,
The wind was more piercing and cold!
Who sheltered her lambs in the fold;
For faster and faster the snow fell,
The wind was more piercing and cold!
Smoke hung o'er the distant city,
Lights gleamed from the nearer town,
When the first few flakes at sunset
Had silently drifted down.
Lights gleamed from the nearer town,
When the first few flakes at sunset
Had silently drifted down.
North-east the cold wind had been blowing,
In gusty sobs all day;
But e'er the short twilight ended,
It suddenly died away.
In gusty sobs all day;
But e'er the short twilight ended,
It suddenly died away.
And deeply the darkness gathered,
With the heavy snow-clouds round;
And feet on the whitened pathway,
Passed by with a muffled sound.
With the heavy snow-clouds round;
And feet on the whitened pathway,
Passed by with a muffled sound.
75
And slowly the deep, dark river,
Through the cavernous arches pass'd;
Where the lights on the bridge a lurid glow,
On its moving blackness cast.
Through the cavernous arches pass'd;
Where the lights on the bridge a lurid glow,
On its moving blackness cast.
I sat in a pleasant parlor,
Where the fire was blazing bright;
On a cushioned chair, with a foot-stool soft,
To read by a shaded light.
Where the fire was blazing bright;
On a cushioned chair, with a foot-stool soft,
To read by a shaded light.
The book was a wondrous story,
A tale of the olden time;
It was full of romance and glory,
And told in an ancient rhyme.
A tale of the olden time;
It was full of romance and glory,
And told in an ancient rhyme.
And Bruno was there beside me,
Spread out on the hearth-rug warm;
He seemed to enjoy the shelter,
As he dreamily heard the storm.
Spread out on the hearth-rug warm;
He seemed to enjoy the shelter,
As he dreamily heard the storm.
And slowly he raised one eyelid,
The blazing fire to see;
Then sleepily raised the other,
And drowsily looked at me.
The blazing fire to see;
Then sleepily raised the other,
And drowsily looked at me.
76
“Old Bruno,” said I, without moving,
Tried, trusted, and steady, and brave!
He lifted his head when he heard me,
Gave his banner-like tail a wave,
Tried, trusted, and steady, and brave!
He lifted his head when he heard me,
Gave his banner-like tail a wave,
And then laid his head on the carpet,
Where his legs were extended crosswise;
And once more for his evening slumber,
He closed his sagacious old eyes.
Where his legs were extended crosswise;
And once more for his evening slumber,
He closed his sagacious old eyes.
The silence closed deeply round me;
The shutters were bolted fast,
But they shook with an angry rattle,
In the slowly-rising blast.
The shutters were bolted fast,
But they shook with an angry rattle,
In the slowly-rising blast.
Yet the heavy silken curtain,
Hung warm o'er the window pane,
And I strove to forget the snow-storm;
But the effort was all in vain.
Hung warm o'er the window pane,
And I strove to forget the snow-storm;
But the effort was all in vain.
I had seen as the twilight deepened,
Two children with weary feet,
Gazing sadly across the river,
Where the bridge and the footpath meet.
Two children with weary feet,
Gazing sadly across the river,
Where the bridge and the footpath meet.
77
They spoke not to one another;
But walked with an aimless tread,
As if they would follow the pathway,
Wherever its windings led.
But walked with an aimless tread,
As if they would follow the pathway,
Wherever its windings led.
They looked with a dreary wonder,
Far, far o'er the meadows white;
While faster and faster the snow-fall,
Was hiding the path from sight.
Far, far o'er the meadows white;
While faster and faster the snow-fall,
Was hiding the path from sight.
On—on—without question or pausing,
And yet in bewildered fear,
They continued their weary travel,
Through the night-storm cold and drear.
And yet in bewildered fear,
They continued their weary travel,
Through the night-storm cold and drear.
I saw that the boy had tightened,
His hold on his sister's hand,
When their feet on the covered bridgeway,
Passed off from the solid land.
His hold on his sister's hand,
When their feet on the covered bridgeway,
Passed off from the solid land.
And I watched them beyond the river,
By the misty toll-gate light;
And then, in the dim cold distance,
They slowly pass'd from sight.
By the misty toll-gate light;
And then, in the dim cold distance,
They slowly pass'd from sight.
78
Now I could not forget these children—
They were ever before my eye;
And the wind as it shook the casement,
Had the sound of a wailing cry.
They were ever before my eye;
And the wind as it shook the casement,
Had the sound of a wailing cry.
And the cosy fire and lamp-light,
With its warmth and quiet cheer,
Made me think the more of their danger,
Till my heart was sick with fear.
With its warmth and quiet cheer,
Made me think the more of their danger,
Till my heart was sick with fear.
Oh, what can we do to save them!
I said as I closed my book;
And Bruno stood up on the carpet,
With a roused inquiring look.
I said as I closed my book;
And Bruno stood up on the carpet,
With a roused inquiring look.
Then, slowly advancing towards me,
He laid his head on my knee,
As if he had said, “I am ready,
As ready as ready can be.”
He laid his head on my knee,
As if he had said, “I am ready,
As ready as ready can be.”
So wrapping my cloak around me,
And holding my beaver fast,
And calling on Bruno to follow,
Out into the storm we passed.
And holding my beaver fast,
And calling on Bruno to follow,
Out into the storm we passed.
79
Fast—fast—fell the blinding snow-flakes!
Keen, cold, the storm wind blew!
And there was not a single foot-print,
Had pass'd the deep snow-drifts through.
Keen, cold, the storm wind blew!
And there was not a single foot-print,
Had pass'd the deep snow-drifts through.
But the bridge-light still was shining,
And the dull and sullen roar
Of the stream through the low black arches,
Was sounding on before.
And the dull and sullen roar
Of the stream through the low black arches,
Was sounding on before.
And at last we reached the toll-gate,
And aroused the sleeping men,
Who said they had seen no children,
And sullenly slept again.
And aroused the sleeping men,
Who said they had seen no children,
And sullenly slept again.
Thou wert kinder than they, my Bruno!
In the depth of thy loving nature;
With thy faithful instincts all alive,
My noble fellow creature!
In the depth of thy loving nature;
With thy faithful instincts all alive,
My noble fellow creature!
He seemed almost to know the cause,
Of all my doubt and dread,
As slowly by my side he marched,
With grave and steady tread.
Of all my doubt and dread,
As slowly by my side he marched,
With grave and steady tread.
80
Nor did he leave me, till our feet,
From off the bridge had passed;
When whining low, he raised his head,
As if to scent the blast.
From off the bridge had passed;
When whining low, he raised his head,
As if to scent the blast.
Then with short circles through the drifts,
His long ears trailing low,
With rapid step and cautious nose,
Held level with the snow;
His long ears trailing low,
With rapid step and cautious nose,
Held level with the snow;
Moved by the impulse of his race,
Which prompts to seek and find,
He searched with instincts fine and true,
Where human eyes were blind.
Which prompts to seek and find,
He searched with instincts fine and true,
Where human eyes were blind.
Cold—cold—it seemed the biting frost
Had reached my very heart,
When suddenly, with joyous yelp,
Away I saw him start.
Had reached my very heart,
When suddenly, with joyous yelp,
Away I saw him start.
With ringing bark and eager leap
He bounded quickly back,
And seized my cloak, and tried to draw
My footsteps from the track.
He bounded quickly back,
And seized my cloak, and tried to draw
My footsteps from the track.
81
For not three paces from the path,
The children he had found;
Clasped in each other's arms, they lay
Snow-covered on the ground.
The children he had found;
Clasped in each other's arms, they lay
Snow-covered on the ground.
With many a struggle, through the drift,
At last I made my way,
And reached the hollow sheltered spot
Where fast asleep they lay.
At last I made my way,
And reached the hollow sheltered spot
Where fast asleep they lay.
That sleep might be the sleep of death!
Fast—fast—the snow came down;
What should we do—how summon help
To reach us from the town!
Fast—fast—the snow came down;
What should we do—how summon help
To reach us from the town!
I wrapped the children in my cloak,
Its folds were wide and warm;
But Bruno, once more barking loud,
Had darted through the storm.
Its folds were wide and warm;
But Bruno, once more barking loud,
Had darted through the storm.
Where had he gone! would he return!
To try the path again,
Without his sure instinctive aid
I knew would be in vain.
To try the path again,
Without his sure instinctive aid
I knew would be in vain.
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But soon! how soon! his well-known bark,
Again was in my ear;
A gleaming light came through the snow—
Voices were sounding near!
Again was in my ear;
A gleaming light came through the snow—
Voices were sounding near!
And we were saved! (When Bruno's ears
Are lifted in that way,
Does he not seem to understand
The very words I say?)
Are lifted in that way,
Does he not seem to understand
The very words I say?)
You should have seen his leaps and bounds,
His gambols of delight;
His frantic plunging through the snow,
And heard his bark that night!
His gambols of delight;
His frantic plunging through the snow,
And heard his bark that night!
He licked our hands—he caught our clothes,
With rapid eager bound;
And every motion seemed to say,
They're found! they're found! they're found!
With rapid eager bound;
And every motion seemed to say,
They're found! they're found! they're found!
Great kindness to these homeless ones,
Our village folks have shown;
But to this day you see they are,
As Bruno's children known.
Our village folks have shown;
But to this day you see they are,
As Bruno's children known.
83
The Sparrow.
Once in a fine old forest,
A solemn council sat,—
Of little mice and birds against
Their common foe, the cat.
A solemn council sat,—
Of little mice and birds against
Their common foe, the cat.
And grave were the discussions,
And manifold the words,
And various the opinions,
Among the singing birds.
And manifold the words,
And various the opinions,
Among the singing birds.
The little mice, as most aggrieved,
Of course had least to say;
And even that, it seemed, the birds
Would not permit to weigh.
Of course had least to say;
And even that, it seemed, the birds
Would not permit to weigh.
84
For always those with fewest words
To make their sorrows known,
Are just precisely those to whom
Least sympathy is shown.
To make their sorrows known,
Are just precisely those to whom
Least sympathy is shown.
They made a Parrot chairman,
Which closely shut his beak;
And so the one who might have talked,
Was not allowed to speak.
Which closely shut his beak;
And so the one who might have talked,
Was not allowed to speak.
The Cat-bird, always ready,
Gave his peculiar call,
With such a force and emphasis,
As sorely scared them all.
Gave his peculiar call,
With such a force and emphasis,
As sorely scared them all.
The effect was very startling
On the youngest of the mice,
Who fairly squeaked with fear,
And left the council in a trice.
On the youngest of the mice,
Who fairly squeaked with fear,
And left the council in a trice.
The Wren thought the occasion
As important as could be;
But carolled something about haste,
And numerous progeny.
As important as could be;
But carolled something about haste,
And numerous progeny.
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The Blue-Jay said the thing was not
Exactly in his line;
But council over, hoped they all
Would go with him and dine.
Exactly in his line;
But council over, hoped they all
Would go with him and dine.
The Oriole thought that project
Was rather out of joint,
And warbled something of the need
Of sticking to the point.
Was rather out of joint,
And warbled something of the need
Of sticking to the point.
The Robin just suggested
Petition's holy right,
But that would not avail, unless
The mice would learn to write.
Petition's holy right,
But that would not avail, unless
The mice would learn to write.
The Thrush was grave and silent;
The Blue-bird and the Lark
Declared the whole affair, to them,
Appeared extremely dark.
The Blue-bird and the Lark
Declared the whole affair, to them,
Appeared extremely dark.
The Martin tribe attended,
And chattered loud and fast;
But what they said no creature there
Could tell, from first to last.
And chattered loud and fast;
But what they said no creature there
Could tell, from first to last.
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In short, the whole proceeding
Was very flat and stale;
And nothing was suggested,
Which seemed of much avail.
Was very flat and stale;
And nothing was suggested,
Which seemed of much avail.
When suddenly, a solemn Owl,
Who had not spoke before,
Said, from the hollow of a tree,
“Send an ambassador.”
Who had not spoke before,
Said, from the hollow of a tree,
“Send an ambassador.”
A grand idea to be sure,
And full of pomp and state,
And uttered in a tone that seemed
The oracle of fate.
And full of pomp and state,
And uttered in a tone that seemed
The oracle of fate.
A pert young Sparrow, who had hopped
All day from tree to tree,
Said, in the briskest of brisk tones,
“That is the work for me.”
All day from tree to tree,
Said, in the briskest of brisk tones,
“That is the work for me.”
The older birds, who knew the risk
Attendant on such things,
Declared they thought so too, but then
They laughed behind their wings.
Attendant on such things,
Declared they thought so too, but then
They laughed behind their wings.
87
The mice were all unanimous,
And while the vote was taken,
The pert young Sparrow kept his faith
And confidence unshaken.
And while the vote was taken,
The pert young Sparrow kept his faith
And confidence unshaken.
Thought he was wisest, when the rest
Thought him the greatest fool;
Nor once suspected he was used
As a convenient tool.
Thought him the greatest fool;
Nor once suspected he was used
As a convenient tool.
And with a voice he sought to make
Sound brave as it was steady,
He begged that his credentials might
Be signed, and sealed, and ready.
Sound brave as it was steady,
He begged that his credentials might
Be signed, and sealed, and ready.
His outfit, that important part
Of an ambassador,
Was such as never bird or mouse
Was known to have before.
Of an ambassador,
Was such as never bird or mouse
Was known to have before.
And he started on his mission,
With a deal of pomp and state;
But to this day a mystery
Is hanging o'er his fate.
With a deal of pomp and state;
But to this day a mystery
Is hanging o'er his fate.
88
And his name became a by-word,
Among the tribes of birds;
And “presuming as a sparrow,”
Are familiar household words.
Among the tribes of birds;
And “presuming as a sparrow,”
Are familiar household words.
89
The Punishment.
I heard you, little Lucy,
I was passing by the door;
How could you speak in such a tone,
And stamp upon the floor.
I was passing by the door;
How could you speak in such a tone,
And stamp upon the floor.
Why did you say you did not touch
That cup of china fine;
Surely I saw it in your hand,
When I went down to dine!
That cup of china fine;
Surely I saw it in your hand,
When I went down to dine!
When Hetty said “Where is the cup?”
You said, “I do not know;”
Do you not feel how wrong it was
For you to answer so?
You said, “I do not know;”
Do you not feel how wrong it was
For you to answer so?
90
Stay, it will do no good to cry
With such an ugly whine;
Come here my darling child, and lay
Your little hand in mine.
With such an ugly whine;
Come here my darling child, and lay
Your little hand in mine.
And tell me, would you like to hear
A story which is true;
About a gentle, truthful child,
Who once did wrong like you?
A story which is true;
About a gentle, truthful child,
Who once did wrong like you?
First, let me dry those tearful eyes,
And cool that burning cheek;
Now lean your head against my arm,
And listen, while I speak.
And cool that burning cheek;
Now lean your head against my arm,
And listen, while I speak.
For, darling, I would have you feel,
Now, in your early youth,
How mean a thing a falsehood is,
How beautiful is truth.
Now, in your early youth,
How mean a thing a falsehood is,
How beautiful is truth.
You know I spoke to you last week
Of little Mary Brae;
Well, I should like to tell you all
Her history to-day.
Of little Mary Brae;
Well, I should like to tell you all
Her history to-day.
91
Mary was gentle, mild, and good;
But older, dear, than you;
With honest eyes that met one's gaze,
With frankness firm and true.
But older, dear, than you;
With honest eyes that met one's gaze,
With frankness firm and true.
But Lucy, when I looked at you,
Awhile ago—you sought
To turn your little eyes from me,
To hide your inmost thought.
Awhile ago—you sought
To turn your little eyes from me,
To hide your inmost thought.
My darling! never turn away
That little face from me,
However sad, however glad,
Your inner life may be!
That little face from me,
However sad, however glad,
Your inner life may be!
No mother's love, or watchful care
Was round sweet Mary Brae;
No father's voice directed her,
Or warned her not to stray.
Was round sweet Mary Brae;
No father's voice directed her,
Or warned her not to stray.
She bloomed beside life's rugged road,
A sweet uncultured flower;
But nature's hand supplied the dew,
The sunshine and the shower.
A sweet uncultured flower;
But nature's hand supplied the dew,
The sunshine and the shower.
92
She grew in gentle loveliness,
And goodness day by day;
For He who feeds the ravens watched
O'er little Mary Brae.
And goodness day by day;
For He who feeds the ravens watched
O'er little Mary Brae.
Do you remember, Lucy dear,
The little sparkling stream,
Thro' whose clear waters you have seen
The silver fishes gleam!
The little sparkling stream,
Thro' whose clear waters you have seen
The silver fishes gleam!
And on whose banks the moss is green,
So early in the spring;
And where, before the snow is gone,
The bright-winged blue-birds sing?
So early in the spring;
And where, before the snow is gone,
The bright-winged blue-birds sing?
I do not mean the river, dear,
Which flows beneath the bridge;
But the clear, merry little brook,
Below the upland ridge,
Which flows beneath the bridge;
But the clear, merry little brook,
Below the upland ridge,
Which lingers in the alder's shade
And shimmers in the sun;
Where birds find lonely spots to build
And frisking squirrels run.
And shimmers in the sun;
Where birds find lonely spots to build
And frisking squirrels run.
93
Well, Lucy, by that little stream
A moss-grown cottage stood;
Beneath the shadow of the oak.
Ten paces from the wood.
A moss-grown cottage stood;
Beneath the shadow of the oak.
Ten paces from the wood.
And in that cottage, Mary Brae,
A little orphan child,
Had lived and bloomed for seven years,
A blossom in the wild.
A little orphan child,
Had lived and bloomed for seven years,
A blossom in the wild.
Her grandmother was very deaf,
And old and somewhat stern,
Requiring of her many things
She seemed too young to learn.
And old and somewhat stern,
Requiring of her many things
She seemed too young to learn.
But Mary tried to do her part,
To keep things neat and trim;
Her busy hands were never still
From morn till evening dim.
To keep things neat and trim;
Her busy hands were never still
From morn till evening dim.
And at her work, with cheerful voice,
She sang throughout the day;
And with the twilight always came
Her time for rest and play.
She sang throughout the day;
And with the twilight always came
Her time for rest and play.
94
Two pets, had Mary, in her home;
A large sleek tabby cat,
Who looked too gentle to molest
The smallest mouse or rat.
A large sleek tabby cat,
Who looked too gentle to molest
The smallest mouse or rat.
And in a cage of willow bars,
A little linnet bird;
Playful and tame, whose simple song
From morn till night was heard.
A little linnet bird;
Playful and tame, whose simple song
From morn till night was heard.
Mary had tried to make them friends—
But Linnet was afraid;
And Puss thought birds too good to eat,
To be for playmates made.
But Linnet was afraid;
And Puss thought birds too good to eat,
To be for playmates made.
One evening, when the sunset clouds,
Were lingering in the west;
She asked if she might go to see
A little sparrow's nest.
Were lingering in the west;
She asked if she might go to see
A little sparrow's nest.
The alder hedge was by the brook,
And there the nest was made,
On the low branches near the place
Where Mary always played.
And there the nest was made,
On the low branches near the place
Where Mary always played.
95
And grandma told her she might go,
If she would give her word,
Neither to touch the little nest,
Nor drive away the bird.
If she would give her word,
Neither to touch the little nest,
Nor drive away the bird.
She promised—and with dancing feet
Down towards the alders went;
And thro' the branches and the leaves
Enquiring looks she sent.
Down towards the alders went;
And thro' the branches and the leaves
Enquiring looks she sent.
And by her side with step demure,
And cunning watchful look;
Silent and wary, tabby cat
His pathway also took.
And cunning watchful look;
Silent and wary, tabby cat
His pathway also took.
When they had reached the water side,
Low crouching in the grass,
He hid his sleek and brindled back,
Waiting for her to pass.
Low crouching in the grass,
He hid his sleek and brindled back,
Waiting for her to pass.
He watched her onward, step by step;
And though he was so near,
He laid unseen by Mary's eyes,
Unheard by Mary's ear.
And though he was so near,
He laid unseen by Mary's eyes,
Unheard by Mary's ear.
96
Her busy thoughts were all so full
Of looking for the nest;
And fast she knew the setting sun,
Was sinking in the west.
Of looking for the nest;
And fast she knew the setting sun,
Was sinking in the west.
At last she found the sheltered spot
Among the branches, where
The parent birds had made their home,
With wondrous toil and care.
Among the branches, where
The parent birds had made their home,
With wondrous toil and care.
And Mary saw the half-fledged birds,
Roused from their quiet sleep;
To take the food the old ones brought,
With many a chirp and cheep.
Roused from their quiet sleep;
To take the food the old ones brought,
With many a chirp and cheep.
Oh how she wished to have the nest—
To hold it in her hand!
To touch the little downy birds,
And see if they could stand.
To hold it in her hand!
To touch the little downy birds,
And see if they could stand.
If she should lift it gently up,
And hold it softly so,
It seemed to her the little birds
Themselves would scarcely know.
And hold it softly so,
It seemed to her the little birds
Themselves would scarcely know.
97
So, lightly stepping on one branch,
The rest she held aside,
And reached the nest the parent birds
Had vainly sought to hide.
The rest she held aside,
And reached the nest the parent birds
Had vainly sought to hide.
And holding it with careful grasp,
She leaped down on the ground;
And four young sparrows, nearly fledged
And almost grown, she found.
She leaped down on the ground;
And four young sparrows, nearly fledged
And almost grown, she found.
Oh what a treasure! four young birds!
Mary with joy was wild:
Four little birds! and such a nest!
Alas! poor little child.
Mary with joy was wild:
Four little birds! and such a nest!
Alas! poor little child.
Forgotten were her promises!
And close beside her sat
Watching the birds, with hungry eyes,
The unseen tabby cat.
And close beside her sat
Watching the birds, with hungry eyes,
The unseen tabby cat.
Then came the old birds, darting round
Their young, with scream and call;
And Mary, frightened, from her hands
Let nest and sparrows fall!
Their young, with scream and call;
And Mary, frightened, from her hands
Let nest and sparrows fall!
98
The little, tender, half-fledged things,
Went hopping through the grass,
With chirps, and cries, and flutterings;
They could not fly, alas!
Went hopping through the grass,
With chirps, and cries, and flutterings;
They could not fly, alas!
An instant—and the watchful cat
Had sprung to Mary's side—
An instant—and with pain and fright
One little sparrow died!
Had sprung to Mary's side—
An instant—and with pain and fright
One little sparrow died!
Thus Mary's punishment began!
But with a tender hand,
She took the little sparrow up,
And tried to make it stand.
But with a tender hand,
She took the little sparrow up,
And tried to make it stand.
In vain—its little heart was still—
It neither breathed nor stirred;
And fast and warm poor Mary's tears
Fell on the lifeless bird.
It neither breathed nor stirred;
And fast and warm poor Mary's tears
Fell on the lifeless bird.
And then, with soft and careful touch
She gathered up the rest;
And once more in the alder tree
Replaced the precious nest.
She gathered up the rest;
And once more in the alder tree
Replaced the precious nest.
99
The mother bird, with piteous cries,
Fluttered from spray to spray;
And Mary dried her tearful eyes
And took her homeward way.
Fluttered from spray to spray;
And Mary dried her tearful eyes
And took her homeward way.
But long before she reached the cot,
The active cat was there;
And grandma, having stopped her wheel,
Slept in her old arm chair.
The active cat was there;
And grandma, having stopped her wheel,
Slept in her old arm chair.
The first thing little Mary saw,
Was feathers on the floor!
The next thing little Mary saw,
Was Linnet's open door!
Was feathers on the floor!
The next thing little Mary saw,
Was Linnet's open door!
She stood there, conscience-stricken, dumb,
With shame her head she bent;
Poor child, if great her fault had been,
Great was the punishment!
With shame her head she bent;
Poor child, if great her fault had been,
Great was the punishment!
Long—long—she stood in silent grief,
As if her heart would break;
And something more was yet to come,
When grandmamma should wake.
As if her heart would break;
And something more was yet to come,
When grandmamma should wake.
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A falsehood yet might hide her fault,
Conceal her broken word—
Who saw her take the sparrow's nest?
Or knew she touched the bird?
Conceal her broken word—
Who saw her take the sparrow's nest?
Or knew she touched the bird?
What should she say—what should she do!
'Tis easy to do wrong,
But then, to turn the wrong to right
Needs effort great and strong.
'Tis easy to do wrong,
But then, to turn the wrong to right
Needs effort great and strong.
Hard was the struggle—sharp the pain—
Her heart was beating fast!
Poor little child, she never knew
If hours or minutes pass'd.
Her heart was beating fast!
Poor little child, she never knew
If hours or minutes pass'd.
But, when her grandmamma awoke,
Before a word was spoken,
Mary confessed with many a tear,
Her promises were broken.
Before a word was spoken,
Mary confessed with many a tear,
Her promises were broken.
She breathed a prayer, that God would keep
Her heart and conscience clean!
My little Lucy, do you know
Exactly what I mean?
Her heart and conscience clean!
My little Lucy, do you know
Exactly what I mean?
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No sound came from her trembling lips,
She uttered not a word:
The prayer was in her inmost heart,
And God, her father, heard!
She uttered not a word:
The prayer was in her inmost heart,
And God, her father, heard!
If, when you search your little heart,
You find a good thought there,
A strong desire to do what's right,
My darling, that is prayer.
You find a good thought there,
A strong desire to do what's right,
My darling, that is prayer.
If danger ever comes to you,
And in your sore dismay
You trust his gracious power and love,
Then too, my child, you pray.
And in your sore dismay
You trust his gracious power and love,
Then too, my child, you pray.
Now kiss me, darling, get your doll,
And have some quiet play;
I think you will not soon forget
This tale of Mary Brae.
And have some quiet play;
I think you will not soon forget
This tale of Mary Brae.
102
The Walk.
The Lady in her chamber,
Sat with a drooping head;
Her dreamy eyes were resting
Upon the book she read.
Sat with a drooping head;
Her dreamy eyes were resting
Upon the book she read.
It was a fine old story,
Yet her pulses slowly beat,
She could not see its beauty
Nor feel its music sweet.
Yet her pulses slowly beat,
She could not see its beauty
Nor feel its music sweet.
Then came a sound soft falling—
Which she rather felt than heard;
It was mother nature calling,
And she spoke thus word for word:
Which she rather felt than heard;
It was mother nature calling,
And she spoke thus word for word:
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“There is sunshine in the meadow—
There is shade beneath the tree—
There is music in the thicket—
There are waters leaping free!
There is shade beneath the tree—
There is music in the thicket—
There are waters leaping free!
“There are mosses in the hollows—
In the forest waving ferns;
All pleasant lessons teaching,
And wise is he who learns.
In the forest waving ferns;
All pleasant lessons teaching,
And wise is he who learns.
“Come forth—the birds are singing,
Insects are sporting free;
The first wild flowers are springing,
Come, pass an hour with me.”
Insects are sporting free;
The first wild flowers are springing,
Come, pass an hour with me.”
And the lady rose up slowly,
And with gentle gliding feet,
She sought the open hill-side,
Where the air was fresh and sweet.
And with gentle gliding feet,
She sought the open hill-side,
Where the air was fresh and sweet.
And she heard the south wind linger
In the tall and slender pines,
With its unseen finger lifting
The graceful climbing vines.
In the tall and slender pines,
With its unseen finger lifting
The graceful climbing vines.
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Then she reached the upland level,
And saw beneath her lie
The broad green fertile valley,
And above, the smiling sky.
And saw beneath her lie
The broad green fertile valley,
And above, the smiling sky.
Heard sounds of village labor
With a softened murmur come,
To mingle with the sylvan song
Of insects' ceaseless hum.
With a softened murmur come,
To mingle with the sylvan song
Of insects' ceaseless hum.
Felt the sweet sunshine, like a hand
Of kindness warm and soft,
Saw the bright oriole leave his nest
And carol up aloft.
Of kindness warm and soft,
Saw the bright oriole leave his nest
And carol up aloft.
She spoke not, but her very soul
Uttered a hymn of praise;
And that sweet hour she treasures yet
Against all wintry days.
Uttered a hymn of praise;
And that sweet hour she treasures yet
Against all wintry days.
Oh gracious mother nature!
Were but thy children wise;
Did they but heed thy teaching,
With open hearts and eyes,
Were but thy children wise;
Did they but heed thy teaching,
With open hearts and eyes,
105
The smallest flower that opens
In the wilderness waste place,
Would have its balm for healing,
Would be an “herb of grace.”
In the wilderness waste place,
Would have its balm for healing,
Would be an “herb of grace.”
106
Forest Trees.
I know you love the flowers,
With their merry humming bees;
But I—I love the forests
And leafy arching trees.
With their merry humming bees;
But I—I love the forests
And leafy arching trees.
There is something brave and noble
In a sturdy stout Oak tree;
That fearless meets the winter storm
Of many a century.
In a sturdy stout Oak tree;
That fearless meets the winter storm
Of many a century.
The Buttonwood, whose giant limbs
So high and far extend;
The Beech that stretches out its arms,
To greet you like a friend.
So high and far extend;
The Beech that stretches out its arms,
To greet you like a friend.
107
The firm and stately Chesnut,
With its rough and ribbed bark;
Casting upon the grass beneath
A shadow broad and dark.
With its rough and ribbed bark;
Casting upon the grass beneath
A shadow broad and dark.
The feathery Larch—the towering Pine—
The Elm tree's bending grace;
The strong-limbed Mountain Ash, that meets
The tempest face to face.
The Elm tree's bending grace;
The strong-limbed Mountain Ash, that meets
The tempest face to face.
The gray-stem'd quivering Aspen,
With its shadow undefined;
The Maple, turning to the light
Its leaf with silver lined.
With its shadow undefined;
The Maple, turning to the light
Its leaf with silver lined.
The Hemlock, with its spicy stem,
Which loves the river side,
And spreads above the barren rocks
Green arches far and wide.
Which loves the river side,
And spreads above the barren rocks
Green arches far and wide.
The Shellbark, graceful and erect—
The Hickory, lithe and tall—
The Gum tree, with its star-shaped leaves—
I dearly love them all.
The Hickory, lithe and tall—
The Gum tree, with its star-shaped leaves—
I dearly love them all.
108
What joy to stroll beneath them,
In the early days of spring,
When the blossom on the Dogwood
Unfolds its silken wing.
In the early days of spring,
When the blossom on the Dogwood
Unfolds its silken wing.
How gently steals the summer air
Between the parted leaves;
How softly on its velvet pile
The moss our feet receives!
Between the parted leaves;
How softly on its velvet pile
The moss our feet receives!
Yet, not less dear, the household trees,
Which shade our dwellings round:
The very rustle of whose leaves
Has a familiar sound.
Which shade our dwellings round:
The very rustle of whose leaves
Has a familiar sound.
The graceful Weeping Willow,
Where the orioles build and sing;
The last tree green in autumn,
The first tree green in spring!
Where the orioles build and sing;
The last tree green in autumn,
The first tree green in spring!
The tall and rigid Poplar,
Like a spire against the sky;
Telling the weary traveller
Of hut and hamlet nigh!
Like a spire against the sky;
Telling the weary traveller
Of hut and hamlet nigh!
109
Right fair may be the garden,
With its merry humming bees;
But all my heart goes forth to greet
The leafy forest trees.
With its merry humming bees;
But all my heart goes forth to greet
The leafy forest trees.
To bless the softened sunshine,
Which slants the boughs between,
And dances on the dark brown stems
And leaves of varied green.
Which slants the boughs between,
And dances on the dark brown stems
And leaves of varied green.
To meet the wind, which gently fills
The long aisles cool and dim,
And sings among the bending trees
A slow perpetual hymn!
The long aisles cool and dim,
And sings among the bending trees
A slow perpetual hymn!
110
The Weeping Willow.
Green droops the Weeping Willow,
In the early days of spring,
When the crimson-budded maples
Are bright and blossoming.
In the early days of spring,
When the crimson-budded maples
Are bright and blossoming.
When the bare forest branches
Give no shelter to the bird,
Whose twittering notes of wooing
Seem to make the silence heard.
Give no shelter to the bird,
Whose twittering notes of wooing
Seem to make the silence heard.
When the wind-flower and the violet
Salute you as you pass;
Lifting their starry faces
From the green and slender grass.
Salute you as you pass;
Lifting their starry faces
From the green and slender grass.
111
When in all sheltered places,
Where the ground is moist and low,
Tall ferns, and dark-stem'd maidenhair,
And velvet mosses grow.
Where the ground is moist and low,
Tall ferns, and dark-stem'd maidenhair,
And velvet mosses grow.
And o'er the pools and glancing streams
The sulphur butterfly,
With wings like gleams of sunshine,
Sails undulating by.
The sulphur butterfly,
With wings like gleams of sunshine,
Sails undulating by.
Oh it is passing pleasant,
In the early spring to see
The green and flexile branches
Of the weeping willow tree!
In the early spring to see
The green and flexile branches
Of the weeping willow tree!
In the long bright days of summer,
When the corn is green and tall,
How cool and deep the shadows
Of the weeping willow fall.
When the corn is green and tall,
How cool and deep the shadows
Of the weeping willow fall.
Low bending, over arching,
The sky and earth between;
Filling the bright air round us
With light of softest green—
The sky and earth between;
Filling the bright air round us
With light of softest green—
112
With an ever-waving motion,
In each slender leavéd stem;
Which when there are no breezes,
Reminds us yet of them.
In each slender leavéd stem;
Which when there are no breezes,
Reminds us yet of them.
And the book we thought to read from,
In our hands relaxéd hold,
Keeps well within its pages
The legend fine and old.
In our hands relaxéd hold,
Keeps well within its pages
The legend fine and old.
And the eyes we love to gaze in,
Have a dreamy sweetness hid,
Beneath the quiet falling
Of the fringed and drooping lid.
Have a dreamy sweetness hid,
Beneath the quiet falling
Of the fringed and drooping lid.
And the voice which is our music,
Hath a softly measured tone,
By the deep repose of noontide
O'er its tender cadence thrown.
Hath a softly measured tone,
By the deep repose of noontide
O'er its tender cadence thrown.
Thro' all the days of summer,
No larger leavéd tree
Can match the weeping willow,
With its branches waving free.
No larger leavéd tree
Can match the weeping willow,
With its branches waving free.
113
It fringes the wild brook side—
Hangs o'er the river wave—
It shelters many a cottage door—
Droops over many a grave!
Hangs o'er the river wave—
It shelters many a cottage door—
Droops over many a grave!
Children, that know no other trees,
To call them by their names,
Know well the pleasant willow tree,
Which shades their merry games.
To call them by their names,
Know well the pleasant willow tree,
Which shades their merry games.
Ah yes—thro' all the summer,
'Tis a pleasant sight to see
The long green waving branches
Of the weeping willow tree.
'Tis a pleasant sight to see
The long green waving branches
Of the weeping willow tree.
When the calm autumn weather,
Ripens the fields of maize;
When air seems almost sunshine,
And light is golden haze;
Ripens the fields of maize;
When air seems almost sunshine,
And light is golden haze;
When grass is mown and gathered,
And wheat is bound in sheaves,
And forest paths are sheltered
By rainbow-colored leaves;
And wheat is bound in sheaves,
And forest paths are sheltered
By rainbow-colored leaves;
114
When the latest fruit is ripened,
Tho' it still hangs on the tree;
Oh, still the weeping willow
Is a pleasant sight to see!
Tho' it still hangs on the tree;
Oh, still the weeping willow
Is a pleasant sight to see!
The maples red as sunset clouds
The forest outskirts fringe;
The beech no longer seems a beech,
With leaves of yellow tinge:
The forest outskirts fringe;
The beech no longer seems a beech,
With leaves of yellow tinge:
The rich, dark-green leaves of the oak
Are shaded into brown;
And kingly stands the mountain ash
Beneath its golden crown.
Are shaded into brown;
And kingly stands the mountain ash
Beneath its golden crown.
As if the sun instead of sap,
Went branching thro' their veins,
And tinged them with the varied light
Of old cathedral panes:
Went branching thro' their veins,
And tinged them with the varied light
Of old cathedral panes:
Rich orange hues, and paly gold,
And myriad shades of green,
And ruddy, ruby-tinted brown,
With umber shades between;—
And myriad shades of green,
And ruddy, ruby-tinted brown,
With umber shades between;—
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No words can name their gorgeous dyes—
But ever waving free,
As green, as fresh, as in the spring,
Survives the willow tree.
But ever waving free,
As green, as fresh, as in the spring,
Survives the willow tree.
No changing leaf—no withered stem—
No symptom of decay;
September winds toss boughs as green
As did the breath of May.
No symptom of decay;
September winds toss boughs as green
As did the breath of May.
Still bends that fair branch downwards,
The soft green turf unto;
Where the orchard oriole built its nest
And sang the summer thro'.
The soft green turf unto;
Where the orchard oriole built its nest
And sang the summer thro'.
The bee-hive standeth by it,
As it stood all summer long;
And the golden bees are murmuring
Their never-ceasing song.
As it stood all summer long;
And the golden bees are murmuring
Their never-ceasing song.
My lay is done and ended;
I could not choose but sing
The last tree green in autumn,
The first tree green in spring!
I could not choose but sing
The last tree green in autumn,
The first tree green in spring!
116
A Plea for the Fairies.
Do you believe in Fairy tales?
I would if I were you:
Doubt wiser things—but never deem
That wondrous lore untrue.
I would if I were you:
Doubt wiser things—but never deem
That wondrous lore untrue.
I would not part with any faith
To happy childhood known;
Let Jack's bean be as wonderful
As when it first was sown.
To happy childhood known;
Let Jack's bean be as wonderful
As when it first was sown.
We cannot part with Puss in Boots,
Nor yet Red-riding Hood!
And Cinderella brings to mind
A godmother as good
Nor yet Red-riding Hood!
And Cinderella brings to mind
A godmother as good
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As she, who in a mouse's trap
Could six tall footmen find,
And make a silk-lined, golden coach,
Of yellow pumpkin rind.
Could six tall footmen find,
And make a silk-lined, golden coach,
Of yellow pumpkin rind.
Whatever else may pass away,
Let us retain at least
The story, with its thought divine,
Of Beauty and the Beast.
Let us retain at least
The story, with its thought divine,
Of Beauty and the Beast.
The wisdom of the grown-up world
Is crushing fancy out!
The wild belief it cannot tame,
It smothers with its doubt.
Is crushing fancy out!
The wild belief it cannot tame,
It smothers with its doubt.
It puts to use old happy ways,
And calls its lessons games!
Shuts up the dear old story books,
But keeps their charmed names.
And calls its lessons games!
Shuts up the dear old story books,
But keeps their charmed names.
Let childhood keep all sweet belief,
And never be too wise
To see the strange and wonderful,
With clear, undoubting eyes
And never be too wise
To see the strange and wonderful,
With clear, undoubting eyes
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Retain some faith in other things,
Than can be put to use;
Learn, when you must, arithmetic,
But still love mother Goose.
Than can be put to use;
Learn, when you must, arithmetic,
But still love mother Goose.
To all romances wild and old
A ready credence yield;
Nor doubt the Enchanted Beauty's eyes
By magic sleep are sealed.
A ready credence yield;
Nor doubt the Enchanted Beauty's eyes
By magic sleep are sealed.
The wonderful Arabian tales!
Oh! never be too old
To revel in their marvels rich
Of Genii, gems, and gold.
Oh! never be too old
To revel in their marvels rich
Of Genii, gems, and gold.
Early enough comes cold mistrust!
But this for truth receive,
Nothing is easier than to doubt,
More blest than to believe?
But this for truth receive,
Nothing is easier than to doubt,
More blest than to believe?
119
The Fairies in the Lily.
Once in the early summer,
Two little fairies played
In the shadow on the streamlet,
By a water-lily made.
Two little fairies played
In the shadow on the streamlet,
By a water-lily made.
One was a little fairy,
Much smaller than the other;
And yet the largest fairy
Was the little fairy's brother.
Much smaller than the other;
And yet the largest fairy
Was the little fairy's brother.
They sported in the shadow,
They chased the rippling wave,
And let the cool fresh water
Their shining pinions lave.
They chased the rippling wave,
And let the cool fresh water
Their shining pinions lave.
120
At last, when they were weary,
The largest fairy said,
“It seems to me that lily's cup
Would make a lovely bed.”
The largest fairy said,
“It seems to me that lily's cup
Would make a lovely bed.”
Out laughed the smallest fairy:
And a robin in the tree
Paused in the middle of his song,
To hear what it might be.
And a robin in the tree
Paused in the middle of his song,
To hear what it might be.
Then said the largest fairy,
“The lily is so tall,
Suppose we borrow robin's wings,
To save us from a fall?”
“The lily is so tall,
Suppose we borrow robin's wings,
To save us from a fall?”
The robin, looking downward,
Heard every word they said;
He pruned his russet feathers,
And then he shook his head.
Heard every word they said;
He pruned his russet feathers,
And then he shook his head.
Said he, “Good friends, excuse me,
My wings, myself, I need;
For, have I not a wife at home,
And little ones to feed?
My wings, myself, I need;
For, have I not a wife at home,
And little ones to feed?
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“And yonder comes a butterfly,
Of charming size and hue,
I beg you will excuse me;”
And away the robin flew.
Of charming size and hue,
I beg you will excuse me;”
And away the robin flew.
Now said the little fairy,
“'Tis a funny sight to see,
When one don't wish to do a thing,
How busy one can be!
“'Tis a funny sight to see,
When one don't wish to do a thing,
How busy one can be!
“We do not need his pinions,
But, lily, lady fair,
Just give me leave to bend your head
A little in the air.
But, lily, lady fair,
Just give me leave to bend your head
A little in the air.
“Now lift these waxen leaves apart,
Open thy fragrant breast;
Was ever monarch on his throne
In such a glory drest!
Open thy fragrant breast;
Was ever monarch on his throne
In such a glory drest!
“Ah, this is really charming!
Come up here darling brother,
The wind shall rock us as we lie
And talk to one another.
Come up here darling brother,
The wind shall rock us as we lie
And talk to one another.
122
“Or rather, till warm noon is past,
Sleep in our folded wings;
Our lullaby shall be the song
The rippling water sings.”
Sleep in our folded wings;
Our lullaby shall be the song
The rippling water sings.”
The largest fairy lightly sprung
Up from the shining brook;
And in the lily's pearly leaves
His place beside her took;
Up from the shining brook;
And in the lily's pearly leaves
His place beside her took;
And swinging, as the stem was swayed
With motion light and slow;
The cloudless sunshine overhead,
The shaded stream below.
With motion light and slow;
The cloudless sunshine overhead,
The shaded stream below.
Soft cradled in the fragrant bloom,
Rocked by the summer air,
With folded wings they went to sleep
And slumbered sweetly there.
Rocked by the summer air,
With folded wings they went to sleep
And slumbered sweetly there.
And pleasant must their dreams have been;
At least the story tells,
That even yet, the fairies rest
In the sweet lily bells!
At least the story tells,
That even yet, the fairies rest
In the sweet lily bells!
123
Look down among their snowy leaves,
When bright with morning dew,
And if you do not find them there,
Why—I see more than you!
When bright with morning dew,
And if you do not find them there,
Why—I see more than you!
124
The Baby.
Harry Gray is flying kite on the front pavement—Charlie Vaux comes along beating hoop—Harry stops Charlie to tell him the news.
We've got a baby!—I should like you to come
Just to see the baby that we have at home:
Oh it is such a baby! with the bluest little eyes,
And its mouth! you should only see its mouth when it cries!
Then it has such a hand!—like mine, only smaller,
And it cannot walk yet, and our Ponto is taller!
It has the queerest little feet—with the funniest little toes,
And something which papa declares will grow into a nose.
I saw it this morning—how it sucked its little thumb!
Oh it is such a baby!—now do, Charlie, come.
Mother says you may see it, if you will not make a noise;
Just wait till nurse has gone down stairs, you know she hates us boys.
Just to see the baby that we have at home:
Oh it is such a baby! with the bluest little eyes,
And its mouth! you should only see its mouth when it cries!
Then it has such a hand!—like mine, only smaller,
And it cannot walk yet, and our Ponto is taller!
It has the queerest little feet—with the funniest little toes,
125
I saw it this morning—how it sucked its little thumb!
Oh it is such a baby!—now do, Charlie, come.
Mother says you may see it, if you will not make a noise;
Just wait till nurse has gone down stairs, you know she hates us boys.
Did you ever have a baby? we have had our's a week,
Nurse says it soon will talk—but I never heard it speak.
And what is strange, they let it cry, and scream, just when it pleases,
And the more it cries, it seems to me, the less mamma it teases.
I know they make me creep about, as quiet as a mouse,
I tell you what, it's something—a baby in the house!
In ma's own room I scarcely dare to run across the floor,
Its “do be still,” or “Harry hush,” or else “do shut the door.”
I don't like nurse—she's always there—and says, “Now, Harry, go,”
Because I want to kiss mamma—but I should like to know
If she is not as much my ma, now, as a month ago!
She lets the baby have its way—blesses its little eyes—
Coaxes and pets it all the more, the more it screams and cries.
But it is just reversed with me!—I know if I should take
Such airs on me as baby does, the moment it's awake,
I should be sure to find myself in bed an hour too soon,
Or have my hobby-horse locked up and kept an afternoon.
Nurse says it soon will talk—but I never heard it speak.
And what is strange, they let it cry, and scream, just when it pleases,
And the more it cries, it seems to me, the less mamma it teases.
I know they make me creep about, as quiet as a mouse,
I tell you what, it's something—a baby in the house!
126
Its “do be still,” or “Harry hush,” or else “do shut the door.”
I don't like nurse—she's always there—and says, “Now, Harry, go,”
Because I want to kiss mamma—but I should like to know
If she is not as much my ma, now, as a month ago!
She lets the baby have its way—blesses its little eyes—
Coaxes and pets it all the more, the more it screams and cries.
But it is just reversed with me!—I know if I should take
Such airs on me as baby does, the moment it's awake,
I should be sure to find myself in bed an hour too soon,
Or have my hobby-horse locked up and kept an afternoon.
127
You have a brother? what of that, wait till you have a sister!
I wish you had been at our house, the first time that I kissed her!
Such a warm little mouth!—standing wide open so,
A boy's no great things—I'm one—I ought to know!
I'm glad she's a girl—I know all my toys
Would last as long again, but for rough little boys!
But its well you have one, since you can't have the other,
Though I would not change my sister for any little brother.
Perhaps a boy-baby is better than no baby at all,
But our baby's a girl—did you hear father call?
There he is, over yonder—just crossing the street,
We can go up stairs with him. Oh, Charlie, wipe your feet!
For nurse looks at footmarks with a frown as black as thunder,
And mutters to herself, “What are mats for, I wonder.”
Now you must not make a noise—please, Charlie don't forget—
Papa can let us in—I am his boy yet!
I wish you had been at our house, the first time that I kissed her!
Such a warm little mouth!—standing wide open so,
A boy's no great things—I'm one—I ought to know!
I'm glad she's a girl—I know all my toys
Would last as long again, but for rough little boys!
But its well you have one, since you can't have the other,
Though I would not change my sister for any little brother.
Perhaps a boy-baby is better than no baby at all,
But our baby's a girl—did you hear father call?
There he is, over yonder—just crossing the street,
We can go up stairs with him. Oh, Charlie, wipe your feet!
128
And mutters to herself, “What are mats for, I wonder.”
Now you must not make a noise—please, Charlie don't forget—
Papa can let us in—I am his boy yet!
| The white dove, and Other Poems for Children | |