 | Flowers for children |  |
49
TO A LITTLE GIRL, WALKING IN THE WOOD.
Whither art going, dear Annette?
Your little feet you'll surely wet;
For don't you see the streamlet flow
Across the path where you must go?
Your shawl is twisted out of place,
Your bonnet's blowing off your face;
You know not how the playful air
Is tangling up your curly hair.
Your little feet you'll surely wet;
For don't you see the streamlet flow
Across the path where you must go?
Your shawl is twisted out of place,
Your bonnet's blowing off your face;
You know not how the playful air
Is tangling up your curly hair.
Lady, my feet I often wet,
But it has never harmed me yet.
I love to have the fresh warm air
Playing about my face and hair;
It makes me lively, bright, and strong;
And clears the voice for my morning song.
But it has never harmed me yet.
I love to have the fresh warm air
Playing about my face and hair;
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And clears the voice for my morning song.
But do you often go alone,
So far away from your own dear home?
Not even a dog to frisk and play,
And guide you on your lonely way?
So far away from your own dear home?
Not even a dog to frisk and play,
And guide you on your lonely way?
My mother cannot spare the maid,
And I am not at all afraid.
The wind plays mischief with my curls,
But does no harm to little girls.
There cannot be a lonely way,
When Spring makes every thing so gay.
The birds are warbling forth a tune
To welcome dear delightful June;
In the running brook, the speckled trout,
At sight of my shadow, glides about;
The little miller in the grass
Flies away for my feet to pass;
And busy bees, through shining hours,
Play hide-and-seek in opening flowers;
The bright blue sky is clear and mild;
How can there be a lonesome child?
And I am not at all afraid.
The wind plays mischief with my curls,
But does no harm to little girls.
There cannot be a lonely way,
When Spring makes every thing so gay.
The birds are warbling forth a tune
To welcome dear delightful June;
In the running brook, the speckled trout,
At sight of my shadow, glides about;
The little miller in the grass
Flies away for my feet to pass;
And busy bees, through shining hours,
Play hide-and-seek in opening flowers;
The bright blue sky is clear and mild;
How can there be a lonesome child?
Sweet wanderer in the cool green wood,
I know your little heart is good;
And that is why the fair earth seems
Just waking up from heavenly dreams.
There's something in your gentle voice
That makes my inmost heart rejoice.
Pray, if it be not rudely said,
What's in your basket, little maid?
I know your little heart is good;
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Just waking up from heavenly dreams.
There's something in your gentle voice
That makes my inmost heart rejoice.
Pray, if it be not rudely said,
What's in your basket, little maid?
Lady, the nurse, who watched my slumber,
And told me stories without number,
Is now too ill to work for pay,
And she grows poorer every day.
Custards, and broth, and jellies good,
My mother sends to her for food.
I bring the water from her well,
And all my pretty stories tell.
Sometimes she loves to hear me read;
Her little garden I can weed;
And half the money in my purse
I gladly save for dear old nurse.
But if I stay to talk so free,
She'll wonder where Annette can be.
And told me stories without number,
Is now too ill to work for pay,
And she grows poorer every day.
Custards, and broth, and jellies good,
My mother sends to her for food.
I bring the water from her well,
And all my pretty stories tell.
Sometimes she loves to hear me read;
Her little garden I can weed;
And half the money in my purse
I gladly save for dear old nurse.
But if I stay to talk so free,
She'll wonder where Annette can be.
Farewell, sweet wanderer of the wood,
I knew your little heart was good;
And that is why the fair earth seems
Just waking up from heavenly dreams.
I knew your little heart was good;
And that is why the fair earth seems
Just waking up from heavenly dreams.
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