B Clas ."HH x^ BookIP_4_gjL. CcBiiglitN?. CDFKRIGHT DEPOSIE Extra Number FF ~ -^WU JBIJIJJI "^^-C/^ie, ^^''ii}6, RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES Complete Catalogue and Price List free upon application Longfellow's Evangeline. Longfellow's Courtship of Miles Standish. Dramatization of Miles Standish. Whittier's Snow-Bound, etc. Whittier's Mabel Martin. Holmes's Grandmother's Story. 8, 9. Hawthorne's Grandfather's Chair. Hawthorne's Biographical Series. Longfellow's Children's Hour, etc. 14. Longfellow's Song of Hiawatha. Lowell's Under the Old Elm, etc. Bayard Taylor's Lars. 18. Hawthorne's Wonder-Book. 20. Franklin's Autobiography. Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanac, etc. 23. Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales. Washington's Farewell Addresses, etc. 26. Longfellow's Golden Legend. Thoreau's Forest Trees, etc. Burronghs's Birds and Bees. Hawthorne's Little Datfydowndilly, etc. Lowell's Vision of Sir Launfal, etc. Holmes's My Hunt after the Captain, etc. Lincoln's Gettysburg Speet^h, etc. •35. Longfellow's Tales of a Wayside Lin. Burronghs's Sliarp Eyes, etc. Warner's A-Hunting of tlie Deer, etc. Longfellow's Building of the Ship, etc. Lowell's Books and Libraries, etc. Hawthorne's Tales of the White Hills. Whittier's Tent on the Beach, etc. Emerson's Fortune of the Republic, etc. Bryant's Ulysses among tlie Ph;pacians. Edgeworth's Waste not, Want not, etc. Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. Old Testament Stories. 48. Scudder's Fables and Folk Stories. 50. Andersen's Stories. Irving's Rip Van Winkle, etc. Irvhig's The Voyage, etc. Scott's Lady of the Lake. Bryant's Thanatopsis, etc. Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. Webster's First Bunker Hill Oration. Dickens's Christmas Carol. Dickens's Cricket on the Hearth. Verse and Prose for Beginners in Reading. 61. The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. Fiske's War of Independence. Longfellow's Paul Revere 's Ride, etc. -66. Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. Shakespeare's Julius Cit'sar. Goldsmith's Deserted Village, etc. Hawthorne's The Old Manse, etc. 71 Selection from Whittier's Child Life. Milton's Minor Poems. Tennyson's Enoch Arden, etc. Gray's Elegy ; Cowper's John Gilpin. . Scudder's George Washington. Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality. Burns's Cotter's Saturday Night, etc. Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. Lamb's Old China, etc. 80. Coleridge's Ancient Mariner ; Campbell's Lochiel's Warning, etc. 81. Holmes's Autocrat of the Breakfast-Tabla. 82. Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales. 83. Eliot's Silas Marner. 84. Dana's Two Years Before the Mast. 85. Hughes's Tom Brown's School Days. 86. Scott's Ivanhoe. 87. Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. 88. Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. 89. 90. Swift's Gulliver's Voyages. 91. Hawthorne's Hou.se of tlie Seven Gables. 92. Burroughs's A Buncli of Herbs, etc. 93. Shakespeare's As You Like It. 94. Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I-IIL 95-98. Cooper's Last of tlie Moliicans. 99. Tennyson's Coming of Arthur, etc. 100. Burke's Conciliation with the Colonies. 101. Pope's Iliad. Books I, VI, XXII, XXIV. 102. Macaulay"s Johnson and Goldsmith. 103. Macaulay's Milton. 104. Macaulay's Addison. 105. Carlyle's Essay on Burns. 106. Shakespeare's Macbeth. 107. 108. Grimms' Tales. 109. Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 110. De Quincey's Flight of a Tartar Tribe. 111. Tennyson's Princess. 112. Cranch's ^neid. Books I-III. 113. Poems from Emerson. 114. Peabody's Old Greek Folk Stories. 115. Browning's Pied Piper of Hamelin, etc. 110. Shakespeare's Hamlet. 117, 118. Stories from the Arabian Nights. 119, 120. Poe's Poems and Tales. 121. Speech by Hayne on Foote's Resolution. 122. Speech by Webster in Reply to Hayne. 123. Lowell's Democracy, etc. 124. Aldrich's The Crui.se of the Dolphin. 125. Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. 126. Ruskin's King of the Golden River, etc. 127. Keats's Ode on a Grecian Urn, etc. 128. Byron's Prisoner of Chillon, etc. 129. Plato's Judgment of Socrates. 130. Emerson's The Superlative, etc. 131. Emerson's Nature, etc. 132. Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, etc. 133. Schurz's Abraham Lincoln. 134. Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. 135. Chaucer's Prologue. 136. Chaucer's The Knight's Tale, etc. 137. Bryant's Iliad. Bks. I, VI, XXII, XXIV. 138. Hawthorne's Tlie Custom House, etc. 139. Howells's Doorstep Acquaintance, etc. 140. Thackeray's Henry Esmond. 141. Higginson's Three Outdoor Papers. 142. Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies. 143. Plutarch's Alexander the Great. 144. Scudder's The Book of Legends. 145. Hav\i;horne's Tlie Gentle Boy, etc. 146. Longfellow's Giles Corey. 147. Pope's Rape of the Lock. etc. 148. Hawthorne's Marble Faun. {See also back covers.) (74) / ©lie ISiijersioe iLittraturc petite POEMS FOR READING AND MEMORIZING """T^ FIRST AND SECOND GRADES Prescribed by the New York State Education Department in the Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature, 1919 BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY /^b .t^ COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED The copyrighted selections in this book are used by permission of, and special arrangement with, their proprietors. JC DEC 22 1919 C:i)e 3aibert(i)ie SreiStf CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A C1A560219 'VvO CONTENTS {Arranged as a Course ^) FIRST GRADE — FIRST HALF YEAR PoEais TO BE Memorized Kind Hearts Anonymous 18 The Lamb William Blake 26 I Know Abbie Farwell Brown 29 Dressmaking Abbie Farwell Brown 29 The Little Plant Kate L. Brown 30 Good-Night Victor Hugo 54 Bees Frank Dempster Sherman 7 America Samuel F. Smith 73 Poems to be Read to the Children Three Little Kittens Anonymous 23 Robin Redbreast Anonymous 23 Little Bo-Peep Anonymous 19 They Did n't Think Phoebe Gary 36 Suppose! Phoebe Gary 38 If Ever I See Lydia Maria Child 44 Gome, Little Leaves George Gooi>er 47 Making a House Josephine Preston Peabody 65 The City Mouse and the Country Mouse Christina G. Rossetti 70 Who Has Seen the Wind? Christina G. Rossetti 73 I Love Little Pussy Jane Taylor 75 The Star .. , ,^ ^. . . Jane Taylor 76 Thank You, Pretty Cbw • ' ' Jane Taylor 77 FIRST GRADE — SECOND HALF YEAR Poems to be Memorized Little Things Anonymous 21 Who Likes the Rain? • Clara Doty Bates 25 1 The titles are here grouped in accordance with suggestions in the New York Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature. The text of the poems (pages 7- 84), except those by the "Grade Poets," is arranged according to the alphabetical sequence of authors' names. An Index of Titles is given on page 85. 4 CONTENTS How THE Leaves Came Down Susan Coolid^e 45 Baby George Maedonald 60 The Swallow Christina G. Rossetti 72 A Dewdrop Frank Dempster Sherman 7 Daisies Frank Dempster Sherman 8 How Doth the Little Busy Bee Isaac Watts 82 Poems to be Read to the Children Friends Abbie Farwell Brown 28 Baby Seed Song Edith Nesbit 64 Boats Sail on the Rivers Christina G. Rossetti 70 Hurt no Living Thing Christina G. Rossetti 72 Flying Kite Frank Dempster Sherman 8 The Snow-Bird's Song F. C. Woodward 83 SECOND GRADE — FIRST HALF YEAR Poems to be Memorized Grade Poet — Frank Dempster Sherman Robin's Apology Frank Dempster Sherman 9 The Rose's Cup Frank Dempster Sherman 10 Smiles and Tears Frank Dempster Sherman 11 Elfin Lamps Frank Dempster Sherman 11 The Snow-Bird Frank Dempster Sherman 12 Ghost Fairies Frank Dempster Sherman 12 The Four Winds Frank Dempster Sherman 13 Clouds Frank Dempster Sherman 14 Miscellaneous Poems Little by Little Anonymous 19 The Shepherd William Blake 27 Praying and Loving Samuel Taylor Coleridge 44 The Song of the Bee Marian Douglas 48 Runaway Brook Eliza Lee Follen 50 How Many Seconds in a Minute? Christina G. Rossetti 71 America Samuel F. Smith 73 Poems to be Read to the Children The Envious Wren Phoebe Cary 32 The Chicken's Mistake Phoebe Cary 34 CONTENTS 5 Child's Evening Hymn Sabine Baring-Gould 51 The Elf and the Dormouse Oliver Herford 52 Hang Up the Baby's Stocking Emily Huntington Miller 61 God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen Dinah M. Mulock 63 Chickens in Trouble Emilie Poulsson 67 A Real Santa Claus Frank Dempster Sherman 9 Sweet and Low Alfred, Lord Tennyson 77 SECOND GRADE — SECOND HALF YEAR Poems to be Memorized All Things Bright and Beautiful Cecil Frances Alexander 17 A Child's Prayer Matilda B. Edwards 49 Lady Moon Lord Houghton 53 The Lost Doll Charles Kingsley 54 The Journey Josepnme Preston Peabody 65 Leaves at Play Frank Dempster Sherman 16 Golden-Rod Frank Dempster Sherman 15 Winter Alfred, Lord Tennyson 79 Poems to be Read to the Children The Raindrops' Ride Anonymous 22 Three Bugs Alice Cary 30 Who Stole the Bird's Nest? Lydia Maria Child 40 The Owl and the Pussy-Cat Edward Lear 55 Hiawatha's Childhood Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 56 The Wonderful World William Brighty Rands 68 What the W^inds Bring Edmund Clarence Stedman 74 Little Birdie Alfred, Lord Tennyson 78 The Scarecrow Celia Thaxter 80 Index of Titles 85 POEMS FOR READING AND MEMORIZING IN THE FIRST AND SECOND GRADES GROUP I. POEMS BY FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN BEES Bees don^t care about the snow ; I can tell you why that 's so : Once I caught a little bee Who was much too warm for me ! A DEWDROP Little drop of dew, Like a gem you are ; I believe that you Must have been a star. When the day is bright, On the grass you lie; Tell me then, at night Are you in the sky ? 8 FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN DAISIES At evening when I go to bed I see the stars shine overhead ; They are the little daisies white That dot the meadow of the Night. And often while I 'm dreaming so, 5 Across the sky the Moon will go ; It is a lady, sweet and fair, Who comes to gather daisies there. For, when at morning I arise, There 's not a star left in the skies; 10 She 's picked them all and dropped them down Into the meadows of the town. FLYING KITE I OFTEN sit and wish that I Could be a kite up in the sky, And ride upon the breeze, and go Whatever way it chanced to blow. Then I could look beyond the town, 5 And see the river winding down. And follow all the ships that sail Like me before the merry gale. Until at last with them I came To some place with a foreign name. 10 ^ FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN 9 A EEAL SANTA GLAUS Santa Claus, I hang for you, By the mantel, stockings two : One for me and one to go To another boy I know. There 's a chimney in the town 5 You have never traveled down. Should you chance to enter there You would lind a room all bare : Not a stocking could you spy, Matters not how you might try ; 10 And the shoes, you 'd find are such As no boy would care for much. In a broken bed you ^d see Some one just about like me, Dreaming of the pretty toys 15 Which you bring to other boys, And to him a Christmas seems Merry only in his dreams. All he dreams then, Santa Claus, Stuff the stocking with, because 20 When it 's filled up to the brim I '11 be Santa Claus to him ! ROBIN'S APOLOGY One morning in the garden I heard the robin's song : 10 FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN ** I really beg your pardon For tarrying so long ; " And this is just the reason, — 5 Whatever way I flew, I met a backward season, Which kept me backward too." THE EOSE'S CUP Down in a garden olden, — Just where, I do not know, — A buttercup all golden Chanced near a rose to grow ; And every morning early, 5 Before the birds were up, A tiny dewdrop pearly Fell in this little cup. This was the drink of water The rose had every day ; 10 But no one yet has caught her While drinking in this way. Surely, it is no treason To say she drinks so yet, For that may be the reason ... 15 Her lips with dew are wet. FRANK DEMPSTER SHERIMAN U SMILES AND TEARS I SMILE, and then the Sun comes out; He hides away whene'er I pout; He seems a very funny sun To do whatever he sees done. And when it rains he disappears ; 5 Like me, he can't see through the tears. Now is n't that the reason why I ought to smile and never cry ? In more than this is he like me ; For every evening after tea lo He closes up his eyelids tight. And opens them at morning's light. " ELFIN LAMPS Why all the stars in the sky are so bright, I am sure no one knows but them- selves up there. Are they the lamps which are hung out at night For the fays and the gnomes and the elves up there ? n 1 FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN THE SNOW-BIRD When all the ground with snow is white, The merry snow-bird comes, And hops about with great delight To find the scattered crumbs. How glad he seems to get to eat 6 A piece of cake or bread ! He wears no shoes upon his feet, Nor hat upon his head. But happiest is he, I know. Because no cage with bars lo Keeps him from walking on the snow And printing it with stars. GHOST FAIRIES When the open fire is lit. In the evening after tea, Then I like to come and sit Where the fire can talk to me. Fairy stories it can tell. Tales of a forgotten race, — Of the fairy ghosts that dwell In the ancient chimney place. FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN 13 They are quite the strangest folk Anybody ever knew, lo Shapes of shadow and of smoke Living in the chimney flue. *'Once," the fire said, "long ago. With the wind they used to rove, Gipsy fairies, to and fro, 15 Camping in the field and grove. *' Hither with the trees they came Hidden in the logs ; and here, Hovering above the flame. Often some of them appear/^ 20 So I watch, and, sure enough, I can see the fairies ! Then, Suddenly there comes a puff Whish ! — and they are gone again ! THE FOUR WINDS In winter, when the wind I hear, I know the clouds Avill disappear; For 't is the wind who sweeps the sky And piles the snow in ridges high. In spring, when stirs the wind, I know 5 That soon the crocus buds will show ; 14 FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN For 't is the wind who bids them wake And into pretty blossoms break. In summer, when it softly blows, Soon red I know will be the rose, lo For 't is the wind to her who speaks, And brings the blushes to her cheeks. In autumn, when the wind is up, I know the acorn 's out its cup; For 't is the wind who takes it out, 15 And plants an oak somewhere about. CLOUDS The sky is full of clouds to-day, And idly, to and fro. Like sheep across the pasture, they Across the heavens go. I hear the wind with merry noise 5 Around the housetops sweep. And dream it is the shepherd boys, — They ^re driving home their sheep. The clouds move faster now ; and see ! The west is red and gold. 10 Each sheep seems hastening to be The first within the fold. I watch them hurry on until The blue is clear and deep, FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN 15 And dream that far beyond the hill is The shepherds fold their sheep. Then in the sky the trembling stars Like little flowers shine out, While Night puts up the shadow bars, And darkness falls about. 20 I hear the shepherd wind's good night — '' Good-night, and happy sleep ! '' — And dream that in the east all white, Slumber the clouds, the sheep. GOLDEN-ROD Spring is the morning of the year. And summer is the noontide bright ; The autumn is the evening clear That comes before the winter's night. And in the evening, everywhere 5 Along the roadside, up and down, I see the golden torches flare Like lighted street-lamps in the town. I think the butterfly and bee. From distant meadows coming back, 10 Are quite contented when they see These lamps along the homeward track. 16 FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN But those who stay too late get lost ; For when the darkness falls about, Down every lighted street the Frost 15 Will go and put the torches out LEAVES AT PLAY Scamper, little leaves, about In the autumn sun ; I can hear the old Wind shout, Laughing as you run, And I have n't any doubt 6 That he likes the fun. When you Ve run a month or so, Very tired you 11 get ; But the same old Wind, I know, Will be laughing yet 10 When he tucks you in your snow- Downy coverlet. So, run on and have your play. Romp with all your might ; Dance across the autumn day, 15 While the sun is bright. Soon you 11 hear the old Wind say, *' Little leaves, Good-night ! '^ GROUP n. POEMS BY VARIOUS AUTHORS ALL THINGS BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL All things bright and beautiful, All creatures great and small, AH things wise and wonderful, The Lord God made them all. Each little flower that opens, 5 Each little bird that sings, He made their glowing colours, He made their tiny wings. The rich man in his castle, The poor man at his gate, lo God made them, high of lowly, And ordered their estate. The purple-headed mountain, The river running by, The sunset and the morning, is That brightens up the sky ; — 18 CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER The cold wind in the winter, The pleasant summer sun, The ripe fruits in the garden, — He made them every one ; 20 The tall trees in the greenwood, The meadows where we play, The rushes by the water We gather every day ; — He gave us eyes to see them, 25 And lips that we might tell. How great is God Almighty, Who has made all things well. Cecil Frances Alexander KIND HEARTS Kind hearts are the gardens. Kind thoughts are the roots ; Kind words are the flowers, Kind deeds are the fruits. Take care of your garden And keep out the weeds. Fill, fill it with sunshine, Kind words and kind deeds. Anonymous ANONYMOUS 19 LITTLE BO-PEEP Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep, And can't tell where to find them ; Leave them alone, and they '11 come home, And bring their tails behind them. Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep, 5 And dreamed she heard them bleating; But when she awoke, she found it a joke, For they were still a-fleeting. Then she up took her little crook, Determined for to find them ; 10 She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed, For they 'd left all their tails behind 'em. Anonymous LITTLE BY LITTLE ** Little by little," an acorn said. As it slowly sank in its mossy bed, ^'I am improving every day. Hidden deep in the earth away." Little by little, each day it grew ; ^ Little by little, it sipped the dew ; 20 ANONYMOUS Downward it sent out a thread-like root; Up in the air sprung a tiny shoot. Day after day, and year after year, Little by little the leaves appear ; lo And the slender branches spread far and wide, Till the mighty oak is the forest's pride. Far down in the depths of the dark blue sea, An insect train work ceaselessly. ^* Grain by grain, they are building well, Each one alone in its little cell. Moment by moment, and day by day, Never stopping to rest or to play, Eocks upon rocks, they are rearing high, Till the top looks out on the sunny sky. 20 The gentle wind and the balmy air. Little by little, bring verdure there ; Till the summer sunbeams gayly smile On the buds and the flowers of the coral isle. ^^ ANONYMOUS 21 *^ Little by little/^ said a thoughtful boy, '^ Moment by mouaent, I '11 well employ, Learning a little every day, And not spending all my time in play. And still this rule in my mind shall dwell, Whatever I do, I will do it welV ^^ '^ Little by little, I '11 learn to know The treasured wisdom of long ago ; And one of these days, perhaps, we '11 see That the world will be the better for me"; And do you not think that this simple plan Made him a wise and useful man? Anonymous LITTLE THINGS Little drops of water, Little grains of sand, Make the mighty ocean And the pleasant land. Thus the little minutes. Humble though they be, Make the mighty ages Of eternity 35 ANONYMOUS Thus our little errors Lead the soul away lo From the path of virtue Off in sin to stray. Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love, Make this earth an Eden, is Like the heaven above. Anonymous THE RAINDROPS^ RIDE Some little drops of water Whose home was in the sea, To go upon a journey Once happened to agree. A white cloud was their carriage ; 6 Their horse, a playful breeze ; And over town and country They rode along at ease. But, oh ! there were so many, At last the carriage broke, lo Ind to the ground came tumbling Those frightened little folk. Among the grass and flowers They then were forced to roam, ANONYMOUS 23 Until a brooklet found them ^^ And carried them all home. Anonymous ROBIN REDBREAST Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree, Up went pussy-cat, and down went he ; Down came pussy-cat, and away Robin ran ; Said little Robin Redbreast, '' Catch me if you can/^ Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a wall, 5 Pussy-cat jumped after him, and almost got a fall; Little Robin chirped and sang, and what did pussy say ? Pussy-cat said naught but ''Mew,'^ and Robin flew away. Anonymous THREE LITTLE KITTENS Three little kittens lost their mittens, And they began to cry, 24 ANONYMOUS " mother dem% We sadly fear That we have lost our mittens,^ ^ 5 '' Lost your mittens ! You naughty kittens ! Then you shall have no pie.^' ^^ Mew, mew, mewJ^ ** No, you shall have no pie.'' lo '' Mew, mew, mew^ Three little kittens found their mittens, And they began to cry, *' mother dear. See here, see here ! 15 See! we have found our mittens, '''' *' What ! found your mittens ! You little kittens ! Then you may have some pie.'' u Piirprj^^ purr, purr ; 20 let us have the pie ! Purr, purr, purr J'' The three little kittens put on their mittens. And soon ate up the pie. *^ mother dear, 25 We greatly fear That we have soiled our mittens.'*^ ANONYMOUS g5 ** Soiled your mittens ! You naughty kittens ! ^' Then they began to sigh, so '^ Mew, mew, mew^ Then they began to sigh, '^ Mew, mew, mew^ The three little kittens washed their mit- tens. And hung them out to dry. 35 " mother dear. Look here, look here ! See! we have ivashed our mittens^ *' Washed your mittens ! Oh, you ^re good kittens, 40 But I smell a rat close by : Hush ! hush ! '^ " Mew, mew. We smell a rat close hy, Meiu, mew, mew^ Anonymous WHO LIKES THE RAIN? ^' I," SAID the duck, '' I call it fun. For I have my little red rubbers on ; They make a cunning three-toed track In the soft, cool mud. Quack! Quack! Quack ! '' 26 CLARA DOTY BATES ** I/' cried the dandelion, "I, 5 My roots are thirsty, my buds are dry '^ ; And she lifted a towsled yellow head Out of her green and grassy bed. '' I hope 't will pour ! I hope 't will pour ! ^' Purred the tree-toad at his gray back door, '' For, with a broad leaf for a roof, 11 I am perfectly weather proof. ^^ Sang the brook : ^' I laugh at every drop, And wish they never need to stop Till a big, big river I grew to be, 15 And could find my way out to the sea.'' ** I,'' shouted Ted, '' for I can run. With my high-top boots and my rain-coat on. Through every puddle and runlet and pool That I find on my way to school.'' 20 (7Zara Doty Bates THE LAMB Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee. Gave thee life and bade thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead ; WILLIAM BLAKE ^ Gave thee clothing of delight, 5 Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little lamb, who made thee ? Dost thou know who made thee ( lo Little lamb, I '11 tell thee; Little lamb, 1 'U tell thee. He is called by thy name, For He calls himself a Lamb. He is meek and He is mild, is He became a little child. I a child and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little lamb, God bless thee Little lamb, God bless thee ! 20 William Blake THE SHEPHERD How sweet is the shepherd's sweet lot! From the morn to the evening he strays ; He shall follow his sheep all the day,_ And his tongue shall be filled with praise. For he hears the lambs' innocent call, ; And he hears the ewes' tender reply ; 28 ABBIE FARWELL BROWN He is watchful while they are in peace, For they know when their shepherd is nigh. William Blake FRIENDS How good to lie a little while And look up through the tree ! The Sky is like a kind big smile Bent sweetly over me. The Sunshine flickers through the lace 5 Of leaves above my head, And kisses me upon the face Like Mother, before bed. The Wind comes stealing o'er the grass To whisper pretty things, lo And though I cannot see him pass, I feel his careful wings. So many gentle Friends are near Whom one can scarcely see, A child should never feel a fear, 15 Wherever he may be. Abbie Farwell Brown ABBIE FARWELL BROWN 29 I KNOW Who taught the first little girl how to rest? I know, I know! The good little birds flutter back to the nest, And each pretty flower-bud knows it is best To sleep when the sun drowses into the west ; ^ They taught her to rest, I know. Ahbie Farwell Brown DRESSMAKING My mother buys a piece of cloth To make a frock for me. She cuts it up in little bits. Though why I cannot see. She cuts it all in little bits, s. And then, with might and main. She sews and sews and sews and sews, And sews it up again ! Ahbie Farwell Brown 30 KATE L. BROWN THE LITTLE PLANT In the heart of a seed, Buried deep, so deep, A dear little plant Lay fast asleep. *'Wake! '^ said the sunshine, 5 ''And creep to the light/ ^ *' Wake ! " said the voice Of the raindrops bright. The little plant heard. And it rose to see ^o What the wonderful Outside world might be. Kate L. Brown THREE BUGS Three little bugs in a basket. And hardly room for two ! And one was yellow, and one was black. And one like me, or you. The space was small, no doubt, for all ; ^ But what should three bugs do? Three little bugs in a basket. And hardly crumbs for two ; ALICE GARY 31 And all were selfish in their hearts, The same as I or you ; lo So the strong ones said, ''We will eat the bread. And that is what we 11 do.'^ Three little bugs in a basket, And the beds but two would hold ; So they all three fell to quarreling — 15 The white, and the black, and the gold; And two of the bugs got under the rugs, And one was out in the cold ! So he that was left in the basket. Without a crumb to chew, 20 Or a thread to wrap himself withal, When the wind across him blew. Pulled one of the rugs from one of the bugs. And so the quarrel grew ! And so there was ivar in the basket, 25 Ah, pity ^t is, 't is true ! But he that was frozen and starved at last, A strength from his weakness drew, And pulled the rugs from both of the bugs. And killed and ate them, too ! 30 32 ALICE GARY Now, when bugs live in a basket, Though more than it well can hold. It seems to me they had better agree — The white, and the black, and the gold — And share what comes of the beds and crumbs, 35 And leave no bug in the cold ! Alice Cary THE ENVIOUS WREN On the ground lived a hen, In a tree lived a wren, Who picked up her food here and there ; While biddy had wheat And all nice things to eat, 5 Said the wren, " I declare, 'tis n't fair! '' *' It is really too bad,'' She exclaimed — she was mad — *^ To go out when it is raining this way ! And to earn what you eat, 10 Does n't make your food sweet. In spite of what some folks may say. '' Now there is that hen," Said this cross little wren, PHCEBE CARY S3 '' She 's fed till she 's fat as a drum ; i5 While I strive and sweat For each bug that I get, And nobody gives me a crumb. '' I can't see for my life . Why the old farmer's wife 20 Treats her so much better than me ; Suppose on the ground I hop carelessly round For a while, and just see what I '11 see." Said this cute little wren, 25 " I '11 make friends with the hen, And perhaps she will ask me to stay ; And then upon bread Every day I 'd be fed, And life would be nothing but play." 30 So down flew the wren. '' Stop to tea," said the hen; And soon biddy's supper was sent ; But scarce stopping to taste, The poor bird left in haste, 35 And this was the reason she went : When the farmer's kind dame To the poultry-yard came, 34 PHGEBE GARY She said — and the wren shook with fright — "• Biddy 's so fat she 11 do 40 For a pie or a stew, And I guess I shall kill her to-night/' Phcebe Cary THE CHICKEN'S MISTAKE A LITTLE downy chicken one day Asked leave to go on the w^ater, Where she saw a duck with her brood at play, Swimming and splashing about her. Indeed, she began to peep and cry, 5 When her mother would n't let her : *'If the ducks can swim there, why can't I ; Are they any bigger or better? " Then the old hen answered, '' Listen to me And hush your foolish talking ; 10 Just look at your feet, and you will see They were only made for walking." But chicky wistfully eyed the brook, And did n't half believe her, PHCEBE GARY 35 For she seemed to say by a knowing look, 15 ^' Such stories couldn't deceive her/' And as her mother was scratching the ground, She muttered lower and lower, '' I know I can go there » and not be drowned, And so I think I '11 show her.'' 20 Then she made a plunge, where the stream was deep. And saw too late her blunder ; For she had n't hardly time to peep Till her foolish head went under. And now I hope her fate will show 25 The child, my story reading, That those who are older sometimes know What you will do well in heeding. That each content in his place should dwell. And envy not his brother ; 30 And any part that is acted well, Is just as good as another.' 36 PHGEBE GARY For we all have our proper sphere below, And this is a truth worth knowing. 34 Ton will come to grief if you try to go Where you never were made for going ! Phoehe Gary THEY DID N^T THINK Once a trap was baited With a piece of cheese ; It tickled so a little mouse It almost made him sneeze ; An old rat said, ''There ^s danger, 5 Be careful where you go ! '^ ''Nonsense! '' said the other, " I don't think you know! '' So he walked in boldly — Nobody in sight ; 10 First he took a nibble. Then he took a bite ; Close the trap together Snapped as quick as wink, Catching mousey fast there, 15 'Cause he did n't think. Once a little turkey, Fond of her own way. Would n't ask the old ones Where to go or stay ; 20 PHCEBE GARY 37 She said, '' Pm not a baby, Here I am half-grown; Surely I am big enough To run about alone! " Off she went, but somebody 25 Hiding saw her pass; Soon like snow her feathers Covered all the grass. So she made a supper For a sly young mink, so 'Cause she was so headstrong That she would n't think. Once there was a robin Lived outside the door, Who wanted to go inside 3^ And hop upon the floor. <* Oh, no,'' said the mother, '<• You must stay with me; Little birds are safest Sitting in a tree." 4o " I don't care," said Robin, And gave his tail a fling ; "• I don't think the old folks Know quite everything." Down he flew, and kitty seized him, Before he 'd time to blink. 46 ** Oh," he cried, '* I 'm sorry, But I did n't think." PHCEBE GARY Now, my little children, You who read this song, so Don't you see what trouble Comes of thinking wrong? And can't you take a warning From their dreadful fate Who began their thinking 55 When it was too late ? Don't think there 's always safety Where no danger shows. Don't suppose we know more Than anybody knows; 60 But when you 're warned of ruin, Pause upon the brink, And don't go under headlong, 'Cause you did n't think. Phoebe Cary SUPPOSE ! Suppose, my little lady, Your doll should break her head, Could you make it whole by crying Till your eyes and nose are red ? And would n't it be pleasanter To treat it as a joke; And say you 're glad " 'T was Dolly's And not your head that broke " ? PHCEBE GARY 39 Suppose you 're dressed for walking, And the rain comes pouring down, lo Will it clear off any sooner Because you scold and frown ? And would n't it be nicer For you to smile than pout, And so make sunshine in the house is When there is none without ? Supf)ose your task, my little man, Is very hard to get. Will it make it any easier For you to sit and fret? 20 And would n't it be wiser, Than waiting like a dunce, To go to work in earnest And learn the thing at once? Suppose that some boys have a horse, 25 And some a coach and pair, Will it tire you less while walking To say, '^It isn't fair"? And would n't it be nobler To keep your temper sweet, 30 And in your heart be thankful You can walk upon your feet ? And suppose the world don't please you, Nor the way some people do, 40 PHCEBE CARY Do you think the whole creation 35 Will be altered just for you? And is n't it, my boy or girl, The wisest, bravest plan, Whatever comes, or does n't come, To do the best you can? 40 Phoebe Cary WHO STOLE THE BIRD'S NEST? *' To-WHiT ! to- whit ! to-whee ! Will you listen to me ? Who stole four eggs I laid. And the nice nest I made ? '' '' Not I,'' said the cow, '' Moo-00 ! 5 Such a thing I 'd never do. I gave you a wisp of hay. But did n't take your nest away. Not I," said the cow, " Moo-00 ! Such a thing I 'd never do." 10 '' To-whit ! to- whit ! to-whee ! Will you listen to me ? Who stole four eggs I laid. And the nice nest I made ? " ** Bob-o'-link I Bob-o'-link ! is Now what do you think? LYDIA MARIA CHILD 41 Who stole a nest away From the plum-tree, to-day ? '' ** Not I,'^ said the dog, '' Bow-wow ! I would n't be so mean, anyhow ! 20 I gave hairs the nest to make, But the nest I did not take. Not 1,^' said the dog, '' Bow-wow! I 'm not so mean, anyhow. '^ *' To- whit ! to- whit ! to-whee ! 25 Will you listen to me? Who stole four eggs I laid, i And the nice nest I made?^' '^Bob-o'-link! Bob-oMink! Now what do you think ? 30 Who stole a nest away From the plum-tree, to-day?'' ** Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Let me speak a word, too! Who stole that pretty nest 35 From little yellow-breast ? ^' **Not I,'' said the sheep ; *' Oh, no ! I would n't treat a poor bird so. I gave wool the nest to line. But the nest was none of mine. 40 LYDIA MARIA CHILD Baa! Baa! '' said the sheep, " Oh, no, I would n't treat a poor bird so/' *'To-whit! to-whit! to-whee! Will you listen to me ? Who stole four eggs I laid, 45 And the nice nest I made? " *^Bob-o'-link! Bob-o'-link !/ Now what do you think ? Who stole a nest away From the plum-tree, to-day ? '' so ^* Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Let me speak a word, too ! Who stole that pretty nest From little yellow-breast?'' '' Caw ! Caw ! " cried the crow ; 55 ^' I should like to know What thief took away A bird's nest, to-day?" '' Cluck ! Cluck ! " said the hen ; ** Don't ask me again, eo Why I have n't a chick Would do such a trick. We all gave her a feather, And she wove them together. LYDIA MARIA CHILD 43 I 'd scorn to intrude 65 On her and her brood. Cluck! Cluck! ^' said the hen, ''Don't ask me again." ' ' Chirr-a-whirr I Chirr-a-whirr 1 All the birds make a stir ! 7o Let us find out his name, .And all cry ' For shame ! ' '' '' I would not rob a bird/' Said little Mary Green; " I think I never heard 75 Of anything so mean." *'It is very cruel, too,'' Said little Alice Neal; '' I wonder if he knew How sad the bird would feel? " so A little boy hung down his head. And went and hid behind the bed. For he stole that pretty nest From poor little yellow-breast ; And he felt so full of shame, 85 He did n't like to tell his name. Lydia Maria Child 44 LYDIA MARIA CHILD IF EVER I SEE If ever I see, On bush or tree, Young birds in their pretty nest, I must not in play. Steal the birds away, 5 To grieve their mother^ s breast. My mother, I know, Would sorrow so. Should I be stolen away; So 1 11 speak to the birds 10 In my softest words. Nor hurt them in my play. And when they can fly In the bright blue sky. They 11 warble a song to me; 15 And then if I 'm sad It will make me glad To think they are happy and free. Lydia Maria Child PRAYING AND LOVINQ He prayeth best who loveth best All things both great and small; SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 45 For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all. Samuel Taylor Coleridge HOW THE LEAVES CAME DOWN^ I 'll tell yoii how the leaves came down. The great Tree to his children said : **You 're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown, Yes, very sleepy, little Red. It is quite time to go to bed.'' 5 *^Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf, '' Let us a little longer stay; Dear Father Tree, behold our grief! 'T is such a very pleasant day, We do not want to go away." lo So, just for one more merry day To the great Tree the leaflets clung. Frolicked and danced, and had their wav, Upon the autumn breezes swung. Whispering all their sports among — 15 ^'Perhaps the great Tree will forget. And let us stay until the spring, If we all beg, and coax, and fret." * By courtesy of Little, Brown & Co. 4© SUSAN COOLIDGE But the great Tree did no sucli thing ; He smiled to hear them whispering. 20 '^ Come, children, all to bed," he cried; And ere the leaves could urge their prayer, He shook his head, and far and wide, Fluttering and rustling everywhere, Down sped the leaflets through the air. 25 I saw them"; on the ground they lay, Golden and red, a huddled swarm. Waiting till one from far away, White bedclothes heaped upon her arm, Should come to wrap them safe and warm. 30 The great bare Tree looked down and smiled. '' Good-night, dear little leaves," he said. And from below each sleepy child Replied, " Good-night," and murmured, '' It is so nice to go to bed! " 35 Susan Qoolidge GEORGE COOPER 47 COME, LITTLE LEAVES ^' Come, little leaves,'' said the wind one day. '' Come over the meadows with me and play ; Put on your dresses of red and gold, For summer is gone and the days grow cold.'' Soon as the leaves heard the wind's loud Down they came fluttering, one and ail; Over the brown fields they danced and flew. Singing the sweet little song they knew. '^ Cricket, good-by, we 've been friends so long, Little brook, sing us your farewell song; Say you are sorry to see us go; u Ah, you will miss us, right well we know. ^' Dear little lambs in your fleecy fold. Mother will keep you from harm and cold ; Fondly we watched you in vale and glade, l^ Say, will you dream of our loving shade? 48 GEORGE COOPER Dancing and whirling, the little leaves went, Winter had called them, and they were content ; Soon, fast asleep in their earthy beds. The snow laid a coverlid over their heads. George Cooper THE SONG OF THE BEE Buzz ! buzz ! buzz ! This is the song of the bee. His legs are of yellow; A jolly good fellow. And yet a great worker is he. In days that are sunny e He 's getting his honey; In days that are cloudy He 's making his w^ax: On pinks and on lilies, lo And gay daffodillies. And columbine blossoms, He levies a tax ! Buzz! buzz! buzz! From morning's first light i5 Till the coming of night, He 's swinging and toiling MATILDA B. EDWARDS 49 The summer day through. Oh ! we may get w^eary, And think work is dreary; 20 'T is harder by far To have nothing to do ! Marian Douglas A CHILD^S PRAYER God make my life a little light, Within the world to glow, — A little flame that burneth bright, Wherever I may go. God make my life a little flower, 5 That giveth joy to all ; — Content to bloom in native bower Although its place be small. God make my life a little song. That comforteth the sad; 10 That helpeth others to be strong. And makes the singer glad. God make my life a little staff Whereon the weak may rest, — 14 That so what health and strength I have May serve my neighbor best. 50 ELIZA LEE FOLLEN God make my life a little hymn Of tenderness and praise, — Of faith, that never waxeth dim, In all His wondrous ways. 20 Matilda B, Edwards RUNAWAY BROOK " Stop, stop, pretty water ! '' Said Mary one day, To a frolicsome brook. That was running away. *' You run on so fast ! 6 I wish you would stay ; My boat and my flowers You will carry away. <* But I will run after : Mother says that I may ; 10 For I would know where You are running away.'^ So Mary ran on ; But I have heard say. That she never could find 15 Where the brook ran away. Eliza Lee Follen SABINE BARING-GOULD 51 CHILD'S EVENING HYMN Now the day is over, Night is drawing nigh, Shadows of the evening Steal across the sky. Now the darkness gathers, 5 Stars begin to peep, Birds and beasts and flowers Soon will be asleep. Jesu, give the weary Calm and sweet repose ; lo With thy tenderest blessing May our eyelids close. Grant to little children Visions bright of thee ; Guard the sailors tossing 15 On the deep blue sea. Comfort every sufferer Watching late in pain ; Those who plan some evil From their sin restrain. 20 Through the long night-watches May thine angels spread 52 SABINE BARING-GOULD Their white wings above me, Watching round my bed. When the morning wakens, 25 Then may I arise Pure and fresh and sinless In thy holy eyes. Glory to the Father, Glory to the Son, 30 And to thee, blessed Spirit, Whilst all ages run. Amen. Sabine Baring-Gould THE ELF AND THE DORMOUSE^ Under a toadstool crept a wee Elf, Out of the rain, to shelter himself. Under the toadstool sound asleep. Sat a big Dormouse all in a heap. Trembled the wee Elf, frightened, and yet Fearing to fly away lest he get wet. 8 To the next shelter — maybe a mile ! Sudden the wee Elf smiled a wee smile. Tugged till the toadstool toppled in two. Holding it over him, gayly he flew. 10 ^ By courtesy of the author. OLIVER HERFORD 53 Soon he was safe home, dry as could be. Soon woke the Dormouse — ** Good gra- cious me ! "Where is my toadstool?^' loud he la- mented. — And that 's how umbrellas first were in- vented. Oliver Herford. LADY MOON Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving ? Over the sea. Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving? All that love me. Are you not tired with rolling, and never Resting to sleep ? 6 Why look so pale and so sad, as forever Wishing to weep ? Ask me not this, little child, if you love me; You are too bold; lo I must obey my dear Father above me, And do as I ^m told. 54 VICTOR HUGO Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving ? Over the sea. Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving ? 15 All that love me. Lord Houghton GOOD-NIGHT Good-night ! Good-night ! Far flies the light; But still God's love Shall flame above. Making all bright. Good-night ! Good-night ! Victor Hugo THE LOST DOLL I ONCE had a sweet little doll, dears, The prettiest doll in the world ; Her cheeks were so red and white, dears. And her hair was so charmingly curled. But I lost my poor little doll, dears, 5 As I played in the heath one day ; And I cried for her more than a week, dears. But I never could find where she lay. CHARLES KINGSLEY $5 I found my poor little doll, dears, As I played in the heath one day ; lo Folks say she is terribly changed, dears, For her paint is all washed away. And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears, And her hair not the least bit curled ; Yet for old sakes' sake, she is still, dears. The prettiest doll in the world. le Charles Kingsley THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat : They took some honey, and plenty of money Wrapped up in a five-pound note. The Owl looked up to the stars above, 5 And sang to a small guitar, ^' lovely Pussy, Pussy, my love. What a beautiful Pussy you are! '^ Pussy said to the Owl, ''You elegant fowl. How charmingly sweet you sing ! lo Oh ! let us be married ; too long we have tarried : But what shall we do for a ring?^^ 5& EDWARD LEAR They sailed away, for a year and a day, To the land where the bong-tree grows ; And there in a wood a Piggy- wig stood, is With a ring at the end of his nose. **Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring ? ^^ Said the Piggy, '' I will/^ So they took it away, and were married next day By the Turkey who lives on the hill. 20 They dined on mince and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon ; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon. Edward Lear HIAWATHA^S CHILDHOOD By the shores of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis. Dark behind it rose the forest, 5 Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees. Pose the firs with cones upon them ; Bright before it beat the water. Beat the clear and sunny water. Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water. 10 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 57 There the wrinkled old Nokomis Nursed the little Hiawatha, Rocked him in his linden cradle, Bedded soft in moss and rushes, Safely bound with reindeer sinews ; 15 Stilled his fretful wail by saying, '' Hush ! the Naked Bear will hear thee ! '' Lulled him into slumber, singing, '' Ewa-yea ! my little owlet ! Who is this, that lights the wigwam ? 20 With his great eyes lights the wigwam ? Ewa-yea! my little owlet.'' Many things Nokomis taught him Of the stars that shine in heaven ; Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet ; 25 Ishkoodah, with liery tresses ; Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits. Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs. Flaring far away to northward In the frosty nights of Winter ; 30 Showed the broad white road in heaven, Pathway of the ghosts, the shadows. Running straight across the heavens. Crowded with the ghosts, the shadows. At the door, on summer evenings, 35 Sat the little Hiawatha ; Heard the whispering of the pine-trees, Heard the lapping of the water, Sounds of music, words of wonder ; 58 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW '* Minne-wawa! ^^ said the pine-trees, 40 *' Mudway-aushka ! '^ said the water. Saw the fire-fly, Wah-wah-taysee, Flitting through the dusk of evening, With the twinkle of its candle Lighting up the brakes and bushes, 45 And he sang the song of children. Sang the song Nokomis taught him : '' Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly. Little, flitting, white-fire insect. Little, dancing, white-fire creature, so Light me with your little candle, Ere upon my bed I lay me, Ere in sleep I close my eyelids ! '^ Saw the moon rise from the water Rippling, rounding from the water, 65 Saw the flecks and shadows on it. Whispered, '' What is that, Nokomis?'' And the good Nokomis answered : ** Once a warrior, very angry, Seized his grandmother, and threw her eo Up into the sky at midnight ; Right against the moon he threw her ; 'T is her body that you see there.'' Saw the rainbow in the heaven, In the eastern sky, the rainbow, 65 Whispered, ''What is that, Nokomis? " And the good Nokomis answered : '' 'T is the heaven of flowers you see there ; HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 59 All the wild-flowers of the forest, All the lilies of the prairie, 70 When on earth they fade and perish, Blossom in that heaven above iis.'^ When he heard the owls at midnight. Hooting, laughing in the forest, '' What is that ? '' he cried in terror; 75 *'What is that,'' he said, "Nokomis?'' And the good Nokomis answered: *'That is but the owl and owlet. Talking in their native langu^age. Talking, scolding at each other." 80 Then the little Hiawatha Learned of every bird its language, Learned their names and all their secrets, How^ they built their nests* in summer. Where they hid themselves in winter, 85 Talked with them whene'er he met them. Called them '^ Hiawatha's Chickens." Of all beasts he learned the language. Learned their names and all their secrets, How the beavers built their lodges, 90 Where the squirrels hid their acorns. How the reindeer ran so swiftly. Why the rabbit was so timid. Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them '' Hiawatha's Brothers." 95 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 60 GEORGE MACDONALD BABY Where did you come from, baby dear ? Out of the everywhere into the here. Where did you get those eyes so blue ? Out of the sky as I came through. What makes the light in them sparkle and spin? 5 Some of the starry spikes left in. Where did you get that little tear? I found it waiting when I got here. What makes your forehead so smooth and high ? A soft hand stroked it as I went by. 10 What makes your cheek like a warm white rose ? I saw something better than any one knows. Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ? Three angels gave me at once a kiss. GEORGE MACDONALD 61 Where did you get this pearly ear ? 15 God spoke, and it came out to hear. Where did you get those arms and hands ? Love made itself into bonds and bands. Feet, whence did you come, you darling things ? From the same box as the cherubs' wings. 20 How did they all just come to be you? God thought about me, and so I grew. But how did you come to us, you dear ? God thought about you, and so I am here. George Macdonald HANG UP THE BABY'S STOCKING Hang up the baby's stocking; Be sure you don't forget — The dear little dimpled darling ! She ne'er saw Christmas yet; But I 've told her all about it, 5 And she opened her big blue eyes, And I 'm sure she understands it. She looked so funny and wise. eg EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER Dear, what a tiny stocking ! It does n^t take much to hold lo Such little pink toes as baby's Away from the frost and cold. But then, for the baby's Christmas, It will never do at all ; Why, Santa would n't be looking 15 For anything half so small. I know what we '11 do for the baby — I 've thought of the very best plan ! I '11 borrow a stocking from grandma. The longest that ever I can ; 20 And you '11 hang it by mine, dear mother, Right here in the corner, so, And write a letter to Santa, And fasten it on to the toe. Write, ''This is the baby's stocking, 25 That hangs in the corner here ; You never have seen her, Santa, For she only came this year ; But she 's just the blessedest baby ! And now before you go, 30 Just cram her stocking with goodies From the top clean down to the toe." Emily Huntington Miller DINAH MARIA MULOCK 63 GOD BEST YE MERRY, GENTLEMEN God rest ye merry, gentlemen ; let noth- ing you dismay, For Jesus Christ, our Saviour, was born on Christmas-day. The dawn rose red o'er Bethlehem, the stars shone through the gray. When Jesus Christ, our Saviour, was born on Christmas-day. God rest ye, little children ; let nothing you affright, 5 For Jesus Christ, your Saviour, was born this happy night ; Along the hills of Galilee the white flocks sleeping lay. When Christ, the child of Nazareth, was born on Christmas-day. God rest ye, all good Christians ; upon this blessed morn The Lord of all good Christians was of a woman born : 10 Now all your sorrows He doth heal, your sins He takes away ; For Jesus Christ, our Saviour, was born on Christmas-day. Dinah Maria Mulock 64 EDITH NESBIT BABY SEED SONG Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother, Are you awake in the dark ? Here we lie cosily, close to each other : Hark to the song of the lark — ** "Waken !^' the lark says, ''waken and dress you ; 5 Put on your green coats and gay. Blue sky will shine on you, sunshine caress you — Waken ! 't is morning — 't is May ! '' Little brown brother, oh ! little brown brother. What kind of flower will you be ? 10 I'll be a poppy — all white, like my mother ; Do be a poppy like me. What ! you 're a sun-flow^er ? How I shall miss you When you 're grown golden and high ! But I shall send all the bees up to kiss you; 15 Little brown brother, good-bye. Edith Neshit JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY 65 MAKING A HOUSE First of all, I draw the Smoke Trailing up the sky ; Then the Chimney, underneath ; And Birds all flying by ; Then the House; and every Window, 5 Watching, like an Eye. Everybody else begins With the House. But I Love the Smoke the best of all ; And you don't know why ! . . . lo Here it goes, — like little feathers. Sailing up the sky ! Josephine Preston Pedbody THE JOURNEY I NEVER saw the hills so far And blue, the way the pictures are ; And flowers, flowers growing thick, But not a one for me to pick! The land was running from the train, 5 All blurry through the window-pane. And then it all looked flat and still, When up there jumped a little hill ! ee JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY I saw the windows and the sph'es, And sparrows sitting on the wires ; lo And fences, running up and down ; And then we cut straight through a town. I saw a Valley, like a cup ; And ponds that twinkled, and dried up. I counted meadows, that were burnt ; 15 And there were trees, — and then there were n't ! We crossed the bridges with a roar, Then hummed, the way we went before. And tunnels made it dark and light Like open-work of day and night. 20 Until I saw the chimneys rise, And lights and lights and lights, like eyes. And when they took me through the door, I heard It all begin to roar. — I thought — as far as I could see — 25 That everybody wanted Me ! Josephine Preston Pedbody EMILIE POULSSON 67 CHICKENS IN TROUBLE 1 ** MOTHER, mother ! I 'm so cold ! '^ One little chicken grumbled. '* And, mother! '^ cried a second chick, *' Against a stone Pve stumbled.'^ '^ And oh ! I am so sleepy now,'' 5 Another chick was moaning ; While chicken fourth of tired wings, Kept up a constant groaning. ** And, mother ! I have such a pain ! '' Peeped out the chicken baby ; 10 *^That yellow meal did taste so good, I Ve eaten too much, may be." ** And there 's a black, black cloud up. there,'' Cried all in fear and wonder ; *' mother dear, do spread your wings 15 And let us all creep under." ** There, there, my little dears, come here; Your cries are quite distressing," The mother called, and spread her wings For comfort and caressing. 20 * From Through the Farmyard Gate. Used by special per- mission of the publishers, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 68 EMILIE POULSSON And soon beneath her feathers warm, The little chicks were huddled ; '' I know what ailed you all/' she said, '^You wanted to be cuddled. '^ And as they nestled cosily 25 And hushed their weak complaining, She told them that the black, black cloud Was quite too small for raining. And one by one they all were soothed. And out again went straying, 30 Until five happy little chicks Were in the farmyard playing. Emilie Poulsson THE WONDERFUL WORLD Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World, With the wonderful water round you curled. And the wonderful grass upon your breast, World, you are beautifully drest. The wonderful air is over me, ^ And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree — WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS 69 It walks on the water, and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the top of the hills. Ton friendly Earth, how far do you go. With the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow, i^ With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles. And people upon you for thousands of miles ? Ah ! you are so great, and I am so small, I hardly can think of you. World, at all; And yet, when I said my prayers to- day, 15 My mother kissed me, and said, quite gay, *' If the wonderful World is great to you, And great to father and mother, too. You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot! You can love and think, and the Earth cannot !^^ 20 William Brighty Rands 70 CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI BOATS SAIL ON THE RIVERS ^ Boats sail on the rivers, And ships sail on the seas; But clouds that sail across the sky Are prettier far than these. There are bridges on the rivers, 5 As pretty as you please ; But the bow that bridges heaven And overtops the trees, And builds a road from earth to sky, Is prettier far than these. lo Christina G. Rossetti THE CITY MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY MOUSE The city mouse lives in a house ; — The garden mouse lives in a bower. He 's friendly with the frogs and toads. And sees the pretty plants in flower. The city mouse eats bread and cheese ; — The garden mouse eats what he can ; 6 We will not grudge him seeds and stocks. Poor little timid furry man. Christina G. Rossetti ^ The poems by Christina G. Rossetti are all printed by courtesy of Little, Brown & Co. CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 71 HOW MANY SECONDS IN A MINUTE ? How many seconds in a minute? Sixty, and no more in it. How many minutes in an hour ? Sixty for sun and shower. How many hours in a day ? 5 Twenty-four for work and play. How many days in a week ? Seven both to hear and speak. How many weeks in a month? Four, as the swift moon runneth, lo How many months in a year? Twelve the almanac makes clear. How many years in an age ? One hundred, says the sage. How many ages in time ? 15 No one knows the rhyme. Chi'istina G, Rossetti 72 CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI HURT NO LIVING THING Hurt no living thing : Ladybird nor butterfly, Nor moth with dusty wing, Nor cricket chirping cheerily, Nor grasshopper so light of leap. Nor dancing gnat, nor beetle fat. Nor harmless worms that creep. Christina G. Rossetti THE SWALLOW Fly away, fly away, over the sea. Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done ; Come again, come again, come back to me. Bringing the summer, and bringing the sun. When you come hurrying home o^er the sea, 5 Then we are certain that winter is past ; Cloudy and cold though your pathway may be, Summer and sunshine will follow you fast. Christina G. Rossetti CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 73 *'WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND?^^ Who has seen the wind ? Neither I nor you : But when the leaves hang trembling, The wind is passing through. Who has seen the wind ? 6 Neither you nor I : But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is passing by. Christina G, Rossetti AMERICA My country, ^tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty. Of thee I sing ; Land where my fathers died. Land of the pilgrims^ pride, i Prom every mountain side Let freedom ring. My native country, thee. Land of the noble free, Thy name I love ; lo I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills ; My heart with rapture thrills Like that above. 74 SAMUEL FRANCIS SMITH Let music swell the breeze, is And ring from all the trees Sweet Freedom's song ; Let mortal tongues awake, Let all that breathe partake, Let rocks their silence break, 20 The sound prolong. Our fathers' God, to Thee, Author of Liberty, To Thee we sing; Long may our land be bright 20 With Freedom's holy light ; Protect us by Thy might. Great God, our King. Samuel Francis Smith WHAT THE WINDS BEING Which is the Wind that brings the cold ? The North-Wind, Freddy, and all the snow ; And the sheep will scamper into the fold When the North begins to blow. Which is the Wind that brings the heat ? The South-Wind, Katy ; and corn will grow, 6 And peaches redden for you to eat. When the South begins to blow. EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN 75 Which is the Wind that brings the rain ? The East-Wind, Arty; and farmers know 10 The cows come shivering up the lane, When the East begins to blow. Which is the Wind that brings the flowers? The West- Wind, Bessy; and soft and low The birdies sing in the summer hours. When the West begins to blow. i6 Edmund Clarence Stedman I LOVE LITTLE PUSSY I LOVE little Pussy, Her coat is so warm ; And if I don^t hurt her. She ^11 do me no harm. So 1 11 not pull her tail, 5 Nor drive her away. But Pussy and I Very gently will play. She shall sit by my side. And I '11 give her some food ; lo And she 11 love me, because I am gentle and good. 76 JANE TAYLOR • • • • • I never will vex her, Nor make her displeased, For Puss does n't like 15 To be worried or teased. Jane Taylor THE STAR Twinkle, twinkle, little star ; How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. When the glorious sun is set, 5 When the grass with dew is wet, Then you show your little light. Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. In the dark blue sky you keep. And often through my curtains peep ; For you never shut your eye 11 Till the sun is in the sky. As your bright and tiny spark. Lights the traveller in the dark. Though I know not what you are, 15 Twinkle, twinkle, little star. Jane Taylor JANE TAYLOR 77 THANK YOU, PRETTY COW Thank you, pretty cow, that made Pleasant milk to soak my bread, Every day and every night, Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white. Do not chew the hemlock rank, 5 Growing on the weedy bank ; But the yellow cowslip eat. That will make it very sweet. Where the purple violet grows. Where the bubbling water flows, lo Where the grass is fresh and fine. Pretty cow, go there and dine. Jane Taylor SWEET AND LOW Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea. Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, 5 Come from the dying moon, and blow. Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. 78 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; lo Eest, rest, on mother's breast. Father will come to thee soon ; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon ; 15 Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. Alfred y Lord Tennyson LITTLE BIRDIE What does little birdie say In her nest at peep of day ? Let me fly, says little birdie, Mother, let me fly away. Birdie, rest a little longer, 5 Till the little wings are stronger. So she rests a little longer, Then she flies away. What does little baby say. In her bed at peep of day ? 10 Baby says, like little birdie, Let me rise and fly away. Baby, sleep a little longer. Till the little limbs are stronger ; ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 79 If she sleeps a little longer, is Baby too shall fly away. Alfred^ Lord Tennyson WINTER The frost is here, And fuel is dear, And woods are sear. And fires burn clear, And frost is here 5 And has bitten the heel of the going year. Bite, frost, bite ! You roll up away from the light The blue woodlouse and the plump dor- mouse. And the bees are stilFd, and the flies are kiU'd, 10 And you bite far into the heart of the house, But not into mine. Bite, frost, bite ! The woods are all the searer, The fuel is all the dearer, is The fires are all the clearer. My spring is all the nearer. 80 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON You have bitten into the heart of the earth, But not into mine. Alfred, Lord Tennyson THE SCARECROW The farmer looked at his cherry-tree, With thick buds clustered on every bough ; ^'I wish I could cheat the robins, '' said he; *' If somebody only would show me how! ** I ^11 make a terrible scarecrow grim, With threatening arms and with brist- i ling head, And up in the tree 1 11 fasten him To frighten them half to death, ^^ he said. He fashioned a scarecrow tattered and torn — Oh, ^t was a horrible thing to see ! lo And very early, one summer morn. He set it up in his cherry-tree. The blossoms were white as the light sea- foam. The beautiful tree was a lovely sight. CELIA THAXTER 81 But the scarecrow stood there so much at home ^^ All the birds flew screaming away in fright. The robins, who watched him every day, Heads held aslant, keen eyes so bright! Surveying the monster, began to say, **Why should this monster our pros- pects blight? 20 *' He never moves round for the roughest weather. He's a harmless, comical, tough old fellow ; Let 's all go into the tree together, For he won't budge till the fruit is mellow ! " So up they flew ; and the sauciest pair 25 Mid the shady branches peered and perked. Selected a spot with the utmost care, And all day merrily sang and worked. And where do you think they built their nest! 29 In the scarecrow's pocket, if you please, 82 CELIA THAXTER That, half-concealed on his ragged breast, Made a charming covert of safety and ease! By the time the cherries were ruby-red, A thriving family, hungry and brisk. The whole long day on the ripe fruit fed ; 35 T was so convenient! They ran no risk ! Until the children were ready to fly, All undisturbed they lived in the tree ; For nobody thought to look at the Guy For a robin's flourishing family ! 4o Celia Thaxter **HOW DOTH THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'' How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower ! How skilfully she builds her cell ! How neat she spreads the wax ! And labors hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. ISAAC WATTS 83 In works of labor or of skill, I would be busy too ; lo For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play, Let my first years be passed. That I may give for every day 15 Some good account at last. Isaac Watts THE SNOW-BIRD^S SONG The ground was all covered with snow one day. And two little sisters were busy at play. When a snow-bird came flitting close by on a tree, And merrily singing his chick-a-dee-dee, Chick-a-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee, 5 And merrily singing his chick-a-dee-dee. He had not been singing that tune very long, Ere Emily heard him, so loud was his song ; ** Oh, sister, look out of the window, ^^ said she, *' Here's a dear little bird singing chick- a-dee-dee. '^ 10 84 F. C. WOODWARD Chick-a-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee, And merrily singing his chick-a-dee-dee. ^' Oh, mother, do get him some stockings and shoes, And a nice little frock, and a hat if you choose ; I wish he ^d come into the parlor, and see 15 How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-dee-dee.^^ Chick-a-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee. And merrily singing his chick-a-dee-dee. ** There is One, my dear child, though I cannot tell who. Has clothed me already, and warm enough too. 20 Good morning ! Oh, who are so happy as we? '^ And away he went singing his chick-a- dee-dee. Chick-a-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee. And merrily singing his chick-a-dee-dee. F, (7. Woodward INDEX OF TITLES All Things Bright and Beau- tiful (Alexander), 17. America (Smith), 73. Baby (MacDonald), 60. Baby Seed Song (Nesbit), 64. Bees (Sherman), 7. Boats Sail on the Rivers (Rossetti), 70. Chickens in Trouble (Pouls- son), 67. Chicken's Mistake, The (Car7j), 34. Child's Evening Hymn (Bar- ing-Gould), 51. Child's Prayer, A (Edwards), 49. City Mouse and the Country Mouse, The (Rossetti), 70. Clouds (Sherman), 14. Come, Little Leaves (Coo- per), 47. Daisies (Sherman), 8. Dewdrop, A (Sherman), 7. Dressmaking (Brown), 29. Elf and the Dormouse (Her- ford), 52. Elfin Lamps (Sherman), 11. Envious Wren, The (Cary), 32. Flying Kite (Sherman), 8. Four Winds, The (Sherman) y 13. Friends (Brown), 28. Ghost Fairies (Sherman), 12. God Rest Ye Merry, Gentle- men (Muloch), 63. Golden-Rod (Sherman), 15. Good-Night (Hugo), 54. Hang up the Baby's Stock- ing (Miller), 61. He Prayeth Best (Coleridge), 44. Hiawatha's Childhood (Long- fellow), 56. How Doth the Little Busy Bee (Watts), 82. How Many Seconds in a Minute.? (Rossetti), 71. How the Leaves Came Down (Coolidge), 45. Hurt no Living Thing (Ros- , 1^2. I Know (Brown), 29. I Love Little Pussy (Tay- lor), 15. If Ever I See (Child), 44. Journey, The (Peabody), 65. Kind Hearts (Anonymous), 18. 86 INDEX OF TITLES Lady Moon (Houghton), 53. Lamb, The (Blake), 26. Leaves at Play (Sherman), 16. Little Birdie (Tennyson), 78. Little Bo-Peep (Anonymous), 19. Little by Little (Anony- mous), 19. Little Plant, The (Brown), 30. Little Things (Anonymous), 21. Lost Doll, The (Kingsley), 54. Making a House (Peabody), Owl and the Pussy-Cat, The (Lear), 55. Raindrops' Ride, The (Anony- nwus), 22. Real Santa Claus, A (Sher- man), 9. Robin Redbreast (Anony- mous), 23. Robin's Apology (Sherman), 9. Rose's Cup, The (Sherman), 10. Runaway Brook (Follen), 50. Scarecrow, The (Thaxter), 80. Shepherd, The (Blake), 27. Smiles and Tears (Sherman), 11. Snow-Bird, The (Sherman), 12. Snow-Bird's Song, The (Woodward), 83. Song of the Bee, The (Doug- las), 48. Star, The (Taylor), 76. Suppose! (Gary), 38. Swallow, The (Rossetti), 72. Sweet and Low (Tennyson), 77. Thank You, Pretty Cow (Taylor), 77. They Didn't Think (Cary), 36. Three Bugs (Carij), 30. Three Little Kittens (Anony- mous), 23. What the Winds Bring (Sted- man), 74. Who Has Seen the Wind.? (Rossetti), 73. Who Likes the Rain? (Bates), 25. Who Stole the Bird's Nest.^^ (Child), 40. Winter (Tennyson), 79. Wonderful World, The (Rands), 68. RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES {Continued) 149. Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. 150. Ouida's Dog of Flanders, etc. 151. Ewiug's Jackanapes, etc. 15'J. Martineau's The Peasant aMd the Prince. 153. Shakespeare's MidsummerNight'sDream. 154. Shakespeare's Tempest. 155. Irving's Life of Goldsmith. 15G. Tennyson's Gareth and Lynette, etc. 157. Tlie Song of Roland. 158. Malory's Merlin and Sir Balin. 159. Beowulf. ICO. Sponser's Faerie Queene. Book I. KJl. Dickens's Tale of Two Cities. 102. Prose and Poetry of Cardinal Newman. 103. Shakespeare's Henry Y. 104. De Qtiincey's Joan of Arc, etc. 105. Scott's Quentin Durward. 100. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero-Worship. 107. Longfellow's Autobiographical Poems. 108. Shelley's Poems. 109. Lowell's My Garden Acquaintance, etc. 170. Lamb's Essays of Elia. 171, 172. Emerson's Essays. 173. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Flag-Raising. 174. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Finding a Home. 175. Whittier's Autobiograpliical Poems. 170. Burroughs's Afoot and Afloat. 177. Bacon's Essays. 178. Selections from John Ruskin. 179. King Arthur Stones from Malory. 180. Palmer's Odyssey. 181. Goldsmith's The Good-Natured Man. 182. Goldsmith's She Stoops to Conquer. 183. Old English and Scottish Ballads. 184. Shakespeare's King Lear. 185. Moores's Life of Lincoln. 180. Thoreau's Camping in the Maine Woods. 187, 188. Huxley's Autobiography, and Essays. 189. Byron's Childe Harold, Canto IV, etc. 190. Washington's Farewell Address, and Web- ster's Bunker Hill Oration. 191. The Second Shepherds' Play, etc. 192. Mrs. Gaskell's Cranford. 193. Williams's ^neid. 194. Irving's Bracebridge Hall. Selections. 195. Thoreau's Walden. 190. Sheridan's The Rivals. 197. Parton's Captains of Industry. Selected. 198, 199. Maoaulay'sLordClive and W.Hastings. 200. Howells's The Rise of Silas Lapliam. 201. Harris's Little Mr.TliimbUfing(-r Stories. 202. Jewett's The Night Before Thitnksgiving. 203. Shumwav's Nibelungenlied. 204. Sheffield's Old Testament Narrative. 205. Powers's A Dickens Reader. 200. Goethe's Faust. Part I. 207. Cooper's The Spy. 208. Aldrich's Story of a Bad Boy. 209. Warner's Being a Boy. 210. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Polly Oliver's Pro- blem. 211. Milton's Areopagitica, etc. 212. Shakespeare's Romeo and Jnliet. 213. Hemingway's Le Morte Arthur. 214. Moores's Life of Columbus. 215. Bret Harte's Tennessee's Partner, etc. 210. Ralph Roister Doister. 217. Gorboduc. (In preparation.) 218. Selected Lyrics from Wordsworth, Keats, and Shelley. 219. Selected Lyrics from Dryden, Collins. Gray, Cowper, and Burns. 220. Southern Poems. 221. Macanlay's Speeches on CopjTight; Lin- coln's Cooper Union Address. 222. Briggs's College Life. 223. Selections from the Prose Writings of Mat- thew Arnold. 224. Perry's American Mind and American Idealism. 225. Newman's University Subjects. 220. Burroughs's Studies in Nature and LH erature. 227. Bryce's Promoting Good Citieenship. 228. Selected English Letters. 229. Jevvett's Play-Day Stories. 230. Grenfell's Adiift on an Ice-Pan. 231. Muir's Stickeen. 232. Harte's Waif of the Plains, etc. (/,. preparatioii.) 233. Tennyson's The Coming of Arthur, the Holy Grail and the Passing of Arthur. 2.34. Selected Essays. 235. Briggs's To College Girls. 230. Lowell's Literary Essays. (Selected.) 238. Short Stories. 239. Selections from American Poetry. 240. Howells's The Sleeping Car, and The Parlor Car. 241. Mills's The Story of a Thousand- Year Pine, etc. 242. Eliot's Training for an Effective Life. 243. Bryant's Iliad. Abridged Edition. 244. Lockwood's English Sonnets. 245. Antin's At School in tlie Promised Land. 240. Shepard's Shakespeare Questions. 247. Muir's The Boyhood of a Naturalist. 248. Boswell's Life of Johnson. 249. Palmer's Snlf-Cultivation in English, and The Glory of the Imperfect. 2.50. Sheridan's The School for Scandal. 251. Sir Gawain and the Green Kniglit, and Piers the Ploughman. 252. Howells's A Modern In.stance. 253. Helen Keller's The Story of My Life. 254. Rittenhouse's The LittleBook of Modern Verse. 255. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Ameri- can Poets. 250. Richards's High Tide. 257. Kipling Stories and Poems Every Child Slionid Know, Book I. 258. Kipling Stories and Poems Every Child Should Know, Book II. 259. Burroughs's The Wit of a Duck and Other Papers. 200. Irving's Tales from the Alhambra. 201. Liberty, Peace, and Justice. 202. A Treasnry of War Poetry 263. Peabody'8 The Piper. (5«« also hack cover) (76; RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES (Continued) EXTRA NUMBERS A American Authors and their Birthdays. C Warriner's Teaching of English Classics in the Grades. D Scudder's Literature in School. F Longfellow Leaflets. G Whittier Leaflets. // Holmes Leaflets. / Thomas ' s Ho w to TeachEnglish Classics. J Holbrook's Northland Heroes. K Minimum College Requirements in Eng- lish for Study. L The Riverside Song Book. 3r Lowell's Fable for Critics. N Selections from American Authors. o Lowell Leaflets. P Holbrook's Hiawatha Primer. Q Selections from English Authors. E Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales. Selected. Irving' s Essays from Sketch Book. Se- lected. Literature for the Study of Language. A Dramatization of the Song of Hia- watha. Holbrook's Book of Nature Myths. Brown's In the Days of Giants. Poems for the Study of Language. Warner's In the Wilderness. Nine Selected Poems. Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner and Lowell's The Vision of Sir Launfal. Poe's The Raven, Whittier's Snow- Bound, and Longfellow's The Court- ship of Miles Standish. Selections for Study and Memorizing. . PI) Sharps The Year Out-of-Doors. EE Poems for Memorizing. T U V w X Y Z A A BB CC LIBRARY BINDING 135-136. Chaucer's Prologue, The Knight's Tale, and The Nun's Priest's Tale. 160. Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book I. 166. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero-Worship. 168. Shelley's Poems. Selected. 177 . Bacon ' s Essays . 178. Selections from the Works of John Ruskin. 181-182. Goldsmith's The Good-Natured Man, and She Stoops to Conquer. 183. Old English and Scottish Ballads. 187-188. Huxley's Autobiography and Stlected Essays. 191. Second Shepherd's Play, Everyman, etc. an. Milton's Areopagitica, etc. ai6. Ralph Roister Doister. 222. Briggs's College Life. 223. Selections from the Prose Works of Matthew Arnold. 224. Perry's The American Mind and American Idealism. 225. Newman's University Subjects. 226. Burroughs' s Studies in Nature and Literature. 227. Bryce's Promoting Good Citizenship. 235. Briggs's To College Girls. 236. Selected Literary Essays from James Russell Lowell. 242. Eliot's The Training for an Effective Life. 244. Lockwood's English Sonnets. 246. Shepard's Shakespeare Questions. 248. Boswell's Life of jo'hnson. Abridged. 250. Sheridan's The School for Scandal. 251. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and Piers the Ploughman. 252. Howells's A Modern Instance. 254. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Modern Verse. 255. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of American Poets. 256. Richards 's High Tide. K. Minimum College Requirements in English for Study. Complete Catalogue and Price List free upon application HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY b-serle8c RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES Complete Catalogue and Price List free upon application 1. Longfellow's Evangeline. 2. Longfellow's Courtship of Miles Standish. 3. Dramatization of Miles Staudish. 4. Whittier's Snow-Bound, etc. 5. Whittier's Mabel Martin. 6. Holmes's Grandmother's Story. 7. 8, 9. Hawthorne's Grandfather's Chair. 10. Hawthorne's Biographical Series. 11. Longfellow's Children's Hour, etc. 13, 14. Longfellow's Song of Hiawatha. 15. Lowell's Under the Old Elm, etc. 16. Bayard Taylor's Lars. 17. 18. Hawthorne's Wonder-Book. 19, 20. Franklin's Autobiography. 21. Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanac, etc. 22, 2.3. Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales. 24. Washington's Farewell Addresses, etc. 25, 26, Longfellow's Golden Legend. 27. Thoreau's Forest Trees, etc. 28. Burroughs's Birds and Bees. 29. Hawthorne's Little Datfydowndilly, etc. 30. Lowell's Vision of Sir Launfal, etc. 31. Holmes's My Hunt after the Captain, etc. 32. Lincoln's Gettysburg Speech, etc. 33-35. Longfellow's Tales of a Wayside Inn. 36. Burroughs's Sharp Eyes, etc. 37. Warner's A-Kunting of the Deer, etc. 38. Longfellow's Building of tlie Sliip, etc. 39. Lowell's Books and Libraries, etc. 40. Hawthorne's Tales of the White Hills. 41. Whittier's Tent on the Beach, etc. 42. Emerson's Fortune of the Republic, etc. 43. Bryant's Ulysses among the Pli;eaoians. 44. Edgeworth's Waste not, Want not, etc. 45. Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. 46. Old Testament Stories. 47. 48. Scudder's Fables and Folk Stories. 49, 50. Andersen's Stcries. 51. Irving's Rip Van Winkle, etc. 52. Irving's The Voyage, etc. 53. Scott's Lady of the Lake. 54. Bryant's Thanatopsis, etc. 55. Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. 56. Webster's First Bunker Hill Oration. 57. Dickens's Christmas Cai-ol. 58. Dickens's Cricket on the Hearth. 59. Verse and Prose for Beginners in Reading. 60. 61. The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. 62. Fiske's W»r of Independence. 63. Longfellow's Paul Revere's Ride, etc. 64-66. Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. 67. Shakespeare's Julius Ciesar. 68. Goldsmith's Deserted Village, etc. 69. Hawthorne's The Old Manse, etc. 70. 71. Selection from Whittier's Child Life. 72. Milton's Minor Poems. 73. Tennyson's Enoch Arden, etc. 74. Gray's Elegy ; Cowper's John Gilpin. 75. Scudder's George Wa.shington. 76. Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality, 77. Burns's Cotter's Saturday Night, etc. 78. Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. 79. Lamb's Old China, etc. 80. Coleridge's Ancient Mariner ; Campbell's Lochiel's Warning, etc. 81. Holmes's Autocratof the Breakfast-Table. 82. Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales. 83. Eliot's Silas Marner. 84. Dana's Two Years Before the Mast. 85. Huglies's Tom Brown's School Days. 86. Scott's Ivauhoe. 87. Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. 88. Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. 89. 90. Swift's Gulliver's Voyages. 91. Hawthorne's House of the Seven Gables. 92. Burroughs's A Bunch of Herbs, etc. 93. Shakespeare's As You Like It. 94. Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I-III. 95-98. Cooper's Last of the Moliicans. 99. Tennyson's Coming of Arthur, etc. 100. Burke's Conciliation with the Colonies. 101. Pope's Iliad. Books I, VI, XXII, XXIV. 102. Macaulays Johnson and Goldsmith. 103. Macaulay's Milton. 104. Macaulay's Addison. 105. Carlyle's Essay on Burns. 106. Shakespeare's Macbeth. 107. 108. Grimms' Tales. 109. Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 110. De Quincey's Flight of a Tartar Tribe. 111. Tenny.son's Princess. 112. Cranch's ^neid. Books I-III, 113. Poems from Emerson. 114. Peabody's Old Greek Folk Stories. lir>. Browning's Pied Piper of Hamelin, etc. 116. Shakespeare's Hamlet. 117, 118. Stories from the Arabian Nights. 119, 120. Poe's Poems and Tales. 121. Speech by Hayne on Foote's Resolution. 122. Speech by Webster in Reply to Hayne. 123. Lowell's Democracy, etc, 124. Aldrich's The Cruise of the Dolphin. 125. Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. 126. Ruskhi's King of the Golden River, etc. 127. Keats's Ode on a Grecian Urn, etc. 128. Byron's Prisoner of Chillon, etc. 129. Plato's Judgment of Socrates. 130. Emerson's The Superlative, etc, 131. Emerson's Nature, etc. 132. Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, etc. 133. Schurz's Abraham Lincoln. 134. Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. 135. Chaucer's Prologue. 136. Chaucer's The Knight's Tale, etc. 137. Bryant's Iliad. Bks. I, VI, XXII, XXIV. 138. Hawthorne's The Custom House, etc. 139. Howells's Doorstep Acquaintance, etc. 140. Thackeray's Henry Esmond. 141. Higginson's Three Outdoor Papers. 142. Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies. 143. Plutarch's Alexander the Great. 144. Scudder's The Book of Legends. 145. Hawthorne's The Gentle Boy, etc. 146. Longfellow's Giles Corey. 147. Pope's Rape of the Lock, etc. 148. Hawthorne's Marble Faun. (Bee. also back covers.) (74) tEi&f ISiDergise Hittrnxxtt Series POEMS FOR READING AND MEMORIZING THIRD GRADE Prescribed by the New York State Education Department in the Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature, 1919 mmnim^mB BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY A 6 COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ALL KIGHTS RESERVED The copyrighted selections in this book are used by permission ot", and special arrangement with, their proprietors. DEC 22 t9l9 CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A ©C1A560220 ^K^ CO CONTENTS {Arranged as a Course ^) FIRST HALF YEAR Poems to be Memorized Grade Poet — Lucy Larcom Berrying Song Lucy Larcom 12 The Brown Thrush Lucy Larcom 7 Calling the Violet Lucy Larcom 9 If I Were a Sunbeam Lucy Larcom 1 1 The Rivulet Lucy Larcom 8 The Sing-away Bird Lucy Larcom 13 Miscellaneous Poems Marjorie's Almanac Thomas Bailey Aldrich 31 The Tree Bjornstjerne Bjornson 35 Dandelion Kate L. Brown 38 Don't Give Up Phoebe Gary 41 A Boy's Song James Hogg 47 September Helen Hunt Jackson 52 The Fir-Tree Josephine Preston Peabody 59 The Snowdrop Alfred, Lord Tennyson QQ Poems to be Read to the Children The Chestnut Burr V •?(*• ^:|^'> Anonymous 34 Winter Night "^ ^•' Mary F. Butts 39 Jack Frost Hannah F. Gould 44 A Thanksgiving Fable Oliver Herford 46 The Fairies of the Caldon-Low Mary Howitt 48 The Pet Lamb William Wordsworth 75 ' The titles are here grouped in accordance with suggestions in the New York Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature. The text of the poems (pages 7-80), except those by the "Grade Poets," is arranged according to the alphabetical sequence of authors' names. An Index of Titles is given on page 81. CONTENTS SECOND HALF YEAR Poems to be Memorized Grade Poet — James Whitcomb Riley Brook-Song James Whitcomb Riley 16 Little Orphant Annie James Whitcomb Riley 26 No Boy Knows James Whitcomb Riley 29 Winter Fancies James Whitcomb Riley 24 Pansies James Whitcomb Riley 25 The Raggedy Man James Whitcomb Riley 19 A Sudden Shower James Whitcomb Riley 17 The Yellowbird James Whitcomb Riley 19 Miscellaneous Poems Little Town of Bethlehem Phillips Brooks 36 November Alice Gary 40 Fable Ralph Waldo Emerson 43 Fraidie-Cat Clinton Scollard 60 The World's Music Gabriel Setoun 61 The Greenwood Tree William Shakespeare 64 Shadows Frank Dempster Sherman 65 Poems to be Read to the Children Robin Redbreast William Allingham 33 Thanksgiving Day Lydia Maria Child 42 Hta-Watha's Hunting Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 53 A Visit from Saint Nicholas Clement C. Moore 56 Jack Frost Gabriel Setoun 63 Talking in Their Sleep Edith Matilda Thomas 69 PiccoLA Celia Thaxter 66 The Sandman Margaret Vandegrift 70 Alice Fell William Wordsworth 72 Index of Titles 81 POEMS FOR READING AND MEMORIZING IN THE THIRD GRADE GROUP I. POEMS BY LUCY LARCOM THE BEOWN THRUSH There ^s a merry brown thrush sitting up in the tree. *' He 's singing to me ! He ^s singing to me! '' And what does he say, little girl, little boy? ^'0, the world ^s running over with joy! Don't you hear ? Don't you see ? 5 Hush! Look! In my tree I 'm as happy as happy can be ! '' And the brown thrush keeps singing, "A nest do you see. And five eggs, hid by me in the juni- per-tree ? Don't meddle! don't touch! little girl, little boy, lo Or the world will lose some of its joy I 8 LUCY LARCOM Now I 'm glad ! now I 'm free ! And I always shall be, If you never bring sorrow to me.'^ So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree, 15 To you and to me, to you and to me ; And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy, ^'0, the world ^s running over with joy ! But long it won't be. Don't you know? don't you see ? Unless we are as good as can be ? " 21 THE RIVULET Run, little rivulet, run ! Summer is fairly begun. Bear to the meadow the hymn of the pines And the echo that rings where the water- fall shines ; Run, little rivulet, run ! 5 Run, little rivulet, run ! Sing to the fields of the sun That wavers in emerald, shimmers in gold, Where you glide from your rocky ravine, crystal-cold ; Run, little rivulet, run I 10 LUCY LARCOM 9 Run, little rivulet, run ! Sing of the flowers, every one, — Of the delicate harebell and violet blue ; Of the red mountain rose-bud, all drip- ping with dew ; Run, little rivulet, run ! 15 Run, little rivulet, run ! Carry the perfume you won From the lily, that woke when the morn- ing was gray. To the white waiting moonbeam adrift on the bay ; Run, little rivulet, run ! 20 Run, little rivulet, run ! Stay not till summer is done ! Carry the city the mountain-birds' gl^^J Carry the joy of the hills to the sea ; Run, little rivulet, run ! 25 CALLING THE VIOLET Dear little violet. Don't be afraid ! Lift your blue eyes From the rock's mossy shade ! All the birds call for you 5 Out of the sky : 10 LUCY LARCOM I May is here, waiting, And here, too, am I. Why do you shiver so, Violet sweet? lo Soft is the meadow-grass Under my feet. Wrapped in your hood of green, Violet, why Peep from your earth-door 15 So silent and shy ? Trickle the little brooks Close to your bed ; Softest of Heecy clouds Float overhead; 20 *' Ready and waiting ! ^' The slender reeds sigh : ** Ready and waiting ! ^^ We sing — May and I. Come, pretty Violet, 25 Winter 's away : Come, for without you May is n't May. Down through the sunshine Wings flutter and fly ; — so Quick, little Violet, Open your eye ! LUCY LARCOM 11 Hear the rain whisper, ''Dear Violet, come! '^ How can you stay 35 In your underground home? Up in the pine-boughs For you the winds sigh. Homesick to see you, Are we — May and L 40 Ha ! though you care not For call or for shout. Yon troop of sunbeams Are winning you out. Now all is beautiful 45 Under the sky : May 's here, — and violets ! Winter, good-by! IF I WERE A SUNBEAM <* If I were a sunbeam, I know what I 'd do ; I would seek white lilies Rainy woodlands through. I would steal among them, Softest light I ^d shed, Until every lily Raised its drooping head. n LUCY LARCOM *' If I were a sunbeam, I know where I ^d go ; lo Into lowliest hovels, Dark with want and woe : Till sad hearts looked npward, I would shine and shine ; Then they ^d think of heaven, 15 Their sweet home and mine/^ Art thou not a sunbeam, Child, whose life is glad With an inner radiance Sunshine never had ? 20 0, as God hath blessed thee, Scatter rays divine ! For there is no sunbeam But must die or shine. BERRYING SONG Ho ! for the hills in summer ! Ho ! for the rocky shade, Where the ground pine trails under the fern-leaves, Deep in the mossy glade* Up in the dewy sunrise, 5 Waked by the robin's trill ; Up and away, a-beiTying, To the pastures on the hill ! LUCY LARCOM 13 Eed lilies blaze out of the thicket ; Wild roses blush here and there : lo There ^s sweetness in all the breezes, There ^s health in each breath of air. Hark to the wind in the pine-trees ! Hark to the tinkling rill ! 0, pleasant it is a-berrying 15 In the pastures on the hill ! We 11 garland our baskets with blos- soms, And sit on the rocks and sing. And tell one another old stories. Till the trees long shadows fling. 20 Then homeward with . laughter and carol. Mocking the echoes shrill. 0, merry it is a-berrying In the pastures on the hill ! THE SING- AWAY BIRD Have you ever heard of the Sing-away bird, That sings where the Runaway River Runs down with its rills from the bald- headed hills That stand in the sunshine and shiver ? "Oh, sing! sing-away! sing-away!^' 14 LUCY LARCOM How the pines and the birches are stirred 6 By the trill of the Sing-away bird ! And the bald-headed hills, with their rocks and their rills, To the tune of his rapture are ringing ; And their faces grow young, all the gray mists among, lo While the forests break forth into sing- ing. *'0h, sing! sing-away! sing-away! ^' And the river runs singing along ; And the flying winds catch up the song. ^T was a white-throated sparrow, that sped a light arrow i5 Of song from his musical quiver, And it pierced with its spell every valley and dell On the banks of the Runaway River. ''Oh, sing! sing-away! sing-away!'^ The song of the wild singer had 20 The sound of a soul that is glad. And, beneath the glad sun, every glad- hearted one Sets the world to the tune of his glad- ness: LUCY LARCOM 15 The swift rivers sing it, the wild breezes wing it, 24 Till Earth loses thought of her sadness. " Oh, sing ! sing-away ! sing-away ! '' Oh, sing, happy soul, to joy's Giver, — Sing on, by Time's Runaway River! GROUP II. POEMS BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY i THE BROOK-SONG Little brook ! Little brook ! You have such a happy look — Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook — And your ripples, one and one, Reach each other's hands and run 5 Like laughing little children in the sun ! Little brook, sing to me : Sing about a bumblebee That tumbled from a lily-bell and grum- bled mumblingly. Because he wet the film 10 Of his wings, and had to swim. While the water-bugs raced round and laughed at him ! ^ The eight poems by James Whitcomb Riley printed on pages 16-30, are taken from the Biographical Edition of his Complete Works. Copyright, 1913, by James Whitcomb Riley. These poems are used by special permission of the publishers. The Bobbs-Merrill Company. JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY ) 17 Little brook — sing a song Of a leaf that sailed along Down the golden-braided center of your current swift and strong, 15 And a dragon-fly that lit On the tilting rim of it, And rode away and was n't scared a bit. And sing — how oft in glee Came a truant boy like me, 20 Who loved to lean and listen to your lilt- ing melody, Till the gurgle and refrain Of your music in his brain Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain. . Little brook — laugh and leap ! 25 Do not let the dreamer weep : Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep ; And then sing soft and low Through his dreams of long ago — Sing back to him the rest he used to know! 30 A SUDDEN SHOWEE Barefooted boys scud up the street . Or skurry under sheltering sheds ; 18 JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY And schoolgirl faces, pale and sweet, Gleam from the shawls about their heads. Doors bang; and mother-voices call 5 From alien homes ; and rusty gates Are slammed ; and high above it all, The thunder grim reverberates. And then, abrupt, — the rain ! the rain ! — The earth lies gasping ; and the eyes lo Behind the streaming window-pane Smile at the trouble of the skies. The highway smokes ; sharp echoes ring ; The cattle bawl and cow-bells clank ; And into town comes galloping 15 The farmer's horse, with steaming flank. The swallow dips beneath the eaves And flirts his plumes and folds his wings ; And under the Catawba leaves The caterpillar curls and clings. 20 The bumblebee is pelted down The wet stem of the hollyhock ; And sullenly, in spattered brown, The cricket leaps the garden-walk. JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 19 Within, the baby clasps his hands 25 And crows with rapture strange and vague ; Without, beneath the rose-bush stands A dripping rooster on one leg. THE YELLOWBIRD Hey! my little Yellowbird, What you doing there ? Like a flashing sun-ray. Flitting everywhere : Dangling down the tall weeds 5 And the hollyhocks, And the lordly sunflowers Along the garden-walks. Ho ! my gallant Golden-bill, Pecking 'mongst the weeds, 10 You must have for breakfast Golden flower-seeds : Won't you tell a little fellow What you have for tea ? — 'Spect a peck 0' yellow, mellow 15 Pippin on the tree. THE RAGGEDY MAN THE Raggedy Man ! He works fer Pa ; An' he 's the goodest man ever you saw! 20 JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY He comes to our house every day, An' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay ; An' he opens the shed — an' we all ist laugh 5 When he drives out our little old wob- ble-ly calf; An' nen — ef our hired girl says he can — He milks the cow fer 'Lizabuth Ann. — Ain't he a' awful good Raggedy Man ? Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man ! Wy, The Raggedy Man — he's ist so good, 11 He splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood; An' nen he spades in our garden, too. An' does most things 'at boys can't do. — He clumbed clean up in our big tree is An' shooked a' apple down fer me — An' 'nother 'n', too, fer 'Lizabuth Ann — ^' An' 'nother 'n', too, fer The Raggedy Man. — Ain't he a' awful kind Raggedy Man? Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! An' The Raggedy Man one time say he 21 Pick' roast' rambos from a' orchurd-tree. An' et 'em — all ist roast' an' hot ! — An' it 's so, too ! — 'cause a corn-crib got JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 21 Afire one time an' all burn' down 25 On "The Smoot Farm/' 'bout four mile from town — On "The Smoot Farm!" Yes — an' the hired han' 'At worked there nen 'uz The Kaggedy Man ! — Ain't he the beatin'est Raggedy Man? Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! The Raggedy Man 's so good an' kind 31 He'll be our "horsey," an' "haw" an' mind Ever'thing 'at you make him do — An' won't run off — 'less you want him to! I drived him wunst way down our lane 35 An' he got skeered, when it 'menced to rain, An' ist rared up an' squealed and run Purt' nigh away ! — an' it 's all in fun! Nen he skeered ag'in at a' old tin can. . . . Whoa ! y' old runaway Raggedy Man ! 40 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! An' The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes, An' tells 'em, ef I be good, sometimes : 22 JAMES WHTTCOMB RILEY Knows 'bout Giiints, an' Griflfuns, an' Elves, An' the Squidgicum-Squees 'at swallers the'rselves ! 45 An', wite by the pump in our pasture- lot, He showed me the hole 'at the Wunks is got. 'At lives 'way deep in the ground, an' can Turn into me, er 'Lizabuth Ann ! Er Ma, er Pa, er The Raggedy Man ! 50 Ain't he a funny old Raggedy Man ? Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! An' wunst, when The Raggedy Man come late. An' pigs ist root' thue the garden-gate. He 'tend like the pigs 'uz hears an' said, 55 " Old Bear-shooter '11 shoot 'em dead ! " An' race' an' chase' 'em, an' they 'd ist run When he pint his hoe at 'em like it 's a gun An' go "Bang! — Bang!" nen 'tend he Stan' An' load up his gun ag'in ! Raggedy Man ! He 's an old Bear- shooter Raggedy Man ! 61 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! JAMES WHITCOMB RTLEY 23 An' sometimes The Raggedy Man lets on We ^relittlQ prince-childven, an' old King's gone To git more money, an' lef us there — 65 An' Bobbers is ist thick ever'where ; An' nen — ef we all won't cry, fer sho7'e — The Raggedy Man he '11 come and " 'splore The Castul-halls," an' steal the ''gold " — An' steal us, too, an' grab an' hold 70 An' pack us off to his old " Cave " ! — An' Haymow 's the " cave " o' The Raggedy Man! Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! The Raggedy Man — one time, when he Wuz makin' a little bow-'n'-orry fer me, 75 Says, ''When you 're big like your pa is, Air 7/ott go' to keep a fine store like his — An' be a rich merchunt — an' wear fine clothes ? — Er what air you go' to be, goodness knows? " An' nen he laughed at 'Lizabuth Ann, so An' I says "M go' to be a Raggedy Man! — I 'm ist go' to be a nice Raggedy Man ! Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! 24 JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY WINTER FANCIES I Winter without And warmth within ; The winds may shout And the storm begin ; The snows may pack 6 At the window-pane, And the skies grow black, And the sun remain Hidden away The livelong day — lo But here — in here is the warmth of May! II Swoop your spitefulest Up the flue, Wild Winds — do! What in the world do I care for you ? is delightfulest Weather of all, Howl and squall, And shake the trees till the last leaves fall ! Ill The joy one feels, ^20 In an easy-chair, JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 25 Cocking his heels In the dancing air That wreathes the rim of a roaring stove Whose heat loves better than hearts can love, 25 Will not permit The coldest day To drive away The fire in his blood, and the bliss of it ! IV Then blow, Winds, blow ! so And rave and shriek, And snarl and snow, Till your breath groAvs weak — While here in my room I 'm as snugly shut 35 As a glad little worm In the heart of a nut ! PANSIES Pansies ! Pansies ! How I love you, Pansies ! Jaunty-faced, laughing-lipped and dewy-eyed with glee; Would my song but blossom out in little five-leaf stanzas As delicate in fancies As your beauty is to me ! 6 26 JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY But my eyes shall smile on you, and my hands mfold you, Pet, caress, and lift you to the lips that love you so. That, shut ever in the years that may mildew or mold you. My fancy shall behold you Fair as in the long ago. lo LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE INSCRIBED WITH ALL FAITH AND AFFECTION To all the little children: — The happy ones ; and sad ones ; The sober and the silent ones ; the bois- terous and glad ones ; The good ones — Yes, the good ones, too ; and all the lovely bad ones. Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay. An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away, 5 An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep. An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep ; An' all us other childern, when the sup- per-things is done, JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 27 We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun, A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about, lo An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you Ef you Don't Watch Out! 15 Wunst they wuz a little boy would n't say his prayers, — An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs, His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl, An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuz n't there at all. An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press, 20 An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'-wheres, I guess ; But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout : — An' the Gobble-uns '11 git you Ef you Don't 25 Watch Out! 28 JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY An' one time a little girl 'ud alius laugh an' grin, An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin ; An' wunst, when they wuz "company," an' ole folks wuz there, 30 She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she did n't care ! An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide. They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side, An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about ! An' the Gobble-uns '11 git you 35 Ef you Don't Watch Out! An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue, 40 An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes tvoo-oo! An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray, An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away, — You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear, JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 29 An^ cliurish them ^at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear, 45 An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about, Er the Gobble-uns '11 git you Ef you Don't Watch 50 Out! NO BOY KNOWS There are many things that boys may know — Why this and that are thus and so, — Who made the world in the dark and lit The great sun up to lighten it : Boys know new things every day — ■ 6 When they study or when they play, — When they idle, or sow and reap — But no boy knows when he goes to sleep. Boys who listen — or should, at least, — May know that the round old earth rolls East ; — 10 And know that the ice and the snow and the rain — Ever repeating their parts again — Are all just water the sunbeams first 80 JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY Sip from the earth in their endless thirst, And pour again till the low streams leap. — 15 But no boy knows when he goes to sleep. A boy may know what a long, glad while It has been to him since the dawn's first smile. When forth he fared in the realm divine Of brook-laced woodland and spun-sun- shine ; — 20 He may know each call of his truant mates, And the paths they went, — and the pasture-gates Of the 'cross-lots home through the dusk so deep. — But no boy knows when he goes to sleep. I have followed me, o'er and o'er, 25 From the flagrant drowse on the parlor- floor. To the pleading voice of the mother when 1 even doubted I heard it then — To the sense of a kiss, and a moonlit room, And dewy odors of locust-bloom — 30 A sweet white cot — and a cricket's cheep. — But no boy knows when he goes to sleep. GROUP III. POEMS BY VARIOUS AUTHORS MAEJORIE'S ALMANAC Robins in the tree-top, Blossoms in the grass, Green things a-growing Everywhere you pass; Sudden little breezes, 6 Showers of silver dew, Black bough and bent twig Budding out anew ; Pine-tree and willow-tree. Fringed elm and larch, — lo Don't you think that May-time 's Pleasanter than March ? Apples in the orchard Mellowing one by one ; Strawberries upturning 15 Soft cheeks to the sun ; Roses faint with sweetness, Lilies fair of face, Drowsy scents and murmurs Haunting every place ; 20 Lengths of golden sunshine. Moonlight bright as day, — 82 THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH Don^t you think that summer 's Pleasanter than May ? Koger in the corn-patch 25 , Whistling negro songs ; Pussy by the hearth-side Romping with the tongs ; Chestnuts in the ashes Bursting through the rind ; 30 Red leaf and gold leaf Rustling down the wind ; Mother '' doin' peaches'' All the afternoon, — Don't you think that autumn 's 35 Pleasanter than June ? Little fairy snow-flakes Dancing in the flue ; Old Mr. Santa Claus, What is keeping you ? 40 Twilight and firelight Shadows come and go ; Merry chime of sleigh-bells Tinkling through the snow ; Mother knitting stockings 45 (Pussy 's got the ball), — Don't you think that winter 's Pleasanter than all ? Thomas Bailey Aldrich WILLIAM ALLINGHAM S3 ROBIN REDBREAST Good-bye, good-bye to Summer ! For Summer 's nearly done ; The garden smiling faintly, Cool breezes in the sun ; Our Thrushes now are silent, 5 Our Swallows flown away, — But Robin ^s here, in coat of brown, With ruddy breast-knot gay. Robin, Robin Redbreast, Robin dear ! ^ 10 Robin singing sweetly In the falling of the year. Bright yellow, red, and orange, The leaves come down in hosts ; The trees are Indian Princes, 15 But soon they 11 turn to Ghosts ; The scanty pears and apples Hang russet on the bough, It 's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late, T will soon be Winter now. 20 Robin, Robin Redbreast, Robin dear! And welaway ! my Robin, For pinching times are near. The fireside for the Cricket, 25 The wheatstack for the Mouse, S4 ANONYMOUS When trembling night-winds whistle And moan all round the house ; The frosty ways like iron, 29 The branches plumed with snow, — Alas ! in Winter, dead and dark Where can poor Eobin go? Robin, Robin Redbreast, Robin dear! And a crumb of bread for Robin, 35 His little heart to cheer. William Allingham THE CHESTNUT BURR A WEE little nut lay deep in its nest Of satin and brown, the softest and best, And slept and grew while its cradle rocked. As it hung in the boughs that inter- locked. Now the house was small where the cradle lay, 5 As it swung in the winds by night and day; For the thicket of underbrush fenced it round, This lone little cot by the great sun browned. ANONYMOUS 35 This little nut grew, and ere long it found There was work outside on the soft green ground ; lo It must do its part so the world might know It had tried one little seed to sow. And soon the house that had kept it warm Was tossed about by the autumn storm, The stem was cracked, the old house fell, And the chestnut burr was an empty shell. 16 But the little nut, as it waiting lay, Dreamed a wonderful dream one day. Of how it should break its coat of brown. And live as a tree, to grow up and down. 20 Ano7iymous THE TREE The Tree^s early leaf-buds were bursting their brown ; "Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down. " No, leave them alone Till the blossoms have grown," Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown. 5 S6 BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung : *' Shall I take them away?'' said the Wind, as he swung. '^ No, leave them alone Till the berries have grown," Said the Tree, w^hile his leaflets quivering hung. 10 The Tree bore his fruit in the mid-sum- mer glow : Said the girl, "May I gather thy berries now?" ''Yes, all thou canst see : Take them; all are for thee," Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low. 15 Bjornstjeme Bjornson LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM ' LITTLE town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie ! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by ; Yet in thy dark streets shineth 5 The everlasting Light ; 1 By courtesy of E. P. Button & Co. PHILLIPS BROOKS ST The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee to-night. For Christ is born of Mary, And, gathered all above, lo While mortals sleep, the angels keep Their watch of wondering love. morning stars, together Proclaim the holy birth ! And praises sing to God the King, 15 And peace to men on earth. How silently, how silently. The wondrous gift is given ! So God imparts to human hearts The blessings of His heaven. 20 No ear may hear His coming, But in this world of sin. Where meek souls will receive Him still, The dear Christ enters in. holy Child of Bethlehem ! 25 Descend to us, we pray ; Cast out our sin, and enter in, Be born in us to-day. W^e hear the Christmas angels The great glad tidings tell ; so Oh, come to us, abide with us, Our Lord Emmanuel ! Phillips Brooks 38 KATE L. BROWN DANDELION He is a roguish little elf, A gay audacious fellow, Who tramps about in doublet green And skirt of brightest yellow ; In ev^ry field, by ev'ry road, 5 He peeps among the grasses, And shows his sunny little face To ev'ry one that passes. "Within the churchyard he is seen, Beside the headstones peeping, lo And shining like a golden star O'er some still form that 's sleeping; Beside the house door oft he springs In all his wanton straying. And children shout in laughing glee 15 To find him in their playing. At eve he dons his nightgown green, And goes to bed right early, At morn, he spreads his yellow skirts To catch the dewdrops pearly ; 20 A darling elf is Dandelion, A roguish wanton sweeting ; Yet he is loved by ev'ry child, All give him joyous greeting. Kate L. Brown MARY F. BUTTS 39 WINTER NIGHT Blow, wind, blow! Drift the flying snow ! Send it twirling, whirling overhead ! There 's a bedroom in a tree Where, snug as snug can be, 5 The squirrel nests in his cosey bed. Shriek, wind, shriek ! Make the branches creak ! Battle with the boughs till break o' day! In a snow-cave warm and tight, lo Through the icy winter night. The rabbit sleeps the peaceful hours away. Call, wind, call. In entry and in hall. Straight from off the mountain white and wild ! 15 Soft purrs the pussy-cat On her little fluffy mat. And beside her nestles close her furry child. Scold, wind, scold, So bitter and so bold ! 20 40 MARY F. BUTTS Shake the windows with your tap, tap, tap ! With half-shut, dreamy eyes The drowsy baby lies Cuddled closely in his mother's lap. Mary F, Butts NOVEMBER The leaves are fading and falling, The winds are rough and wild, The birds have ceased their calling. But let me tell you, my child. Though day by day, as it closes, 5 Doth darker and colder grow, The roots of the bright red roses Will keep alive in the snow. And when the Winter is over, The boughs will get new leaves, lo The quail come back to the clover. And the swallow back to the eaves. The robin will wear on his bosom A vest that is bright and new, And the loveliest way-side blossom 15 Will shine with the sun and dew. ALICE GARY 41 The leaves to-day are whirling, The brooks are all dry and dumb, But let me tell you, my darling, The Spring will be sure to come. 20 There must be rough, cold weather, And winds and rains so wild ; Not all good things together Come to us here, my child. So, when some dear joy loses 25 Its beauteous summer glow^, Think how the roots of the roses Are kept alive in the snow. Alice Gary DON'T GIVE UP If you tried and have not won, Never stop for crying ; All that 's great and good is done Just by patient trying. Though young birds, in flying, fall, 5 Still their wings grow stronger ; And the next time they can keep Up a little longer. Though the sturdy oak has known Many a blast that bowed her, 10 42 PH(EBE GARY She has risen again, and grown Loftier and prouder. If by easy work you beat, Who the more will prize you ? Gaining victory from defeat, 15 That 's the test that tries you ! Phoebe Gary THANKSGIVING DAY Over the river and through the wood, To grandfather's house we go ; The horse knows the way To carry the sleigh Through the white and drifted snow. 5 Over the river and through the wood — Oh, how the wind does blow ! It stings the toes And bites the nose, As over the ground we go. 10 Over the river and through the wood, To have a first-rate play. Hear the bells ring. *'Ting-a-ling-ding! ^' Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day ! 15 LYDIA MARIA CHILD 43 Over the river and through the wood Trot fast, my dapple-gray ! Spring over the ground, Like a hunting-hound ! For this is Thanksgiving Day. 20 Over the river and through the wood, And straight through the barnyard gate. We seem to go Extremely slow, — It is so hard to wait ! 25 Over the river and through the wood — Now grandmother's cap I spy! Hurrah for the fun ! Is the pudding done? Hurrah for the pumpkin-pie ! 30 Lydia Maria Child FABLE The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel. And the former called the latter *^ Little Prig''; Bun replied : '' You are doubtless very big; 5 But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together 44 RALPH WALDO EMERSON To make up a year And a sphere ; And I think it no disgrace lo To occupy my place. If I 'm not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. 1 11 not deny you make 15 A very pretty squirrel track ; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back Neither can you crack a nut! '^ Ralph Waldo Emerson JACK FROST The Frost looked forth on a still, clear night, And whispered, ''Now, I shall be out of sight ; So, through the valley, and over the height. In silence 1 11 take my way. I will not go on like that blustering train, 5 The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain. That make such a bustle and noise in vain ; But 1 11 be as busy as they ! ^^ HANNAH F. GOULD 45 So he flew to the mountain, and pow- dered its crest. He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed lo With diamonds and pearls ; and over the breast Of the quivering lake, he spread A coat of mail, that it need not fear The glittering point of many a spear Which he hung on its margin, far and near, 15 Where a rock could rear its head. He went to the window of those who slept, And over each pane like a fairy crept : Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped. By the light of the morn were seen Most beautiful things! — there were flow- ers and trees, 21 There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees ; There were cities and temples and tow- ers ; and these All pictured in silvery sheen ! But he did one thing that was hardly fair — " 25 46 HANNAH F. GOULD He peeped in the cupboard : and finding there That all had forgotten for him to prepare, '' Now, just to set them a-thinking, I '11 bite this basket of fruit,'' said he, ''This costly pitcher I '11 burst in three! And the glass of water they 've left for me, 31 Shall 'tchick' to tell them I'm drinking.'^ Hannah F. Gould A THANKSGIVING FABLE ^ It was a hungry pussy cat, upon Thanks- giving morn, And she watched a thankful little mouse, that ate an ear of corn. ** If I ate that thankful little mouse, how thankful he should be. When he has made a meal himself, to make a meal for me ! '' Then with his thanks for having fed, and his thanks for feeding me, 5 With all Ids thankfulness inside, how thankful I shall be!" * By courtesy of the author. OLIVER HERFORD 47 Thus mused the hungry pussy cat, upon Thanksgivmg Day ; But the little mouse had overheard and declined (with thanks) to stay. Oliver Herford A BOTS SONG Where the pools are bright and deep, Where the gray trout lies asleep, Up the river and o'er the lea, That 's the way for Billy and me. Where the blackbird sings the latest, s Where the hawthorn blooms the sweet- est. Where the nestlings chirp and flee. That 's the way for Billy and me. Where the mowers mow the cleanest. Where the hay lies thick and greenest, lo There to trace the homeward bee. That 's the way for Billy and me. Where the hazel bank is steepest. Where the shadow falls the deepest. Where the clustering nuts fall free, is That 's the way for Billy and me. 48 JAMES HOGG Why the boys should drive away Little sweet maidens from the play, Or love to banter and light so well, That 's the thing I never could tell. 20 But this I know, I love to play. Through the meadow, among the hay, Up the water and o'er the lea. That 's the way for Billy and me. James Hogg THE FAIRIES OF THE CALDON- LOW '' And where have you been, my Mary, And where have you been from me ? '' '* I Ve been to the top of the Caldon-Low, The midsummer night to see ! '^ '' And w^hat did you see, my Mary, 5 All up on the Caldon-Low? " "I saw the blithe sunshine come down. And I saw the merry winds blow." "• And what did you hear, my Mary, All up on the Caldon Hilf? '' 10 *' I heard the drops of water made, And I heard the corn-ears fill." MARY HOWITT 49 '' Oh, tell me all, my Mary — All, all that ever you know ; For you must have seen the fairies 15 Last night on the Caldon-Low.'^ ^' Then take me on your knee, mother, And listen, mother of mine : A hundred fairies danced last night, And the harpers they were nine ; 20 ** And merry was the glee of the harp- strings. And their dancing feet so small ; But oh! the sound of their talking Was merrier far than all ! '^ ** And what w^ere the words, my Mary 25 That you did hear them say ? ^' *' 1 11 tell you all, my mother, But let me have my way. *' And some they played with the water And rolled it down the hill; 30 ' And this,' they said, ' shall speedily turn The poor old miller's mill ; '' ' For there has been no water Ever since the first of May ; And a busy man shall the miller be 35 By the dawning of the day ! 50 MARY HOWITT '' ' Oh, the miller, how he will laugh, When he sees the mill-dam rise ! The jolly old miller, how he will laugh. Till the tears fill both his eyes ! ' 4o " And some they seized the little winds, That sounded over the hill. And each put a horn into his mouth, And blew so sharp and shrill ! '''And there, ^ said they, * the merry winds go, 45 Away from every horn ; And those shall clear the mildew dank From the blind old widow's corn ; '' ' Oh, the poor blind widow — Though she has been blind so long, 5o She 11 be merry enough when the mil- dew ^s gone. And the corn stands stiff and strong ! ' *'And some they brought the brown lin- seed, And flung it down from the Low : * And this,' said they, 'by the sunrise, 55 In the weaver's croft shall grow ! *' ' Oh, the poor lame weaver ! How will he laugh outright MARY HOWITT 51 When he sees his dwindling flax-field All full of flowers by night ! ' 6o '' And then upspoke a brownie, With a long beard on his chin ; ' I have spun up all the tow/ said he, ' And I want some more to spin. *' 'I Ve spun a piece of hempen cloth, 65 And I want to spin another — A little sheet for Mary's bed And an apron for her mother/ ** And with that I could not help but laugh, And I laughed out loud and free ; 7o And then on the top of the Caldon-Low, There was no one left but me. *' And all on the top of the Caldon-Low The mists were cold and gray. And nothing I saw but the mossy stones That round about me lay. 76 **But, as I came down from the hill-top, 1 heard, afar below, How busy the jolly old miller was. And how merry the wheel did go ! so 52 MARY HOWITT ''And I peeped into the widow's field, And, sure enough, was seen The yellow ears of the mildewed corn All standing stiff and green ! *' And down by the Aveaver's croft I stole, 85 To see if the flax were high ; But I saw the weaver at his gate With the good news in his eye ! " Now, this is all that I heard, mother, And all that I did see; 90 So, prithee, make my bed, mother. For I 'm tired as I can be ! " Mary Howitt SEPTEMBER ^ The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down; The gentian's bluest fringes Are curling in the sun ; In dusty pods the milkweed Its hidden silk has spun ; ^ By courtesy of Little, Brown & Co. HELEN HUNT JACKSON 53 The sedges flaunt tlieir harvest In every meadow nook, lo And asters by the brookside Make asters in the brook ; From dewy lanes at morning The grapes' sweet odors rise ; At noon the roads all flutter i5 With yellow butterflies — By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer. 20 Helen Hunt Jackson HIAWATHA'S HUNTING Forth into the forest straightway All alone walked Hiawatha Proudly, with his bow and arrows ; And the birds sang round him, o'er him, ''Do not shoot us, Hiawatha ! " 5 Sang the robin, the Opechee, Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa, " Do not shoot us, Hiawatha! " Up the oak-tree, close beside him, Sprang the squirrel, Adjidaumo, 10 In and out among the branches, 54 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Coughed and chattered from the oak- tree, Laughed, and said between his laugh- ing, *' Do not shoot me, Hiawatha ! ^^ And the rabbit from his pathway 15 Leaped aside, and at a distance Sat erect upon his haunches, Half in fear and half in frolic, Saying to the little hunter, *' Do not shoot me, Hiawatha ! '' 20 But he heeded not, nor heard them. For his thoughts were with the red deer ; On their tracks his eyes were fastened, Leading downward to the river, To the ford across the river, 25 And as one in slumber walked he. Hidden in the alder bushes. There he waited till the deer came, Till he saw two antlers lifted. Saw two eyes look from the thicket, so Saw^ two nostrils point to windward And a deer came down the pathway, Flecked with leafy light and shadow. And his heart within him fluttered. Trembled like the leaves above him, 35 Like the birch-leaf palpitated. As the deer came down the pathway. " HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 55 Then upon one knee uprising, Hiawatha aimed an arrow : Scarce a twig moved with his motion, 4o Scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled. But the wary roebuck started, Stamped with all his hoofs together, Listened with one hoof uplifted. Leaped as if to meet the arrow ; 45 Ah! the singing, fatal arrow. Like a wasp it buzzed and stung him ! Dead he lay there in the forest, By the ford across the river ; Beat his timid heart no longer, so But the heart of Hiawatha Throbbed and shouted and exulted. As he bore the red deer homeward. And lagoo, and Nokomis Hailed his coming with applauses. 55 From the red deer^s hide Nokomis Made a cloak for Hiawatha, From the red deer^s tlesh Nokomis Made a banquet in his honor. All the village came and feasted, 60 All the guests praised Hiawatha, Called him Strong-Heart, Soan-ge-taha, Called him Loon-Heart, Mahn-go-taysee. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow U CLEMENT C. MOORE A VISIT FEOM ST. NICHOLAS 'T WAS the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care. In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, 5 While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads ; And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap. Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap — When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. 10 Away to the window I flew like a flash. Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash ; The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave a lustre of mid-day to objects be- low; CLEMENT C. MOORE 57 When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, 15 But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: 20 *'Now, Dasher! now. Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen ! On, Comet ! on, Cupid ! on, Donder and Blitzen! — To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall. Now, dash away, dash away, dash away all!'^ As dry leaves that before the wild hurri- cane tiy, 25 When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So, up to the housetop the coursers they Hew, With a sleigh full of toys — and St. Nicholas too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof 58 CLEMENT C. MOORE. The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. 30 As I drew in my head and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound ; He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot : A bundle of toys he had flung on his back. And he looked like a peddler just open- ing his pack. 36 His eyes, how they twinkled ! his dim- ples, how merry ! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry ; His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow. And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. 4o The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth. And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face, and a little round belly That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. CLEMENT C. MOORE 59 He was chubby and plump — a right jolly old elf ; 45 And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work. And filled all the stockings : then turned with a jerk, 50 And layitig his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle. And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere they drove out of sight, 55 " Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night! '^ Clement C, Moore THE FIR-TEEE The winds have blown more bitter Each darkening day of fall ; High over all the house-tops 60 JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY The stars are far and small. I wonder, will my fir-tree 5 Be green in spite of all ? ; grief is colder — colder Than wind from any part ; And tears of grief are bitter tears, And doubt 's a sorer smart! lo But I promised to my fir-tree To keep the fragrant heart. Josejohine Preston Pedbody FRAIDIE-CATi I SHAN^T tell you what 's his name : When we want to play a game. Always thinks that he '11 be hurt, Soil his jacket in the dirt, Tear his trousers, spoil his hat, — 5 Fraidie-Cat ! Fraidie-Cat ! Nothing of the boy in him ! " Das n't '' try to learn to swim ; Says a cow '11 hook ; if she Looks at him he '11 climb a tree. lo *' Scart " to death at bee or bat, — Fraidie-Cat ! Fraidie-Cat ! ^ By courtesy of the author. CLINTON SCOLLARD 61 Claims the're ghosts all snowy white Wandering around at night In the attic : would n't go 15 There for anything, I know. B'lieve he 'd run if you said " Scat ! " Fraidie-Cat ! Fraidie-Cat ! Clinton Scollard THE WORLD'S MUSIC The world 's a very happy place, Where every child should dance and sing. And always have a smiling face, And never sulk for anything. I waken when the morning 's come, 5 And feel the air and light alive With strange sweet music like the hum Of bees about their busy hive. The linnets play among the leaves At hide-and-seek, and chirp and sing ; While, flashing to and from the eaves, ii The swallows twitter on the wing. The twigs that shake, and boughs that sway ; And tall old trees you could not climb ; 62 GABRIEL SETOUN And winds that come, but cannot stay, 15 Are gaily singing all the time. From dawn to dark the old mill-wheel Makes music, going round and round ; And dusty- white with flour and meal, The miller whistles to its sound. 20 And if you listen to the rain When leaves and birds and bees are dumb, You hear it pattering on the pane Like Andrew beating on his drum. The coals beneath the kettle croon, 25 And clap their hands and dance in glee; And even the kettle hums a tune To tell you when it 's time for tea. The world is such a happy place, That children, whether big or small, 30 Should always have a smiling face. And never, never sulk at all. Gah'iel Setoun GABRIEL SETOUN JACK FEOST The door was shut, as doors should be, Before you went to bed last night ; Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see, And left your window silver white. He must have waited till you slept ; s And not a single word he spoke. But pencilled o'er the panes and crept Away again before you woke. And now you cannot see the hills Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane ; lo But there are fairer things than these His lingers traced on every pane. Kocks and castles towering high ; Hills and dales, and streams and fields ; And knights in armor riding by, 15 With nodding plumes and shining shields. And here are little boats, and there Big ships with sails spread to the breeze ; And yonder, palm trees waving fair On islands set in silver seas, 20 64 GABRIEL SETOUN And butterflies with gauzy wings ; And herds of cows and flocks of sheep ; And fruit and flowers and all the things You see when you are sound asleep. For, creeping softly underneath 25 The door when all the lights are out, Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe, And knows the things you think about. He paints them on the window-pane In fairy lines with frozen steam ; so And when you wake you see again The lovely things you saw in dream. Gabriel Setoun THE GREENWOOD TREE Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me. And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither ! Here shall he see 6 No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to lie i' the sun, 10 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 65 Seeking the food he eats, And pleased with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy 15 But winter and rough weather. William Shakespeare THE SHADOWS All up and down in shadow-town The shadow children go ; In every street you're sure to meet Them running to and fro. They move around without a sound, 5 They play at hide-and-seek. But no one yet that I have met Has ever heard them speak. Beneath the tree you often see Them dancing in and out, 10 And in the sun there 's always one To follow you about. Go where you will, he follows still. Or sometimes runs before, And, home at last, you '11 find him fast Beside you at the door. le m ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON A faithful friend is he to lend His presence everywhere ; Blow out the light — to bed at night — Your shadow-mate is there ! 20 Then he will call the shadows all Into your room to leap, And such a pack ! they make it black, And fill your eyes with sleep ! Frank Dempster Sherman THE SNOWDROP Many, many welcomes, February fair-maid ! Ever as of old time, Solitary firstling, Coming in the cold time, 5 Prophet of the gay time, Prophet of the May time. Prophet of the roses. Many, many welcomes, February fair-maid ! 10 Alfred, Lord Tennyson PICCOLA Poor, sweet Piccola ! Did you hear What happened to Piccola, children dear? CELIA THAXTER 67 'T is seldom Fortune such favor grants As fell to this little maid of France. 'Twas Christmas-time, and her parents poor 5 Could hardly drive the wolf from the door, Striving with poverty's patient pain Only to live till summer again. No gifts for Piccola ! Sad were they When dawned the morning of Christmas- day ; 10 Their little darling no joy might stir, St. Nicholas nothing would bring to her! But Piccola never doubted at all That something beautiful must befall Every child upon Christmas-day, is And so she slept till the dawn was gray. And full of faith, when at last she woke, She stole to her shoe as the morning broke ; Such sounds of gladness filled all the air, 'Twas plain St. Nicholas had been there ! 20 68 CELIA THAXTER In rushed Piccola sweet, half wild : Never was seen such a joyful child. " See what the good saint brought ! " she cried, And mother and father must peep in- side. Now such a story who ever heard ? 25 There was a little shivering bird ! A sparrow, that in at the window flew, Had crept into Piccola's tiny shoe ! "■ How good poor Piccola must have been ! " She cried, as happy as any queen, 30 While the starving sparrow she fed and warmed. And danced with rapture, she was so charmed. Children, this story I tell to you. Of Piccola sweet and her bird, is true. In the far-off land of France, they say, 35 Still do they live to this very day. Celia Thaxter EDITH M. THOMAS 69 TALKING IN THEIR SLEEP ''You think I am dead," The apple-tree said, " Because I have never a leaf to show — Because I stoop. And my branches droop, 5 And the dull gray mosses over me grow ! But I 'm all alive in trunk and shoot ; The buds of next May I fold away — But I pity the withered grass at my roof 10 *' You think I am dead,'^ The quick grass said, ** Because I have parted with stem and blade! But under the ground I am safe and sound is With the snow's thick blanket over me laid. I 'm all alive and ready to shoot, Should the spring of the year Come dancing here — But I pity the flower without branch or roof 20 70 EDITH M. THOMAS *' You think I am dead/' A soft voice said, ^' Because not a branch or root I own ? I never have died, But close I hide 25 In a plumy seed that the wind has sown. Patient I wait through the long winter hours ; You will see me again — I shall laugh at you then, Out of the eyes of a hundred flowers/^ 30 Edith M, Thomas THE SANDMAN The rosy clouds float overhead, The sun is going down ; And now the sandman's gentle tread Comes stealing through the town. "• White sand, white sand,'' he softly cries, 5 And as he shakes his hand. Straightway there lies on babies' eyes His gift of shining sand. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown. As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town. 10 MARGARET VANDEGRIFT 71 From sunny beaches far away — Yes, in another land — He gathers up at break of day His store of shining sand. No tempests beat that shore remote, 15 No ships may sail that way ; His little boat alone may float Within that lovely bay. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town. 20 He smiles to see the eyelids close Above the happy eyes ; And every child right well he knows, — Oh, he is very wise ! But if, as he goes through the land, 25 A naughty baby cries. His other hand takes dull gray sand To close the wakeful eyes. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown. As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town. So when you hear the sandman's song Sound through the twilight sweet, Be sure you do not keep him long A-waiting on the street. 72 MARGARET VANDEGRIFT Lie softly down, dear little head, 35 Eest quiet, busy hands. Till, by your bed his good-night said, He strews the shining sands. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and bro w^n, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town. 40 Margaret Vandegi^ift ALICE FELL The post-boy drove with fierce career, For threatening clouds the moon had drowned, When, as we hurried on, my ear Was smitten with a startling sound. As if the wind blew many ways, 5 I heard the sound, — and more and more; It seemed to follow with the chaise, And still I heard it as before. At length I to the boy called out. He stopped his horses at the word, 10 But neither cry, nor voice, nor shout. Nor aught else like it, could be heard. The boy then smacked his whip, and fast The horses scampered through the rain ; WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 73 But, hearing soon upon the blast i5 The cry, I bade him halt again. Forthwith alighting on the ground, ** Whence comes, '^ said I, "this piteous moan? '^ And there a little girl I found, Sitting behind the chaise, alone. 20 "My cloak! '^ no other word she spake, But loud and bitterly she we|3t, As if her innocent heart would break ; And down from off her seat she leapt. "What ails you, child?'' She sobbed, "Look here ! '' 25 I saw it in the wheel entangled, A weather-beaten rag as e'er Prom any garden scarecrow dangled. There, twisted between nave and spoke, It hung, nor could at once be freed ; 30 But our joint pains unloosed the cloak, A miserable rag indeed ! "And whither are you going, child. To-night, along these lonesome ways? '^ "To Durham," answered she, half wild. "Then come with me into the chaise." 36 74 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH Insensible to all relief Sat the poor girl, and forth did send Sob after sob, as if her grief Could never, never have an end. 4o " My child, in Durham do you dwell? '^ She checked herself in her distress, And said, ''My name is Alice Fell; I 'm fatherless and motherless. '' And I to Durham, Sir, belong. '^ 45 Again, as if the thought would choke Her very heart, her grief grew strong ; And all was for her tattered cloak ! The chaise drove on ; our journey's end Was nigh ; and, sitting by my side, 50 As if she had lost her only friend She wept, nor w^ould be pacified. Up to the tavern door we post ; Of Alice and her grief I told ; And I gave money to the host, 55 To buy a new cloak for the old. ** And let it be of duffel gray, As warm a cloak as man can sell I '^ Proud creature* was she the next day, The little orphan, Alice Fell P ' eo William Wordsworth WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 75 THE PET LAMB A PASTORAL The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink ; I heard a voice: it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink ! ^' And, looking o^er the hedge, before me I espied A snow-white mountain-lamb with a maiden at its side. Nor sheep nor kine were near ; the lamb was all alone, 5 And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone ; With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel. While to that mountain-lamb she gave its evening meal. The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took, Seemed to feast with head and ears ; and his tail with pleasure shook. 10 "Drink, pretty creature, drink !'^ she said, in such a tone That I almost received her heart into my own. 70 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 'T was little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare ! I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair. Now with her empty can the maiden turned away, 15 But ere ten yards were gone, her foot- steps did she stay. Right towards the lamb she looked ; and from a shady place I unobserved could see the workings of her face : If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring, Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid might sing : — 20 *' What ails thee, young one? what? Why pull so at thy cord ? Is it not well with thee ? w ell both for bed and board ? Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be ; Rest, little young one, rest; what is^t that aileth thee ? '* What is it thou wouldst seek ? What is wanting to thy heart ? 25 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 77 Thy limbs, are they not strong? And beautiful thou art : This grass is tender grass ; these flowers they have no peers ; And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears ! '' If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy wo n< ]i chain, This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain; 30 For rain and mountain-storms ! the like thou need^st not fear, The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here. ''Rest, little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day When my father found thee first in places far away ; Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none, 35 And thy mother from thy side for ever- more was gone. '' He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home : A blessed day for thee ! then whither wouldst thou roam ? 78 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A faithful nurse thou hast ; the dam that did thee yean Upon the mountain-tops no kinder could have been. 4o '' Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this can Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran ; And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew, I bring thee draughts of milk, — warm milk it is and new. '' Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now, 45 Then I '11 yoke thee to my cart like a pony in the plough ; My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold. Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold. '' It will not, will not rest! — Poor crea- ture, can it be That 'tis thy mother's heart which is working so in thee ? 50 Things that I know not of belike to thee are dear, WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 79 And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear. *'Alas, the mountain-tops that look so green and fair ! I Ve heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there ; The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play 55 When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey. ** Here thou need^st not dread the raven in the sky ; Night and day thou art safe, — our cot- tage is hard by. Why bleat so after me ? Why pull so at thy chain ? Sleep, — and at break of day I will come to thee again ! ^' 60 — As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet. This song to myself did I oftentimes re- peat ; And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line. That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was mine. 80 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH Again, and once again, did I repeat the song ; 65 *'Nay,'' said I, ''more than half to the damsel must belong. For she looked with such a look, and she spake with such a tone, That I almost received her heart into my own.'^ William Wordsworth INDEX OF TITLES Alice Fell (Wordsworth), 72. Berrying Song (Larcom), 12. Boy's Song, A (Hogg), 47. Brook-Song {Riley), 16. Brown Thrush, The (Larcom), 7. Calling the Violet (Larcom), 9. Chestnut Burr, The (Anony- mous), 34. Dandelion (Broion), 38. Don't Give Up (Gary), 41. Fable (Emerson), 43. Fairies of the Caldon-Low (Howitt), 48. Fir-Tree, The (Peabody), 59. Fraidie Cat (Scollard), 60. Greenwood Tree, The (Shakespeare), 64. Hiawatha's Hunting (Long- fellow), 53. If I Were a Sunbeam (Lar- com), 11. Jack Frost (Gould), 44. Jack Frost (Setoun), 63. Little Orphant Annie (Ri- ley), 26. Marjorie's Almanac (Al- drich), 31. No Boy Knows (Riley), 29. November (Gary), 40. O Little Town of Bethlehem (Brooks), 36. Pansies (Riley), 25. Pet Lamb, The (Words- worth), 15. Piccola (Thaxter), QQ. Raggedy Man, The (Riley), 19. Rivulet, The (Larcom), 8. Robin Redbreast (Ailing - ham), 33. Sandman, The (Vandegrift), 70. September (Jackson), 52. Shadows (Sherman), 65. Sing-away Bird, The (Lar- com), 13. Snowdrop, The (Tennyson), 66. Sudden Shower, A (Riley), 17. Talking in their Sleep (Thomas), 69. Thanksgiving Day (Ghild), 42. Thanksgiving Fable, A (Her- ford), 46. Tree, The (Bjornson), 35. Visit from Saint Nicholas, A (Moore), 56. Winter Fancies (Riley), 24. Winter Night (Butts), 39. World's Music, The (Se- toun), 61. Yellowbird, The (Riley), 19. RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES (Continued) 149. Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. 150. Ouida's Dog of Flanders, etc. 151. Ewiug's Jackanapes, etc. 152. Martiueau's The Peasant and the Prince. 153. Snakespeave's Midsummer Night's Dream. 154. Shakespeare's Tempest. 155. Ii-ving's Life of Goldsmith. 15G. Tennyson's Gareth and Lynette, etc. 157. Tiie Song of Roland. 158. Malory's Merlin and Sir Balin. 159. Beowulf. 160. Spenser's Faerie Queene. Book I. 161. Dickens's Tide of Two Cities. 162. Prose and Poetry of Cardinal Newman. 163. Shakespeare's Henry V. 164. De Quincey's Joan of Arc, etc. 165. Scott's Quentin Durward. 166. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero- Worship. 167. Longfellow's Autobiographical Poems. 168. Shelley's Poems. 169. Lowell's My Garden Acquaintance, etc. 170. Lamb's Essays of Elia. 171,172. Emerson's Essays. 173. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Flag-Raising. 174. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Finding a Home. 175. Whittier's Autobiographical Poems. 176. Burroughs's Afoot and Afloat. 177. Bacon's Essays. 178. Selections from John Ruskin. 179. King Arthur Stories from Malory. 180. Palmer's Odyssey. 181. Goldsmith's The Good-Natured Man. 182. Goldsmith's She Stoops to Conquer. 183. Old English and Scottish Ballads. 184. Shakespeare's King Leir. 185. Moores's Life of Lincoln. 186. Thoreau's Camping in the Maine Woods. 187. 188. Huxley's Autobiography, and Essays. 189. Byron's Childe Harold, Canto IV, etc. 190. Washington's Farewell Address, and Web- ster's Bunker Hill Oration. 191. The Second Shepherds' Play, etc. 192. Mrs. Gaskell's Cranford. 193. Williams's ^Eneid. 194. Irving's Bracebridge Hall. Selections. 195. Thoreau's Walden. 196. Sheridan's The Rivahs. 197. Barton's Captains of Industry. Selected. 198,199. Macaulay'sLordClive and W.Hastings. 200. Howells's The Rise of Silas Lapham. 201. Harris's Little Mr.Thimblefinger Stories. 202. Jewett's The Night Before Thanksgiving. 203. Shumway's Nibelungenlied. 204. Sheffield's Old Test.iinent Narrative. 205. Powers's A Dickens Reader. 206. Goethe's Fau.st. Part I. 207. Cooper's The Spy. 208. Aldrich's Story of a Bad Boy. 209. Warner's Being a Boy. 210. Kate Douglas Wigp in' s Polly Oliver's Pro- blem. 211. Milton's Areopagitica, etc. 212. Sliakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. 213. Hemingway's Le Morte Arthur. tl4. Moores's Life of Columbus. 215. Bret Harte's Tennessee's Partner, eto. 216. Ralph Roister Doister. 217. Gorboduc. {In preparation.) 218. Selected Lyrics from Wordsworth, EeatB, and Shelley. 210. Selected Lyrics from Dryden, Collins, Gray, Covvper, and Burns. 220. Southern Poems. 221. Macaulay's Speeches on Copj'right; Lin- coln's Cooper Union Address. 222. Briggs's College Life. 223. Selections from the Prose Writings of Mat- thew Arnold. 224. Perry's American Mind and American Idealism. 225. Newman's University Subjects. 226. Burroughs's Studies in Nature and Lit- erature . 227. Bryce's Promoting Good Citizenship, 228. Selected Englisli Letters. 229. Jewett's Play-Day Stories. 230. Grenfell's Adrift on an Ice-Pan. 231. Muir's Stickeen. 232. Harte's Waif of the Plains, etc. (7n prepardtion.) 233. Tennyson's The Coming of Artlnir, th» Holy Grail and the Passing of Arthur. 2.34. Selected Essays. 235. Briggs's To College Girls. 236. Lowell's Literary P^ssays. (Selected.) 238. Short Stoi-ies. 239. Selections from American Poetry. 240. Howells's The Sleeping Car, and The Parlor Car. 241. Mills's The Story of a Thousand- Year Pine, etc, 242. Eliot's Training for an Effective Life. 243. Bryant's Iliad. Abridged Edition. 244. Lockwood's English Sonnets. 245. Antin's At School in the Promised Land- 246. Shepard's Shakespeare Questions. 247. Muir's The Boyhood of a Naturalist, 248. Bosvvell's Life of Johnson. 249. Palmer's Self-Cultivation in English, and The Glory of the Imperfect. 2.'")0. Sheridan's The School for Scandal. 251. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and Piers the Ploughman. 252. Howells's A Modern Instance. 2.53. Helen Keller's The Story of My Life. 254. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Modern Verse. 255. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Ameri can Poets. 256. Richards's High Tide. 257. Kipling Stories and Poems Every Child Should Know, Book I. 258. Kipling Stories and Poems Every Child Should Know, Book II. 259. Burroughs's The Wit of a Duck and Other Papers. 260. Irving's T.ales from the Alhambra. 261. Liberty, Peace, and Ju.stice, 262. A Treasury of War Poetry. 263. Peabody's The Piper. {See also back cover) (75) RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES (Continued) EXTRA NUMBERS Americar Authors and their Birthdays. Biographical Sketches of American Au- thors. Warriner ' s Teaching of English Classics in the Grades. Scudder's Literature in School. Longfellow Leaflets. Whittier Leaflets. Holmes Leaflets. Thomas's HowtoTeachEnglish, Classics. Holbrook's Northland Heroes. Minimum College Requirements in English for Study. The Riverside Song Book. Lowell's Fable for Critics. Selections from American Authors. Lowell Leaflets. Holbrook's Hiawatha Primer. Selections from English Authors. R Hawthorne ' s Twice-Told Tales. Selected. S Irving 's Essays from Sketch Book. Se» lected. T Literature for the Study of Language. U A Dramatization of the Song of Hia* watha. V Holbrook's Book of Nature Myths. W Brown's In the Days of Giants. X Poems for the Study of Language. Y Warner's In the Wilderness. Z Nine Selected Poems. A A Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner and Lowell's The Vision of Sir Launfal. Poe's The Raven, Whittier' s Snow- Bound, and Longfellow's The Court- ship of Miles Standish. Selections for Study and Memorizing. DP Sharp s The Year Out-of-Doors. E£ Poems for Memorizing. BB cr LIBRARY BINDING 135-136. Chaucer's Prologue, The Knight's Tale, and The Nun's Priest's Tale. 160. Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book I. 166. early le's Heroes and Hero-Worship. 168. Shelley's Poems. Selected. 177. Bacon's Essays. 178. Selections from the Works of John Ruskin. 181- 182. Goldsmith's The Good-Natured Man, and She Stoops to Conquer. 183. Old English and Sco<-'.ish Ballads. 187-188. Huxley's Autobiography and Selected Essays. 191. Second Shepherd's Play, Everyman, etc. 211. Milton's Areopagitica, etc. 210. Ralph Roister Doister. 222 . Bri ggs ' s Colle ge Life . 223. Selections from the Prose Works of Matthew Arnold. 224. Peiry's The American Mind and American Idealism. 225. Newman's University Subjects. 226. Burroughs 's Studies in Nature and Literature. 227. Bryce's Promoting Good Citizenship. 235. Briggs's To College Girls. 236. Selected Literary Essays from James Russell LoweU. 242. Eliot's The Training for an Effective Life. 244. Lockwood's English Sonnets. 246. Shepard's Shakespeare Questions. 248. Boswell's Life of Johnson. Abridged. 250. Sheridan's The School for Scandal. 251. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and Piers the Ploughman. 252. Howe/ls's A Modern Instance. 254. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Modern Verse. 255. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of American Poets. 256. Richards's High Tide. K. Minimum College Requirements in English for Study. Complete Catalogue and Price List free upon applicACton HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY Extra Number HH POEMS FOR READING :K AND MEMORIZING FOURTH GRADE Prescribed by the New York State Education Department in the Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature, 1919 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON. NEW YORK, AND CHICAGO RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES Complete Catalogue and Price List free upon application 1. Longfellow's Evangeline. 2. Longfellow's Courtship of Miles Standish. 3. Dramatization of Miles Standish. 4. Whittier's Snow-Botiud, etc. 5. Whittier's Mabel Martin. 6. Holmes's Grandmother's Story. 7. 8, 9. Hawthorne's Grand lather's Chair. 10. Hawthorne's Biographical Series. 11. Longfellow's Children's Hour, etc. 13, 11. Longfellow's Song of Hiawatha. 15. Lowell's Under the Old Elm, etc. 1(). Bayard Taylor's Lars. 17, 18. Hawthorne's Wonder-Book. 19, 20. Franklin's Autobiography. 21. Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanac, etc. 22, 23. Hawthorne's Tan^lewood Tales. 24. Washington's Farewell Addresses, etc. 25, 26. Longfellow's Golden Legend. 27. Thoreau's Forest Trees, etc. 28. Burroughs's Birds and Bees. 29. Hawthorne's Little Daffydowndilly, etc. 30. Lowell's Vision of Sir Launfal, etc. 31. Holmes's My Hunt after the Captain, etc. 32. Lincoln's Gettysburg Speeoli, etc. 33-35. Longfellow's Tales of a Wayside Inn. 3G. Burroughs's Sharp Eyes, etc. 37. Warner's A-Kanting of the Deer, etc. 38. Longfellow's Building of tiie Ship, etc. 39. Lowell's Books and Libraries, etc. 40. Hawthorne's Tales of the White Hills. 41. Whittier's Tent on the Beach, etc. 42. Emerson's Fortune of the Republic, etc. 43. Bryant's Ulysses among the Plueacians. 44. Edgeworth's Waste not, Want not, etc. 45. Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. 40. Old Testament Stories. 47, 48. Scudder's Fables and Folk Stories. 49, 50. Andersen's Stories. 51. Irving's Rip Van Winkle, etc. 52. Irvhig's The Voyage, etc. 53. Scott's Lady of the Lake. 54. Bryant's Thanatopsis. etc. 55. Shakespeare's Mercliant of Venice. 5G. Webster's First Bunker Hill Oration. 57. Dickens's Christmas Carol. 58. Dickens's Cricket on the Hearth. 59. Verse and Prose for Beginners in Reading. GO, 61. The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. 62. Fiske's War of Independence. 63. Longfellow's Paul Revere 's Ride, etc. (■>4-66. Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. 67. Shakespeare's Julius C;psar. 68. Goldsmith's Deserted Village, etc. 69. Hawthorne's The 01n with thp Colonies. 101. Pope's Iliad. Books 1, VI, XXII, XXIV. 102. Macaulay's Johnson and Goldsmith. 103. Macaulay's Milton. ' 104. Macaulay's Addison. 105. Carlyle's Essay on Burns. 106. Shakespeare's Macbeth. 107. 108. Grimms' Tales. 109. Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 110. De Qiiincey's Flight of a Tartar Triba. 111. Tennyson's Princess. 112. Cranch's ^neid. Books I-III. 113. Poems from P'merson. 114. Peabody's Old Greek Folk Stories. 115. Browning's Pied Pi))er of Hamelin, etc. 116. Shakespeare's Hamlet. 117. 118. Stories from the Arabian Nights. 119, 120. Poe's Poems and Tales. 121. Speech by Hayne on P^oote's Resolution. 122. Speech by Webster in Reply to Hayne. 123. Lowell's Democracy, etc. 124. Aldricli's The Cruise of the Dolphin. 125. Dryden's Palamon :ind Arcite. 126. Ruskin's King of the Golden River, etc. 127. Keats's Ode on a Grecian Urn, etc. 128. Byron's Prisoner of Chillon, etc. 129. Plato's Judgment of Socrates. 130. Emerson's Tlie Superlative, etc. 131. Emerson's Nature, etc, 132. Arnold's Sohrab and Rusttim, etc. 133. Schurz's Abraham Lincoln. 134. Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. 135. Chaucer's Prologue. 1.36. Chaucer's The Knight's Tale, etc. 137. Bryant's Iliad. Bks. I, VI, XXII, XXIV. 138. Hawthorne's The Custom House, etc. 139. Howells's Doorstep Acquaintance, etc. 140. Thackeray's Henry Esmond. 141. Higginson's Three Outdoor Papers. 142. Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies. 143. Plutarch's Alexander the Great. 144. Scudder's The Book of Legends. 145. Hawthorne's Tlie Gentle Boy, etc. 146. Longfellow's Giles Corey. 147. Pope's Rape of the Lock, etc. 148. Hawthorne's Marble Faun. («See also hack covers.) (74) tL^t MiSytt^itt ^literature ^erie0 POEMS rOH BEADING AND MEMOKIZING FOURTH GEADE Prescribed by the New York State Education Department in the Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature, 1919 heSSergt^cjgr^ BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY x^'-- COPYRIGHT, I919, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED The copyrighted selections in this book are used by permission of, and special arrangement with, their proprietors. CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A C1A560221 CONTENTS (Arranged as a Course ^) FIRST HALF YEAR Poems to be Memorized Grade Poet — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow The Village Blacksmith Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1 The Children's Hour Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 3 The Arrow and the Song Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 5 Rain in Summer Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 5 The Windmill Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 8 Hiawatha's Sailing Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 10 Miscellaneous Poems The Fairies William AUingham 37 The Year's at the Spring Robert Browning 39 A Day Emily Dickinson 55 October's Bright Blue Weather Helen Hunt Jackson 61 The Star-Spangled Banner Francis Scott Key 62 The Fountain James Russell Lowell 64 The Bluebird Emily Huntington Miller 70 Little Brown Brother Edith Nesbit 72 There 's Nothing Like the Rose Christina G. Rossetti 73 Poems to be Read to the Children A Lobster Quadrille , JJ <;<,^ . j, Lewis Carroll 47 Bob White '' " '••^•' George Cooper 54 The Owl-Critic James T. Fields 5Q Birds in Summer Mary Howitt 59 An April Day Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 13 Hiawatha's Fishing Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 14 Hiawatha's Friends Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 22 1 The titles are here grouped in accordance with suggestions in the New York Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature. The text of the poems (pages 1- 91), except those by the "Grade Poets," is arranged according to the alphabetical sequence of authors' names. An Index of Titles is given on page 92. iv CONTENTS The Singing Leaves James Russell Lowell 66 King Solomon and the Bees John G. Saxe 74 Christmas in Norway Celia Thaxter 35 SECOND HALF YEAR Poems to be Memorized Grade Poet — Celia Thaxter The Sandpiper Celia Thaxter 27 Wild Geese Celia Thaxter 28 Spring Celia Thaxter 29 March . Celia Thaxter 30 Robin's Rain Song Celia Thaxter 31 The Scarecrow Celia Thaxter 32 Nikolina Celia Thaxter 34 The Sparrows Celia Thaxter 35 Miscellaneous Poems A Child's Thought of God Elizabeth Barrett Browning 39 April Rain Robert Loveman 64 Morning James Herbert Morse 71 A Song of Our Flag Wilbur D. Nesbit 72 Under the Greenwood Tree William Shakespeare 76 While Shepherds Watched their Flocks by Night Nahum Tate 79 To A Butterfly William Wordsworth 90 Poems to be Read to the Children The Planting of the Apple-Tree William CuUen Bryant 40 The Walrus and the Carpenter Lewis Carroll 43 The Leak in the Dike Phoebe Gary 48 A Fairy Tale Helen Gray Cone 53 The Inchcape Rock Robert Southey 77 Winter Alfred, Lord Tennyson 80 Evening at the Farm John T. Trowbridge 81 Little Belt, Thomas Westwood 83 Red Riding-Hood John Greenleaf Whittier 86 We Are Seven William Wordsworth 88 Index of Titles 92 POEMS FOR READING AND MEMORIZING IN THE FOURTH GRADE GROUP I. POEMS BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy ^ stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms 5 Are as strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long. His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat. He earns whate'er he can, 10 And looks the whole world in the face. For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night. You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, 15 With measured beat and slow, 1 The suggestion of the poem came from the smithy which the poet passed daily, and which stood beneath a horse-chestnut tree not far from his house in Cambridge. 2 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; 20 They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch ^ the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor. He goes on Sunday to the church, 25 And sits among his boys; He hears the parson pray and preach. He hears his daughter's voice, Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice. 30 It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more. How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 35 A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin. Each evening sees it close; 40 Something attempted, something done. Has earned a night's repose. * After this poem had been printed for some time, Mr. Long- fellow was disposed to change this word to "watch," but the original form had grown so familiar that he decided to leave it. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 3 Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught! Thus at the flaming forge of Hfe 45 Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought. THE CHILDREN'S HOUR Between the dark and the daylight. When the night is beginning to lower. Comes a pause in the day's occupations. That is known as the Children's Hour. I hear in the chamber above me 5 The patter of little feet. The sound of a door that is opened, And voices soft and sweet. From my study I see in the lamplight, Descending the broad hall stair, lo Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra, And Edith with golden hair. A whisper, and then a silence: Yet I know by their merry eyes. They are plotting and planning together 15 To take me by surprise. A sudden rush from the stairway, A sudden raid from the hall! By three doors left unguarded, They enter my castle wall! 20 I HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW They climb up into my turret, O'er the arms and back of my chair; If I try to escape, they surround me; They seem to be everywhere. They almost devour me with kisses, 25 Their arms about me entwine, Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen ^ In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine! Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,^ Because you have scaled the wall, 30 Such an old moustache ^ as I am Is not a match for you all? I have you fast in my fortress. And will not let you depart, But put you down into the dungeon 35 In the round-tower of my heart. And there will I keep you forever. Yes, forever and a day, Till the walls shall crumble to ruin. And moulder in dust away! 40 * Near Bingen on the Rhine is a little square Mouse-Tower, so called from an old word meaning toll, since it was used as a toll- house; but there is an old tradition that a certain Bishop Hatto, who had been cruel to the people, was attacked in the tower by a great army of rats and mice. See Southey's famous poem. Bishop Hatto. 2 An Italian word for bands of robbers. ' A translation of the French phrase vieille mottstachef which is used of a veteran soldier. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 5 THE ARROW AND THE SONG I SHOT an arrow into the air. It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, 5 It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song? Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke; 10 And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend- RAIN IN SUMMER How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street. In the narrow lane. How beautiful is the rain! " 5 How it clatters along the roofs. Like the tramp of hoofs! How it gushes and struggles out From the throat of the overflowing spout! Across the window-pane 10 It pours and pours; And swift and wide. With a muddy tide. H^NRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Like a river down the gutter roars The rain, the welcome rain! 15 The sick man from his chamber looks At the twisted brooks; He can feel the cool Breath of each little pool; His fevered brain 20 Grows calm again. And he breathes a blessing on the rain. From the neighboring school Come the boys. With more than their wonted noise 25 And commotion; And down the wet streets Sail their mimic fleets, Till the treacherous pool Ingulfs them in its whirling 30 And turbulent ocean. In the country, on every side. Where far and wide, Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide, Stretches the plain, 35 To the dry grass and the drier grain How welcome is the rain! In the furrowed land The toilsome and patient oxen stand; Lifting the yoke-encumbered head, 40 With their dilated nostrils spread. They silently inhale The clover-scented gale, HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 7 And the vapors that arise From the well-watered and smoking soil. 45 For this rest in the furrow after toil Their large and lustrous eyes Seem to thank the Lord, More than man's spoken word. Near at hand, 50 From under the sheltering trees. The farmer sees His pastures, and his fields of grain. As they bend their tops To the numberless beating drops 55 Of the incessant rain. He counts it as no sin That he sees therein Only his own thrift and gain. These, and far more than these, 60 The Poet sees ! He can behold Aquarius old Walking the fenceless fields of air; And from each ample fold 65 Of the clouds about him rolled Scattering everywhere The showery rain. As the farmer scatters his grain. He can behold 70 Things manifold That have not yet been wholly told, HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Have not been wholly sung nor said. For his thought, that never stops, Follows the water-drops 75 Down to the graves of the dead, Down through chasms and gulfs profound, To the dreary fountain-head Of lakes and rivers under ground ; And sees them, when the rain is done, 80 On the bridge of colors seven Climbing up once more to heaven. Opposite the setting sun. Thus the Seer, . ' With vision clear, 85 Sees forms appear and disappear. In the perpetual round of strange, Mysterious change From birth to death, from death to birth. From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth; Till glimpses more sublime 91 Of things unseen before. Unto his wondering eyes reveal The Universe, as an immeasurable wheel Turning forevermore 95 In the rapid and rushing river of Time. THE WINDMILL Behold ! a giant am I ! Aloft here in my tower, With my granite jaws I devour The maize, and the wheat, and the rye, And grind them into flour. 5 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 9 I look down over the farms; In the fields of grain I see The harvest that is to be, And I fling to the air my arms. For I know it is all for me. 10 I hear the sound of flails Far off, from the threshing-floors In barns, with their open doors, And the wind, the wind in my sails. Louder and louder roars. 15 I stand here in my place. With my foot on the rock below. And whichever way it may blow I meet it face to face. As a brave man meets his foe. 20 And while we wrestle and strive. My master, the miller, stands And feeds me with his hands; For he knows who makes him thrive, Who makes him lord of lands. 25 On Sundays I take my rest; Church-going bells begin Their low, melodious din; I cross my arms on my breast, And all is peace within. 30 10 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HIAWATHA'S SAILING "Give me of your bark, O Birch-Tree! Of your yellow bark, O Birch-Tree! Growing by the rushing river. Tall and stately in the valley! I a light canoe will build me, 5 Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing, That shall float upon the river. Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, Like a yellow water-lily! Lay aside your cloak, O Birch-Tree! 10 Lay aside your white-skin wrapper. For the Summer-time is coming, And the sun is warm in heaven. And you need no white-skin wrapper!" Thus aloud cried Hiawatha 15 In the solitary forest, By the rushing Taquamenaw, When the birds were singing gayly. In the Moon of Leaves were singing, And the sun, from sleep awaking, 20 Started up and said, "Behold me! Gheezis, the great Sun, behold me!" And the tree with all its branches Rustled in the breeze of morning. Saying, with a sigh of patience, 25 "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!" With his knife the tree he girdled; Just beneath its lowest branches. Just above the roots, he cut it. Till the sap came oozing outward; 30 Down the trunk, from top to bottom. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 11 Sheer he cleft the bark asunder, With a wooden wedge he raised it, Stripped it from the trunk unbroken. "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar! 35 Of your strong and pKant branches, My canoe to make more steady, Make more strong and firm beneath me!" Through the summit of the Cedar Went a sound, a cry of horror, 40 Went a murmur of resistance; But it whispered, bending downward, 'Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!" Down he hewed the boughs of cedar. Shaped them straightway to a framework, 45 Like two bows he formed and shaped them, Like two bended bows together. "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack! Of your fibrous roots, O Larch-Tree! My canoe to bind together, 50 So to bind the ends together That the water may not enter. That the river may not wet me!" And the Larch, with all its fibres. Shivered in the air of morning, 55 Touched his forehead with its tassels, Said, with one long sigh of sorrow, 'Take them all, O Hiawatha!" From the earth he tore the fibres, Tore the tough roots of the Larch-Tree, 60 Closely sewed the bark together. Bound it closely to the framework. "Give me of your balm, O Fir-Tree! Of your balsam and your resin, U ^ HENRY WiVDSWORTH LONGFELLOW So to close the seams together 65 That the water may not enter. That the river may not wet me!" And the Fir-Tree, tall and sombre. Sobbed through all its robes of darkness. Rattled like a shore with pebbles, 70 Answered wailing, answered weeping, "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!" And he took the tears of balsam, Took the resin of the Fir-Tree, Smeared therewith each seam and fissure, 75 Made each crevice safe from water. "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog! All your quills, O Kagh, the Hedgehog! I will make a necklace of them. Make a girdle for my beauty, 80 And two stars to deck her bosom ! " From a hollow tree the Hedgehog With his sleepy eyes looked at him. Shot his shining quills, like arrows. Saying, with a drowsy murmur, 85 Through the tangle of his whiskers, "Take my quills, O Hiawatha ! " From the ground the quills he gathered. All the little shining arrows. Stained them red and blue and yellow, 90 With the juice of roots and berries; Into his canoe he wrought them, Round its waist a shining girdle. Round its bows a gleaming necklace, On its breast two stars resplendent. 95 Thus the Birch Canoe was builded In the valley, by the river. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 13 In the bosom of the forest; And the forest's Hfe was in it. All its mystery and its magic, 100 All the lightness of the birch-tree, All the toughness of the cedar, All the larch's supple sinews; And it floated on the river, Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, 105 Like a yellow water-lily. AN APRIL DAY In a manuscript note, Longfellow says that the poems "An April Day" and "Woods in Winter" "were written during my last year in college, in No. 27 Maine Hall [one of the dormitories at Bowdoin], whose windows looked out upon the pine groves." When the warm sun, that brings Seed-time and harvest, has returned again, 'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs The first flower of the plain. I love the season well, 5 When forest glades are teaming with bright forms. Nor dark and many -folded clouds foretell The coming-on of storms. From the earth's loosened mould The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives ; 10 Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold, The drooping tree revives. The softly-warbled song Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings 14 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along 15 The forest openings. When the bright sunset fills The silver woods with light, the green slope throws Its shadows in the hollows of the hills. And wide the upland glows. 20 And when the eve is born, In the blue lake the sky, o 'er-reaching far. Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn. And twinkles many a star. Inverted in the tide 25 Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw. And the fair trees look over, side by. side, And see themselves below. Sweet April! many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; 30 Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought, Life's golden fruit is shed. HIAWATHA'S FISHING Forth upon the Gitche Gumee, On the shining Big-Sea-Water, With his fishing-line of cedar. Of the twisted bark of cedar. Forth to catch the sturgeon Nahma, 5 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 15 Mishe-Nahma, King ;of Fishes, In his, birch canoe exulting All alone went Hiawatha. Through the clear, transparent water He could see the fishes swimming 10 Far down in the depths below him; See the yellow perch, the Sahwa, Like a sunbeam in the water, See the Shawgashee, the craw-fish, Like a spider on the bottom, 15 On the white and sandy bottom. At the stern sat Hiawatha, With his fishing-line of cedar; In his plumes the breeze of morning Played as in the hemlock branches; 20 On the bows, with tail erected, Sat the squirrel, Adjidaumo; In his fur the breeze of morning Played as in the prairie grasses. On the white sand of the bottom 25 Lay the monster Mishe-Nahma, Lay the sturgeon, King of Fishes; Through his gills he breathed the water, With his fins he fanned and winnowed. With his tail he swept the sand-floor. 30 There he lay in all his armor; On each side a shield to guard him, Plates of bone upon his forehead, Down his sides and back and shoulders, Plates of bone with spines projecting! 35 Painted was he with his war-paints. Stripes of yellow, red, and azure. Spots of brown and spots of sable; 16 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW . And he lay there on the bottom. Fanning with his fins of purple, 40 As above him Hiawatha In his birch canoe came sailing. With his fishing-line of cedar. "Take my bait," cried Hiawatha, Down into the depths beneath him, 45 "Take my bait, O Sturgeon, Nahma! , Come up from below the water. Let us see which is the stronger!" And he dropped his line of cedar Through the clear, transparent water, 50 Waited vainly for an answer. Long sat waiting for an answer. And repeating loud and louder, "Take my bait, O King of Fishes!" Quiet lay the sturgeon, Nahma, 55 Fanning slowly in the water. Looking up at Hiawatha. Listening to his call and clamor. His unnecessary tumult. Till he wearied of the shouting; 60 And he said to the Kenozha, To the pike, the Maskenozha, "Take the bait of this rude fellow. Break the line of Hiawatha!" In his fingers Hiawatha 65 Felt the loose line jerk and tighten; As he drew it in, it tugged so That the birch canoe stood endwise, Like a birch log in the water. With the squirrel, Adjidaumo, 70 Perched and frisking on the summit. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 17 Full of scorn was Hiawatha When he saw the fish rise upward, Saw the pike, the Maskenozha, Coming nearer, nearer to him, 75 And he shouted through the water, "Esa! esa! shame upon you! You are but the pike, Kenozha, You are not the fish I wanted. You are not the King of Fishes!" 80 Reeling downward to the bottom Sank the pike in great confusion, And the mighty sturgeon, Nahma, Said to Ugudwash, the sun-fish, To the bream, with scales of crimson, 85 "Take the bait of this great boaster, Break the line of Hiawatha!" Slowly upward, wavering, gleamingj, Rose the Ugudwash, the sun-fish, Seized the line of Hiawatha, 9P- Swung with all his weight upon it, Made a whirlpool in the water, Whirled the birch canoe in circles. Round and round in gurgling eddies. Till the circles in the water 95 Reached the far-off sandy beaches, Till the water-flags and rushes Nodded on the distant margins. But when Hiawatha saw him Slowly rising through the water, io(? Lifting up his disk refulgent. Loud he shouted in derision, "Esa! esa! shame upon you! You are Ugudwash, the sun-fish. 18 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW You are not the fish I wanted, 105 You are not the King of Fishes!" Slowly downward, wavering, gleaming, Sank the Ugudwash, the sun-fish. And again the sturgeon, Nahma, Heard the shout of Hiawatha, 110 Heard his challenge of defiance, The unnecessary tumult, Ringing far across the water. From the white sand of the bottom Up he rose with angry gesture, 115 Quivering in each nerve and fibre, Clashing all his plates of armor, Gleaming bright with all his war-paint; In his wrath he darted upward. Flashing leaped into the sunshine, 120 Opened his great jaws, and swallowed Both canoe and Hiawatha. Down into that darksome cavern Plunged the headlong Hiawatha, As a log on some black river, 125 Shoots and plunges down the rapids, Found himself in utter darkness, Groped about in helpless wonder. Till he felt a great heart beating. Throbbing in that utter darkness. 130 And he smote it in his anger. With his fist, the heart of Nahma, Felt the mighty King of Fishes Shudder through each nerve and fibre, Heard the water gurgle round him 135 As he leaped and staggered through it. Sick at heart, and faint and weary. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 19 Crosswise then did Hiawatha Drag his birch-canoe for safety, Lest from out the jaws of Nahma, 140 In the turmoil and confusion, Forth he might be hurled and perish. And the squirrel. Adjidaumo, Frisked and chattered very gayly. Toiled and tugged with Hiawatha 145 Till the labor was completed. Then said Hiawatha to him, "O my little friend, the squirrel. Bravely have you toiled to help me; Take the thanks of Hiawatha, 150 And the name which now he gives you; For hereafter and forever Boys shall call you Adjidaumo, Taii-in-air the boys shall call you!" And again the sturgeon, Nahma, 155 Gasped and quivered in the water, Then was still, and drifted landward Till he grated on the pebbles. Till the listening Hiawatha Heard him grate upon the margin, 160 Felt him strand upon the pebbles. Knew that Nahma, King of Fishes, Lay there dead upon the margin. Then he heard a clang and flapping. As of many wings assembling, 165 Heard a screaming and confusion, As of birds of prey contending, Saw a gleam of light above him. Shining through the ribs of Nahma, Saw the glittering eyes of sea-gulls, 170 20 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Of Kayoslik, the sea-gulls, peering, Gazing at him through the opening. Heard them saying to each other, " 'T is our brother, Hiawatha!" And he shouted from below them, 175 Cried exulting from the caverns : "O ye sea-gulls! O my brothers! I have slain the sturgeon, Nahma; Make the rifts a little larger. With your claws the openings widen, 180 Set me free from this dark prison. And henceforward and forever Men shall speak of your achievements, Calling you Kayoshk, the sea-gulls. Yes, Kayoshk, the Noble Scratchers!" 185 And the wild and clamorous sea-gulls Toiled with beak and claws together. Made the rifts and openings wider In the mighty ribs of Nahma, And from peril and from prison, 19 From the body of the sturgeon. From the peril of the water. They released my Hiawatha. He was standing near his wigwam, On the margin of the water, 19. And he called to old Nokomis, Called and beckoned to Nokomis, Pointed to the sturgeon, Nahma, Lying lifeless on the pebbles. With the sea-gulls feeding on him. 201 "I have slain the Mishe-Nahma, Slain the King of Fishes!" said he; "Look! the sea-gulls feed upon him. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 21 Yes, my friends Kayoshk, the sea-gulls; Drive them not away, Nokomis, 205 They have saved me from great peril In the body of the sturgeon. Wait until their meal is ended. Till their craws are full with feasting, Till they homeward fly, at sunset, 210 To their nests among the marshes; Then bring all your pots and kettles. And make oil for us in Winter." And she waited till the sun set. Till the pallid moon, the Night-sun, 215 Rose above the tranquil water, Till Kayoshk, the sated sea-gulls. From their banquet rose with clamor. And across the fiery sunset Winged their way to far-ofT islands, 220 To their nests among the rushes. To his sleep went Hiawatha, And Nokomis to her labor. Toiling patient in the moonlight. Till the sun and moon changed places, 225 Till the sky was red with sunrise, And Kayoshk, the hungry sea-gulls, Came back from the reedy islands. Clamorous for their morning banquet. Three whole days and nights alternate 230 Old Nokomis and the sea-gulls Stripped the oily flesh of Nahma, Till the waves washed through the rib-bones, Till the sea-gulls came no longer. And upon the sands lay nothing 235 But the skeleton of Nahma. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HIAWATHA'S FRIENDS Two good friends had Hiawatha, Singled out from all the others, Bound to him in closest union, And to whom he gave the right hand Of his heart, in joy and sorrow; 5 Chibiabos, the musician, And the very strong man, Kwasind. Straight between them ran the pathway. Never grew the grass upon it; Singing birds, that utter falsehoods, 10 Story-tellers, mischief-makers. Found no eager ear to listen. Could not breed ill-will between them. For they kept each other's counsel. Spake with naked hearts together, 15 Pondering much and much contriving How the tribes of men might prosper. Most beloved by Hiawatha Was the gentle Chibiabos, He the best of all musicians, 20 He the sweetest of all singers. Beautiful and childlike was he. Brave as man is, soft as woman. Pliant as a wand of willow, Stately as a deer with antlers. 25 Wlien he sang, the village listened; All the warriors gathered round him. All the women came to hear him; Now he stirred their souls to passion. Now he melted them to pity. 30 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 23 From the hollow reeds he fashioned Flutes so musical and mellow, That the brook, the Sebowisha, Ceased to murmur in the woodland. That the wood-birds ceased from singing, 35 And the squirrel, Adjidaumo, Ceased his chatter in the oak-tree. And the rabbit, the Wabasso, Sat upright to look and listen. Yes, the brook, the Sebowisha, 40 Pausing, said, "O Chibiabos, Teach my waves to flow in music. Softly as your words in singing!" Yes, the bluebird, the Owaissa, Envious, said, "O Chibiabos, 45 Teach me tones as wild and wayward, Teach me songs as full of frenzy!" Yes, the robin, the Opechee, Joyous, said, *'0 Chibiabos, Teach me tones as sweet and tender, 50 Teach me songs as full of gladness!" And the whippoorwill, Wawonaissa, Sobbing, said, "O Chibiabos, Teach me tones as melancholy, Teach me songs as full of sadness!" 55 All the many sounds of nature Borrowed sweetness from his singing; All the hearts of men were softened By the pathos of his music; For he sang of peace and freedom, 60 Sang of beauty, love, and longing; Sang of death, and life undying In the Islands of the Blessed, 24 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ^ In the kingdom of Ponemah, In the land of the Hereafter. 65 Very dear to Hiawatha Was the gentle Chibiabos, He the best of all musicians, He the sweetest of all singers; For his gentleness he loved him, 70 And the magic of his singing. Dear, too, unto Hiawatha Was the very strong man, Kwasind, He the strongest of all mortals. He the mightiest among many; 75 For his very strength he loved him, For his strength allied to goodness. Idle in his youth was Kwasind, Very listless, dull, and dreamy. Never played with other children, 80 Never fished and never hunted. Not like other children was he; But they saw that much he fasted. Much his Manito entreated. Much besought his Guardian Spirit. 85 "Lazy Kwasind!" said his mother, "In my work you never help me! In the Summer you are roaming Idly in the fields and forests; In the Winter you are cowering ' 90 O'er the firebrands in the wigwam! In the coldest days of Winter I must break the ice for fishing; With my nets you never help me! At the door my nets are hanging, 95 Dripping, freezing with the water: HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 25 Go and wring them, Yenadizze! Go and dry them in the smishine!" Slowly, from the ashes, Kwasind Rose, but made no angry answer; 100 From the lodge went forth in silence, Took the nets, that hung together, Dripping, freezing at the doorway; Like a wisp of straw he wrung them, Like a wisp of straw he broke them, 105 Could not wring them without breaking, Such the strength was in his fingers. "Lazy Kwasind!" said his father, "In the hunt you never help me; Every bow you touch is broken, 110 Snapped asunder every arrow; Yet come with me to the forest. You shall bring the hunting homeward." Down a narrow pass they wandered. Where a brooklet led them onward, 115 Where the trail of deer and bison Marked the soft mud on the margin, Till they found all further passage Shut against them, barred securely By the trunks of trees uprooted, 120 Lying lengthwise, lying crosswise. And forbidding further passage. "We must go back/' said the old man, "O'er these logs we cannot clamber; Not a woodchuck could get through them, 125 Not a squirrel clamber o'er them!" And straightway his pipe he lighted. And sat down to smoke and ponder. But before his pipe was finished. 26 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Lo! the path was cleared before him; 130 All the trunks had Kwasind lifted. To the right hand, to the left hand, Shot the pine-trees swift as arrows. Hurled the cedars light as lances. "Lazy Kwasind!" said the young men, 135 As they sported in the meadow: "Why stand idly looking at us. Leaning on the rock behind you? Come and wrestle with the others, Let us pitch the quoit together!" 140 Lazy Kwasind made no answer. To their challenge made no answer, Only rose, and slowly turning. Seized the huge rock in his fingers. Tore it from its deep foundation, . 145 Poised it in the air a moment. Pitched it sheer into the river. Sheer into the swift Pauwating, Where it still is seen in Summer. Once as down that foaming river, 150 Down the rapids of Pauwating, Kwasind sailed with his companions, In the stream he saw a beaver. Saw Ahmeek, the King of Beavers, Struggling with the rushing currents, 155 Rising, sinking in the water. Without speaking, without pausing, Kwasind leaped into the river. Plunged beneath the bubbling surface, Through the whirlpools chased the beaver, 160 Followed him among the islands, Stayed so long beneath the water. CELIA THAXTER 27 That his terrified companions, Cried, "Alas! good-by to Kwasind! We shall never more see Kwasind!" 165 But he reappeared triumphant. And upon his shining shoulders Brought the beaver, dead and dripping, Brought the King of all the Beavers. And these two, as I have told you, 170 Were the friends of Hiawatha, Chibiabos, the musician. And the very strong man, Kwasind. Long they lived in peace together. Spake with naked hearts together, 175 Pondering much and much contriving How the tribes of men might prosper. GROUP II. POEMS BY CELIA THAXTER THE SANDPIPER Across the narrow beach we flit, One little sandpiper and I; And fast I gather, bit by bit. The scattered driftwood bleached and dry. The wild waves reach their hands for it, 5 The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, As up and down the beach we flit, — One little sandpiper and I. Above our heads the sullen clouds Scud black and swift across the sky; 10 28 CELIA THAXTER Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds Stand out the white light-houses high. Almost as far as eye can reach I see the close-reefed vessels fly. As fast we flit along the beach, — 15 One little sandpiper and I. I watch him as he skims along Uttering his sweet and mournful cry; He starts not at my fitful song. Or flash of fluttering drapery. 20 He has no thought of any wrong; He scans me with a fearless eye. Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong, The little sandpiper and I. Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night 25 When the loosed storm breaks furiously? My driftwood fire will burn so bright! To what warm shelter canst thou fly? I do not fear for thee, though wroth The tempest rushes through the sky: 30 For are we not God's children both. Thou, little sandpiper, and I.^^ WILD GEESE The wind blows, the sun shines, the birds sing loud. The blue, blue sky is flecked with fleecy dappled cloud. Over earth's rejoicing fields the children dance and sing. And the frogs pipe in chorus, ''It is spring! It is spring!" CELIA THAXTER 29 The grass comes, the flower laughs where lately lay the snow, 5 O'er the breezy hill-top hoarsely calls the crow. By the flowing river the alder catkins swing. And the sweet song sparrow cries, "Spring! It is spring!" Hark, what a clamor goes winging through the sky! Look, children! Listen to the sound so wild and high! 10 Like a peal of broken bells, — kling, klang, kling, — Far and high the wild geese cry, "Spring! It is spring!" Bear the winter off with you, O wild geese dear! Carry all the cold away, far away from here; Chase the snow into the north, O strong of heart and wing, 15 While we share the robin's rapture, crying, "Spring! It is spring!" SPRING The alder by the river Shakes out her powdery curls; The willow buds in silver For little boys and girls. The little birds fly over 5 And oh, how sweet they sing! To tell the happy children That once again 't is spring. 30 CELIA THAXTER The gay green grass comes creeping So soft beneath their feet; 10 The frogs begin to ripple A music clear and sweet. And buttercups are coming. And scarlet columbine, And in the sunny meadows 15 The dandelions shine. And just as many daisies As their soft hands can hold The little ones may gather, All fair in white and gold. 20 Here blows the warm red clover. There peeps the violets blue; O happy little children! God made them all lor you. MARCH I WONDER what spendthrift chose to spill Such bright gold under my window-sill! Is it fairy gold.^^ Does it glitter still .^^ Bless me! it is but a daffodil! And look at the crocuses, keeping tryst 5 With the daffodil by the sunshine kissed! Like beautiful bubbles of amethyst They seem, blown out of the earth's snow-mist. And snowdrops, delicate, fairy bells. With a pale green tint like the ocean swells; 10 CELIA THAXTER 31 And the hyacinths weaving their perfumed spells ! The ground is a rainbow of asphodels! Who said that March was a scold and a shrew? Who said she had nothing on earth to do But tempests and furies and rages to brew? 15 Why, look at the wealth she has lavished on you ! O March that blusters and March that blows, What color under your footsteps glows! Beauty you summon from winter snows. And you are the pathway that leads to the rose. 20 ROBIN'S RAIN-SONG O Robin, pipe no more of rain, 'T is four days since we saw the sun, And still the misty window-pane Is loud with drops that leap and run. Four days ago the sky was clear, 5 But when my mother heard you call. She said, "That 's Robin's rain-song, dear: Oh, well he knows when rain will fall!" Fair was the morning, and I wept Because she would not let me stray 10 Into the woods for flowers, but kept My feet from wandering away. And I was vexed to hear you cry So sweetly of the coming storm, 32 . CELIA THAXTER And watched with brimming eyes the sky 15 Grow cold and dim from clear and warm. It seemed to me you brought it all With that incessant, plaintive note; And still you call the drops to fall Upon your brown and scarlet coat. 20 How nice to be a bird like you, And let the rain come pattering down, Nor mind a bit to be wet through, Nor fear to spoil one's only gown ! But since I cannot be a bird, 25 Sweet Robin, pipe no more of rain! Your merrier music is preferred; Forget at last that sad refrain! And tell us of the sunshine, dear — I'm wild to be abroad again, 30 Seeking for blossoms far and near: O Robin, pipe no more of rain! THE SCARECROW The farmer looked at his cherry-tree. With thick buds clustered on every bough; "I wish I could cheat the robins," said he; "If somebody only would show me how! "I'll make a terrible scarecrow grim, 5 With threatening arms and with bristling head, CELIA THAXTER S3 And up in the tree I '11 fasten him To frighten them half to death," he said. He fashioned a scarecrow tattered and torn — Oh, 't was a horrible thing to see! 10 And very early, one summer morn, He set it up in his cherry-tree. The blossoms were white as the light sea-foam. The beautiful tree was a lovely sight, But the scarecrow stood there so much at home 15 All the birds flew screaming away in fright. The robins, who watched him every day. Heads held aslant, keen eyes so bright! Surveying the monster, began to say, "Why should this monster our prospects blight.? 20 "He never moves round for the roughest weather, He's a harmless, comical, tough old fellow; Let's all go into the tree together, For he won't budge till the fruit is mellow!" So up they flew; and the sauciest pair 25 Mid the shady branches peered and perked, Selected a spot with the utmost care. And all day merrily sang and worked. And where do you think they built their nest? In the scarecrow's pocket, if you please, 30 That, half -concealed on his ragged breast. Made a charming covert of safety and ease! 34 CELIA THAXTER By the time the cherries were ruby-red, A thriving family, hungry and brisk, The whole long day on the ripe fruit fed; 35 'T was so convenient! They ran no risk! Until the children were ready to fly. All undisturbed they lived in the tree; For nobody thought to look at the Guy For a robin's flourishing family! 40 NIKOLINA Oh, tell me, little children, have you seen her — The tiny maid from Norway, Nikolina? Oh, her eyes are blue as corn flowers 'mid the corn, And her cheeks are rosy red as skies of morn ! Oh, buy the baby's blossoms if you meet her, 5 And stay with gentle words and looks to greet her; She '11 gaze at you and smile and clasp your hand, But no word of your speech can understand. Nikolina! Swift she turns if any call her, As she stands among the poppies hardly taller 10 Breaking off their flaming scarlet cups for you, With spikes of slender larkspur, brightly blue. In her little garden many a flower is growing — Red, gold, and purple in the soft wind blowing; But the child that stands amid the blossoms gay 15 Is sweeter, quainter, brighter even than they. CELIA THAXTER 35 Oh, tell me, little children, have you seen her — This baby girl from Norway, Nikolina? Slowly she's learning English words, to try And thank you if her flowers you come to buy. 20 THE SPARROWS (or, CHRISTMAS IN NORWAY) In the far-off land of Norway, Where the winter lingers late. And long for the singing-birds and flowers The little children wait; When at last the summer ripens 5 And the harvest is gathered in, And food for the bleak, drear days to come The toiling people win; Through all the land the children In the golden fields remain 10 Till their busy little hands have gleaned A generous sheaf of grain; All the stalks by the reapers forgotten They glean to the very least. To save till the cold December, 15 For the sparrows' Christmas feast. And then through the frost-locked country There happens a wonderful thing: The sparrows flock north, south, east, west, For the children's offering. 20 36 CELIA THAXTER Of a sudden, the day before Christmas, The twittering crowds arrive, And the bitter, wintry air at once With their chirping is all alive. They perch upon roof and gable, 25 On porch and fence and tree, They flutter about the windows And peer in curiously. And meet the eyes of the children. Who eagerly look out 30 With cheeks that bloom like roses red, And greet them with welcoming shout. On the joyous Christmas morning, * In front of every door A tall pole, crowned with clustering grain, 35 Is set the birds before. And which are the happiest, truly It would be hard to tell; The sparrows who share in the Christmas cheer. Or the children who love them well ! 40 How sweet that they should remember. With faith so full and sure, That the children's bounty awaited them The whole wide country o'er! When this pretty story was told me 45 By one who had helped to rear The rustling grain for the merry birds In Norway, many a year. WILLIAM ALLINGHAM 37 I thought that our little children Would like to know it too, 50 It seems to me so beautiful, So blessed a thing to do. To make God's innocent creatures see In every child a friend, And on our faithful kindness 55 So fearlessly depend. GROUP III. POEMS BY VARIOUS AUTHORS THE FAIRIES Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen. We dare n't go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, 5 Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather! Down along the rocky shore Some make their home, 10 They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide-foam; Some in the reeds Of the black mountain-lake, With frogs for their watch-dogs, 15 All night awake. 38 WILLIAM ALLINGHAM High on the hill-top. The old King sits; He is now so old and gray He's nigh lost his wits. 20 With a bridge of white mist Columbkill he crosses, On his stately journeys From Slieveleague to Rosses; Or going up with music 25 On cold, starry nights, To sup with the Queen Of the gay Northern Lights. By the craggy hillside, Through the mosses bare, 30 They have planted thorn-trees For pleasure here and there. Is any man so daring As dig one up in spite. He shall find the thornies set 35 In his bed at night. Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen. We dare n't go a-hunting For fear of little men; . 40 Wee folk, good folk. Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap. And white owl's feather. William Allingham ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 39 A CHILD'S THOUGHT OF GOD They say that God lives very high! But if you look above the pines You cannot see our God. And why? And if you dig down in the mines You never see Him in the gold, 5 Though from Him all that's glory shines. God is so good, He wears a fold Of heaven and earth across His face — Like secrets kept, for love, untold. But still I feel that His embrace 10 Slides down by thrills, through all things made Through sight and sound of every place: As if my tender mother laid On my shut lids, her kisses' pressure. Half- waking me at night; and said, 15 "Who kissed you through the dark, dear guesser?" Elizabeth Barrett Browning THE YEAR 'S AT THE SPRING The year 's at the spring And day 's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hillside 's dew-pearled; 40 ROBERT BROWNING The lark 's on the wing; 5 The snail 's on the thorn : God 's in his heaven — All 's right with the world ! Robert Browning THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE-TREE ^ Come, let us plant the apple-tree. Cleave the tough greensward with the spade; Wide let its hollow bed be made; There gently lay the roots, and there Sift the dark mould with kindly care, 5 And press it o'er them tenderly, As, round the sleeping infant's feet We softly fold the cradle sheet; So plant we the apple-tree. What plant we in this apple-tree .^ 10 Buds, which the breath of summer days Shall lengthen into leafy sprays; Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast, Shall haunt and sing and hide her nest; We plant, upon the sunny lea, 15 A shadow for the noontide hour, A shelter from the summer shower, When we plant the apple-tree. What plant we in this apple-tree .^^ Sweets for a hundred flowery springs 20 To load the May-wind's restless wings, When, from the orchard row, he pours Its fragrance through our open doors; ^ By courtesy of D. Apple ton & Co. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 41 A world of blossoms for the bee, Flowers for the sick girl's silent room, 25 For the glad infant sprigs of bloom, We plant with the apple-tree. What plant we in this apple-tree? Fruits that shall swell in sunny June, And redden in the August noon, 30 And drop, when gentle airs come by, That fan the blue September sky, While children come, with cries of glee, And seek them where the fragrant grass Betrays their bed to those who pass, 35 At the foot of the apple-tree. And when, above this apple-tree, The winter stars are quivering bright. And winds go howling through the night. Girls, whose young eyes o'erflow with mirth, 40 Shall peel its fruit by cottage-hearth. And guests in prouder homes shall see, Heaped with the grape of Cintra's vine And golden orange of the lime. The fruit of the apple-tree. 45 The fruitage of this apple-tree Winds, and our flag of stripe and star Shall bear to coasts that lie afar. Where men shall wonder at the view. And ask in what fair groves they grew; 50 And sojourners beyond the sea Shall think of childhood's careless day 42 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT And long, long hours of summer play, In the shade of the apple-tree. Each year shall give this apple-tree. 55 A broader flush of roseate bloom, A deeper maze of verduous gloom, And loosen, when the frost-clouds lower. The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower. The years shall come and pass, but we 60 Shall hear no longer, where we lie. The summer's songs, the autumn's sigh, In the boughs of the apple-tree. And time shall waste this apple-tree. Oh, when its aged branches throw 65 Thin shadows on the ground below, Shall fraud and force and iron will Oppress the weak and helpless still .^ What shall the tasks of mercy be, Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears, 70 Of those who live when length of years Is wasting this apple-tree.? "Who planted this old apple-tree .f^" The children of that distant day Thus to some aged man shall say; 75 And, gazing on its mossy stem. The gray -haired man shall answer them : "A poet of the land was he, Born in the rude but good old times; 'T is said he made some quaint old rhymes 80 On planting the apple-tree." William Cullen Bryant LEWIS CARROLL 43 THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might : He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright — And this was odd, because it was 5 The middle of the night. The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the day was done — 10 "It 's very rude of him," she said, "To come and spoil the fun!" The sea was wet as wet could be. The, sands were dry as dry. You could not see a cloud, because 15 No cloud was in the sky : No birds were flying overhead — There were no birds to fly. The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand: 20 They wept like anything to see Such quantities of sand : "If this were only cleared away,." They said, "it would be grand!" "If seven maids with seven mops 25 Swept it for half a year, 44 LEWIS CARROLL Do you suppose." the Walrus said, "That they could get it clear?" "I doubt it," said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear. 30 "O Oysters, come and walk with us!" The Walrus did beseech. "A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk. Along the briny beach: We cannot do with more than four, 35 To give a hand to each." The eldest Oyster looked at him. But never a word he said : The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head — 40 Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the oyster-bed. But four young Oysters hurried up. All eager for the treat: Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat — 46 And this was odd, because, you know. They had n't any feet. Four other Oysters followed them, And yet another four; 50 And thick and fast they came at last. And more, and more, and more — All hopping through the frothy waves. And scrambling to the shore. LEWIS CARROLL 45 The Walrus and the Carpenter 55 Walked on a mile or so, And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low: And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row. 60 "The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax — Of cabbages — and kings — And why the sea is boiling hot — 65 And whether pigs have wings." "But wait a bit," the Oysters cried, "Before we have our chat; For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat!" 70 "No hurry!" said the Carpenter. They thanked him much for that. "A loaf of bread," the Walrus said, "Is what we chiefly need: Pepper and vinegar besides 75 Are very good indeed — Now, if you 're ready, Oysters dear. We can begin to feed." "But not on us!" the Oysters cried, Turning a little blue. 80 "After such kindness, that would be A dismal thing to do!" 46 LEWIS CARROLL "The night is fine," the Walrus said. "Do you admire the view? "It was so kind of you to come! 85 And you are very nice!" The Carpenter said nothing but "Cut us another shce. I wish you were not quite so deaf — I've had to ask you twice!" 90 "It seems a shame," the Walrus said, "To play them such a trick. After we Ve brought them out so far. And made them trot so quick!" The Carpenter said nothing but 95 "The butter's spread too thick!" "I weep for you," the Walrus said: "I deeply sympathize." With sobs and tears he sorted out Those of the largest size, lOO Holding his pocket-handkerchief Before his streaming eyes. "O Oysters," said the Carpenter, "You've had a pleasant run! Shall we be trotting home again .^" 105 But answer came there none — And this was scarcely odd, because They 'd eaten every one. Lewis Carroll LEWIS CARROLL 47 A LOBSTER QUADRILLE "Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail, "There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail. See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance ! They are waiting on the shingle — will you come and join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? 5 Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance? "You can really have no notion how delightful it will be When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!" But the snail repKed, "Too far, too far!" and gave a look askance — Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. 10 Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance. Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance. "What matters it how far we go?" his scaly friend replied, "There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. 48 LEWIS CARROLL The further off from England the nearer is to France — ■ 15 Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance. Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance? " Lewis Carroll THE LEAK IN THE DIKE A STORY OF HOLLAND The good dame looked from her cottage At the close of the pleasant day, And cheerily called to her little son Outside the door at play : "Come, Peter, come! I want you to go, 5 While there is light to see, To the hut of the blind old man who lives Across the dike, for me; And take these cakes I made for him — - They are hot and smoking yet; 10 You have time enough to go and come Before the sun is set." Then the good-wife turned to her labor Humming a simple song. And thought of her husband, working hard 15 At the sluices all day long; And set the turf a-blazing. And brought the coarse black bread; That he might find a fire at night, And find the table spread. 20 PHCEBE GARY 49 And Peter left the brother, With whom all day he had played, And the sister who had watched their sports In the willow's tender shade; And told them they 'd see him back before 25 They saw a star in sight. Though he would n't be afraid to go In the very darkest night! For he was a brave, bright fellow, With eye and conscience clear; 30 He could do whatever a boy might do, And he had not learned to fear. Why, he would n't have robbed a bird's nest, Nor brought a stork to harm. Though never a law in Holland 35 Had stood to stay his arm! And now, with his face all glowing. And eyes as bright as the day With the thoughts of his pleasant errand, He trudged along the way; 40 And soon his joyous prattle Made glad a lonesome place — Alas! if only the blind old man Could have seen that happy face! Yet he somehow caught the brightness 45 Which his voice and presence lent; And he felt the sunshine come and go As Peter came and went. And now, as the day was sinking. And the winds began to rise, 50 50 PHCEBE GARY The mother looked from her door again, Shading her anxious eyes; And saw the shadows deepen And birds to their homes come back, But never a sign of Peter 55 Along the level track. But she said: "He will come at morning, So I need not fret nor grieve — Though it is n't like my boy at all To stay without my leave." 60 But where was the child delaying? On the homeward way was he. And across the dike while the sun was up An hour above the sea. He was stopping now to gather flowers, 65 Now listening to the sound, As the angry waters dashed themselves Against their narrow bound. "Ah! well for us," said Peter, "That the gates are good and strong, 70 And my father tends them carefully, Or they would not hold you long! You're a wicked sea," said Peter; "I know why you fret and chafe; You would like to spoil our lands and homes; But our sluices keep you safe ! " 76 But hark! Through the noise of waters Comes a low, clear, trickling sound; And the child's face pales with terror. And his blossoms drop to the ground. 80 PHCEBE GARY 51 He is up the bank in a moment, And, stealing through the sand, He sees a stream not yet so large As his slender, childish hand. 'T is a leak in the dike! He is but a boy, 85 Unused to fearful scenes; But, as young as he is, he has learned to know The dreadful things that means. A leak in the dike I The stoutest heart Grows faint that cry to hear, 90 And the bravest man in all the land Turns white with mortal fear. For he knows the smallest leak may grow To a flood in a single night; And he knows the strength of the cruel sea 95 When loosed in its angry might. And the boy! He has seen the danger, And, shouting a wild alarm. He forces back the weight of the sea With the strength of his single arm! 100 He listens for the joyful sound Of a footstep passing nigh; And lays his ear to the ground, to catch The answer to his cry, And he hears the rough winds blowing, 105 And the waters rise and fall. But never an answer comes to him. Save the echo of his call. He sees no hope, no succor, His feeble voice is lost; 110 Yet what shall he do but watch and wait. Though he perish at his post! 52 PHCEBE GARY So faintly calling and crying Till the sun is under the sea; > Crying and moaning till the stars ■ 115 Come out for company; He thinks of his brother and sister, Asleep in their safe warm bed; He thinks of his father and mother, Of himself as dying — and dead; 120 And of how, when the night is over, They must come and find him at last : But he never thinks he can leave the place Where duty holds him fast. The good dame in the cottage 125 Is up and astir with the light. For the thought of her little Peter Has been with her all night. And now she watches the pathway, As y ester eve she had done; 130 But what does she see so strange and black Against the rising sun? Her neighbors are bearing between them Something straight to her door; Her child is coming home, but not 135 As he ever came before! "He is dead!" she cries; "my darling!" And the startled father hears. And comes and looks the way she looks, And fears the thing she fears : 140 Till a glad shout from the bearers Thrills the stricken man and wife — PHai:BE GARY 5S " Give thanks, for your son has saved our land, And God has saved his hfe!" So, there in the morning sunshine 145 They knelt about the boy; And every head was bared and bent In tearful, reverent joy. 'T is many a year since then; but still, When the sea roars like a flood, 150 Their boys are taught what a boy can do Who is brave and true and good. For every man in that country Takes his son by the hand. And tells him of little Peter 155 Whose courage saved the land. They have many a valiant hero. Remembered through the years: But never one whose name so oft Is named with loving tears. 160 And his deed shall be sung by the cradle. And told to the child on the knee. So long as the dikes of Holland Divide the land from the sea! Phoebe Cary A FAIRY TALE ^ There stands by the wood-path shaded A meek little beggar maid; Close under her mantle faded She is hidden like one afraid. * From Ohcron and Puck, by Helen Gray Cone, By courtesy of the author. 54 HELEN GRAY CONE Yet if you but lifted lightly 5 That mantle of russet brown, She would spring up slender and sightly, In a smoke-blue silken gown. For she is a princess, fated Disguised in the wood to dwell, 10 And all her life long has awaited The touch that should break the spell; And the Oak, that has cast around her His root like a wrinkled arm. Is the wild old wizard that bound her 15 Fast with his cruel charm. Is the princess worth your knowing? Then haste, for the spring is brief. And find the Hepatica growing, Hid under a last year's leaf! 20 Helen Gray Cone "BOB WHITE" I SEE you, on the zigzag rails. You cheery little fellow! While purple leaves are whirling down. And scarlet, brown, and yellow. I hear you when the air is full 5 Of snow-down of the thistle; All in your speckled jacket trim, "Bob White! Bob White!" you whistle. Tall amber sheaves, in rustling rows, Are nodding there to greet you; 10 GEORGE COOPER 55 I know that you are out for play — How I should like to meet you ! Though blithe of voice, so shy you are, In this delightful weather; What splendid playmates you and I, 15 "Bob White," would make together!' There, you are gone! but far away I hear your whistle falling. Ah! may be it is hide-and-seek, And that 's why you are calling. 20 Along those hazy uplands wide We'd be such merry rangers; What! silent now, and hidden too? "Bob White," don't let's be strangers. Perhaps you teach your brood the game, 25 In yonder rainbowed thicket. While winds are playing with the leaves, And softly creaks the cricket. "Bob White! Bob White!" — again I hear That blithely whistled chorus; 30 Why should we not companions he? One Father watches o'er us ! George Cooper A DAYi I 'll tell you how the sun rose, A ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst. The news like squirrels ran. * By courtesy of Little, Brown & Co. 56 EMILY DICKINSON The hills untied their bonnets, 5 The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, "That must have been the sun!" But how he set, I know not. There seemed a purple stile 10 Which little yellow boys and girls Were climbing all the while Till when they reached the other side, A dominie in gray Put gently up the evening bars, 15 And led the flock away. Emily Dickinson THE OWL-CRITIC A LESSON TO FAULT-FINDERS "Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop : The barber was busy, and he could n't stop; The customers, waiting their turns, were all read- ing The "Daily," the "Herald," the "Post," little heeding The young man who blurted out such a blunt question; 5 Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion; And the barber kept on shaving. "Don't you see. Mister Brown," Cried the youth, with a frown. JAMES T. FIELDS 57 "How wrong the whole thing is, 10 How preposterous each wing is, How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is — In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 'tis! I make no apology; I've learned owl-eology. 15 I've passed days and nights in a hundred collec- tions, And cannot be blinded to any deflections Arising from unskilful fingers that fail To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail. Mister Brown! Mister Brown! 20 Do take that bird down. Or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town!" And the barber kept on shaving. "I've studied owls. And other night fowls, 25 And I tell you What I know to be true: An owl cannot roost With his limbs so unloosed; No owl in this world 30 Ever had his claws curled. Ever had his legs slanted. Ever had his bill canted, Ever had his neck screwed Into that attitude. 35 He can't do it, because 'T is against all bird-laws. 58 JAMES T. FIELDS Anatomy teaches. Ornithology preaches An owl has a toe 40 That canH turn out so! I ' ve made the white owl my study for years. And to see such a job almost moves me to tears! Mister Brown, I'm amazed You should be so gone crazed 45 As to put up a bird In that posture absurd! To look at that owl really brings on a dizziness; The man who stuffed him don't half know his business!" And the barber kept on shaving. "Examine those eyes. 51 I'm filled with surprise Taxidermists should pass Off on you such poor glass; So unnatural they seem 55 They 'd make Audubon scream. And John Burroughs laugh To encounter such chaff. Do take that bird down; Have him stuffed again, Brown!" 60 And the barber kept on shaving. "With some sawdust and bark I could stuff in the dark An owl better than that. i could make an old hat 65 Look more like an owl Than that horrid fowl. JAMES T. FIELDS 59 Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather. In fact, about him there's not one natural feather." Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch, 70 The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch. Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic (Who thought he was stuffed)* with a glance ana- lytic. And then fairly hooted, as if he should say : "Your learning's at fault this time, any way; 75 Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray. I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good- day!" And the barber kept on shaving. James T. Fields BIRDS IN SUMMER How pleasant the life of a bird must be. Flitting about in each leafy tree; In the leafy trees so broad and tall. Like a green and beautiful palace hall. With its airy chambers, light and boon, 5 That open to sun, and stars, and moon; That open into the bright blue sky. And the frolicsome winds as they wander by! They have left their nests in the forest bough; Those homes of delight they need not now; 10 And the young and old they wander out. And traverse the green world round about; 60 MARY HOWITT And hark at the top of this leafy hall, How, one to another, they lovingly call! "Come up, come up!" they seem to say, 15 "Where the topmost twigs in the breezes play!" "Come up, come up, for the world is fair. Where the merry leaves dance in the summer air!" And the birds below give back the cry, "We come, we come to the branches high!" 20 How pleasant the life of the birds must be, Living above in a leafy tree! And away through the air what joy to go. And to look on the green, bright earth below! How pleasant the life of a bird must be, 25 Skimming about on the breezy sea. Cresting the billows like silvery foam. Then wheeling away to its cliff-built home ! What joy it must be to sail, upborne. By a strong free wing, through the rosy morn, 30 To meet the young sun, face to face. And pierce, like a shaft, the boundless space! To pass through the bowers of the silver cloud; To sing in the thunder halls aloud; To spread out the wings for a wild, free flight 35 With the upper cloud-winds, — oh, what delight! Oh, what would I give, like a bird, to go. Right on through the arch of the sun-lit bow, And see how the water-drops are kissed Into green and yellow and amethyst. 40 MARY HOWITT 61 How pleasant the life of a bird must be, Wherever it listeth, there to flee; To go, when a joyful fancy calls, Dashing down 'mong the waterfalls; Then wheeling about, with its mate at play, 45 Above and below, and among the spray, Hither and thither, with screams as wild As the laughing mirth of a rosy child. What joy it must be, like a living breeze, To flutter about 'mid the flowering trees; 50 Lightly to soar and to see beneath, The wastes of the blossoming purple heath. And the yellow furze, like fields of gold. That gladden some fairy region old! On mountain-tops, on the biflowy sea, 55 On the leafy stems of the forest-tree. How pleasant the life of a bird must be! Mary Howitt OCTOBER'S BRIGHT BLUE WEATHER i O SUNS and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together. Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather. When loud the bumble-bee makes haste. Belated, thriftless vagrant. And golden-rod is dying fast. And lanes with grapes are fragrant; ^ By courtesy of Little, Brown & Co. 62 HELEN HUNT JACKSON When gentians roll their fringes tight To save them for the morning, 10 And chestnuts fall from satin bmTS Without a sound of warning; When on the ground red apples lie In piles like jewels shining, And redder still on old stone walls 15 Are leaves of woodbine twining. O suns and skies and flowers of June, Count all your boasts together. Love loveth best of all the year October's bright blue weather. 20 Helen Hunt Jackson THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER Oh, say ! can you see by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming. Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thro' the perilous fight. O'er the ramparts we watched were so gal- lantly streaming .5^ And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, 5 Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there. Oh, say, does that Star-spangled Banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? FRANCIS SCOTT KEY 63 On the shore, dimly seen thro' the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, 10 What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half dis- closes? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream. 'T is the Star-spangled Banner, oh, long may it wave 15 O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave! Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war's des- olation ! Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n- rescued land Praise the Pow'r that hath made and preserved us a nation! 20 Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just. And this be our motto: "In God is our Trust." And the Star-spangled Banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of ,the free and the home of the brave. Francis Scott Key 64 ROBERT LOVEMAN APRIL RAIN 1 It is not raining rain for me, It's raining daffodils; In every dimpled drop I see Wild flowers on the hills. The clouds of gray engulf the day 5 And overwhelm the town; It is not raining rain to me, It's raining roses down. It is not raining rain to me. But fields of clover bloom, 10 Where any buccaneering bee Can find a bed and room. A health unto the happy, A fig for him who frets! It is not raining rain to me, 15 It's raining violets. Robert Loveman THE FOUNTAIN Into the sunshine. Full of the light, Leaping and flashing From morn till night; Into the moonlight, 5 Whiter than snow, * By courtesy of the author. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 65 Waving so flower-like When the winds blow; Into the starlight Rushing in spray, lo Happy at midnight, Happy by day; Ever in motion, Blithesome and cheery. Still chmbing heavenward, 15 Never aweary; Glad of all leathers. Still seeming best, Upward or downward. Motion thy rest; 20 Full of a nature Nothing can tame, Changed every moment, Ever the same; Ceaseless aspiring, 25 Ceaseless content. Darkness or sunshine Thy element; Glorious fountain, Let my heart be 30 Fresh, changeful, constant. Upward, like thee! James Russell Lowell 66 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE SINGING LEAVES A BALLAD I "What fairings will ye that I bring?" Said the King to his daughters three; "For I to Vanity Fair ^ am boun, Now say what shall they be?" Then up and spake the eldest daughter, 5 That lady tall and grand : "Oh, bring me pearls and diamonds great. And gold rings for my hand." Thereafter spake the second daughter. That was both white and red: 10 "For me bring silks that will stand alone, And a gold* comb for my head." Then came the turn of the least daughter. That was whiter than thistle-down, And among the gold of her blithesome hair 15 Dim shone the golden brown. "There came a bird this morning, And sang 'neath my bower eaves, * The name of a fair held all the year round in the town of Vanity in Bunyan's Pilgrirns Progress. "It beareth the name because the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity, and also because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity." The town lay on the way to the Celestial City, and the passing through it was one of Pilgrim's temptations. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 67 Till I dreamed, as his music made me, 'Ask thou for the Singing Leaves.'" 20 Then the brow of the King swelled crimson With a flush of angry scorn : "Well have ye spoken, my two eldest, And chosen as ye were born; "But she, like a thing of peasant race, 25 That is happy binding the sheaves"; Then he saw her dead mother in her face. And said, "Thou shalt have thy leaves.'* II He mounted and rode three days and nights Till he came to Vanity Fair, 30 And 't was easy to buy the gems and the silk. But no Singing Leaves were there. Then deep in the greenwood rode he. And asked of every tree, "Oh, if you have ever a Singing Leaf, 35 I pray you give it me!" But the trees all kept their counsel. And never a word said they. Only there sighed from the pine-tops A music of seas far away. 40 Only the pattering aspen Made a sound of growing rain. That fell ever faster and faster. Then faltered to silence again. 68 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL "Oh, where shall I find a little foot-page 45 That would win both hose and shoon. And will bring to me the Singing Leaves If they grow under the moon?" Then lightly turned him Walter the page, By the stirrup as he ran: 50 "Now pledge you me the truesome word Of a king and gentleman, "That you will give me the first, first thing You meet at your castle-gate, And the Princess shall get the Singing Leaves, 55 Or mine be a traitor's fate." The King's head dropt upon his breast A moment, as it might be; 'T will be my dog, he thought, and said, "My faith I plight to thee." 60 Then Walter took from next his heart A packet small and thin, "Now give you this to the Princess Anne, The Singing Leaves are therein." Ill As the King rode in at his castle-gate, 65 A maiden to meet him ran. And "Welcome, father!" she laughed and cried Together, the Princess Anne. "Lo, here the Singing Leaves," quoth he, "And woe, but they cost me dear!" 70 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 69 She took the packet, and the smile Deepened down beneath the tear. It deepened down till it reached her heart, And then gushed up again. And lighted her tears as the sudden sun 75 Transfigures the summer rain. And the first Leaf, when it was opened, Sang: "I am Walter the page. And the songs I sing 'neath thy window Are my only heritage." 80 And the second Leaf sang: "But in the land That is neither on earth nor sea. My lute and I are lords of more Than thrice this kingdom's fee." And the third Leaf sang, " Be mine ! Be mine ! " And ever it sang, "Be mine!" 85 Then sweeter it sang and ever sweeter. And said, "I am thine, thine, thine!" At the first Leaf she grew pale enough. At the second she turned aside, 90 At the third, 't was as if a lily flushed With a rose's red heart's tide. "Good counsel gave the bird," said she, "I have my hope thrice o'er, For they sing to my very heart," she said, 95 "And it sings to them evermore." 70 EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER She brought to him her beauty and truth, But and ^ broad earldoms three, And he made her queen of the broader lands He held of his lute in fee. 1 00 James Russell Lowell THE BLUEBIRD I KNOW the song that the bluebird is singing, Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging. Brave little fellow ! the skies may be dreary, Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery. Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat! Hark! was there ever so merry a note.^^ 6 Listen awhile, and you'll hear what he's saying, Up in the apple-tree, swinging and swaying: "Dear little blossoms, down under the snow, You must be weary of winter, I know; 10 Hark! while I sing you a message of cheer, Summer is coming and spring-time is here! "Little white snowdrop, I pray you arise; Bright yellow crocus, come, open your eyes; Sweet little violets hid from the cold, 15 Put on your mantles of purple and gold; Daffodils, daffodils! say, do you hear.^^ Summer is coming, and spring-time is here ! " Emily Huntington Miller ^ But and, archaic form for and also. Cf. from an old ballad: "An J they hae chased in gude green-wood The buck but and the roe." JAMES HERBERT MORSE 71 MORNING Fragrant odor of the dawn, Sweet incense to waking souls, While the fresh dew spreads the lawn. And your spirit day controls. Let me, underneath this tree 5 Standing, be possessed of thee. See the robin in a dream Poising on a grassy bank; Hear, beneath, the singing stream, In a meadow dewy-dank; 10 See the mother-pearly tips Of the pink-white sorrel's lips. Now adown the hilly slope. Like a father, steps the sun. And the pretty blossoms ope 15 Wide their eyehds, one by one; And they seem to stir and say Lisped prayers unto the day. He who sleeps at dawn is dead To more wonders than he knows; 20 Let me forth and early tread Where the sunlit water flows. Where the elm at dewy dawn Flings his shadow down the lawn. Let me feel, and yet be still; 25 Let me take, and yet not give; Drink, till I have drunk my fill; 72 EDITH NESBIT Then anew go forth and hve. Man has Httle honeyed pleasure Unmixed in his manhood's measure. 30 James Herbert Morse LITTLE BROWN BROTHER Little brown brother, oh ! Kttle brown brother, Are you awake in the dark? Here we he cosily, close to each other: Hark to the song of the lark — " Waken ! " the lark says, " waken and dress you ; 5 Put on your green coats and gay. Blue sky will shine on you, sunshine caress you — Waken! 'tis morning — 'tis May!" Little brown brother, oh ! little brown brother. What kind of flower will you be? 10 I'll be a poppy — all white, like my mother; Do be a poppy like me. What ! you 're a sun-flower? How I shall miss you When you 're grown golden and high ! But I shall send all the bees up to kiss you; 15 Little brown brother, good-bye. Edith Nesbit A SONG OF OUR FLAG ' Your Flag and my Flag! And, oh, how^much it holds — Your land and my land — Secure within its folds! ' From "The Trail to Boyland," by Wilbur D. Nesbit. Copy- right, 1904. Used by special permission of the publishers. The Bobbs-Merrill Company. CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 73 Your heart and my heart 5 Beat quicker at the sight; Sun-kissed and wind-tossed, Red and blue and white. The one Flag — the great Flag — the Flag for me and you — Glorified all else beside — the red and white and blue! ' 10 Your Flag and my Flag! To every star and stripe The drums beat as hearts beat And fifers shrilly pipe! Your Flag and my Flag — • 15 A blessing in the sky; Your hope and my hope — It never hid a lie! Home land and far land and half the world around, Old Glory hears our glad salute and ripples to the sound! 20 Wilbur D. Neshit THERE 'S NOTHING LIKE THE ROSE ^ The lily has an air. And the snow^drop a grace. And the sweet-pea a way. And the heart's-ease a face, — Yet there's nothing like the rose When she blows. Christina G. Rossetti * By courtesy of Little, Brown & Co. 74 JOHN G. SAXE KING SOLOMON AND THE BEES A TALE OF THE TALMUD I When Solomon was reigning in his glory, Unto his throne the Queen of Sheba came, (So in the Talmud you may read the story) Drawn by the magic of the monarch's fame. To see the splendors of his court, and bring 5 Some fitting tribute to the mighty king. II Nor this alone; much had her Highness heard What flowers of learning graced the royal speech ; What gems of wisdom dropped with every word; What wholesome lessons he was wont to teach 10 In pleasing proverbs; and she wished, in sooth. To know if Rumor spoke the simple truth. Ill Besides, the queen had heard (which piqued her most) How through the deepest riddles he could spy; How all the curious arts that women boast l j Were quite transparent to his piercing eye; And so the queen had come — a royal guest — To put the sage's cunning to the test. IV And straight she held before the monarch's view. In either hand, a radiant wreath of flowers; 20 The one, bedecked with every charming hue. Was newly culled from Nature's choices t bowers ; JOHN G. SAXE 75 The other, no less fair in every part. Was the rare product of divinest Art. V "Which is the true, and which the false?" she said. 25 Great Solomon was silent. All-amazed, Each wondering courtier shook his puzzled head, While at the garlands long the monarch gazed. As one who sees a miracle, and fain. For very rapture, ne'er would speak again. 30 VI " Which is the true? " once more the woman asked. Pleased at the fond amazement of the king, "So wise a head should not be hardly tasked, Most learned liege, with such a trivial thing!" But still the sage was silent; it was plain 35 A deepening doubt perplexed the royal brain. VII While thus he pondered, presently he sees. Hard by the casement, — so the story goes, — A little band of busy, bustling bees. Hunting for honey in a withered rose. 40 The monarch smiled, and raised his royal head; "Open the window!" — that was all he said. VIII The window opened at the king's command; Within the room the eager insects flew. And sought the flowers in Sheba's dexter hand ! 45 And so the king and all the courtiers knew 76 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE That wreath was Nature's; and the baffled queen Returned to tell the wonders she had seen. IX My story teaches (every tale should bear A fitting moral) that the wise may find 50 In trifles light as atoms in the air, Some useful lesson to enrich the mind, Some truth designed to profit or to please, — As Israel's king learned wisdom from the bees! John G. Saxe UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE Under the greenwood tree. Who loves to lie with me. And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat. Come hither, come hither, come hither! 5 Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun. And loves to live i' the sun, 10 Seeking the food he eats. And pleased with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy 15 But winter and rough weather. William Shakespeare ROBERT SOUTHEY 77 THE INCHCAPE ROCK No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, The ship was still as she could be; Her sails from heaven received no motion; Her keel was steady in the ocean. Without either sign or sound of their shock, 5 The waves flow'd over the Inchcape Rock; So little they rose, so little they fell. They did not move the Inchcape Bell. The Abbot of Aberbrothok Had placed that Bell on the Inchcape Rock; 10 On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, And over the waves its warning rung. When the Rock was hid by the surge's swell, The mariners heard the warning Bell; And then they knew the perilous Rock, 15 And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok. The Sun in heaven was shining gay; All things were joyful on that day; The sea-birds scream'd as they wheel'd round. And there was joyance in their sound. 20 The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen A darker speck on the ocean green; Sir Ralph the Rover walk'd his deck, And he fix'd his eye on the darker speck. He felt the cheering power of spring; 25 It made him whistle, it made him sing; 78 ROBERT SOUTHEY His heart was mirthful to excess, But the Rover's mirth was wickedness. His eye was on the Inchcape float; Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat, 30 And row me to the Inchcape Rock, And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok." The boat is lower 'd, the boatmen row. And to the Inchcape Rock they go; Sir Ralph bent over from the boat, 35 And he cut the Bell from the Inchcape float. Down sunk the Bell with a gurgling sound; The bubbles rose and burst around; Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the Rock Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok." 40 Sir Ralph the Rover sail'd away; He scour'd the seas for many a day; And now, grown rich with plunder'd store. He steers his course for Scotland's shore. So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky, 45 They cannot see the Sun on high; The wind hath blown a gale all day; At evening it hath died away. On the deck the Rover takes his stand; So dark it is they see no land. 50 Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon. For there is the dawn of the rising Moon." ROBERT SOUTHEY 79 "Canst hear," said one, "the breakers roar? For methinks we should be near the shore." "Now where we are I cannot tell, 55 But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell." They hear no sound; the swell is strong; Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along. Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock, "Oh God! it is the Inchcape Rock!" 60 Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair; He curs'd himself in his despair; The waves rush in on every side; The ship is sinking beneath the tide. But, even in his dying fear, 65 One dreadful sound could the Rover hear — A sound as if, with the Inchcape Bell, The fiends below were ringing his knell. Robert Southey WHILE SHEPHERDS WATCHED THEIR FLOCKS BY NIGHT While shepherds watched their flocks by night. All seated on the ground. The angel of the Lord came down. And glory shone around. "Fear not," said he, for mighty dread 5 Had seized their troubled mind; "Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you and all mankind. 80 NAHUM TATE "To you, in David's town, this day. Is born of David's line IP A Saviour, who is Christ the Lord, And this shall be the sign : The heavenly babe you there shall find To human view displayed, All meanly wrapped in swaddling bands, 15 And in a manger laid." Thus spake the seraph; and forthwith Appeared a shining throng Of angels, praising God, who thus Addressed their joyful song: 20 "All glory be to God on high. And to the earth be peace; Good-will henceforth from heaven to men Begin and never cease." Nahum Tate WINTER The frost is here, And fuel is dear, And woods are sear, And fires burn clear. And frost is here And has bitten the heel of the going year. Bite, frost, bite! You roll up away from the light The blue woodlouse and the plump dormouse, And the bees are still'd, and the flies are kill'd, 10 And you bite far into the heart of the house, But not into mine. ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 81 Bite, frost, bite! The woods are all the searer, The fuel is all the dearer, 15 The fires are all the clearer. My spring is all the nearer. You have bitten into the heart of the earth, But not into mine. Alfred, Lord Tennyson EVENING AT THE FARM Over the hill the farm-boy goes. His shadow lengthens along the land, A giant staff in a giant hand; In the poplar-tree above the spring. The katydid begins to sing; 5 The early dews are falling; — Into the stone-heap darts the mink; The swallows skim the river's brink; And home to the woodland fly the crows. When over the hill the farm-boy goes, 10 Cheerily calling, * " Co', boss ! co', boss ! co' ! co' ! co' ! " Farther, farther, over the hill, Faintly calling, calling still, " Co', boss ! co', boss ! co' ! co' ! " 15 Into the yard the farmer goes, With grateful heart, at the close of day: Harness and chain are hung away; In the wagon-shed stand yoke and plough. The straw 's in the stack, the hay in the mow, 20 The cooling dews are falling; — 82 JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE The friendly sheep his welcome bleat, The pigs come grunting to his feet, And the whinnying mare her master knows, When into the yard the farmer goes, 25 His cattle calling, — "Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'! coM" While still the cow-boy, far away. Goes seeking those that have gone astray, — " Co', boss ! co', boss ! co' ! co' ! " 30 Now to her task the milkmaid goes. The cattle come crowding through the gate. Lowing, pushing, little and great; About the trough, by the farm-yard pump. The frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump, 35 While the pleasant dews are falling; — The new milch heifer is quick and shy. But the old cow waits with tranquil eye. And the white stream into the bright pail flows, When to her task the milkmaid goes, 40 Soothingly calling, "So, boss! so, boss! so! so! so!" The cheerful milkmaid takes her stool, And sits and milks in the twilight cool. Saying "So! so, boss! so! so!" 45 To supper at last the farmer goes. The apples are pared, the paper read. The stories are told, then all to bed. Without, the crickets' ceaseless song Makes shrill the silence all night long; 50 The heavy dews are falling. JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE 83 The housewife's hand has turned the lock; Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock; The household sinks to deep repose. But still in sleep the farm-boy goes 55 Singing, calling, — "Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'! co'!" And oft the milkmaid, in her dreams, Drums in the pail with the flashing streams. Murmuring "So, boss! so!" 60 John Townsend Trowbridge LITTLE BELL Piped the blackbird on the beech wood spray: "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way. What's your name?" quoth he — "What's your name? Oh, stop and straight un- fold. Pretty maid with showery curls of gold," — 5 "Little Bell," said she. Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks — Tossed aside her gleaming golden locks — "Bonny bird," quoth she, "Sing me your best song before I go." 10 ** Here's the very finest song I know. Little Bell," said she. And the blackbird piped; you never heard Half so. gay a song from any bird; — Full of quips and wiles, 15 Now so round and rich, now so soft and slow. All for love of that sweet face below. Dimpled o'er with smiles. 84 THOMAS WESTWOOD And the while the bonny bird did pour His full heart out freely o'er and o'er, * 20 'Neath the morning skies, In the little childish heart below, All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow, And shine forth in happy overflow From the blue, bright eyes. 25 Down the dell she tripped; and through the glade Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade, And from out the tree Swung and leaped and frolicked, void of fear. While bold blackbird piped, that all might hear, "Little Bell!" piped he. 31 Little Bell sat down amid the fern: "Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return; Bring me nuts ! " quoth she. Up, away, the frisky squirrel hies, 35 Golden wood lights glancing in his eyes; And adown the tree. Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun, In the little lap drop, one by one: Hark, how blackbird pipes to see the fun ! 40 "Happy Bell!" pipes he. Little Bell looked up and down the glade: "Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid, Come and share with me ! " Down came squirrel, eager for his fare, 45 Down came bonny blackbird, I declare. THOMAS WESTWOOD 85 Little Bell gave each his honest share. Ah the merry three! And the while these frolic playmates twain Piped and frisked from bough to bough again, 50 'Neath the morning skies. In the little childish heart below. All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow. And shine out in happy overflow, From her blue, bright eyes. 55 By her snow-white cot at close of day, Knelt sweet Bell, with folded palms to pray: Very calm and clear Rose the praying voice to where, unseen. In blue heaven, an angel shape serene 60 Paused awhile to hear. "What good child is this," the angel said, ** That, with happy heart, beside her bed Prays so lovingly .f^" •Low and soft, oh ! very low and soft, 65 Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft, "Bell, dear Bell!" crooned he. • "Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair Murmured, "God doth bless with angels' care; Child, thy bed shall be 70 Folded safe from harm. Love, deep and kind. Shall watch around, and leave good gifts behind. Little Bell, for thee." Thomas Westwood 86 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER RED RIDING-HOOD On the wide lawn the snow lay deep, j Ridged o'er with many a drifted heap; The wind that through the pine-trees sung The naked elm-boughs tossed and swung; While, through the window, frosty-starred. Against the sunset purple barred, We ssiw, the sombre crow flap by, The hawk's gray fleck along the sky, The crested blue- jay flitting swift. The squirrel poising on the drift, 10 Erect, alert, his broad gray tail Set to the north wind like a sail. It came to pass, our little lass, With flattened face against the glass, And eyes in which the tender dew 15 Of pity shone, stood gazing through The narrow space her rosy lips Had melted from the frost's eclipse: "Oh, see," she cried, "the poor blue- jays! What is it that the black crow says? 20 The squirrel lifts his httle legs Because he has no hands, and begs; He's asking for my nuts, I know: May I not feed them on the snow?" Half lost within her boots, her head 25 Warm-sheltered in her hood of red. Her plaid skirt close about her drawn, She floundered down the wintry lawn; JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 87 Now struggling through the misty veil Blown round her by the shrieking gale; 30 Now sinking in a drift so low Her scarlet hood could scarcely show Its dash of color on the snow. She dropped for bird and beast forlorn Her little store of nuts and corn, 35 And thus her timid guests bespoke: " Come, squirrel, from your hollow oak, — Come, black old crow, — come, poor blue- jay, Before your supper 's blown away ! Don't be afraid, we all are good; 40 And I'm mamma's Red Riding-Hood!" O Thou whose care is over all. Who heedest even the sparrow's fall, Keep in the little maiden's breast The pity which is now its guest! 45 Let not her cultured years make less The childhood charm of tenderness, But let her feel as well as know, Nor harder with her polish grow! Unmoved by sentimental grief 50 That wails along some printed leaf, But prompt with kindly word and deed To own the claims of all who need, Let the grown woman's self make good The promise of Red Riding-Hood ! 55 John Greenleaf Whittier 88 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH WE ARE SEVEN A SIMPLE child, That Hghtly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death? I met a little cottage girl: 5 She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air. And she was wildly clad: 10 Her eyes were fair, and very fair; — Her beauty made me glad. "Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be.^" "How many.^ Seven in all," she said, 15 And wondering looked at me. "And where are they? I pray you tell." She answered, "Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea. 20 " Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the churchyard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother." "You say that two at Conway dwell, 25 And two are gone to sea, WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 89 Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell, Sweet Maid, how this may be." Then did the Httle Maid reply, "Seven boys and girls are we; 30 Two of us in the churchyard lie. Beneath the churchyard tree." " You run about, my little Maid, Your limbs they are alive; If two are in the churchyard laid 35 Then ye are only five." . "Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little Maid replied, "Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side. 40 "My stockings there I often knit. My kerchief there I hem; And there upon the ground I sit And sing a song to them. "And often after sunset. Sir, 45 When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer And eat my supper there. "The first that died was sister Jane; In bed she moaning lay, 50 Till God released her of her pain; And then she went away. 90 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH "So in the churchyard she was laid; And, when the grass was dry. Together round her grave we played, 55 My brother John and I. "And when the ground was white with snow And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side." 60 "How many are you, then," said I, "If they two are in heaven?" Quick was the little Maid's reply, "O Master! we are seven." "But they are dead; those two are dead! 65 Their spirits are in heaven!" 'T was throwing words away : for still The little Maid would have her will. And said, "Nay, we are seven!" William Wordsworth TO A BUTTERFLY I 'vE watched you now a full half hour Self -poised upon that yellow flower; And, little Butterfly ! indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless ! — not frozen seas More motionless! — and then What joy await you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees. And calls you forth again! WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 91 This plot of orchard-ground is ours; 10 My trees they are, my Sister's flowers: Here rest your wings when they are weary, Here lodge as in a sanctuary! Come often to us, fear no wrong; Sit near us on the bough ! 15 We'll talk of sunshine and of song, And summer days, when we were young; Sweet childish days, that were as long As twenty days are now. William Wordsworth INDEX OF TITLES April Day (Longfellow), 13. April Rail! (Loveman), 64. Arrow and the Song, The (Longfellow), 5. Birds in Summer (Hovyitt), 59. Bluebird, The (Miller), 70. Bob White (Cooper), 54. Child's Thought of God, A (Browning), 39. Children's Hour, The (Long- fellow), 3. Christmas in Norway (Thax- ter), 35. Day, A (Dickinson), 55. Evening at the Farm (Trow- bridge), 81. Fairies (Allingham), 37. Fairy Tale, A (Cone), 53. Fountain, The (Lowell), 64. Hiawatha's Fishing (Long- fellow), 14. Hiawatha's Friends (Long- fellow), 22. Hiawatha's Sailing (Long- fellow), 10. Inchcape Rock (Southey), 77. King Solomon and the Bees (Saxe), 74. Leak in the Dike (Cary), 48. Little Bell (Westwood), 83. Little Brown Brother (Nes- hit), 72. Lobster Quadrille (Carroll), 4>7. March (Thaxter), 30. Morning (Morse), 71. Nikolma (Thaxter), 34. October's Bright Blue Weather (Jackson), 61. Owl- Critic, The (Fields), 5Q. Planting of the Apple-Tree, The (Bryant), 40. Rain in Summer (Longfel- low), 5. Red Riding-Hood (Whittier), 86. Robin's Rain Song (Thax- ter), 31. Sandpiper, The (Thaxter), 27. Scarecrow, The (Thaxter), 32. Singing Leaves (Lowell), 66. Song of Our Flag, A (Neshit), 7^2. Sparrows, The (Thaxter), 35. Spring (Thaxter), 29. Star-Spangled Banner, The (Key), 62. There's Nothing Like the Rose (Rossetti), 73. To a Butterfly (Wordsworth), 90. Under the Greenwood Tree (Shakespeare), 76. Village Blacksmith, The (Longfellow), 1. Walrus and the Carpenter, The (Carroll), 43. We are Seven (Wordsworth), 88. While Shepherds Watched their Flocks by Night (Tate), 79. Wild Geese (Thaxter), 28. Windmill (Longfellow) , 8. Winter (Tennyson), 80. Year's at the Spring, The (Browning), 39. POEMS FOR READING AND MEMORIZING . FIFTH GRADE Prescribed by the New York State Education Department in the Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature, 1919 BOSTON NEW YORK CHICA&O HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY €t)e laiuecjffllie jDrc?? Cambridge v^'' ^",.*^ c/<^' COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMFANT ALL RIGHTS RESERVED The copyrighted selections in this book are used by permission of, and special arrangement with, their proprietors. DEC i!2 i9l9 tEfje »ibers;t!>c ^rctfs CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A C1A560222 CONTENTS (Arranged as a Course ^) FIRST HALF YEAR Poems to be Memorized Grade Poet — John Greenleaf Whittier The Barefoot Boy John Greenleaf Whittier 1 Barbara Frietchie John Greenleaf Whittier 4 The Corn-Song John Greenleaf Whittier 7 Valuation John Greenleaf Whittier 9 Snow-Bound (first five stanzas) John Greenleaf Whittier 10 In School-Days John Greenleaf Whittier 13 The Huskers John Greenleaf Whittier 15 Red Riding-Hood John Greenleaf Whittier 21 Miscellaneous Poeins A Sea-Song Allan Cunningham 54 Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers Felicia D. Hemans 55 Old Ironsides Oliver W^endell Holmes 57 Down to Sleep Helen Hunt Jackson 61 The Builders Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 64 Evening in Paradise John Milton 71 The First Thanksgiving Day Margaret Junkin Preston 74 Night Robert Southey 81 Poems to be read to the Children The Cruise of the Window-Blind Charles E. Carryl 42 The Nightingale and the Glow- Worm William Cowper 53 The Opening of the Piano Oliver Wendell Holmes 58 1 The titles are here grouped in accordance with suggestions in the New York Elementary Syllabus irt' Language and Literature. The text of the poems (pages 1-89), except those by the "Grade Poets," is arranged according to the alphabet- ical sequence of authors' names. An Index of Titles is given on page 90. iv CONTENTS Paul Revere's Ride Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 67 The Blind Men and the Elephant John G. Saxe 77 A Night with a Wolf Bayard Taylor 83 SECOND HALF YEAR Poems to be Memorized Grade Poet — Robert Burns Sweet Afton Robert Burns 23 Bannockburn Robert Burns 25 To A Mountain Daisy Robert Burns 26 Auld Lang Syne Robert Burns 27 Miscellaneous Poems Battle-Hymn of the Republic Julia Ward Howe 60 Morning John Keats 62 A Farewell Charles Kings) ey 63 The Housekeeper Charles Lamb 63 A Psalm of Life Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 65 Warren's Address John Pierpont 73 A Good Name William Shakespeare 79 The Blue Jay Susan Hartley Swett 80 Christmas Alfred, Lord Tennyson 85 Written in March William Wordsworth 88 Poems to be read to the Children Sir Patrick Spens An Old Ballad 28 The Pied Piper of Hamelin Robert Browning 32 The Diverting History of John Gilpin William Cowper 44 The Noble Nature Ben Jonson 62 The Minstrel-Boy Thomas Moore 72 Woodman, Spare that Tree George Pope Morris 72 The Charge of the Light Brigade Alfred, Lord Tennyson 83 The Charcoalman John T. Trowbridge 87 How the Robin Came John Greenleaf Whittier 19 Index of Titles 90 POEMS FOR READING AND MEMORIZING IN THE FIFTH GRADE GROUP I. POEMS BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE BAREFOOT BOY Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! With thy turned-up pantaloons. And thy merry whistled tunes; With thy red lip, redder still 5 Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; From my heart I give thee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy ! lo Prince thou art, — the grown-up man Only is republican. Let the million-dollared ride! Barefoot, trudging at his side. Thou hast more than he can buy 15 In the reach of ear and eye, — Outward sunshine, inward joy: Blessings on thee, barefoot boy! Oh for boyhood's painless play. Sleep that wakes in laughing day, 20 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER Health that mocks the doctor's rules, Knowledge never learned of schools, Of the wild bee's morning chase, Of the wild-flower's time and place, Flight of fowl and habitude 25 Of the tenants of the wood; How the tortoise bears his shell. How the woodchuck digs his cell. And the ground-mole sinks his well; How the robin feeds her young, 30 How the oriole's nest is hung; Where the whitest lilies blow. Where the freshest berries grow. Where the ground-nut trails its vine. Where the wood-grape's clusters shine; 35 Of the black wasp's cunning way. Mason of his walls of clay. And the architectural plans Of gray hornet artisans ! For, eschewing books and tasks, 40 Nature answers all he asks; Hand in hand with her he walks, Face to face with her he talks. Part and parcel of her joy, — Blessings on the barefoot boy ! 45 Oh for boyhood's time of June, Crowding years in one brief moon. When all things I heard or saw. Me, their master, waited for. I was rich in flowers and trees, 50 Humming-birds and honey-bees; JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER S For m3^ sport the squirrel played, Plied the snouted mole his spade; For my taste the blackberry cone Purpled over hedge and stone; 55 Laughed the brook for my delight Through the day and through the night. Whispering at the garden wall, Talked with me from fall to fall; Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, 60 Mine the walnut slopes beyond. Mine, on bending orchard trees. Apples of Hesperides! ^ Still as my horizon grew, Larger grew my riches too; 65 All the world I saw or knew Seemed a complex Chinese toy. Fashioned for a barefoot boy! Oh for festal dainties spread. Like my bowl of milk and bread; 70 Pewter spoon and bowl of wood, On the door-stone, gray and rude I O'er me, like a regal tent, Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent, Puiple-curtained, fringed with gold, 75 Looped in many a wind-swung fold, Wliile for music came the play Of the pied frogs' orchestra; And, to light the noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire. 80 ^ The Hesperides were three nymphs who were set to guard the golden apples which Gsea (Earth) planted in the gardens of Here, as a wedding gift. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER I was monarch: pomp and joy Waited on the barefoot boy ! Cheerily, then, my httle man. Live and laugh, as boyhood can ! Though the flinty slopes be hard, 85 Stubble-speared the new-mown sward. Every morn shall lead thee through Fresh baptisms of the dew; Every evening from thy feet Shall the cool wind kiss the heat : 90 All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of pride. Lose the freedom of the sod, Like a colt's for work be shod. Made to tread the mills of toil, 95 Up and down in ceaseless moil: Happy if their track be found Never on forbidden ground; Happy if they sink not in Quick and treacherous sands of sin. 100 Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy. Ere it passes, barefoot boy ! BARBARA FRIETCHIE Up from the meadows rich with corn. Clear in the cool September morn. The clustered spires of Frederick stand Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. Round about them orchards sweep, 5 Apple and peach tree fruited deep. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 5 Fair as the garden of the Lord To the eyes of the famished rebel horde, On that pleasant morn of the early fall When Lee marched over the mountain- wall ; 10 Over the mountains winding down Horse and foot, into Frederick town. Forty flags with their silver stars, Forty flags with their crimson bars, Flapped in the morning wind: the sun 15 Of noon looked down, and saw not one. Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then. Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; Bravest of all in Frederick town, She took up the flag the men hauled down; 20 In her attic window the staff she set. To show that one heart was loyal yet. Up the street came the rebel tread, Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. Under his slouched hat left and right 25 He glanced; the old flag met his sight. "Halt!" — the dust-brown ranks stood fast. "Fire!" — out blazed the rifle-blast. It shivered the window, pane and sash; It rent the banner with seam and gash. 30 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf. She leaned far out on the window-sill. And shook it forth with a royal will. "Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, 35 But spare your coimtry's flag," she said. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame. Over the face of the leader came; The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word; 40 "Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog! March on!" he said. All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet: All day long that free flag tost 45 Over the heads of the rebel host. Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well; And through the hifl-gaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night. 50 Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er. And the Rebel rides on his raids no more. Honor to her ! and let a tear Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 7 Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, 55 Flag of Freedom and Union, wave! Peace and order and beauty draw Round thy symbol of light and law; And ever the stars above look down On thy stars below in Frederick town! 60 THE CORN-SONG Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn ! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn ! Let other lands, exulting, glean 5 The apple from the pine. The orange from its glossy green, The cluster from the vine; We better love the hardy gift Our rugged vales bestow, 10 To cheer us when the storm shall drift Our harvest-fields with snow. Through vales of grass and meads of flowers Our ploughs their furrows made, While on the hills the sun and showers 15 Of changeful April played. We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain Beneath the sun of May, JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER And frightened from our sprouting grain The robber crows away. 20 All through the long, bright days of June Its leaves grew green and fair, And waved in hot midsummer's noon Its soft and yellow hair. And now, with Autumn's moonlit eyes, 25 Its harvest-time has come. We pluck away the frosted leaves, And bear the treasure home. There, when the snows about us drift, And winter winds are cold, 30 Fair hands the broken grain shall sift, And knead its meal of gold. Let vapid idlers loll in silk Around their costly board; Give us the bowl of samp and milk, 35 By homespun beauty poured ! Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth Sends up its smoky curls. Who will not thank the kindly earth. And bless our farmer girls ! 40 Then shame on all the proud and vain. Whose folly laughs to scorn The blessing of our hardy grain. Our wealth of golden corn! \ JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 9 Let earth withhold her goodly root, 45 Let mildew blight the rye, Give to the worm the orchard's fruit. The wheat-fields to the fly: But let the good old crop adorn The hills our fathers trod; 50 Still let us, for His golden corn. Send up our thanks to God ! VALUATION The old Squire said, as he stood by his gate. And his neighbor, the Deacon, went by, "In spite of my bank stock and real estate. You are better off. Deacon, than I. "We're both growing old, and the end's drawing near, 5 You have less of this world to resign, But in Heaven's appraisal your assets, I fear, Will reckon up greater than mine. "They say I am rich, but I'm feeling so poor, I wish I could swap with you even: 10 The pounds I have lived for and laid up in store For the shillings and pence you have given." "Well, Squire," said the Deacon, with shrewd common sense, While his eye had a Jwinkle of fun, "Let your pounds take the way of my shillings and pence, 15 And the thing can be easily done!" 10 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER SNOW-BOUND: A WINTER IDYL {The first five stanzas) The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon. Slow tracing down the thickening sky 5 Its mute and ominous prophecy, A portent seeming less than threat, It sank from sight before it set. A chill no coat, however stout. Of homespun stuff could quite shut out, 10 A hard, dull bitterness of cold. That checked, mid-vein, the circling race Of life-blood in the sharpened face, The coming of the snow-storm told. The wind blew east; we heard the roar 15 Of Ocean on his wintry shore. And felt the strong pulse throbbing there Beat with low rhythm our inland air. Meanwhile we did our nightly chores, — Brought in the wood from out of doors, 20 Littered the stalls, and from the mows Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows: Heard the horse whinnying for his corn; And, sharply clashing horn on horn, Impatient down the stanchion rows 25 The cattle shake their walnut bows; While, peering from his early perch Upon the scaffold's pole of birch, JOHN GREENLEAE WHITTIER ii The cock his crested helmet bent And down his querulous challenge sent. 30 Un warmed by any sunset Kght The gray day darkened into night, A night made hoary with the swarm And whirl-dance of the blinding storm. As zigzag wavering to and fro 35 Crossed and recrossed the winged snow: And ere the early bedtime came The white drift piled the window-frame, And through the glass the clothes-line posts Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts. 40 So all night long the storm roared on: The morning broke without a sun; In tiny spherule traced with lines Of Nature's geometric signs. In starry flake and pellicle 45 All day the hoary meteor fell; And, when the second morning shone. We looked upon a world imknown. On nothing we could call our own. Around the glistening wonder bent 50 The blue walls of the firmament. No cloud above, no earth below, — A universe of sky and snow! The old familiar sights of ours Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers 65 Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood. Or garden- wall or belt of wood; A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed, A fenceless drift what once was road; 12 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER The bridle-post an old man sat 60 With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat; The well-curb had a Chinese roof; And even the long sweep, high aloof, In its slant splendor, seemed to tell Of Pisa's leaning miracle. 65 A prompt, decisive man, no breath Our father wasted: "Boys, a path!" Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy Count such a summons less than joy?) Our buskins on our feet we drew; 70 With mittened hands, and caps drawn low. To guard our necks and ears from snow. We cut the solid whiteness through; And, where the drift was deepest, made A tunnel walled and overlaid 75 With dazzling crystal : we had read Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave. And to our own his name we gave, With many a wish the luck were ours To test his lamp's supernal powers. 80 We reached the barn with merry din. And roused the prisoned brutes within. The old horse thrust his long head out. And grave with wonder gazed about; The cock his lusty greeting said, 85 And forth his speckled harem led; The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked, And mild reproach of hunger looked; The horned patriarch of the sheep. Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep, 90 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 13 Shook his sage head with gesture mute, And emphasized with stamp of foot. All day the gusty north-wind bore The loosening drift its breath before; Low circling round its southern zone, 95 The Sim through dazzling snow-mist shone. No church-bell lent its Christian tone To the savage air, no social smoke Curled over woods of snow-hung oak. A solitude made more intense 100 By dreary-voiced elements, The shrieking of the mindless wind, The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind, And on the glass the unmeaning beat Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet. 105 Beyond the circle of our hearth No welcome sound of toil or mirth Unbound the spell, and testified Of human life and thought outside. We minded that the sharpest ear lio The buried brooklet could not hear, The music of whose liquid lip Had been to us companionship, And, in our lonely life, had grown To have an almost human tone. 115 IN SCHOOL-DAYS Still sits the school-house by the road, A ragged beggar sunning; Around it still the sumachs grow. And blackberry- vines are running. 14 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER Within, the master's desk is seen, 5 Deep scarred by raps official; The warping floor, the battered seats, The jack-knife's carved initial; The charcoal frescos on its wall; Its door's worn sill, betraying 10 The feet that, creeping slow to school. Went storming out to playing! Long years ago a winter sun Shone over it at setting; Lit up its western window-panes, 15 And low eaves' icy fretting. It touched the tangled golden curls. And brown eyes full of grieving. Of one who still her steps delayed When all the school were leaving. 20 For near her stood the little boy Her childish favor singled: His cap pulled low upon a face Where pride and shame were mingled. Pushing with restless feet the snow 25 To right and left, he lingered; — As restlessly her tiny hands The blue-checked apron fingered. He saw her lift her eyes; he felt The soft hand's light caressing, 30 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 15 And heard the tremble of her voice, As if a fault confessing. "I'm sorry that I spelt the word: I hate to go above you, Because," — the brown eyes lower fell, — 35 "Because, you see, I love you!" Still memory to a gray-haired man That sweet child-face is showing. Dear girl ! the grasses on her grave Have forty years been growing! 40 He lives to learn, in life's hard school, How few who pass above him Lament their triumph and his loss. Like her, — because they love him. THE HUSKERS It was late in mild October, and the long au- tumnal rain Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass again; The first sharp frost had fallen, leaving all the woodlands gay With the hues of summer's rainbow, or the meadow-flowers of May. Through a thin, dry mist, that morning, the sun rose broad and red, 5 At first a rayless disk of fire, he brightened as he sped; 16 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER Yet, even his noontide glory fell chastened and subdued, On the cornfields and the orchards, and softly pictured wood. And all that quiet afternoon, slow sloping to the night, He wove with golden shuttle the haze with yellow light; 10 Slanting through the painted beeches, he glorified the hill; And, beneath it, pond and meadow lay brighter, greener still. And shouting boys in woodland haunts caught glimpses of that sky, Flecked by the many-tinted leaves, and laughed, they knew not why, And school-girls gay with aster-flowers, beside the meadow brooks, 15 Mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of sweet looks. From spire and barn looked westerly the patient weathercocks; But even the birches on the hill stood motionless as rocks. No sound was in the woodlands, save the squirrel's dropping shell, And the yellow leaves among the boughs, low rustling as they fell. 20 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 17 The summer grains were harvested; the stubble- fields lay dry, Where June winds rolled, in light and shade, the pale green waves of rye; But still, on gentle hill-slopes, in valleys fringed with wood, Ungathered, bleaching in the sun, the heavy corn crop stood. Bent low, by autumn's wind and rain, through husks that, dry and sere, 25 Unfolded from their ripened charge, shone out the yellow ear; Beneath, the turnip lay concealed, in many a verdant fold. And glistened in the slanting light the pumpkin's sphere of gold. There wrought the busy harvesters; and many a creaking wain Bore slowly to the long barn-floor its load of husk and grain; 30 Till broad and red, as when he rose, the sun sank down, at last. And like a merry guest's farewell, the day in brightness passed. And lo ! as through the western pines, on meadow, stream, and pond. Flamed the red radiance of a sky, set all afire beyond, 18 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER Slowly o'er the eastern sea-bluffs a milder glory shone, 35 And the sunset and the moonrise were mingled into one! As thus into the quiet night the twilight lapsed away, And deeper in the brightening moon the tranquil shadows lay; From many a brown old farm-house, and hamlet without name. Their milking and their home-tasks done, the merry buskers came. 40 Swung o'er the heaped-up harvest, from pitch- forks in the mow. Shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant scene below; The growing pile of husks behind, the golden ears before, And laughing eyes and busy hands and brown cheeks glimmering o'er. HaK hidden, in a quiet nook, serene of look and heart, 45 Talking their old times over, the old men sat apart; While up and down the unhusked pile, or nestling in its shade. At hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, the happy children played. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 19 Urged by the good host's daughter, a maiden young and fair, Lifting to light her sweet blue eyes and pride of soft brown hair, 50 The master of the village school, sleek of hair and smooth of tongue, To the quaint tune of some old psalm, a husking- ballad sung. HOW THE ROBIN CAME AN ALGONQUIN LEGEND Happy young friends, sit by me. Under May's blown apple-tree While these home-birds in and out Through the blossoms flit about. Hear a story, strange and old, 5 By the wild red Indians told. How the robin came to be: Once a great chief left his son, — Well-beloved, his only one, — When the boy was well-nigh grown, 10 In the trial-lodge alone. Left for tortures long and slow Youths like him must undergo. Who their pride of manhood test Lacking water, food, and rest. 15 Seven days the fast he kept, Seven nights he never slept. Then the young boy, wrung with pain, Weak from natm-e's overstrain. Faltering, moaned a low complaint: 20 "Spare, me, father, for I faint!" 20 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER But the chieftain, haughty-eyed. Hid his pity in his pride. "You shall be a himter good. Knowing never lack of food: 25 You shall be a warrior great. Wise as fox and strong as bear; Many scalps your belt shall wear. If with patient heart you wait Bravely till yoiu' task is done. ^ 30 Better you should starving die Than that boy and squaw should cry Shame upon your father's son!" When next morn the sun's first rays Glistened on the hemlock sprays, 35 Straight that lodge the old chief sought. And boiled samp and moose meat brought. "Rise and eat, my son!" he said. Lo, he found the poor boy dead ! As with grief his grave they made, 40 And his bow beside him laid. Pipe, and knife, and wampum-braid, On the lodge-top overhead. Preening smooth its breast of red And the brown coat that it wore, 45 Sat a bird, unknown before. And as if with human tongue, "Mourn me not," it said, or sung: "I, a bird, am still your son, Happier than if hunter fleet, 50 Or a brave, before your feet Laying scalps in battle won. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 21 Friend of man, my song shall cheer Lodge and corn-land; hovering near. To each wigwam I shall bring 55 Tidings of the coming spring; Every child my voice shall know In the moon of melting snow. When the maple's red bud swells. And the wind-flower lifts its bells. 60 As their fond companion Men shall henceforth own your son, And my song shall testify That of human kin am I." Thus the Indian legend saith 65 How, at first, the robin came With a sweeter life and death. Bird for boy, and still the same. If my young friends doubt that this Is the robin's genesis, 70 Not in vain is still the myth If a truth be found therewith : Unto gentleness belong Gifts unknown to pride and wrong; Happier far than hate is praise, — 75 He who sings than he who slays. RED RIDING-HOOD On the wide lawn the snow lay deep. Ridged o'er with many a drifted heap; The wind that through the pine-trees sung The naked elm-boughs tossed and swung; 22 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER While, through the window, frosty-starred 5 Against the sunset purple barred, We saw the sombre crow flap by, The hawk's gray fleck along the sky. The crested blue-jay flitting swift. The squirrel poising on the drift, 10 Erect, alert, his broad gray tail Set to the north wind like a sail. It came to pass, our little lass. With flattened face against the glass. And eyes in which the tender dew 15 Of pity shone, stood gazing through The narrow space her rosy lips Had melted from the frost's eclipse: "Oh, see," she cried, "the poor blue-jays! What is it that the black crow says? 20 The squirrel lifts his little legs Because he has no hands, and begs; He's asking for my nuts, I know: May I not feed them on the snow?" Half lost within her boots, her head 25 W^arm-sheltered in her hood of red. Her plaid skirt close about her drawn. She floimdered down the wintry lawn; Now struggling through the misty veil Blown round her by the shrieking gale; 30 Now sinking in a drift so low Her scarlet hood could scarcely show Its dash of color on the snow. She dropped for bird and beast forlorn Her little store of nuts and corn, 35 ROBERT BURNS 23 And thus her timid guests bespoke: *'Come, squirrel, from your hollow oak, — Come, black old crow, — come, poor blue-jay. Before your supper 's blown away ! Don't be afraid, we all are good; 40 And I'm mamma's Red Riding-Hood!" O Thou whose care is over all. Who heedest even the sparrow's fall, Keep in the little maiden's breast The pity which is now its guest ! 45 Let not her cultured years make less The childhood charm of tenderness, But let her feel as well as know, Nor harder with her polish grow! Unmoved by sentimental grief 50 That wails along some printed leaf. But prompt with kindly word and deed To own the claims of all who need. Let the grown woman's self make good The promise of Red Riding-Hood! 55 GROUP n. POEMS BY ROBERT BURNS SWEET AFTON I Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes ! Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise! My Mary 's asleep by thy murmuring stream — Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream ! 24 ROBERT BURNS II Thou stock dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, ^ 5 Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming for- bear — I charge you, disturb not my slumbering fair! Ill How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills. Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills! 10 There daily I wander, as noon rises high. My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. IV How pleasant thy banks and green vallies below. Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow; There oft, as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea, 15 The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. V Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides ! How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave. As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave! 20 VI Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes! Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays! My Mary 's asleep by thy murmuring stream — plow gently,, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream! ROBERT BURNS 25 BANNOCKBURN ROBERT BRUCe's ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led. Welcome to your gory bed Or to victorie! Now's the day, and now's the hour; 5 See the front o' battle lower; See approach proud Edward's power — Chains and slaverie! Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? 10 Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa', 15 Let him follow me! By oppression's woes and pains! By your sons in servile chains ! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be free! 20 Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow ! — Let us do or die! ROBERT BURNS TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH IN APRIL Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'er, Thou's met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem; To spare thee now is past my pow'r, 6 Thou bonnie gem ! Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonnie lark, companion meet! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet, Wi' spreckl'd breast, 10 When upward-springing, blithe, to greet The purpling east. Cauld blew the bitter-biting north Upon thy early, humble birth; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth 15 Amid the storm. Scarce rear'd above the parent earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield; 20 But thou, beneath the random bield 0' clod or stane. Adorns the histie stibble-field. Unseen, alane. B. stoure, dust. 7. neebor, neighbor. 15. glint, glance. ROBERT BURNS 27 There, in thy scanty mantle clad, 25 Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread. Thou hf ts thy unassuming head In humble guise; But now the share uptears thy bed. And low thou lies. 30 AULD LANG SYNE Should auld acquaintance be forgot. And never brought to min'? Should auld acquaintance be forgot. And days o' lang syne? CHORUS For auld lang syne, my dear, 5 For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne. We twa hae run about the braes, And pu'd the go wans fine; 10 But we've wandered monie a weary foot, Sin' auld lang syne. We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, Frae morning sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roared, 15 Sin' auld lang syne. 9. brae, the slope of a hill. 10. gowan, the daisy. 13. burn, stream. 14. dine, dinner time. 15. braid, broad. ^ ANONYMOUS And here's a hand, my trusty fiere. And gie's a hand o' thine; And we'll tak a right guid wilHe-waught, For auld lang syne. 20 And surely you '11 be your pint-stoup. And surely I'll be mine; And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne. GROUP III POEMS BY VARIOUS AUTHORS SIR PATRICK SPENS AN OLD BALLAD The king sits in Dunfermline toun. Drinking the blude-red wine: "Oh, whare will I get a skeely skipper To sail this new ship of mine.^" Oh, up and spake an eldern knight, 5 Sat at the king's right knee, "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That ever sailed the sea." Our king has written a braid letter, And sealed it with his hand, 10 And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on the strand. 17. fiere, friend; comrade. 19. m//te-waw(/^f, a hearty draught, 21. pin'-stowp, flagon. ANONYMOUS 29 "To Noroway, to Noroway, To Noroway o'er the faem; The King's daughter of Noroway, 15 'T is thou maun bring her hame." The first word that Sir Patrick read, Sae loud, loud laughed he; The neist word that Sir Patrick read. The tear blinded his e'e. 20 "Oh wha is this has done this deed, And tauld the king o' me, To send us out, at this time of the year. To sail upon the sea?" "Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, 25 Our ship must sail the faem; The King's daughter of Noroway, " 'T is we must fetch her hame." They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn, Wi' a' the speed they may; 30 And they hae landed in Noroway Upon a Wedensday. They hadna been a week, a week In Noroway but twae, When that the lords o' Noroway 35 Began aloud to say: "Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's gowd. And a' our queenis fee." "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud! Fu' loud I hear ye lie! 40 so ROBERT BROWNING **ror I hae brought as much white monie As gane my men and me, And I hae brought a half-fou' o' gude red gowd Out o'er the sea wi' me. "Make ready, make ready, my merry men a' ! 45 Our gude ship sails the morn." **Now ever alake, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm ! *'I saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm; 50 And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm." They hadna sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three. When the lift gi'ew dark, and the wind blew loud, 55 And gurly grew the sea. The ankers brak, and the top-masts lap, It was sic a deadly storm; And the waves cam' o'er the broken ship Till a' her sides were torn. 60 "Oh, where will I get a gude sailor. To take my helm in hand. Till I get up to the tall top-mast. To see if I can spy land.?" "Oh, here am I, a sailor gude, 65 To take the helm in hand. Till ye get up to the tall top-mast : But I fear you'll ne'er spy land." ANONYMOUS SI He hadna gane a step, a step, A step but barely ane, 70 When a bout flew out of our goodly ship, And the sale sea it came in. **Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith, Another o' the twine, And wap them into our ship's side, 75 And letna the sea came in." Oh, laith, laith were our gude Scots lords To wet their cork heeled shoon! But lang ere a' the play was played They wat their hats aboon. 80 And mony was the feather-bed That floated on the faem, And mony was the gude lord's son That never mair came hame. The ladyes wrang their fingers white, 85 The maidens tore their hair; A' for the sake of their true loves, For them they '11 see na mair. Oh, lang, lang may the ladyes sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, 90 Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand. And lang, lang may the maidens sit, Wi' the goud kaims in their hair, A' waiting for their ain dear loves, 93 For them they '11 see na mair. ROBERT BROWNING Oh, forty miles off Aberdour, 'T is fifty fathoms deep, And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, Wi' the Scots lords at his feet. 100 Anonymous THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN I Hamelin town 's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city; The River Weser, deep and wide, Washes its walls on the southern side; A pleasanter spot you never spied; But, when begins my ditty, Almost five hundred years ago, To see the townsfolk suffer so From vermin, was a pity. II Rats! 10 They fought the dogs and killed the cats, And bit the babies in the cradles. And ate the cheeses out of the vats. And licked the soup from the cooks* own ladles, Split open the "kegs of salted sprats, 15 Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats, By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats. 20 ROBERT BROWNING 33 III At last the people in a body To the Town Hall came flocking: " 'T is clear," cried they, "our Mayor's a noddy, "And as for our Corporation — shocking " To think we buy gowns lined with ermine 25 "For dolts that can't or won't determine "What's best to rid us of our vermin! "You hope, because you're old and obese, "To find in the furry civic robe ease? "Rouse up. Sirs! Give your brains a rack- ing 30 "To find the remedy we're lacking, "Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!" At this the Mayor and Corporation Quaked with a mighty consternation. IV An hour they sate in Council ; 35 At length the Mayor broke silence: "For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell; "I wish I were a mile hence! "It's easy to bid one rack one's brain — "I'm sure my poor head aches again, 40 "I've scratched it so, and all in vain. "Oh, for a trap, a trap, a trap!" Just as he said this, what should hap At the chamber door, but a gentle tap? " Bless us ! " cried the Mayor, "what 's that? " 45 (With the Corporation as he sat. Looking little though wondrous fat; Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister Than a too-long-opened oyster, S4 ROBERT BROWNING Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous 50 For a plate of turtle green and glutinous.) "Only a scraping of shoes on the mat! "Anything like the sound of a rat "Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!" "Come in!" the Mayor cried, looking bigger, 55 And in did come the strangest figure! His queer long coat from heel to head Was half of yellow and half of red; And he himself was tall and thin, With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, 60 And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin. No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin. But lips where smiles went out and in; There was no guessing his kith and kin; And nobody could enough admire 65 The tall man and his quaint attire. . Quoth one: "It's as if my great-grandsire, "Starting up at the trump of Doom's tone, "Had walked this way from his painted tomb- stone!" VI He advanced to the council table: 70 And, "Please your honours," said he, "I'm able, "By means of a secret charm, to draw "All creatures living beneath the sun, "That creep, or swim, or fly, or run, "After me so as you never saw! 75 "And I chiefly use my charm "On creatures that do people harm, — ROBERT BROWNING 35 "The mole, the toad, the newt, the viper: "And people call me the Pied Piper." (And here they noticed round his neck 80 A scarf of red and yellow stripe To match his coat of the self-same cheque; And at the scarf's end hung a pipe; And his fingers, they noticed, were ever stray- ing ^ As if impatient to be playing 85 Upon his pipe, as low it dangled Over his vesture so old-fangled.) "Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am, "In Tartary I freed the Cham, "Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats; 90 "I eased in Asia the Nizam "Of a monstrous brood of vampyre bats: "And as for what your brain bewilders, "If I can rid your town of rats "Will you give me a thousand guilders?" 95 "One! fifty thousand!" was the exclamation Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation. VII Into the street the Piper stept, Smiling first a little smile. As if he knew what magic slept 100 In his quiet pipe the while; Then, like a musical adept. To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled. And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled, Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled; 105 And ere three shrill notes the pipe had uttered. You heard as if an army muttered; 36 ROBERT BROWNING And the muttering grew to a grumbling; And the grumbling grew to a mighty rum- bling; And out of the houses the rats came tum- bling. 110 Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats. Grave old plodders, gay young friskers. Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, Cocking tails, and pricking whiskers, 115 Families by tens and dozens. Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives — Followed the Piper for their lives. From street to street he piped, advancing, And step for step they followed dancing, 120 Until they came to the River Weser, Wherein all plunged and perished! — Save one, who, stout as Julius Caesar, Swam across and lived to carry (As he, the manuscript he cherished) 125 To Rat-land home his commentary : Which was, "At the first shrill note of the pipe "I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, "And putting apples, wondrous ripe, "Into a cider-press's gripe: 130 "And a moving away of pickle-tub boards, "And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, "And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks, "And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks:* "And it seemed as if a voice 135 " (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery "Is breathed) called out, 'Oh, rats, rejoice! "'The world is grown to one vast drysaltery! ROBERT BROWNING 37 "*So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, "'Breakfast, dinner, supper, luncheon!' 140 "And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon, "All ready starved, like a great sun shone "Glorious, scarce an inch before me, "Just as methought it said, 'Come, bore me!' " — I found the Weser rolling o'er me." 145 VIII You should have heard the Hamelin people Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple. "Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles, "Poke out the nests, and block up the holes! " Consult with carpenters and builders, 150 "And leave in our town not even a trace "Of the rats!" When suddenly, up the face Of the Piper perked in the market-place. With a, "First, if you please, my thousand guil- ders!" 154 IX A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue; So did the Corporation, too. For council dinners made rare havoc With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de- Grave, Hock; And half the money would replenish Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish. 160 To pay this sum to a wandering fellow. With a gypsy coat of red and yellow ! "Beside," quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink, "Our business was done at the river's brink; "We saw with our eyes the vermin sink, 165 "And what's dead can't come to life, I think. 38 ROBERT BROWNING "So friend, we're not the folks to shrink "From the duty of giving you something to drink, "And a matter of money to put in your poke; "But, as for the guilders, what we spoke 170 "Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. "Beside, our losses have made us thrifty. "A thousand guilders! come, take fifty!" X The Piper's face fell, and he cried, "No trifling! I can't wait, beside! 175 "I've promised to visit by dinner-time "Bagdad, and accept the prime "Of the Head-Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, "For having left, in the Caliph's kitchen, "Of a nest of scorpions no survivor. 180 "With him I proved no bargain-driver; "With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver! "And folks who put me in a passion "May find me pipe after another fashion." 184 XI "How!" cried the Mayor, "d 'ye think I'll brook "Being worse treated than a Cook.^ "Insulted by a lazy ribald "With idle pipe and vesture piebald! " You threaten us, fellow ! Do your worst ; "Blow yoiu* pipe there till you burst!" 190 XII Once more he stept into the street. And to his lips again Laid his long pipe of smooth, straight cane; And ere he blew three notes (such sweet ROBERT BROWNING 39 Soft notes as yet musician's cunning 195 Never gave the enraptured air) There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clatter- ing, Little hands clapping and httle tongues chatter- ing, 200 And, like fowls in a farmyard when barley is scattering. Out came the children running. And all the Httle boys and girls. With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls. And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, 205 Tripping and skipping ran merrily after The wonderful music with shouting and laughter. XIII The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood As if they were changed into blocks of wood, Unable to move a step, or cry - 210 To the children merrily skipping by, — Could only follow with the eye That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. And now the Mayor was on the rack. And the wretched Council's bosoms beat, 215 As the Piper turned from the High Street To where the Weser rolled its waters Right in the way of their sons and daughters! However he turned from South to West, And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, 220 And after him- the children pressed; Great was the joy in every breast. 40 ROBERT BROWNING "He never can cross that mighty top! "He's forced to let the piping drop, "And we shall see our children stop!" 225 When, lo, as they reached the mountain side, A wondrous portal opened wide. As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed; And the Piper advanced, and the children followed, And when all were in to the very last, 230 The door in the mountain-side shut fast. Did I say all? No! One was lame. And could not dance the whole of the way; And in after years, if you would blame His sadness, he was used to say, — 235 "It's dull in our town since my playmates left! "I can't forget that I'm bereft "Of all the pleasant sights they see, "Which the Piper also promised me: "For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, 240 "Joining the town and just at hand, "Where waters gushed and fruit trees grew, "And flowers put forth a fairer hue, "And everything was strange and new; 244 "The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here, "And their dogs outran our fallow-deer, "And honey-bees had lost their stings, "And horses were born with eagles' wings: "And just as I became assured "My lame foot would be speedily cured, 250 "The music stopped, and I stood still, "And found myself outside the hill, "Left alone against my will, "To go now limping as before, "And never hear of that country more!" 255 ROBERT BROWNING 41 XIV Alas, alas for Hamelin ! There came into many a burgher's pate A text which says that Heaven's gate Opes to the rich at as easy rate As the needle's eye takes a camel in ! 260 The Mayor sent East, West, North, and South, To offer the Piper, by word of mouth, Wherever it was man's lot to find him, Silver and gold to his heart's content. If he'd only return the way he went, 265 And bring the children behind him. But when they saw 't was a lost endeavour, And Piper and dancers were gone forever. They made a decree that lawyers never Should think their records dated duly 270 If, after the day of the month and the year, These words did not as well appear, "And so long after what happened here "On the Twenty-second of July, "Thirteen hundred and seventy-six": 275 And the better in memory to fix The place of the children's last retreat, They called it, the Pied Piper's Street — Where any one playing on pipe or tabor Was sure for the future to lose his labour. 280 Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern To shock with mirth a street so solemn; But opposite the place of the cavern They wrote the story on a column, And on the great church- window painted 285 The same, to make the world acquainted 42 ROBERT BROWNING How their children were stolen away, And there it stands to this very day. And I must not omit to say • That in Transylvania there's a tribe 290 Of alien people that ascribe The outlandish ways and dress On which their neighbours lay such stress, To their fathers and mothers having risen Out of some subterraneous prison 295 Into which they were trepanned Long ago in a mighty band Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, But how or why, they don't understand. XV So, Willy, let you and me be wipers 300 Of scores out with all men, — especially pipers! And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice, If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise! Robert Browning THE CRUISE OF THE WINDOW-BLIND A CAPITAL ship for an ocean trip Was "The Walloping Window-blind"; No gale that blew dismayed her crew Or troubled the captain's mind. The man at the wheel was taught to feel 5 Contempt for the wildest blow. And it often appeared, when the weather had cleared, That he 'd been in his bunk below. CHARLES E. CARRYL 43 The boatswain's mate was very sedate, Yet fond of amusement, too; 10 And he played hop-scotch with the starboard watch While the captain tickled the crew. And the gunner we had was apparently mad, For he sat on the after-rail And fired salutes with the captain's boots, 15 In the teeth of the booming gale. The captain sat in a commodore's hat. And dined, in a royal way, On toasted pigs and pickles and figs And gummery bread, each day. 20 But the cook was Dutch, and behaved as such; For the food that he gave the crew Was a number of tons of hot-cross buns, Chopped up with sugar and glue. And we all felt ill as mariners will, 25 On a diet that's cheap and rude; And we shivered and shook as we dipped the cook In a tub of his gluesome food. Then nautical pride we laid aside, And we cast the vessel ashore 30 On the Gulliby Isles, where the Poohpooh smiles. And the Anagazanders roar. Composed of sand was that favored land, And trimmed with cinnamon straws; And pink and blue was the pleasing hue S5 Of the Tickletoeteaser's claws. 44 CHARLES E. CARRYL And we sat on the edge of a sandy ledge And shot at the whistling bee; And the Binnacle-bats wore water-proof hats As they danced in the sounding sea. 40 On rubagub bark, from dawn to dark. We fed, till we all had grown Uncommonly shrunk, — when a Chinese junk Came by from the torriby zone. She was stubby and square, but we did n't much care, 45 And we cheerily put to sea; And we left the crew of the junk to chew The bark of the rubagub tree. Charles E. Carryl THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN John Gilpin was a citizen Of credit and renown, A train band captain eke was he Of famous London town. John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, 5 "Though married we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen. "To-morrow is our wedding day. And we will then repair 10 Unto the Bell at Edmonton All in a chaise and pair. WILLIAM COWPER 45 "My sister and my sister's child. Myself, and children three. Will fill the chaise; so you must ride 15 On horseback after we." He soon replied, "I do admire Of womankind but one. And you are she, my dearest dear. Therefore it shall be done. 20 "I am a linen draper bold. As all the world doth know. And my good friend the calender. Will lend his horse to go." Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said; 25 And for that wine is dear. We will be furnished with our own. Which is both bright and clear." John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife; O'erjoyed was he to find, 30 That, though on pleasure she was bent. She had a frugal mind. The morning came, the chaise was brought. But yet was not allow'd To drive up to the door, lest all 35 Should say that she was proud. So three doors off the chaise was stay'd. Where they did all get in; Six precious souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin. 46 WILLIAM COWPER Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, Were never folk so glad, The stones did rattle underneath As if Cheapside were mad. John Gilpin at his horse's side, 45 Seized fast the flowing mane. And up he got, in haste to ride. But soon came down again; For saddle tree scarce reach'd had he, His journey to begin, 50 When, turning round his head, he saw Three customers come in. So down he came; for loss of time. Although it grieved him sore, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, 65 Would trouble him much more. 'T was long before the customers Were suited to their mind. When Betty screaming came down stairs, " The wine is left behind ! " 60 "Good lack!" quoth he — "y^t bring it me, My leathern belt likewise. In which I bear my trusty sword. When I do exercise." Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!) 65 Had two stone bottles found. To hold the liquor that she loved, And keep it safe and sound. WILLIAM COWPER 47 Each bottle had a curHng ear, Through which the belt he drew, 70 And hung a bottle on each side, To make his balance true. Then over all, that he might be Equipp'd from top to toe. His long red cloak, well brush'd and neat, 75 lie manfully did throw. Now see him mounted once again Upon his nimble steed. Full slowly pacing o'er the stones With caution and good heed. 80 But finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well shod feet. The snorting beast began to trot, Which gall'd him in his seat. "So, fair and softly," John he cried, 85 But John he cried in vain; The trot became a gallop soon, In spite of curb and rein. So, stooping down, as needs he must. Who cannot sit upright, 90' He grasp'd the mane with both his hands. And eke with all his might. His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before. What thing upon his back had got 95 Did wonder more and more. 48 WILLIAM COWPER Away went Gilpin, neck or nought; Away went hat and wig; He Kttle dreamt, when he set out, Of running such a rig. 100 The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Like streamer long and gay. Till, loop and button failing both, At last it flew away. Then might all people well discern 105 The bottles he had slung; A bottle swinging at each side. As hath been said or sung. The dogs did bark, the children scream'd, Up flew the windows all; 110 And every soul cried out, "Well done!" As loud as he could bawl. Away went Gilpin — who but he.^ His fame soon spread around, "He carries weight! He rides a race! 115 'T is for a thousand pound!" And still, as fast as he drew near, 'T was wonderful to view How in a trice the turnpike men Their gates wide open threw. * 120 And now, as he went bowing down, ' His reeking head full low, The bottles twain behind his back Were shatter'd at a blow. WILLIAM COWPER 49 Down ran the wine into the road, 125 Most piteous to be seen, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke As they had basted been. But still he seem'd to carry weight, With leathern girdle braced; 130 For all might see the bottle necks Still dangling at his waist. Thus all through merry Islington These gambols he did play, Until he came unto the Wash 135 Of Edmonton so gay; And there he threw the wash about On both sides of the way, Just like unto a trundling mop. Or a wild goose at play. 140 At Edmonton his loving wife From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wondering much To see how he did ride. "Stop, stop, John Gilpin! — Here's the house," They all aloud did cry; 146 "The dinner waits, and we are tired"; Said Gilpin — "So am I!" But yet his horse was not a whit Inclin'd to tarry there; 150 For why.? — his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. 50 WILLIAM COWPER So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong; So did he fly — which brings me to 155 The middle of my song. Away went Gilpin, out of breath, And sore against his will, Till, at his friend the calender's. His horse at last stood still. 160 The calender, amazed to see His neighbor in such trim. Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, And thus accosted him: " What news.^ what news.^ your tidings tell ; 165 Tell me you must and shall — Say, why bare headed you are come, Or why you come at all.^^" Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit. And loved a timely joke; . 170 And thus unto the calender. In merry guise, he spoke: "I came because your horse would come; And, if I well forebode. My hat and wig will soon be here, 175 They are upon the road." The calender, right glad to find His friend in merry pin. Return 'd him not a single word. But to the house went in; 180 WILLIAM COWPER 51 Whence straight he came, with hat and wig, A wig that flow'd behind; A hat not much the worse for wear. Each comely in its kind. He held them up, and in his turn 185 Thus showed his ready wit; **My head is twice as big as yours, They therefore needs must fit." "But let me scrape the dust away. That hangs upon your face; 190 And stop and eat, for well you may Be in a hungry case." Said John, "It is my wedding-day. And all the world would stare. If wife should dine at Edmonton, 195 And I should dine at Ware." So, turning to his horse, he said, "I am in haste to dine; 'T was for your pleasure you came here. You shall go back for mine." 200 Ah luckless speech, and bootless boast! For which he paid full dear; For, while he spake, a braying ass Did sing most loud and clear; Whereat his horse did snort, as he 205 Had heard a lion roar, And gallopp'd off with all his might, As he had done before. 62 WILLIAM COWPER Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig; 210 He lost them sooner than at first, For why? — they were too big. Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw Her husband posting down Into the country far away, 215 She pull'd out half-a-crown; And thus unto the youth she said, That drove them to the Bell, "This shall be yours, when you bring back My husband safe and well." 220 The youth did ride, and soon did meet John coming back amain; Whom in a trice he tried to stop, By catching at his rein; But not performing what he meant, 225 And gladly would have done. The frighted steed he frighted more. And made him faster run. Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels, 230 The postboy's horse right glad to miss The rumbling of the wheels. Six gentlemen upon the road Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With postboy scampering in the rear, 235 They raised the hue and cry: — WILLIAM COWPER 53 "Stop thief! stop thief! — a highwayman!" Not one of them was mute; And all and each that passed that way. Did join in the pursuit. 240 And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space: The toll-men thinking, as before, That Gilpin rode a race. And so he did, and won it too, 245 For he got first to town ; Nor stopp'd till where he had got up He did again get down. Now let us sing, "Long live the king. And Gilpin, long live he"; 250 And, when he next doth ride abroad. May I be there to see! William Cowper THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOW- WORM A NIGHTINGALE that all day long Had cheered the village with his song. Nor yet at eve his note suspended. Nor yet when eventide was ended. Began to feel, as well he might, 5 The keen demands of appetite; When looking eagerly around, He spied far off, upon the ground, A something shining in the dark. And knew the glowworm by his spark; lO 54 WILLIAM COWTER So, stooping down from hawthorn top, He thought to put him in his crop. The worm, aware of his intent. Harangued him thus, right eloquent: "Did you admire my lamp," quoth he, 15 "As much as I your minstrelsy. You would abhor to do me wrong. As much as I to spoil your song: For 't was the self -same Power Divine Taught you to sing, and me to shine; 20 That you with music, I with light. Might beautify and cheer the night." The songster heard this short oration. And warbling out his approbation. Released him, as my story tells, 25 And found a supper somewhere else. William Cowper A SEA-SONG A WET sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast. And fills the white and rustling sail And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, 5 While, like the eagle free. Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind! I heard a fair one cry; 10 ALLAN CUNNINGHAM 55 But give to me the snoring breeze And white waves heaving high; And white waves heaving high, my lads, The good ship tight and free — The world of waters is our home, 15 And merry men are we. There's tempest in yon horned moon, And lightning in yon cloud; But hark the music, mariners! The wind is piping loud; 20 The wind is piping loud, my boys, The lightning flashes free — While the hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea. Allan Cunningham LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast. And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed; And the heavy night hung dark 5 The hills and waters o'er. When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore. Not as the conquerer comes. They, the true-hearted, came; lO Not with the roll of the stirring drums. And the trumpet that sings of fame: 56 FELICIA HEMANS Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear: They shook the depths of the desert's gloom 15 With their hymns of lofty cheer. Amidst the storm they sang; And the stars heard, and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the Anthem of the Free. 20 The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam; And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — This was their welcome home! There were men with hoary hair 25 Amidst that pilgrim band : Why had they come to wither there. Away from their childhood's land.^* There was woman's fearless eye. Lit by her deep love's truth; BO There was manhood's brow, serenely high. And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — 35 They sought a faith's pure shrine! Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod; — They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God. 40 Felicia Hemans OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 57 OLD IRONSIDES (U.S.S. Constitution) Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, 5 And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood Where knelt the vanquished foe, 10 When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below. No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; The harpies of the shore shall pluck 15 The eagle of the sea! Oh, better that her shattered hulk Should sink beneath the wave; Her thunders shook the mighty deep. And there should be her grave: 20 Nail to the mast her holy flag. Set every threadbare sail. And give her to the god of storms, The lightning and the gale ! Oliver Wendell Holmes 58 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE OPENING OF THE PIANO In the little southern parlor of the house you may have seen With the gambrel-roof, and the gable looking westward to the green, At the side toward the sunset, with the window on its right, Stood the London-made piano I am dreaming of to-night ! Ah me! how I remember the evening when it came ! 5 What a cry of eager voices, what a group of cheeks in flame. When the wondrous box was opened that had come from over seas. With its smell of mastic-varnish and its flash of ivory keys! Then the children all grew fretful in the restless- ness of joy. For the boy would push his sister, and the sister crowd the boy, 10 Till the father asked for quiet in his grave pa- ternal way, But the mother hushed the tumult with the words, "Now, Mary, play." For the dear soul knew that music was a very sovereign balm; She had sprinkled it over Sorrow Jand seen its brow grow calm, OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 59 In the days of slender harpsichords with tapping tinkling quills, 15 Or carolling to her spinet with its thin metallic thrills. So Mary, the household minstrel, who always loved to please. Sat down to the new "dementi," and struck the glittering keys. Hushed were the children's voices, and every eye grew dim. As, floating from lip and finger, arose the "Ves- per Hymn." 20 Catharine, child of a neighbor, curly and rosy- red, (Wedded since, and a widow, — something like ten years dead,) Hearing a gush of music such as none before. Steals from her mother's chamber and peeps at the open door. Just as the "Jubilate" in threaded whisper dies, 25 "Open it! open it, lady!" the little maiden cries, (For she thought 't was a singing creature caged in a box she heard,) "Open it! open it, lady! and let me see the Urdr Oliver Wendell Holmes 60 JULIA WARD HOWE BATTLE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampKng out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored, He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His ter- rible swift sword; His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; 5 They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps, I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps; His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel; "As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal: 10 Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Since God is marching on." He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat: Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him, — be jubilant, my feet! 15 Our God is marching on. HELEN HUNT JACKSON 61 In the beauty of the liHes Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me: As He died to make men Holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on. 20 Julia Ward Howe "DOWN TO SLEEP "1 November woods are bare and still, November days are clear and bright. Each noon burns up the morning's chill, The morning's snow is gone by night, Each day my steps grow slow, grow light, 5 As through the woods I reverent creep. Watching all things "he down to sleep." I never knew before what beds. Fragrant to smell and soft to touch. The forest sifts and shapes and spreads. 10 I never knew before, how much Of human sound there is, in such Low tones as through the forest sweep. When all wild things "lie down to sleep." Each day I find new coverlids . 15 Tucked in, and more sweet eyes shut tight. Sometimes the viewless mother bids Her ferns kneel down full in my sight, I hear their chorus of "good night," 1 By courtesy of Little, Brown & Co. 62 BEN JONSON And half I smile and half I weep, 20 Listening while they "lie down to sleep." November woods are bare and still, November days are bright and good. Life's noon burns up life's morning chill. Life's night rests feet that long have stood, 25 . Some warm, soft bed in field or wood The mother will not fail to keep Where we can "lay us down to sleep." Helen Hunt Jackson THE NOBLE NATURE It is not growing like a tree Li bulk doth make Man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day 5 Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night, — It was the plant and flower of Light: In small proportions we just beauties see, And in short measures life may perfect be. 10 Ben Jonson MORNING Now morning from her orient chambers came, And her first footsteps touch'd a verdant hill: Crowning its lawny crest with amber flame. Silvering the untainted gushes of its rill. Which, pure from mossy beds of simple flowers, 5 By many streams a little lake did fill, CHARLES LAMB 63 Which round its marge reflected woven bowers, And, in its middle space, a sky that never lowers. John Keats A FAREWELL My fairest child, I have no song to give you; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray; Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day. Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; 5 Do noble things, not dream them, all day long; And so make life, death, and that vast Forever One grand, sweet song. Charles Kingsley THE HOUSEKEEPER The frugal snail, with forecast of repose. Carries his house with him where'er he goes; Peeps out, — and if there comes a shower of rain, Retreats to his small domicile again. Touch but a tip of him, a horn — 't is well, — 5 He curls up in his sanctuary shell. He 's his own landlord, his own tenant ; stay Long as he will, he dreads no Quarter Day. Himself he boards and lodges; both invites And feasts himself; sleeps with himself o' nights. He spares the upholsterer trouble to procure 1 1 Chattels; himself is his own furniture. And his sole riches. Wheresoe'er he roam, — Knock when you will, — he's sure to be at home. Charles Lamb 64 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE BUILDERS All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low; 5 Each thing in its place is best; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest: For the structure that we raise. Time is with materials filled; 10 Our to-days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build. Truly shape and fashion these; Leave no yawning gaps between; Think not, because no man sees, 15 Such things will remain unseen. In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part; For the Gods see everywhere. 20 Let us do our work as well, Both the unseen and the seen; Make the house, where Gods may dwell. Beautiful, entire, and clean. Else our lives are incomplete, 25 Standing in these walls of Time, HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 65 Broken stairways, where the feet Stumble as they seek to dimb. Build to-day, then, strong and sure, With a firm and ample base; 30 And ascending and secure Shall to-morrow find its place. Thus alone can we attain To those turrets, where the eye Sees the world as one vast plain, 35 And one boundless reach of sky. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow A PSALM OF LIFE WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers. And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! 5 And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest. Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow. Is our destined end or way; 10 But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. 66 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating 15 Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! 20 Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, — act in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead! Lives of great men all remind us 25 We can make our lives sublime. And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another. Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 30 A forlorn and shipwrecked brother. Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, 35 Learn to labor and to wait. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 67 PAUL REVERE'S RIDE ^ Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. 5 He said to his friend, "If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal Kght, — One, if by land, and two, if by sea; 10 And I on the opposite shore will be. Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the coimtry folk to be up and to arm." Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar 15 Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore. Just as the moon rose over the bay. Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar 20 Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide. Meanwhile his friend, through alley and street. Wanders and watches with eager ears, 25 1 Revere was an American patriot, a silversmith and engraver by trade, whose tea-pots and cream jugs and tankards may be fomid in old Boston families. 68 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers. Marching down to their boats on the shore. 30 Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry -chamber overhead. And startled the pigeons from their perch On the sombre rafters, that round him made 35 Masses and moving shapes of shade, — By the trembling ladder, steep and tall. To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town, 40 And the moonlight flowing over all. Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead. In their night-encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, 45 The watchful night-wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent. And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread 50 Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away. Where the river widens to meet the bay, — A line of black that bends and floats 55 On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 69 Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse's side, 60 Now gazed at the landscape far and near. Then, impetuous, stamped the earth. And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry-tower of the Old North Church, 65 As it rose above the graves on the hill. Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry's height A glimmer, and then a gleam of light ! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, 70 But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns! A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet : 76 That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and the light. The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat. 80 He has left the village and mounted the steep, And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep. Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; Vnd under the alders that skirt its edge, Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, 85 Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. 70 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW It was twelve by the village clock, When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmer's dog, 90 And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock 95 Swim in the moonlight as he passed. And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare. Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. 100 It was two by the village clock. When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock. And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze 105 Blowing over the meadows brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to fall, Who that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket-ball. lio You know the rest. In the books you have read. How the British Regulars fired and fled, — How the farmers gave them ball for ball. From behind each fence and farm-yard wall. Chasing the red-coats down the lane, 115 Then crossing the fields to emerge again JOHN MILTON 71 Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load. So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm, — 121 A cry of defiance and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo forevermore! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, 125 Through all our history, to the last, In the hour of darkness and peril and need. The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed. And the midnight message of Paul Revere. 130 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow EVENING IN PARADISE Now came still Evening on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompanied; for beast and bird — They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale; 5 She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleased: now glowed the firmament With living sapphires: Hesperus, that led The starry host, rode brightest, till the Moon, Rising in clouded majesty, at length 10 Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light, And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. John Milton 72 THOMAS MOOEE THE MINSTREL-BOY The Minstrel-boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you'll find him; His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him. — "Land of song!" said the warrior-bard, 5 "Though all the world betrays thee. One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee!" The Minstrel fell ! — but the f oeman's chain Could not bring his proud soul under; 10 The harp he loved ne'er spoke again, For he tore its chords asunder; And said, "No chains shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and bravery ! Thy songs were made for the pure and free, 15 They shall never sound in slavery!" Thomas Moore WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE Woodman, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough ! In youth it sheltered me. And I '11 protect it now. 'T was my forefather's hand 5 That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not. ' That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown 10 GEORGE POPE MORRIS 73 Are spread o'er land and sea — And wouldst thou hew it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth-bound ties ! Oh, spare that aged oak 15 Now towering to the skies! When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; In all their gushing joy Here, too, my sisters played. 20 My mother kissed me here; My father pressed my hand — Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand. My heart-strings round thee cling, 25 Close as thy bark, old friend ! Here shall the wild-bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree! the storm still brave! And, woodman, leave the spot; 30 While I 've a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm it not. George Pope Morris WARREN'S ADDRESS Stand ! the ground 's your own, my braves ! Will ye give it up to slaves.? Will ye look for greener graves? Hope ye mercy still? 74 JOHN PIERPONT What's the mercy despots feel? 5 Hear it in that battle peal ! Head it on yon bristling steel ! Ask it, — ye who will ! Fear ye foes who kill for hire? Will ye to your homes retire? 10 Look behind you ! they 're afire, And, before you, see Who have done it! — From the vale On they come! — and will ye quail? — Leaden rain and leaden hail 15 Let their welcome be! In the God of battles trust! Die we may, — and die we must; But oh, where can dust to dust Be consigned so well, 20 As where Heaven its dews shall shed On the martyred patriot's bed, And the rocks shall raise their head Of his deeds to tell! John Pierpont THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY [November, 1621] "And now," said the Governor, gazing abroad on the piled-up store Of the sheaves that dotted the clearings and covered the meadows o'er, MARGARET JUNKIN PRESTON 75 ** 'T is meet that we render praises because of this yield of grain; 'T is meet that the Lord of the harvest be thanked for His sun and rain. "And therefore, I, Wilham Bradford by the grace of God to-day, 5 And the franchise of this good people, Governor of Plymouth, say. Through virtue of vested power — ye shall gather with one accord. And hold, in the month November, thanksgiving unto the Lord. "He hath granted us peace and plenty, and the quiet we've sought so long; He hath thwarted the wily savage, and kept him from wrack and wrong; 10 And unto our feast the Sachem shall be bidden, that he may know We worship his own Great Spirit who maketh the harvests grow. "So shoulder your matchlocks, masters: there is hunting of all degrees; And fishermen, take your tackle, and scour for spoil the seas; And maidens and dames of Plymouth, your delicate crafts employ 15 To honor our First Thanksgiving, and make it a feast of joy ! 76 MARGARET JUNKIN PRESTON **We fail of the fruits and dainties — we fail of the old home cheer; Ah, these are the lightest losses, mayhap, that befall us here; But see, in our open clearings, how golden the melons lie; Enrich them with sweets and spices, and give us the pumpkin-pie ! " 20 So, bravely the preparations went on for the autumn feast; The deer and the bear were slaughtered; wild game from the greatest to least Was heaped in the colony cabins; brown home- brew served for wine, And the plum and the grape of the forest, for orange and peach and pine. At length came the day appointed : the snow had begun to fall, 25 But the clang from the meeting-house belfry rang merrily over all, And summoned the folk of Plymouth, who has- tened with glad accord To listen to Elder Brewster as he fervently thanked the Lord. In his seat sate Governor Bradford; men, matrons, and maidens fair; Miles Standish and all his soldiers, with corselet and sword, were there: 30 MARGARET JUNiaN PRESTON 77 And sobbing and tears and gladness had each in its turn the sway, For the grave of the sweet Rose Standish o'er- shadowed Thanksgiving Day. And when Massasoit, the Sachem, sate down with his hundred braves. And ate of the varied riches of gardens and woods and waves. And looked on the granaried harvest, — with a blow on his brawny chest, 35 He muttered, "The good Great Spirit loves His white children best!" Margaret Junkin Preston THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT A HINDOO FABLE I It was six men of Indostan To learning much inclined, Who went to see the Elephant (Though all of them were blind), That each by observation 5 Might satisfy his mind. II The First approached the Elephant, And happening to fall Against his broad and sturdy side, At once began to bawl: 10 "God bless me! but the Elephant Is very like a wall!" 78 JOHN G. SAXE III The Second, feeling of the tusk, Cried, "Ho! what have we here So very round and smooth and sharp? 15 To me 't is mighty clear This wonder of an Elephant Is very likie a spear!" IV The Third approached the animal, And happening to take 20 The squirming trunk within his hands, Thus boldly up and spake: ''I see," quoth he, "the Elephant Is very like a snake!" V The Fourth reached out his eager hand, 25 And felt about the knee. "What most this wondrous beast is like Is mighty plain," quoth he; " 'T is clear enough the Elephant Is very like a tree ! " 30 VI The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear, Said: "E'en the blindest man Can tell what this resembles most; Deny the fact who can. This marvel of an Elephant 35 Is very like a fan!" VII The Sixth no sooner had begun About the beast to grope. WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE 79 Than, seizing on the swinging tail That fell within his scope, 40 "I see," quoth he, "the Elephant Is very like a rope!" VIII And so these men of Indostan Disputed loud and long, Each in his own opinion 45 Exceeding stiff and strong, Though each was partly in the right, And all were in the wrong! MORAL So oft in theologic wars. The disputants, I ween, 50 Rail on in utter ignorance Of what each other mean, And prate about an Elephant Not one of them has seen! John G. Saxe A GOOD NAME Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls. Who steals my purse steals trash; 't is something, nothing; 'T was mine, 't is his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name 5 Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed. William Shalicspeare 80 SUSAN HARTLEY SWETT THE BLUE JAY i O Blue Jay up in the maple- tree, Shaking your throat with such bursts of glee, How did you happen to be so blue? Did you steal a bit of the lake for your crest, And fasten blue violets into your vest? 3 Tell me, I pray you, — tell me true! Did you dip your wings in azure dye, When April began to paint the sky. That was pale with the winter's stay? Or were you hatched from a bluebell bright, 10 'Neath the warm, gold breast of a sunbeam light By the river one blue spring day? Blue Jay up in the maple-tree, A-tossing your saucy head at me. With ne'er a word for my questioning, 15 Pray, cease for a moment your "ting-a-link," And hear when I tell you what I think, — Y^ou bonniest bit of the spring. 1 think when the fairies made the flowers. To grow in these mossy fields of ours, 20 Periwinkles and violets rare, ' There was left of the spring's own color, blue. Plenty to fashion a flower whose hue Would be richer than all and as fair. So, putting their wits together, they 25 Made one great blossom so bright and gay, ^ Bj' permission. ROBERT SOUTHEY 81 The lily beside it seemed blurred; And then they said, "We will toss it in air; So many blue blossoms grow everywhere, Let this pretty one be a bird!" 30 Susan Hartley Swett NIGHT How beautiful is night ! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of heaven : In full-orb 'd glory yonder Moon divine 5 Rolls through the dark-blue depths. Beneath her steady ray The desert-circle spreads, Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky. How beautiful is night! 10 Robert Southey A NIGHT WITH A WOLF Little one, come to my knee! Hark, how the rain is pouring Over the roof, in the pitch-black night. And the wind in the woods a-roaring! Hush, my darling, and listen. Then pay for the story with kisses; Father was lost in the pitch-black night, In just such a storm as this is ! 82 BAYARD TAYLOR High up on the lonely mountains, Where the wild men watched and waited; 10 Wolves in the forest, and bears in the bush, And I on my path belated. The rain and the night together Came down, and the wind came after, Bending the props of the pine-tree roof, 15 And snapping many a rafter. I crept along in the darkness, Stunned, and bruised, and blinded, — Crept to a fir with thick-set boughs. And a sheltering rock behind it. 20 There, from the blowing and raining. Crouching, I sought to hide me: Something rustled, two green eyes shone. And a wolf lay down beside me. Little one, be not frightened; 25 I and the wolf together. Side by side, through the long, long night Hid from the awful weather. His wet fur pressed against me; Each of us warmed the other; 30 Each of us felt, in the stormy dark. That beast and man was brother. And when the falling forest No longer crashed in warning, BAYARD TAYLOR 83 Each of us went from our hiding-place 35 Forth in the wild, wet morning. Darling, kiss me in payment ! Hark, how the wind is roaring; Father's house is a better place When the stormy rain is pouring! 40 Bayard Taylor THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE Half a league, half a league. Half a league onward. All in the valley of Death, Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade! 5 "Charge for the guns!" he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!" Was there a man dismayed.^ 10 Not though the soldier knew Some one had blundered; Theirs not to make reply, I Theirs not to reason why. Theirs but to do and die; — 15 Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, j Cannon to left of them, ♦ \ Cannon in front of them 20 Volleyed and thundered; 84 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON Stormed at with shot and shell. Boldly they rode and well; Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell 25 Rode the six hundred. Flashed all their sabres bare. Flashed as they turned in air. Sabring the gunners there. Charging an army, while 30 All the world wondered: Plunged in the battery smoke, Right through the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reeled from the sabre-stroke 35 Shattered and sundered. Then they rode back, but not — Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them. Cannon to left of them, 40 Cannon behind them Volleyed and thundered. Stormed at with shot and shell. While horse and hero fell, Those that had fought so well 45 Came through the jaws of Death, Back from the mouth of Hell, All that was left of them. Left of six hundred. When can their glory fade? 50 Oh, the wild charge they made! ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 85 All the world wondered. Honor the charge they made ! Honor the Light Brigade! Noble six hundred ! 55 Alfred, Lord Tennyson CHRISTMAS The time draws near the birth of Christ; The moon is hid; the night is still; The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist. Four voices in four hamlets round, 5 From far and near, on mead and moor, Swell out and fail, as if a door Were shut between me and the sound: Each voice four changes of the wind, I That now dilate, and now decrease; 10 Peace and goodwill, goodwill and peace, h Peace and goodwill, to all mankind. f Alfred, Lord Tennyson CHRISTMAS ' Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night — Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new — 5 Ring, happy bells, across the snow; 86 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind. For those that here we see no more; 10 Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress for all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause. And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the nobler modes of life, 15 With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin. The faithless coldness of the times: Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes. But ring the fuller minstrel in. 20 Ring out false pride in place and blood. The civic slander and the spite: Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease, 25 Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old. Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; 30 Ring out the darkness of the land, — Ring in the Christ that is to be. Alfred, Lord Tennyson JOHN T. TROWBRIDGE 87 THE CHARCOALMAN Though rudely blows the wintry blast, And sifting snows fall white and fast, Mark Haley drives along the street. Perched high upon his wagon seat; His sombre face the storm defies, 5 And thus from morn till eve he cries, *' Charco' ! charco' ! " While echo faint and far replies, "Hark, O! hark, O!" " Charco' ! " — " Hark, O ! " — Such cheery sounds 10 Attend him on his daily rounds. The dust begrimes his ancient hat; His coat is darker far than that; 'T is odd to see his sooty form All speckled with the feathery storm; 15 Yet in his honest bosom lies Nor spot nor speck, though still he cries, "Charco'! charco'!" While many a roguish lad replies, "Ark, ho! ark, ho!" 20 "Charco'!" — "Ark, ho!" — Such various sounds Announce Mark Haley's morning rounds. Thus all the cold and wintry day He labors much for little pay; Yet feels no less of happiness 25 Than many a richer man, I guess. 88 JOHN T. TROWBRIDGE When through the shades of eve he spies The hght of his own home, and cries, "Charco'!charco'!" And Martha from the door repHes, 30 "Mark, ho! Mark, ho!" " Chareo' ! " — " Mark, ho ! " — Such joy abounds When he has closed his daily rounds ! The hearth is warm, the fire is bright; And while his hand, washed clean and white, 35 Holds Martha's tender hand once more. His glowing face bends fondly o'er The crib wherein his darling lies. And in a coaxing tone he cries, "Chareo'! chareo'!" 40 And baby with a laugh replies, "Ah, go! ah, go!" "Gharco'!" — "Ah, go!" — while at the sounds The mother's heart with gladness bounds. John T. Trowbridge WRITTEN IN MARCH WHILE RESTING ON THE BRIDGE AT THE FOOT OF brother's water The Cock is crowing. The stream is flowing. The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter. The green field sleeps in the sun; 5 The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest; WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 89 The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding hke one! 10 Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill; The Ploughboy is whooping — anon — anon : 15 There's joy in the mountains; There's life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone ! 20 William Wordsworth INDEX OF TITLES Auld Lang Syne (Burns), 27. Bannockburn (Burns), 25. Barbara Frietchie (Whittier), 4. Barefoot Boy, The (Whit- tier), 1. Battle-Hymn of the Repub- Hc (Howe), 60. Blind Men and the Elephant, The (Saxe), 77. Blue Jay. The (Swett), 80. Builders, The (Longfellow), 64!. Charcoalman, The (Trow- bridge), 87. Charge of the Light Brigade, The (Tennyson), 83. Christmas (Tennyson), 85. Corn-Song, The {Whittier), 7. Cruise of the Window-Blind, The (Carryl), 42. Down to Sleep (Jackson), 61. Even^ng in Paradise (Mil- ton)., 71. Farewell, A (Kingsley), 63. First Thanksgiving Day, The (Preston), 74. Good Name, A (Shakespeare) , 79. Housekeeper, The (Lamh),QS. How the Robin Came (Whit- tler), 19. Huskers, The (Whitt'er), 15. In School-Days (Whittier), 13. John Gilpin (Cowper), 44. Landing of the Pilgrim Fa- thers (Hemans), 55. Minstrel-Boy, The (Moore), 72. Morning (Keats), 62. Night (Southey), 81. Night with a Wolf, A (Tay- lor), 83. Nightingale and the Glow- Worm, The [Cowper), 53. Noble Nature (Jonson), 62. Old Ironsides (Holmes), 57. Opening of the Piano, The (Holmes), 58. Paul Revere's Ride (Long- fellow), 67. Pied Piper of Hamelin, The (Browning), 32. Psalm of Life, A (Longfel- low), 65. Red Riding-Hood (Whittier), 21. Sea-Song, A (Cunningham), 54. Sir Patrick Spens (Ballad), Q8. Snow-Bound (Whittier), 10. Sweet Afton (Burns), 23. To a Mountain Daisy (Bwrns), 26. Valuation (Whittier), 9. Warren's Address (Pierpont), 73. Woodman, Spare that Tree (Morris), 72. Written in March (Words- worth), 88. SUPPLEMENTARY READERS GRADE I The Hiawatha Primer. By Florence Holbrook. The Dutch Twins Primer. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. GRADE II The Book of Nature Myths. By Florence Holbrook. The Doers. By William John Hopkins. The Eskimo Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. Kittens and Cats. By Eulalie Osgood Grover. Opera Stories from Wagner. By Florence Akin. Children's Classics in Dramatic Form. By Augusta Stevenson. Book One. GRADE III Book of Fables and Folk Stories. By H. E. Scudder. The Dutch Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. Famous Old Tales, Edited by Henry Cabot Lodge. Little-Folk Lyrics. By F. D. Sherman. Three Years with the Poets. Edited by Bertha Hazard. Children's Classics in Dramatic Form. By Augusta Stevenson. Book Two. GRADE IV " I Am An American." By Sara Cone Bryant. The Cave Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. The Japanese Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. Home Life Around the World. By G. A. Mirick and Burton Holmes. Stories from the Arabian Nights. Edited by S. Eliot. Northland Heroes. By Florence Holbrook. Old Ballads in Prose. By Eva March Tappan. A Book of Fairy-Tale Bears. Edited by Clifton Johnson. Little Bird Blue. By W. L. and Irene Finley. Children's Classics in Dramatic Form. By Augusta Stevenson. Book Three. GRADE V The Spartan Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. The Belgian Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. The Irish Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. The Mexican Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. The Little Book of the Flag. By Eva March Tappan. Stories of Patriotism. By Norma H. Deming. In the Days of Giants. By Abbie Farwell Brown. Sinopah, the Indian Boy. By James W. Schultz. Children's Classics in Dramatic Form. By Augusta Stevenson. Book Four. HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO "A STEP FORWARD IN READING" THE RIVERSIDE READERS EDITED BY JAMES H. VAN SICKLE Superintendent of Schools, Sprmgfield, Mass. AND WILHELMINA SEEGMILLER Laie Director of Art, Indianapolis. Formerly Principal of the Wealthy Avemji Public School, Grand Rapids, Mich. ASSISTED BY FRANCES JENKINS InstrtictOT- in Elementary Education, College for Teachers, University of Cincinnati Formerly Supervisor of Elementary Grades, Decatur, 111. ILLUSTRATED BY RUTH MARY HALLOCK CLARA E. ATWOOD MAGINEL WRIGHT ENRIGHT E. BOYD SMITH HOWARD PYLE, and other notable artists FRESH MATERIAL These Readers contain an unusually large amount oi fresh copyrighted material taken from the world's best literature for children. LATEST TEACHING METHODS They represent the latest developments in the methods of teaching leading, the kind of teaching that will be found in the best schools of to-day. ARTISTIC MAKE-UP Artistically the books will set a new standard in textbook hiaiing. The colored illustrations of the primary books are particularly attractive. 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Shakespeare's King Lear. Moores's Life of Lincoln. Thoreau's Camping in the Maine Woods. 188. Huxley's Autobiography, and Essays. Byron's Childe Harold, Canto IV, etc. Washington's Farewell Addre.ss,aud Web- ster's Bunker Hill Oration. The Second Shepherds' Play, etc. Mrs. Gaskell's Cranford. Williams's ^Eneid. Irving's Bracebri<1ge Hall. Selections. Thoreau's Walden. Sheridan's The Rivals. Parton's Captains of Industry. Selected, 199. Ma(;aulay'sLordClive am) W. Hastings. Howells's The Rise of Silas Lapliam. Harris's Little Mr. Thimbl" finger Stories. Jewett's The Night Before Thanksgiving. Shuraway's Nibelungenlied. Sheffield's Old Testament Narrative. Powers's A Dickens Reader. Goethe's Faust. Part I. Cooper's The Spy. Aldrich's Story of a Bad Boy. Warner's Being a Boy. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Polly Oliver's Pro- blem. Milton's Areopagitica, etc. Shakespeare's Romeo and Jnliet. Hemingway's Le Morte Arthur. Moores's Life of Columbus. 218. 219. 220. 221. 215. Bret Harte's Tennessee's Partner, etc. 216. Ralph Roister Doister. 217. Gofbodnc. {In prepuration.) Selected Lyrics from Wordsworth, Keatd, and Slielley. Selected Lyrics from Dryden, Collins. Gray, Cowper, and Burns, Southern Poems. Macaulay's Speeches on Copyright; Lin- coln's Cooper Union Address. 222. Briggs's College Life. 223. Selections from the Prose Writings of Mat- thew Arnold. 224. Perry's American Mind and American Idealism, 225. Newman's University Subjects. 226. Burroughs's Studies in ^Nature and L't erature. 227. Bryce's Promoting Good CitiEenship. 228. Selected EngUsh Letters. 229. Jewett's Play-Day Stories. 230. Grenfell's Adrift on an Ice-Pan. 231. Muir's Stickeen. 232. Harte's Waif of tlie Plains, etc, (/,. preparation.) 233. Tennyson's The Coming of Arthur, thr Holy Grail and the Passing of Arthur. 2.34. Selected Essays. 235. Briggs's To College Girls. 230. Lowell's Literary Essays. (Selected.) 238. Short Stories. 239. Selections from American Poetry. 240. 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A Trea.sury of War Poetry 2.50. 251, 2.52. 253. 254. 255. 250. 257. 258. 259. 200. 201. 202. 263. Peabody's The Piper, {Su also back cover} lb) RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES (Continued) EXTRA NUMBERS A American Authors and their Birthdays. C Warriner's Teaching of English Classics in the Grades. D Scudder's Literature in School. F Longfellow Leaflets. G Whittier Leaflets. Jf Holmes Leaflets. / Thomas ' s How to TeachEnglish Classics. J Holbrook's Northland Heroes. A' Minimum College Requirements in Eng- lish for Study. L The Riverside Song Book. /V Lowell's Fable for Critics. A' Selections from American Authors. O Lowell Leaflets. P Holbrook's Hiawatha Primer. Q Selections from English Authors. R Hawthorne ' s Twice-Told Tales. Selected. S Irving' s Essays from Sketch Book, i lected. T Literature for the Study of Language, U A Dramatization of the Song of Hi watha. V Holbrook ' s Book of Nature Myths , W Brown's In the Days of Giants. X Poems for the Study of Language. y Warner's In the Wilderness. Z Nine Selected Poems. A A Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner ai Lowell's The Vision of Sir Launfal BB Poe's The Raven, Whittier' s Snov Bound, and Longfellow's The Cour ship of Miles Standish. CC Selections for Study and Memorizinj DD Sharp's The Year Out-of -Doors . EE Poems for Memorizing. LIBRARY BINDING »35-i36. Chaucer's Prologue, The Knight's Tale, and The Nun's Priest's Tale. i6o. Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book I. i66. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero-Worship. i68. Shelley's Poems. Selected. 177. Bacon's Essays. 178. Selections from the Works of John Ruskin. v^. 181-182. Goldsmith's The Good-Natured Man, and She Stoops to Conquer. 183. Old English and Scottish Ballads. 187-188. Huxley's Autobiography and 3«lected Essays. 191. Second Shepherd's Play, Everyman, etc. 2n. Milton's Areopagitica, etc. 216. Ralph Roister Doister. 222. Briggs's College Life. 223. Selections from the Prose Works of Matthew Arnold. 224. Perry's The American Mind and American Idealism. 225. Newman's University Subjects. 226. Burroughs's Studies in Nature and Literature. 227. Bryce's Promoting Good Citizenship. 235. Briggs's To College Girls. 236. Selected Literary Essays from James Russell Lowell. 242. Eliot's The Training for an Effective Life. 244. Lockwood's English Sonnets. 246. Shepard's Shakespeare Questions. 248. Bos weir s Lif oof Johnson. Abridged. 250. Sheridan's The School for Scandal. 251. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and Piers the Ploughman. 252. Howell&'s A Modern Instance. 254. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Modem Verse. 255. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of American Poets. 256. Richards's High Tide. K. Minimum College Requirements in English for Study. Complete Catalogue and Price List free ufou applicafiott HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY Extra Number KK h^^r:^y>ii'?>^^x^-A'^t^ff':'^^%-iroST>si^^. "ffiJn'i-r ~ — ntf Jiifif/fuiimfri i^(mm\%mMtmvv\WAmvmnatnmim^^ RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES Complete Catalogue and Price List free upon applicatio7i 1. Longfellow's Evangeline. 2. Longfellow's Courtship of Miles Standish. 3. Dramatization of Miles Standish. 4. Whittier's Snow-Bound, etc. 5. Whittier's Mabel Martin. 6. Holmes's Grandmother's Story. 7. 8, 9. Hawthorne's Grandfather's Chair. 0. Hawthorne's Biographical Series. 1. Longfellow's Children's Hour, etc. 3. 14. Longfellow's Song of Hiawatha. 5. Lowell's Under the Old Elm, etc. 6. Bayard Taylor's Lars. 7. 18. Hawthorne's Wonder-Book. 9, 20. Franklin's Autobiography. 1. Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanac, etc. 2, 23. Hawthorne's Tangle wood Tales. 4. Washington's Farewell Addresses, etc. 5. 26. Longfellow's Golden Legend. 7. Thoreau's Forest Trees, etc. 8. Burroughs's Birds and Bees. 9. Hawthorne's Little Daffydowndilly, etc. 0. Lowell's Vision of Sir Launfal, etc. 1. Holmes's My Hunt after the Captain, etc. 2. Lincoln's Gettysburg Speech, etc. 3-35. Longfellow's Tales of a Wayside Inn. 6. Burroughs's Sharp Eyes, etc. 7. Warner's A-Hunting of the Deer, etc. 8. Longfellow's Building of the Ship, etc. 9. Lowell's Books and Libraries, etc. 0. Hawthorne's Tales of the White Hills. 1. Whittier's Tent on the Beach, etc. 2. Emerson's Fortune of the Republic, etc. 3r Bryant's Ulysses among the Phieaciaus. 4. Edgeworth's Waste not, Want not, etc. 5. Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. 6. Old Testament Stories. 7. 48. Scudder's Fables and Folk Stories. 9, 50. Andersen's Stories. 1. Irving's Rip Van Winkle, etc. 2. Irving's The Voyage, etc. 3. Scott's Lady of the Lake. 4. Bryant's Thanatopsis, etc. 5. Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. 6. Webster's First Bunker Hill Oration. 7. Dickens's Christmas Carol. 8. Dickens's Cricket on the Hearth. 9. Verse and Prose for Beginners in Reading. 0, 61. The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. 2, Fiske's War of Independence. 3. Longfellow's Paul Revere 's Ride, etc. 4-66. Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. 7. Shakespeare's Julius C;«sar. 8. Goldsmith's Deserted Village, etc. 9. Hawthorne's The Old Manse, etc. 0, 71 Selection from Whittier's Child Life. 2. Milton's Minor Poems. 3. Tennyson's Enoch Arden, etc. 4. Gray's Elegy ; Cowper's John Gilpin. 5. Scudder's George Washington. 6. Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality. 7. Burns's Cotter's Saturday Night, etc. 8. Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. 9. Lamb's Old China, etc. 80. Coleridge's Ancient Mariner ; Campbell's Lochiel's Warning, etc. 81 . Holmes' s Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. 82. Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales. 83. Eliot's Silas Marner. 84. Dana's Two Years Before the Mast. 85. Hughes's Tom Brown's School Days. 86. Scott's Ivanhoe. 87. Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. 88. Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. 89. 90. Swift's Gulliver's Voyages. 91. Hawthorne's House of the Seven Gables. 92. Burroughs's A Bunch of Herbs, etc. 93. Shakespeare's As You Like It. 94. Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I-IIL 95-98. Cooper's Last of the Mohicans. 99. Tennyson's Coming of Arthur, etc. 100. Burke's Conciliation with the Colonies. 101. Pope's Iliad. Books I, VI, XXII, XXIV. 102. Macaulay's Johnson and Goldsmith. 103. Macaulay's Milton. 104. Macaulay's Addison. 105. Carlyle's Essay on Burns. 106. Shakespeare's Macbeth. 107. 108. Grimms' Tales. 109. Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 110. De Quincey's Flight of a Tartar Tribe. 111. Tennyson's Princess. 112. Cranch's .Slneid. Books I-III. 113. Poems from Emerson. 114. Peabody's Old Greek Folk Stories. 115. Browning's Pied Piper of Hamelin, etc. 116. Shakespeare's Hamlet. 117. 118. Stories from the Arabian Nights. 119, 120. Poe's Poems and Tales. 121. Speech by Hayne on Foote's Resolution. 122. Speech by Webster in Reply to Hayne. 123. Lowell's Democracy, etc. 124. Aldrich's The Cruise of the Dolphin. 125. Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. 126. Ruskin's King of the Golden River, etc. 127. Keats's Ode on a Grecian Urn, etc. 128. Byron's Prisoner of Chillon, etc. 129. Plato's Judgment of Socrates. 130. Emerson's The Superlative, etc. 131. Emerson's Nature, etc. 132. Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, etc. 133. Schurz's Abraham Lincoln. 134. Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. 135. Chaucer's Prologue. 136. Chaucer's The Knight's Tale, etc. 137. Bryant's Iliad. Bks. I, VI, XXII, XXIV. 138. Hawthorne's The Custom House, etc. 139. Howells's Doorstep Acquaintance, etc. 140. Thackeray's Henry Esmond. 141..Higginson's Three Outdoor Papers. 142. Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies. 143. Plutarcli's Alexander the Great. 144. Scudder's The Book of Legends. 145. Hawthorne's The Gentle Boy, etc. 146. Longfellow's Giles Corey. 147. Pope's Rape of the Lock, etc. 148. Hawthorne's Marble Faun. ((See also back covers.) (74) tK\)e Kiijersioe tLtteraturc S>ertes; POEMS FOB, READING AND MEMORIZING SIXTH GRADE Prescribed by the New York State Education Department in the Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature, 1919 gel^e^rteg^ BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ^i^' COPYRIGHT, I919, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED The copyrighted selections in this book are used by permission of, and special arrangement with, their proprietors. 0« ^ 1919 CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A ©CU560223 A^« CONTENTS {Arranged as a Course I FIRST HALF YEAR Poems to be Memorized La Marseillaise Rouget de Lisle 38 Concord Hymn Ralph Waldo Emerson 40 Abou Ben Adhem Leigh Hunt 64 Our Flag Margaret E. Sangster 83 Orpheus with his Lute WilHam Shakespeare 84 The Throstle Alfred, Lord Tennyson 86 Poems to be Read to the Children The Wants of Man John Quincy Adams 14 Chevy-Chace Anonymous 20 The Sea Barry Cornwall 37 The Snowstorm Ralph Waldo Emerson 41 The Yarn of the Nancy Bell William Schwenck Gilbert 44 Arnold Winkelried James Montgomery 73 A Legend of Bregenz Adelaide A. Procter 77 The Hand of Lincoln Edmund Clarence Stedman 84 The Pipes at Lucknow John Greenleaf Whittier 87 Lucy Gray William Wordsworth 89 SECOND ilALS'ii^EAR Poems for Appreciative Study and Memorizing Grade Poet — Sir Walter Scott Christmas in Old England Sir Walter Scott 11 Hie Away Sir Walter Scott 1 Hunting Song Sir Walter Scott 10 Jock of Hazeldean Sir Walter Scott 8 1 The titles are here grouped in accordance with suggestions in the New York Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature. The text of the poems (pages 1-03), except those by the " Grade Poets," is arranged according to the al- phabetical sequence of authors' names. An Index of Titles is given on page 94. iv CONTENTS LocHiNVAR Sir Walter Scott 3 Parting of Marmion and Douglas Sir Walter Scott 5 Soldier, Rest Sir Walter Scott 1 Spindle Song Sir Walter Scott 9 Miscellaneous Poems Before the Rain Thomas Bailey Aldrich 17 Dare to be Right Anonymous 17 Dare to do Right Anonymous 18 The Flag Goes By Henry Holcomb Bennett 30 To THE Fringed Gentian William CuUen Bryant 31 The Yellow Violet William Cullen Bryant 32 The Destruction of Sennacherib Lord Byron 33 Work Alice Gary 36 The Blue and the Gray Francis M. Finch 42 Excelsior Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 69 Lord of Himself Henry Wotton 92 Poems to be Read to the Children Lord Lovel Anonymous 18 Pictures of Memory Alice Gary 34 The Rhodora Ralph Waldo Emerson 39 The Deserted Village Oliver Goldsmith 47 Height of the Ridiculous Oliver Wendell Holmes 62 Santa Filomena Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 64 The Wreck of the Hesperus Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 66 June James Russell Lowell 71 Index of Titles 94 POEMS FOR READING AND MEMORIZING IN THE SIXTH GRADE GROUP I. POEMS BY SIR WALTER SCOTT HIE AWAY Hie away, hie away, Over bank and over brae. Where the copsewood is the greenest. Where the fountains ghsten sheenest, Where the lady-fern grows strongest, Where the morning dew hes longest, Where the black-cock sweetest sips it, Where the fairy latest trips it: Hie to haunts right seldom seen, Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green, lo Over bank and over brae. Hie away, hie away. SOLDIER, REST! Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall. Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, SIR WALTER SCOTT Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more; 10 Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking. No rude sound shall reach thine ear, Armor's clang of war-steed champing, Trump nor pibroch summon here 15 Mustering clan or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come At the daybreak from the fallow. And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. 20 Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge here. Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, Shouting clans or squadrons stamping. Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done; 25 While our slumbrous spells assail ye, Dream not, with the rising sun, Bugles here shall sound reveille. Sleep! the deer is in his den; Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying : 30 Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen How thy gallant steed lay dying. Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done; Think not of the rising sun. For at dawning to assail ye 35 Here no bugles sound reveille. SIR WALTER SCOTT LOCHINVAR O, YOUNG LocHiNVAR is come out of the west. Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword, he weapon had none. He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 5 There never was knight like the young Loch- invar. He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late; 10 For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers and all : Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, 15 (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochin- var?"— 4 SIR WALTER SCOTT "I long wooed your daughter, my suit you de- nied; — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — 20 And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochin- var." The bride kissed the goblet: the knight took it up, 25 He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh. With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, — "Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochin- var. . 30 So stately his form, and so lovely her face. That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume. And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, " 'T were bet- ter by far, 35 To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." SIR WALTER SCOTT 5 One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung. So light to the saddle before her he sprung! 40 "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar. There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Neth- erby clan; Forsters, Fen wicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, 45 But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war. Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochin- var? THE PARTING OF MARMION AND DOUGLAS Not far advanced was morning day. When Marmion did his troops array To Surrey's camp to ride; He had safe-conduct for his band. Beneath the royal seal and hand, 5 And Douglas gave a guide: The ancient Earl, with stately grace. Would Clara on her palfrey place, SIR WALTER SCOTT And whispered in an undertone, "Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown." 10 The train from out the castle drew. But Marmion stopped to bid adieu: — "Though something I might plain," he said, "Of cold respect to stranger guest Sent hither by your king's behest, 15 While in Tantallon's towers I stayed, Part we in friendship from your land, And, noble Earl, receive my hand." — • But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms and thus he spoke : — 20 "My manors, halls, and bowers shall still Be open, at my sovereign's will. To each one whom he lists, howe'er Unmeet to be the owner's peer. My castles are my king's alone, 25 From turret to foundation-stone, — The hand of Douglas is his own; And never shall in friendly grasp The hand of such as Marmion clasp." — Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, 30 And shook his very frame for ire. And — "This to me!" he said, — "An't were not for thy hoary beard. Such hand as Marmion's had not spared To cleave the Douglas' head! 35 And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer, He who does England's message here. Although the meanest in her state. May well, proud Angus, be thy mate: And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, 40 SIR WALTER SCOTT 7 Even in thy pitch of pride, Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, (Nay never look upon your lord, And lay your hands upon your sword), I tell thee, thou 'rt defied ! 45 And if thou said'st I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here. Lowland or Highland, far or near. Lord Angus, thou hast lied!" — On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage 50 O'ercame the ashen hue of age: Fierce he broke forth, — "And dar'st thou then To beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his hall? And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go? 55 No, by Saint Bride of Both well, no! Up drawbridge, grooms, — what. Warder, ho! Let the portcullis fall." — Lord Marmion turned, — well was his need ! — And dashed the rowels in his steed, 60 Like arrow through the archway sprung, The ponderous grate behind him rung: To pass there was such scanty room. The bars descending razed his plume. The steed along the drawbridge flies, 65 Just as it trembled on the rise; Not lighter does the swallow skim Along the smooth lake's level brim; And when Lord Marmion reached his band. SIR WALTER SCOTT He halts, and turns with clenched hand, 70 And shout of loud defiance pours. And shook his gauntlet at the towers. "Horse! horse!" the Douglas cried, "and chase!" But soon he reined his fury's pace: "A royal messenger he came, 75 Though most unworthy of the name. Saint Mary, mend my fiery mood! Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood, I thought to slay him where he stood. 'T is pity of him too," he cried; 80 "Bold can he speak, and fairly ride: I warrant him a warrior tried." With this his mandate he recalls, And slowly seeks his castle halls. JOCK OF HAZELDEAN "Why weep ye by the tide, ladie? Why weep ye by the tide? I '11 wed ye to my youngest son. And ye sail be his bride : And ye sail be his bride, ladie, 5 Sae comely to be seen" — But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean. "Now let this wilfu' grief be done, And dry that cheek so pale; 10 Young Frank is chief of Errington And lord of Langley-dale; SIR WALTER SCOTT 9 His step is first in peaceful ha', His sword in battle keen" — But aye she loot the tears down fa' 15 For Jock of Hazeldean. " A chain of gold ye sail not lack, Nor braid to bind your hair; Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk, Nor palfrey fresh and fair; 20 And you, the foremost o' them a', Shall ride our forest queen." — But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean. The kirk was decked at morning-tide, 25 The tapers glimmered fair; The priest and bridegroom wait the bride, And dame and knight are there. They sought her baith by bower and ha' ; The ladie was not seen ! 30 She's o'er the Border and awa' Wi' Jock of Hazeldean. SPINDLE SONG Twist ye, twine ye! even so. Mingle shades of joy and woe, Hope and fear and peace and strife, In the thread of human life. While the mystic twist is spinning, And the infant's life beginning, 10 SIR WALTER SCOTT Dimly seen through twihght bending, Lo, what varied shapes attending! Passions wild and follies vain, Pleasures soon exchanged for pain; 10 Doubt and jealousy and fear, In the magic dance appear. Now they wax and now they dwindle, Whirling with the whirling spindle. Twist ye, twine ye! even so, 15 Mingle human bliss and woe. HUNTING SONG Waken, lords and ladies gay. On the mountain dawns the day. All the jolly chase is here, With hawk and horse and hunting-spear! Hounds are in their couples yelling, 5 Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling, Merrily, merrily, mingle they, "Waken, lords and ladies gay." Waken, lords and ladies gay. The mist has left the mountain gray, 10 Springlets in the dawn are streaming. Diamonds on the brake are gleaming : And foresters have busy been To track the buck in thicket green; Now we come to chant our lay, 15 "Waken, lords and ladies gay." SIR WALTER SCOTT 11 Waken, lords and ladies gay. To the green- wood haste away; We can show you where he lies. Fleet of foot and tall of size; 20 We can show the marks he made, When 'gainst the oak his antlers frayed; You shall see him brought to bay, "Waken, lords and ladies gay." Louder, louder chants the lay, 25 Waken, lords and ladies gay! Tell them youth and mirth and glee Run a course as well as we; Time, stern huntsman, who can balk. Stanch as hound and fleet as hawk? 30 Think of this and rise with day. Gentle lords and ladies gay. CHRISTMAS IN OLD ENGLAND Heap on more wood! — the wind is chill; But, let it whistle as it will. We '11 keep our Christmas merry still. Each age has deemed the new-born year ^ The fittest time for festal cheer: 5 Even, heathen yet, the savage Dane At lol more deep the mead did drain; High on the beach his galleys drew. And feasted all his pirate crew; Then in his low and pine-built hall, lO Where shields and axes decked the wall. They gorged upon the half -dressed steer; Caroused in seas of sable beer; 12 SIR WALTER SCOTT While round, in brutal jest, were thrown The half -gnawed rib and marrow-bone; 15 Or listened all, in grim delight. While scalds yelled out the joys of fight. Then forth in frenzy would they hie, While wildly loose their red locks fly; And, dancing round the blazing pile, 20 They make such barbarous mirth the while. As best might to the mind recall The boisterous joys of Odin's hall. And well our Christian sires of old Loved when the year its course had rolled 25 And brought blithe Christmas back again With all his hospitable train. Domestic and religious rite Gave honor to the holy night : On Christmas eve the bells were rung; 30 On Christmas eve the mass was sung; That only night, in all the year. Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear. The damsel donned her kirtle sheen; The hall was dressed with holly green; 35 Forth to the wood did merry-men go, To gather in the mistletoe. Then opened wide the baron's hall To vassal, tenant, serf, and all; Power laid his rod of rule aside, 40 And Ceremony doffed her pride. The heir, with roses in his shoes. That night might village partner choose; The lord, underogating, share The vulgar game of "post and pair." 45 SIR WALTER SCOTT 13 All hailed, with uncontrolled delight, And general voice, the happy night That to the cottage, as the crown. Brought tidings of salvation down. The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, 50 Went roaring up the chimney wide; The huge hall- table's oaken face. Scrubbed till it shone, the day to grace, Bore then upon its massive board No mark to part the squire and lord. 55 Then was brought in the lusty brawn, By old blue-coated serving-man; Then the grim boar's-head frowned on high Crested with bays and rosemary. Well can the green-garbed ranger tell 60 How, when, and where, the monster fell; What dogs before his death he tore, And all the baiting of the boar. The wassail round, in good brown bowls. Garnished with ribbons, blithely trowls. 65 There the huge sirloin reeked; hard by Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie; Nor failed old Scotland to produce. At such high tide, her savory goose. Then came the merry maskers in, 70 And carols roared with blithesome din; If unmelodious was the song. It was a hearty note, and strong. Who lists may in their mumming see Traces of ancient mystery; 75 White skirts supplied the masquerade, And smutted cheeks the visors made: 14 SIR WALTER SCOTT But, O, what masquers richly dight Can boast of bosoms half so light! England was merry England, when 80 Old Christmas brought his sports again. 'T was Christmas broached the mightiest ale; 'T was Christmas told the merriest tale; A Christmas gambol oft could cheer 84 The poor man's heart through half the year. GROUP II. POEMS BY VARIOUS AUTHORS THE WANTS OF MAN " Man wants but little here below. Nor wants that little long." 'T is not with me exactly so; But 't is so in the song. My wants are many, and, if told, 5 Would muster many a score; And were each wish a mint of gold, I still should long for more. What first I want is daily bread — And canvas-backs — and wine — 10 And all the realms of nature spread Before me, when I dine. Four courses scarcely can provide My appetite to quell; With four choice cooks from France beside 15 To dress my dinner well. 30 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS 15 What next I want at princely cost, Is elegant attire: Black sable furs for winter's frost, And silks for summer's fire. 20 And Cashmere shawls, and Brussels lace My bosom's front to deck, — And diamond rings my hands to grace, And rubies for my neck. I want (who does not want) a wife — 25 Affectionate and fair; To solace all the woes of life. And all its joys to share. Of temper sweet, of yielding will, Of firm yet placid mind, — With all my faults to love me still With sentiment refined. And as Time's car incessant runs, And fortune fills my store, I want of daughters and of sons 35 From eight to half a score. I want (alas! can mortal dare Such bliss on earth to crave.?) That all the girls be chaste and fair. The boys all wise and brave. 40 I want a warm and faithful friend. To cheer the adverse hour; Who ne'er to flattery will descend. Nor bend the knee to power, — 16 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS A friend to chide me when I 'm wrong, 45 My inmost soul to see; And that my friendship prove as strong For him as his for me. I want the seals of power and place. The ensigns of command; 50 Charged by the People's unbought grace To rule my native land. Nor crown nor sceptre would I ask. But from my country's will, By day, by night, to ply the task 55 Her cup of bliss to fill. I want the voice of honest praise To follow me behind. And to be thought in future days The friend of human kind, 60 That after ages, as they rise, Exulting may proclaim In choral union to the skies Their blessings on my name. These are the wants of mortal man, 65 I cannot want them long; For life itself is but a span. And earthly bliss — a song. My last great iimnt, absorbing all — Is, when beneath the sod, 70 And summoned to my final call. The '* mercy of my God." John Quincy Adams THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH 17 BEFORE THE RAIN We knew it would rain, for all the morn, A spirit on slender ropes of mist Was lowering its golden buckets down Into the vapory amethyst Of marshes and swamps and dismal fens — 5 Scooping the dew that lay in the flowers. Dipping the jewels out of the sea, To sprinkle them over the land in showers. We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed The white of their leaves, the amber grain 10 Shrunk in the wind — and the lightning now Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain ! . Thomas Bailey Aldrich DARE TO BE RIGHT! Dare to be right! Dare to be true! For you have a work that no other can do; Do it so bravely, so kindly, so well. Angels will hasten the story to tell. Dare to be right ! Dare to be true I 5 The failings of others can never save you; Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faith; Stand like a hero, and battle till death. Anonymous 18 ANONYMOUS DARE TO DO RIGHT Dare to be honest, good and sincere; Dare to please God, and you never need fear. Dare to be brave in the cause of the right; Dare with the enemy ever to fight. Dare to be patient and loving each day; 5 Dare speak the truth, whatever you say. Dare to be gentle, and orderly too; Dare shun the evil, whatever you do. Dare to speak kindly, and ever be true; Dare to do right, and you'll find your way through. 10 Anonymous LORD LOVEL AN OLD BALLAD Lord Lovel he stood at his castle gate, Combing his milk-white steed; When up came Lady Nancy Belle, To wish her lover good speed. "Where are you going, Lord Lovel.? " she said, 5 "Oh! where are you going?" said she; *'I'm going, my Lady Nancy Belle, Strange countries for to see." ANONYMOUS 19 "When will you be back, Lord Lovel?" she said, "Oh! when will you come back?" said she; 10 "In a year or two — or three, at the most, I'll return to my fair Nancy." But he had not been gone a year and a day. Strange countries for to see, When languishing thoughts came into his head, 15 Lady Nancy Belle he would go see. So he rode, and he rode on his milk-white steed, Till he came to London town. And there he heard St. Pancras' bells. And the people all mourning round. 20 "Oh, what is the matter," Lord Lovel he said, "Oh! what is the matter.?" said he; "A lord's lady is dead," a woman replied, "And some call her Lady Nancy." So he ordered the grave to be opened wide, 25 And the shroud he turned down. And there he kissed her clay-cold lips. Till the tears came trickling down. Lady Nancy she died as it might be to-day. Lord Lovel he died as to-morrow; 30 Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief. Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow. Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras' church; Lord Lovel was laid in the choir; And out of her bosom there grew a red rose, 35 And out of her lover's a brier. 20 ANONYMOUS They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple top, And then they could grow no higher : So there they entwined in a true-lover's knot. For all lovers true to admire. 40 Anonymous CHEVY-CHACE AN OLD BALLAD God prosper long our noble king. Our lives and safeties all; A woful hunting once there did In Chevy-Chace befall. To drive the deer with hound and horn 5 Earl Percy took his way; The child may rue that is unborn The hunting of that day. The stout Earl of Northumberland A vow to God did make, 10 His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summer days to take, — The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chace To kill and bear away. These tidings to Earl Douglas came, 15 In Scotland where he lay; Who sent Earl Percy present word He would prevent his sport. The English earl, not fearing that, Did to the woods resort 20 ANONYMOUS 21 With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, All chosen men of might. Who knew full well in time of need To aim their shafts aright. The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran 25 To chase the fallow deer; On Monday they began to hunt Ere daylight did appear; And long before high noon they had A hundred fat bucks slain; 30 Then having dined, the drovers went To rouse the deer again. The bowmen mustered on the hills. Well able to endure; And all their rear, with special care, 35 That day was guarded sure. The hounds ran swiftly through the woods. The nimble deer to take. That with their cries the hills and dales An echo shrill did make. 40 Lord Percy to the quarry went, To view the slaughtered deer; Quoth he, "Earl Douglas promised This day to meet me here; "But if I thought he would not come, 45 No longer would I stay;" With that a brave young gentleman Thus to the Earl did say: 22 ANONYMOUS "Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come, His men in armor bright; 50 Full twenty hundred Scottish spears All marching in our sight; "All men of pleasant Teviotdale, Fast by the river Tweed;" "Then cease your sports," Earl Percy said, 55 "And take your bows with speed; "And now with me, my countrymen. Your courage forth advance; For never was there champion yet. In Scotland or in France, 60 **That ever did on horseback come. But if my hap it were, I durst encounter man for man. With him to break a spear." Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed, 65 Most like a baron bold. Rode foremost of his company. Whose armor shone like gold. "Show me," said he, "whose men you be. That hunt so boldly here, 70 That, without my consent, do chase And kill my fallow-deer." The first man that did answer make. Was noble Percy he — Who said, "We list not to declare, 75 Nor show whose men we be : ANONYMOUS 23 "Yet will we spend our dearest blood Thy chief est harts to slay." Then Douglas swore a solemn oath, And thus in rage did say : SO **Ere thus I will out-braved be. One of us two shall die; I know \hee well, an earl thou art — Lord Percy, so am I. "But trust me, Percy, pity it were, 85 And great offence, to kill Any of these our guiltless men. For they have done no ilL "Let thou and I the battle try, And set our men aside." 90 "Accursed be he," Earl Percy said, "By whom this is denied." Then stepped a gallant squire forth, Witherington was his name. Who said, "I would not have it told 95 To Henry, our king, for shame, "That e'er my captain fought on foot. And I stood looking on. You two be earls," said Witherington, "And I a squire alone; lOO "I'll do the best that do I may. While I have power to stand; While I have power to wield my sword, I'll fifijht with heart and hand." 24 ANONYMOUS Our English archers bent their bows — 105 Their hearts were good and true; At the first flight of arrows sent. Full fourscore Scots they slew. Yet stays Earl Douglas on the bent. As Chieftain stout and good; 110 As valiant Captain, all unmoved. The shock he firmly stood. His host he parted had in three. As leader ware and tried; And soon his spearmen on their foes 115 Bore down on every side. Throughout the English archery They dealt full many a wound; But still our valiant Englishmen All firmly kept their ground. 120 And throwing straight their bows away. They grasped their swords so bright; And now sharp blows, a heavy shower. On shields and helmets light. They closed full fast on every side — 125 No slackness there was found; And many a gallant gentleman Lay gasping on the ground. In truth, it was a grief to see How each one chose his spear, 130 And how the blood out of their breasts Did gush like water clear. ANONYMOUS 25 At last these two stout earls did meet; Like captains of great might, Like lions wode, they laid on lode, 135 And made a cruel fight. They fought until they both did sweat, With swords of tempered steel, Until the blood, like drops of rain. They trickling down did feel. 140 "Yield thee. Lord Percy," Douglas said; "In faith I will thee bring Where thou shalt high advanced be By James, our Scottish king. "Thy ransom I will freely give, 145 And this report of thee, Thou art the most courageous knight That ever I did see." "No, Douglas," saith Earl Percy then, "Thy proffer I do scorn; 150 I will not yield to any Scot That ever yet was born." With that there came an arrow keen Out of an English bow, Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart, 155 A deep and deadly blow; Who never spake more words than these: "Fight on, my merry men all; For why, my life is at an end; Lord Percy sees my fall." 160 ANONYMOUS Then leaving life, Earl Percy took The dead man by the hand; And said, "Earl Douglas, for thy life Would I had lost my land ! "In truth, my very heart doth bleed 165 With sorrow for thy sake; For sure a more redoubted knight Mischance did never take." A knight amongst the Scots there was Who saw Earl Douglas die, 170 Who straight in wrath did vow revenge Upon the Earl Percy. Sir Hugh Montgomery was he called, Who, with a spear full bright. Well mounted on a gallant steed, 175 Ran fiercely through the fight; And past the English archers all. Without a dread or fear; And through Earl Percy's body then He thrust his hateful spear; 180 With such vehement force and might He did his body gore. The staff ran through the other side A large cloth-yard and more. So thus did both these nobles die, 185 Whose courage none could stain. An English archer then perceived The noble Earl was slain. ANONYMOUS 27 He had a bow bent in his hand. Made of a trusty tree; 190 An arrow of a cloth-yard long To the hard head haled he. Against Sir Hugh Montgomery So right the shaft he set, The gray goose wing that was thereon 195 In his heart's blood was wet. This fight did last from break of day Till setting of the sun: For when they rung the evening-bell, The battle scarce was done. 200 With stout Earl Percy there was slain Sir John of Egerton, Sir Robert Ratcliff , and Sir John, Sir James, that bold baron. And with Sir George and stout Sir James, 205 Both knights of good account, Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slain. Whose prowess did surmount. For Witherington needs must I wail As one in doleful dumps; 210 For when his legs were smitten off, He fought upon his stumps. And with Earl Douglas there was slain Sir Hugh Montgomery, Sir Charles Murray, that from the field, 215 One foot would never flee. 28 ANONYMOUS Sir Charles Murray of Ratcliff, too — His sister's son was he; Sir David Lamb, so well esteemed, But saved he could not be. 220 And the Lord Maxwell in like case Did with Earl Douglas die: Of twenty hundred Scottish spears. Scarce fifty-five did fly. Of fifteen hundred Englishmen, 225 Went home but fifty-three; The rest on Chevy-Chace were slain. Under the greenwood tree. Next day did many widows come, Their husbands to bewail; 230 They washed their wounds in brinish tears, But all would not prevail. Their bodies, bathed in purple blood, They bore with them away; They kissed them dead a thousand times, 235 Ere they were clad in clay. The news was brought to Edinburgh, Where Scotland's king did reign, That brave Earl Douglas suddenly Was with an arrow slain: 240 "Oh heavy news," King James did say; "Scotland can witness be I have not any captain more Of such account as he." ANONYMOUS 29 Like tidings to King Henry came 245 Within as short a space, That Percy of Northumberland Was slain in Chevy-Chace: "Now God be with him," said our king, "Since 't will no better be; 250 I trust I have within my realm Five hundred as good as he : "Yet shall not Scots or Scotland say But I will vengeance take: I '11 be revenged on them all, 255 For brave Earl Percy's sake." This vow full well the king performed After at Humbledown; In one day fifty knights were slain, With lords of high renown; 260 And of the rest, of small account, Did many hundreds die: Thus endeth the hunting of Chevy-Chace, Made by the Earl Percy. God save the king, and bless this land, 265 With plenty, joy and peace; And grant, henceforth, that foul debate 'Twixt noblemen may cease! Anonymous 30 HENRY HOLCOMB BENNETT THE FLAG GOES BY Hats off! Along the street there comes A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, A flash of color beneath the sky : Hats off! 5 The flag is passing by ! Blue and crimson and white it shines, Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines. Hats off! The colors before us fly; 10 But more than the flag is passing by. Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great, Fought to make and to save the State: Weary marches and sinking ships; Cheers of victory on dying lips; 15 Days of plenty and years of peace; March of a strong land's swift increase; Equal justice, right and law, Stately honor and reverend awe; Sign of a nation, great and strong 20 To ward her people from foreign wrong: Pride and glory and honor, — all Live in the colors to stand or fall. Hats off! Along the street there comes 25 A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums; WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 31 And loyal hearts are beating high : Hats off! The flag is passing by! Henry Holcomb Bennett TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN ^ Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue, That openest, when the quiet light Succeeds the keen and frosty night; Thou comest not when violets lean 5 O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen, Or columbines in purple dressed, Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest. Thou waitest late, and com'st alone. When woods are bare, and birds are flown, 10 And frosts and shortening days portend The aged Year is near his end. Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye Look through its fringes to the sky. Blue — blue — as if that sky let fall 15 A flower from its cerulean wall. I would that thus, when I shall see The hour of death draw near to me, Hope, blossoming within my heart. May look to heaven as I depart. 20 William Cullen Bryant * By courtesy of D. Appleton & Co. 32 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE YELLOW VIOLET ' When beechen buds begin to swell, And woods the bluebird's warble know. The yellow violet's modest bell Peeps from the last year's leaves below. Ere russet fields their green resume, 5 Sweet flower, I love, in forest bare. To meet thee, when thy faint perfume Alone is in the virgin air. Of all her train, the hands of Spring First plant thee in the watery mould, 10 And I have seen thee blossoming Beside the snow-bank's edges cold. Thy parent sun, who bade thee view Pale skies, and chilling moisture sip. Has bathed thee in his own bright hue, 15 And streaked with jet thy glowing lip. Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat. And earthward bent thy gentle eye. Unapt the passing view to meet. When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh. 20 Oft, in the sunless April day. Thy early smile has stayed my walk; But midst the gorgeous blooms of May, I passed thee on thy humble stalk. 1 By courtesy of D. Appleton & Co. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 33 So they, who climb to wealth, forget 25 The friends in darker fortunes tried. I copied them — but I regret That I should ape the ways of pride. And when again the genial hour Awakes the painted tribes of light, 30 I'll not o'erlook the modest flower That made the woods of April bright. William Cullen Bryant THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold. And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, 5 That host with their banners at sunset were seen : Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown. That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; 10 And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill. And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still! 34 GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide. But through it there rolFd not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 15 And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 20 And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail. And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal! And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! George Gordon^ Lord Byron PICTURES OF MEMORY Among the beautiful pictures That hang on Memory's wall, Is one of a dim old forest That seemeth best of all : Not for its gnarled oaks olden, 6 Dark with the mistletoe; Not for the violets golden That sprinkle the vale below; Not for the milk-white lilies That lean from the fragrant hedge, 10 ALICE GARY 35 Coquetting all day with the sunbeams, And stealing their shining edge; Not for the vines on the upland Where the bright red berries be, Nor the pinks, nor the pale sweet cowslip, 15 It seemeth the best to me. I once had a little brother. With eyes that were dark and deep — In the lap of that old dim forest He lieth in peace asleep; 20 Light as the down of the thistle. Free as the winds that blow. We roved there the beautiful summers. The summers of long ago; But his feet on the hills grew weary, 25 And, one of the autumn eves, I made for my little brother A bed of the yellow leaves. Sweetly his pale arms folded My neck in a meek embrace, 30 As the light of immortal beauty Silently covered his face: And when the arrows of sunset Lodged in the tree-tops bright. He fell, in his saint-like beauty, 35 Asleep by the gates of light. Therefore, of all the pictures That hang on Memory's wall, The one of the old dim forest Seemeth the best of all. 40 Alice Gary ; ALICE GARY WORK Down and up, and up and down, Over and over and over; Turn in the little seed, dry and brown, Turn out the bright red clover. Work, and the sun your work will share, 5 And the rain in its time will fall; For Nature, she worketh everywhere, And the grace of God through all. With hand on the spade and heart in the sky, Dress the ground, and till it; 10 Turn in the little seed, brown and dry, Turn out the golden millet. Work, and your house shall be duly fed; Work, and rest shall be won; I hold that a man had better be dead 15 Than alive, when his work is done! Down and up, and up and down. On the hill-top, low in the valley; Turn in the little seed, dry and brown. Turn out the rose and lily. 20 Work with a plan, or without a plan. And your ends they shall be shaped true; Work, and learn at first hand, like a man, — The best way to know is to do I Down and up till life shall close, 25 Ceasing not your praises; Turn in the wild white winter snows. Turn out the sweet spring daisies. ALICE GARY 37 Work, and the sun your work will share, And the rain in its time will fall; 30 For Nature, she worketh everywhere, And the grace of God through all. Alice Gary THE SEA The sea! the sea! the open sea! The blue, the fresh, the ever free! Without a mark, without a bound, It runneth the earth's wide regions round; It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies; 5 Or like a cradled creature lies. I'm on the sea! I'm on the sea! I am where I would ever be; With the blue above, and the blue below, And silence whereso'er I go; 10 If a storm should come and awake the deep, What matter .f^ I shall ride and sleep. I love, oh, how I love to ride On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide. When every mad wave drowns the moon, 15 Or whistles aloft his tempest tune. And tells how goeth the world below, And why the sou'west blasts do blow. I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more, 20 And backward flew to her billowy breast. Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest; 38 BARRY CORNWALL And a mother she was, and is, to me; For I was born on the open sea! The waves were white, and red the morn, 25 In the noisy hour when I w^as born ; And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled, And the dolphins bared their backs of gold; And never was heard such an outcry wild As welcomed to life the ocean-child! 30 I 've lived since then, in calm and strife, Full fifty summers, a sailor's life, With wealth to spend, and power to range. But never have sought nor sighed for change; And Death, whenever he comes to me, 35 Shall come on the wild, imboimded sea! Barry Cornwall LA MARSEILLAISE Ye sons of Freedom, awake to glory! Hark ! hark ! what myriads bid you rise ! Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary. Behold their tears and hear their cries ! Shall hateful tyrants, mischiefs breeding, 5 With hireling hosts, a ruffian band. Affright and desolate the land, While peace and liberty lie bleeding? Chorus: To arms, to arms, ye brave! The avenging sword unsheath! 10 March on, march on, all hearts resolved, On victory or death. ROUGET DE LISLE 39 Now, now the dangerous storm is scowling, Which treacherous kings, confederate, raise; The dogs of war, let loose, are howling, 15 And lo! our fields and cities blaze; And shall we basely view the ruin, While lawless force, with guilty stride, Spreads desolation far and wide. With crimes and blood his hands embruing? 20 With luxury and pride surrounded. The vile, insatiate despots dare (Their thirst of power and gold unbounded) To mete and vend the light and air. Like beasts of burden would they load us, 25 Like gods would bid their slaves adore; But man is man, and who is more? Then, shall they longer lash and goad us? Liberty, can man resign thee ! Once having felt thy generous flame? 30 Can dungeons, bars and bolts confine thee, Or whips thy noble spirit tame? Too long the world has wept, bewailing That falsehood's dagger tyrants wield; But freedom is our sword and shield, 35 And all their arts are unavailing. Rouget de Lisle THE RHODORA In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, 1 found the fresh Rhodora in the woods. Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, To please the desert and the sluggish brook : 40 RALPH WALDO EMERSON The purple petals, fallen in the pool 5 Made the black waters with their beauty gay; Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool, And court the flower that cheapens his array. Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, 10 Dear, tell them, that if eyes were made for seeing, Then beauty is its own excuse for being. Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose ! I never thought to ask; I never knew. But in my simple ignorance suppose 15 The selfsame Power that brought me there, brought you. Ralph Waldo Emerson CONCORD HYMN Sung at completion of the Battle Monument, April 19, 1836 By the rude bridge that arched the flood. Their flag to April's breeze unfurled. Here once the embattled farmers stood. And fired the shot heard round the world. The foe long since in silence slept; 5 Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. On the green bank, by this soft stream. We set to-day a votive stone; 10 That memory may her dead redeem, When, like our sires, our sons are gone. RALPH WALDO EMERSON 41 Spirit, that made those heroes dare To die, and leave their children free, Bid Time and Nature gently spare 15 The shaft we raise to them and thee. Ralph Waldo Emerson THE SNOWSTORM Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields. Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven. And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end. 5 The sled and traveler stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, inclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm. Come see the north-wind's masonry. 10 Out of an unseen quarry evermore Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer Curves his white bastions with projected roof Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work 15 So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he For number or proportion. Mockingly, On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths; A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn ; Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, 20 Maugre the farmer's sighs; and, at the gate, A tapering turret overtops the work : And when his hours are numbered, and the world Is all his own, retiring, as he were not. 42 RALPH WALDO EMERSON Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art 25 To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, The frolic architecture of the snow. Ralph Waldo Emercon THE BLUE AND THE GRAY By the flow of the inland river. Whence the fleets of iron have fled, Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver. Asleep are the ranks of the dead : Under the sod and the dew, 5 Waiting the judgment-day; Under the one, the Blue, Under the other, the Gray. These in the robings of glory. Those in the gloom of def eat> lO All with the battle-blood gory, In the dusk of eternity meet : Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day; Under the laurel, the Blue, 15 Under the willow, the Gray. From the silence of sorrowful hours The desolate mourners go. Lovingly laden with flowers Alike for the friend and the foe : 20 Under the sod and the dew. Waiting the judgment-day; FRANCIS MILES FINCH 43 Under the roses, the Blue, Under the liHes, the Gray. So with an equal splendor, 25 The morning sun-rays fall, With a touch impartially tender. On the blossoms blooming for all : Under the sod and the dew. Waiting the judgment-day; 30 Broidered with gold, the Blue, Mellowed with gold, the Gray. So, when the summer calleth, On forest and field of grain. With an equal murmur falleth 35 The cooling drip of the rain: Under the sod and the dew. Waiting the judgment-day; Wet with the rain, the Blue, Wet with the rain, the Gray. 40 Sadly, but not with upbraiding. The generous deed was done, In the storm of the years that are fading No braver battle was won : Under the sod and the dew, 45 Waiting the judgment-day; Under the blossoms, the Blue, Under the garlands, the Gray. No more shall the war cry sever. Or the winding rivers be red; 50 They banish our anger forever When they laurel the graves of our dead! 44 FRANCIS MILES FINCH Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day; Love and tears for the Blue, 55 Tears and love for the Gray. Francis Miles Finch THE YARN OF THE "NANCY BELL" 'T WAS on the shores that round our coast From Deal to Ramsgate span, That I found alone, on a piece of stone, An elderly naval man. His hair was weedy, his beard was long, 5 And weedy and long was he; And I heard this wight on the shore recite. In a singular minor key : — "0, 1 am a cook and a captain bold. And the mate of the Nancy brig, lO And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite. And the crew of the captain's gig." And he shook his fists and he tore his hair. Till I really felt afraid. For I could n't help thinking the man had been drinking, 15 And so I simply said : — **0 elderly man, it's little I know Of the duties of men of the sea. And I '11 eat my hand if I understand How you can possibly be 20 WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT 45 "At once a cook and a captain bold. And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig! " Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which 25 Is a trick all seamen larn. And having got rid of a thumping quid He spun this painful yarn : — " 'T was in the good ship Nancy Bell That we sailed to the Indian sea, 30 And there on a reef we come to grief, Which has often occurred to me. "And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned (There was seventy-seven o' soul); And only ten of the Nancy's men 35 Said 'Here' to the muster-roll. "There was me, and the cook, and the captain bold. And the mate of the Nancy brig, And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig. 40 "For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink, Till a-hungry we did feel. So we drawed a lot, and, accordin', shot The captain for our meal. "The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate, 45 And a delicate dish he made; 46 WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT Then our appetite with the midshipmite We seven survivors stayed. "And then we murdered the bo'sun tight, And he much resembled pig; 50 Then we wittled free, did the cook and me, On the crew of the captain's gig. "Then only the cook and me was left. And the delicate question, 'Which Of us two goes to the kettle.? ' arose, 55 And we argued it out as sich. "For I loved that cook as a brother, I did, And the cook he worshipped me; But we 'd both be blowed if we 'd either be stowed In the other chap's hold, you see. 60 "*I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says Tom. *Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be. I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I; And 'Exactly so,' quoth he. " Says he : ' Dear James, to murder me 65 Were a foolish thing to do, For don't you see that you can't cook me. While I can — and will — cook you? ' "So he boils the water, and takes the salt And the pepper in portions true 70 (Which he never forgot) , and some chopped sha- lot, And some sage and parsley too. WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT 47 "'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride. Which his smiling features tell; * 'T will soothing be if I let you see 75 How extremely nice you'll smell.' "And he stirred it round, and round, and round, And he sniffed at the foaming froth; When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals In the scum of the boiling broth. 80 "And I eat that cook in a week or less. And as I eating be The last of his chops, why I almost drops, For a wessel in sight I see. "And I never larf, and I never smile, 85 And I never lark nor play ; But I sit and croak, and a single joke I have — which is to say : "O, I am a cook, and a captain bold And the mate of the Nancy brig, 90 And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite. And the crew of the captain's gig! " William Schwenck Gilbert THE DESERTED VILLAGE Sweet Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheer 'd the laboring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid. And parting summer's lingering blooms delay 'd; Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, 5 Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, 48 OLIVER GOLDSMITH How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endear'd each scene! How often have I paus'd on every charm, The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm, 10 The never-failing brook, the busy mill. The decent church that topt the neighboring hill. The hawthorn bush with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made ! How often have I blest the coming day, 15 When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labor free. Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree; While many a pastime circled in the shade, The young contending as the old survey 'd; 20 And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground. And sleights of art and feats of strength went round; And still, as each repeated pleasure tir'd. Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspir'd; The dancing pair that simply sought renown, 25 By holding out, to tire each other down; The swain mistrustless of his smutted face. While secret laughter titter 'd round the place; The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love. The matron's glance that would those looks re- prove : 30 These were thy charms, sweet village! sports like these. With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please; These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed, These were thy charms, — but all these charms are fled. OLIVER GOLDSMITH 49 Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn ! 35 Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn; Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, And desolation saddens all thy green : One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain. 40 No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, But chok'd with sedges works its weedy way; Along thy glades, a solitary guest. The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; Amidst thy desert-walks the lapwing flies, 45 And tires their echoes with unvaried cries. Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall; And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand. Far, far away thy children leave the land. 50 111 fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay; Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade: A breath can make them, as a breath has made: But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, 55 When once destroy'd, can never be supplied. A time there was, ere England's griefs began, When every rood of ground maintain'd its man; For him light labor spread her wholesome store. Just gave what life requir'd, but gave no more; 60 His best companions, innocence and health; And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. But times are alter'd; trade's unfeeling train Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain; 50 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Along the lawn, where seatter'd hamlets rose, 65 Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose; And every want to opulence allied, And every pang that folly pays to pride. Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, Those calm desires that ask'd but little room, 70 Those healthful sports that grac'd the peaceful scene, Liv'd in each look, and brighten'd all the green: These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, And rural mirth and manners are no more. Sweet Auburn ! parent of the blissful hour, 75 Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power. Here, as I take my solitary rounds Amidst thy tangling walks and ruin'd grounds, And, m^any a year elaps'd, return to view Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, 80 Remembrance wakes, with all her busy train. Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. In all my wanderings round this world of care. In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, 85 Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close. And keep the flame from wasting by repose; I still had hopes — for pride attends us still — Amidst the swains to show my book-learn'd skill, 90 Around my fire an evening group to draw, And tell of all I felt, and all I saw; OLIVER GOLDSMITH 51 And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue. Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, I still had hopes, my long vexations past, 95 Here to return, — and die at home at last. O blest retirement! friend to life's decline. Retreat from care, that never must be mine. How blest is he who crowns in shades like these A youth of labor with an age of ease; lOO Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And, since 't is hard to combat, learns to fly ! For him no wretches, born to work and weep. Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep; No surly porter stands in guilty state, 105 To spurn imploring famine from the gate : But on he moves to meet his latter end. Angels around befriending virtue's friend; Bends to the grave with unperceiv'd decay, While resignation gently slopes the way; lio And, all his prospects brightening to the last. His heaven commences ere the world be past. Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close Up yonder hill the village murmur rose. There, as I pass'd with careless steps and slow, 115 The mingling notes came soften'd from below: The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung, The sober herd that low'd to meet their young; The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool; The playful children just let loose from school; 120 The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind. And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind : 52 OLIVER GOLDSMITH These all in sweet confusion sought the shade. And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made. But now the sounds of population fail, 125 No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale. No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread. But all the bloomy flush of life is fled. All but yon widow'd, solitary thing, That feebly bends beside the plashy spring; 130 She, wretched matron, — forc'd in age, for bread. To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread. To pick her wintry fagot from the thorn. To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn — She only left of all the harmless train, 135 The sad historian of the pensive plain. Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd, And still where many a garden flower grows wild. There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose. The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 140 A man he was to all the country dear. And passing rich with forty pounds a year. Remote from towns he ran his godly race. Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change, his place; Unpractis'd he to fawn, or seek for power, 145 By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour; Far other aims his heart had learn 'd to prize. More skill'd to raise the wretched than to rise. His house was known to all the vagrant train. He chid their wanderings, but reliev'd their pain; 150 The long-remember'd beggar was his guest. Whose beard descending swept his aged breast; OLIVER GOLDSMITH 53 The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd; The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, 155 Sate by his fire, and taik'd the night away; Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won. Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow. And quite forgot their vices in their woe; 160 Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride. And e'en his failings lean'd to virtue's side: But in his duty prompt at every call, 165 He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all. And as a bird each fond endearment tries To tempt its new-fledg'd offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay, Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way. 170 Beside the bed where parting life was laid. And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd. The reverend champion stood. At his control. Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, 175 And his last faltering accents whisper'd praise. At church, with meek and unaffected grace. His looks adorn'd the venerable place; 54 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, , And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray. The service past, around the pious man, 181 With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran; Even children follow'd, with endearing wile. And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile. His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest, 185 Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares dis- trest; To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given. But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven : As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, 190 Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head. Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way With blossom 'd furze unprofitably gay. There, in his noisy mansion, skilFd to rule, 195 The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view: I knew him well, and every truant knew: Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace The day's disasters in his morning face; 200 Full well they laugh'd, with counterfeited glee. At all his jokes, for many a joke had he; Full well the busy whisper, circling round, Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd. Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, 205 The love he bore to learning was in fault. OLIVER GOLDSMITH 55 The village all declared how much he knew; 'T was certain he could write, and cipher too; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage. And even the story ran that he could gauge; 210 In arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill. For even though vanquish'd he could argue still; While words of learned length and thundering sound Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around; And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew 215 That one small head could carry all he knew. But past is all his fame. The very spot. Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, 220 Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspir'd. Where gray -beard mirth and smiling toil retir'd. Where village statesmen talk'd with looks pro- found. And news much older than their ale went round. Imagination fondly stoops to trace 225 The parlor splendors of that festive place : The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door; The chest contriv'd a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; 230 The pictures plac'd for ornament and use, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose; The hearth, except when winter chill'd the day. With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay, 56 OLIVER GOLDSMITH While broken teacups, wisely kept for show, 235 Rang'd o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row. Vain, transitory splendors ! could not all Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall? Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart An hour's importance to the poor man's heart. 240 Thither no more the peasant shall repair To sweet oblivion of his daily care ; No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale. No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail ; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, 245 Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear; The host himself no longer shall be found Careful to see the mantling bliss go round; Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest, Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. 2^0 Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain. These simple blessings of the lowly train; To me more dear, congenial to my heart. One native charm, than all the gloss of art. Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play, 255 The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway; Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, Unenvied, unmolested, unconfin'd. But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade. With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd, — In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, 261 The toiling pleasure sickens into pain; And even while fashion's brightest arts decoy. The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy. OLIVER GOLDSMITH 57 Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey 265 The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, 'T is yours to judge how wide the limits stand Between a splendid and a happy land. Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, And shouting Folly hails them from her shore; 270 Hoards e'en beyond the miser's wish abound, And rich men flock from all the world around. Yet count our gains : this wealth is but a name. That leaves our useful products still the same. Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride 275 Takes up a space that many poor supplied; Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds. Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds : The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth Has robb'd the neighboring fields of half their growth; 280 His seat, where solitary sports are seen, Indignant spurns the cottage from the green; Around the world each needful product flies. For all the luxuries the world supplies. While thus the land, adorn'd for pleasure, all 285 In barren splendor feebly waits the fall. As some fair female, unadorn'd and plain. Secure to please while youth confirms her reign. Slights every borrow'd charm that dress supplies, Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes ; 290 But when those charms are past, for charms are frail. When time advances, and when lovers fail, She then shines forth, solicitous to bless, In all the glaring impotence of dress : 58 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Thus fares the land, by luxury betray 'd, 295 In nature's simplest charms at first array 'd; But, verging to decline, its splendors rise, Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise; While, scourged by famine from the smiling land, The mournful peasant leads his humble band; 300 And while he sinks, without one arm to save. The country blooms — a garden and a grave. Where then, ah! where shall poverty reside, To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride? If to some common's fenceless limits stray'd, 305 He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade, Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, And even the bare-worn common is denied. If to the city sped, what waits him there .^^ To see profusion that he must not share; 310 To see ten thousand baneful arts combin'd, To pamper luxury, and thin mankind; To see those joys the sons of pleasure know Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe. Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade, 315 There the pale artist plies the sickly trade; Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomps display. There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. The dome where Pleasure holds her midnight reign, Here, richly deck'd, admits the gorgeous train; 320 Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy! Sure these denote one universal joy! OLIVER GOLDSMITH 59 Are these thy serious thoughts? Ah! turn thme eyes 325 Where the poor houseless shivering female lies. She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest, Has wept at tales of innocence distrest; Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, 329 Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn; Now lost to all — her friends, her virtue fled — Near her betrayer's door she lays her head, And, pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the shower, With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, When idly first, ambitious of the town, 335 She left her wheel, and robes of country brown. Do thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveliest train, Do thy fair tribes participate her pain.^ Even now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led, At proud men's doors they ask a little bread. 340 Ah, no! To distant climes, a dreary scene. Where half the convex world intrudes between. Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe. Far different there from all that charm 'd be- fore, 345 The various terrors of that horrid shore : Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray. And fiercely shed intolerable day; Those matted woods where birds forget to sing, But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling; 350 60 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Those pois'nous fields with rank luxuriance crown'd, Where the dark scorpion gathers death around; Where at each step the stranger fears to wake The ratthng terrors of the vengeful snake; Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey 355 And savage men more murderous still than they; While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies. Far different these from every former scene, The cooling brook, the grassy-vested green, 360 The breezy covert of the warbling grove. That only shelter'd thefts of harmless love. Good Heaven! what sorrows gloom 'd that part- ing day That call'd them from their native walks away; W^hen the poor exiles, every pleasure past, 365 Hung round the bowers, and fondly look'd their last, And took a long farewell, and wish'd in vain For seats like these beyond the western main; And, shuddering still to face the distant deep, Return'd and wept, and still returned to weep! 370 The good old sire the first prepar'd to go To new-found worlds, and wept for others' woe; But for himself, in conscious virtue brave. He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave. His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, 375 The fond companion of his helpless years. Silent went next, neglectful of her charms. And left a lover's for a father's arms. OLIVER GOLDSMITH 61 With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes. And bless'd the cot where every pleasure rose; 380 And kiss'd her thoughtless babes with many a tear, And clasp'd them close, in sorrow doubly dear; Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief In all the silent manliness of grief. O Luxury ! thou curst by Heaven's decree, 385 How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee! How do thy potions, with insidious joy, DiflFuse their pleasures only to destroy ! Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, Boast of a florid vigor not their own. 390 At every draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mass of rank, unwieldy woe; Till sapp'd their strength, and every part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. Even now the devastation is begun, 395 And half the business of destruction done; Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, I see the rural Virtues leave the land. Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail. That idly waiting flaps with every gale, 400 Downward they move, a melancholy band. Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. Contented Toil, and hospitable Care, And kind connubial Tenderness, are there; And Piety with wishes plac'd above, 405 And steady Loyalty, and faithful Love. And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade; 62 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame, To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame; 410 Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my soHtary pride; Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so; Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel, 415 Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well ! Farewell ! and oh ! where'er thy voice be tried. On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side, Whether where equinoctial fervors glow, Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, 420 Still let thy voice, prevailing over time, Redress the rigors of the inclement clime; Aid slighted truth with thy persuasive strain; Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain; Teach him, that states of native strength pos- sest, 425 Though very poor, may still be very blest; That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, As ocean sweeps the labor'd mole away; While self-dependent power can time defy. As rocks resist the billows and the sky. 430 Oliver Goldsmith THE HEIGHT OF THE RIDICULOUS I WROTE some lines once on a time In wondrous merry mood. And thought, as usual, men would say They were exceeding good. They were so queer, so very queer, 5 I laughed as I would die; OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 65 Albeit, in the general way, A sober man am I. I called my servant, and he came; How kind it was of him 10 To mind a slender man like me. He of the mighty limb. "These to the printer," I exclaimed, And, in my humorous way, I added, (as a trifling jest,) 15 "There'll be the devil to pay." He took the paper, and I watched. And saw him peep within; At the first line he read, his face Was all upon the grin. 20 He read the next; the grin grew broad, And shot from ear to ear; He read the third; a chuckling noise I now began to hear. The fourth; he broke into a roar; 25 The fifth; his waistband split; The sixth; he burst five buttons off, And tumbled in a fit. Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, I watched that wretched man, 30 And since, I never dare to write As funny as I can. Oliver Wendell Holmes 64 LEIGH HUNT ABOU BEN ADEEM Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and Hke a hly in bloom, An Angel writing in a book of gold : — 5 Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the Presence in the room he said, **What writest thou?" — The Vision raised its head. And with a look made of all sweet accord Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." 10 "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so," Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low. But cheerily still, and said, "I pray thee, then. Write me as one that loves his fellow men." The Angel wrote and vanished. The next night 15 It came again with a great wakening light. And showed the names whom love of God had blessed. And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. Leigh Hunt SANTA FILOMENA Whene'er a noble deed is wrought. Whene'er is spoken a noble thought. Our hearts, in glad surprise. To higher levels rise. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 65 The tidal wave of deeper souls 5 Into our inmost being rolls, And lifts us unawares Out of all meaner cares. Honor to those whose words or deeds Thus help us in our daily needs, 10 And by their overflow Raise us from what is low! Thus thought I, as by night I read Of the great army of the dead. The trenches cold and damp, 15 The starved and frozen camp, — The wounded from the battle-plain, In dreary hospitals of pain, The cheerless corridors. The cold and stony floors. 20 Lo! in that house of misery A lady with a lamp I see Pass through the glimmering gloom, And flit from room to room. And slow, as in a dream of bliss, 25 The speechless sufferer turns to kiss Her shadow, as it falls Upon the darkening walls. As if a door in heaven should be Opened and then closed suddenly, 30 The vision came and went. The light shone and was spent. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW On England's annals, through the long Hereafter of her speech and song, That light its rays shall cast 35 From portals of the past. A Lady with a Lamp shall stand In the great history of the land, A noble type of good. Heroic womanhood. 40 Nor even shall be wanting here The palm, the lily, and the spear. The symbols that of yore Saint Filomena bore. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS It was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea; And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy -flax, 5 Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds. That ope in the month of May. The skipper he stood beside the helm, His pipe was in his mouth, 10 And he watched how the veering flaw did blow The smoke now West, now South. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 67 Then up and spake an old Sailor, Had sailed to the Spanish Main, "I pray thee, put into yonder port, 15 For I fear a hurricane. "Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see!" The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, And a scornful laugh laughed he. 20 Colder and louder blew the wind, A gale from the Northeast, The snow fell hissing in the brine. And the billows frothed like yeast. Down came the storm, and smote amain 25 The vessel in its strength; She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed. Then leaped her cable's length. "Come hither! come hither! my little daughter. And do not tremble so; 30 For I can weather the roughest gale That ever wind did blow." He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat Against the stinging blast; He cut a rope from a broken spar, 35 And bound her to the mast. "O father! I hear the church-bells ring. Oh say, what may it be.^^" " 'T is a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast! " — And he steered for the open sea. 40 68 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW "O father! I hear the sound of guns. Oh say, what may it be?" "Some ship in distress, that cannot live In such an angry sea!" **0 father! I see a gleaming light, 45 Oh say, what may it be?" But the father answered never a word, A frozen corpse was he. Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark. With his face turned to the skies, 50 The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow On his fixed and glassy eyes. Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed That saved she might be; And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave, 55 On the Lake of Galilee. And fast through the midnight dark and drear. Through the whistling sleet and snow. Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept Tow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe. 60 And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land ; It was the sound of the trampling surf On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. The breakers were right beneath her bows, 65 She drifted a dreary wreck, And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 69 She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool, 70 But the cruel rocks, they gored her side Like the horns of an angry bull. Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, With the masts went by the board; Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank, 75 Ho! ho! the breakers roared! At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair. Lashed close to a drifting mast. 80 The salt sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes; And he saw her hair, like the brown seaweed. On the billows fall and rise. Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, 85 In the midnight and the snow! Christ save us all from a death like this. On the reef of Norman's Woe! Henry Wadsworth Longfellow EXCELSIOR The shades of night were falhng fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device. Excelsior! 5 70 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW His brow was sad; his eye beneath Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior! 10 In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright; Above, the spectral glaciers shone. And from his lips escaped a groan, Excelsior! 15 "Try not the Pass!" the old man said; "Dark lowers the tempest overhead, The roaring torrent is deep and wide!" And loud that clarion voice replied. Excelsior! 20 "Oh stay," the maiden said, "and rest Thy weary head upon this breast!" A tear stood in his bright blue eye, But still he answered, with a sigh. Excelsior ! 25 "Beware the pine-tree's withered branch! Beware the awful avalanche!" This was the peasant's last Good-night, A voice replied, far up the height, Excelsior! 30 At break of day, as heavenward The pious monks of Saint Bernard HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 71 Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried through the startled air. Excelsior! 35 A traveller, by the faithful hound, Half -buried in the snow was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice That banner with the strange device. Excelsior! 40 There in the twilight cold and gray. Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay. And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star. Excelsior! 45 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow JUNE FROM THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune. And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, 5 We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might. An instinct within it that reaches and towers. And, groping blindly above it for light. Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers; 10 The flush of life may well be seen Thrilling back over hills and valleys ; The cowslip startles in meadows green, 72 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, And there 's never a leaf nor a blade too mean 15 To be some happy creature's palace; The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives; 20 His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings. And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings ; He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best? Now is the high-tide of the year, 25 And whatever of life hath ebbed away Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer. Into every bare inlet and creek and bay; Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it. We are happy now because God wills it; 30 No matter how barren the past may have been, 'T is enough for us now that the leaves are green; We sit in the warm shade and feel right well How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell; We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help know- ing 35 That skies are clear and grass is growing; The breeze comes whispering in our ear. That dandelions are blossoming near. That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing. That the river is bluer than the sky, 40 That the robin is plastering his house hard by; And if the breeze kept the good news back. For other couriers we should not lack; JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 73 We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing, — And hark ! how clear bold chanticleer, 45 Warmed with the new wine of the year, Tells all in his lusty crowing! Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how; Everything is happy now. Everything is upward striving; 50 'T is as easy now for the heart to be true As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, — 'T is the natural way of living : Who knows whither the clouds have fled? In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake ; 55 And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, The heart forgets its sorrow and ache; The soul partakes the season's youth. And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth, 60 Like burnt-out craters healed with snow. James Russell Lowell ARNOLD WINKELRIED (July 9, 1386) "Make way for Liberty!" he cried. Made way for Liberty, and died. In arms the Austrian phalanx stood, A living wall, a human wood; A wall, — where every conscious stone Seemed to its kindred thousands grown ; A rampart all assaults to bear. Till time to dust their frames should wear : 74 JAMES MONTGOMERY A wood, — like that enchanted grove In which with fiends Rinaldo strove, 10 Where every silent tree possessed A spirit prisoned in its breast, Which the first stroke of coming strife Might startle into hideous life : So still, so dense, the Austrians stood, 15 A living wall, a human wood. Impregnable their front appears, All-horrent with projected spears. Whose polished points before them shine, From flank to flank, one brilliant line, 20 Bright as the breakers' splendors run Along the billows to the sun. Opposed to these, a hovering band Contended for their father-land Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke 25 From manly necks the ignoble yoke. And forged their fetters into swords, On equal terms to fight their lords. And what insurgent rage had gained In many a mortal fray maintained. 30 Marshalled once more, at Freedom's call, They came to conquer or to fall. Where he who conquered, he who fell. Was deemed a dead, or living, Tell; Such virtue had that patriot breathed, 35 So to the soil his soul bequeathed, That wheresoe'er his arrows flew. Heroes in his own likeness grew. And warriors sprang from every sod. Which his awakening footstep trod. 40 JAMES MONTGOMERY 75 And now the work of life and death Hung on the passing of a breath; The fire of conflict burned within, The battle trembled to begin; Yet, while the Austrians held their ground, 45 Point for assault was nowhere found ; Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed, The unbroken line of lances blazed : That line 't were suicide to meet, And perish at their tyrants' feet : 50 How could they rest within their graves. And leave their homes the haunts of slaves? Would they not feel their children tread With clanging chains, above their head? It must not be : this day, this hour, 65 Annihilates the invader's power: All Switzerland is in the field. She will not fly, she cannot yield. She must not fall ; her better fate Here gives her an immortal date. 60 Few were the number she could boast, Yet every freeman was a host. And felt as 't were a secret known That one should turn the scale alone, While each unto himself were he 65 On whose sole arm hung victory. It did depend on one indeed : Behold him, — Arnold Winkelried! There sounds not to the trump of fame The echo of a nobler name. 70 76 JAMES MONTGOI^IERY Unmarked he stood amid the throng, In rumination deep and long, Till you might see, with sudden grace, The very thought come o'er his face. And by the motion of his form 75 Anticipate the bursting storm, And by the uplifting of his brow Tell where the bolt would strike, and ho\y. But 't was no sooner thought than done. The field was in a moment won; 80 "Make way for Liberty!" he cried. Then ran, with arms extended wide. As if his dearest friend to clasp ; Ten spears he swept within his grasp; " Make way for Liberty ! " he cried ; 85 Their keen points met from side to side; He bowed amidst them, like a tree. And thus made way for Liberty. Swift to the breach his comrades fly; " Make way for Liberty ! " they cry, 90 And through the Austrian phalanx dart. As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart; While, instantaneous as his fall, R-out, ruin, panic seized them all ; An earthquake could not overthrow 95 A city with a surer blow. Thus Switzerland again was free; Thus Death made way for Liberty ! James Montgomery ADELAIDE A. PROCTER 77 A LEGEND OF BREGENZ Girt round with rugged mountains the fair Lake Constance Hes; In her bhie heart reflected, shine back the starry skies ; And, watching each white cloudlet float silently and slow. You think a piece of heaven lies on our earth be- low! Midnight is there; and silence, enthroned in heaven, looks down 5 Upon her own calm mirror, upon a sleeping town: For Bregenz, that quaint city upon the Tyrol shore. Has stood above Lake Constance a thousand years and more. Her battlements and towers, upon their rocky steep, Have cast their trembling shadows for ages on the deep; 10 Mountain and lake and valley, a sacred legend know, Of how the town was saved one night, three hun- dred years ago. Far from her home and kindred a Tyrol maid had fled. To serve in the Swiss valleys, and toil for daily bread; 78 ADELAIDE A. PROCTER And every year that fleeted so silently and fast 15 Seem'd to bear further from her the memory of the past. She served kind, gentle masters, nor ask'd for rest or change; Her friends seem'd no more new ones, their speech seem'd no more strange; And, when she led her cattle to pasture every day. She ceased to look and wonder on which side Bregenz lay. 20 She spoke no more of Bregenz, with longing and with tears; Her Tyrol home seem'd faded in a deep mist of years ; She heeded not the rumors of Austrian war or strife; Each day she rose, contented, to the calm toils of life. Yet, when her master's children would clustering round her stand, 25 She sang them the old ballads of her own native land; And, when at morn and evening she knelt before God's throne, The accents of her childhood rose to her lips alone. And so she dwelt: the valley more peaceful year by year; When suddenly strange portents of some great deed seem'd near. 30 ADELAIDE A. PROCTER 79 The golden corn was bending upon its fragile stalk, While farmers, heedless of their fields, paced up and down in talk. The men seem'd stern and alter'd, with looks cast on the ground; With anxious faces, one by one, the women gath- er' d round; All talk of flax, or spinning, or work, was put away; 35 The very children seem'd afraid to go alone to play. One day, out in the meadow with strangers from the town. Some secret plan discussing, the men walk'd up and down. Yet now and then seem'd watching a strange, un- certain gleam, That look'd like lances 'mid the trees that stood below the stream. 40 At eve they all assembled, all care and doubt were fled; With jovial laugh they feasted, the board was nobly spread. The elder of the village rose up, his glass in hand. And cried, "We drink the downfall of an accursed land! "The night is growing darker; ere one more day is flown 45 Bregenz, our foeman's stronghold, Bregenz shall be our own!" 80 ADELAIDE A. PROCTER The women shrank in terror, (yet pride, too, had her part,) But one poor Tyrol maiden felt death within her heart. Before her stood fair Bregenz, once more her towers arose; What were the friends beside her? Only her coun- try's foes! 50 The faces of her kinsfolk, the days of childhood flown. The echoes of her mountains, reclaimed her as their own! Nothing she heard around her, (though shouts rang forth again,) Gone were the green Swiss valleys, the pasture, and the plain; Before her eyes one vision, and in her heart one cry, 55 That said, "Go forth, save Bregenz, and then, if need be, die!" With trembling haste and breathless, with noise- less step she sped; Horses and weary cattle were standing in the shed; She loosed the strong white charger, that fed from out her hand. She mounted and she turn'd his head toward her native land. 60 ADELAIDE A. PROCTER 81 Out — out into the darkness — faster, and still more fast; The smooth grass flies behind her, the chestnut wood is pass'd; She looks up; clouds are heavy: Why is her steed so slow? — Scarcely the wind beside them can pass them as they go. "Faster!" she cries, "O, faster!" Eleven the church-bells chime: 65 "O God," she cries, '^ help Bregenz, and bring me there in time!" But louder than bells' ringing, or lowing of the kine, Grows nearer in the midnight the rushing of the Rhine. Shall not the roaring waters their headlong gallop check? The steed draws back in terror, she leans above his neck 70 To watch the flowing darkness, the bank is high and steep; One pause, — he staggers forward, and plunges in the deep. She strives to pierce the blackness, and looser throws the rein; Her steed must breast the waters that dash above his mane; 82 ADELAIDE A. PROCTER How gallantly, how nobly, he struggles through the foam, 75 And see, in the far distance shine out the lights of home! Up the steep bank he bears her, and now they rush again Towards the heights of Bregenz, that tower above the plain. They reach the gate of Bregenz just as the mid- night rings, And out come serf and soldier to meet the news she brings. 80 Bregenz is saved! Ere daylight her battlements are mann'd; Defiance greets the army that marches on the land: And, if to deeds heroic should endless fame be paid, Bregenz does well to honor the noble Tyrol maid. Three hundred years are vanish'd, and yet upon the hill 85 An old stone gateway rises, to do her honor still. And there, when Bregenz women sit spinning in the shade. They see in quaint old carving the charger and the maid. MARGARET SANGSTER 83 And when, to guard old Bregenz, by gateway, street, and tower, The warder paces all night long, and calls each passing hour : 90 "Nine," "ten," "eleven," he cries aloud, and then (O crown of fame!) When midnight pauses in the skies he calls the maiden's name. Adelaide A. Procter OUR FLAG 1 Flag of the fearless-hearted, Flag of the broken chain. Flag in a day -dawn started. Never to pale or wane. Dearly we prize its colors, 5 With the heaven light breaking through. The clustered stars and the steadfast bars, The red, the white, and the blue. Flag of the sturdy fathers, Flag of the royal sons, 10 Beneath its folds it gathers Earth's best and noblest ones. Boldly we wave its colors. Our veins are thrilled anew By the steadfast bars, the clustered stars, 15 The red, the white, and the blue. Margaret Sangster 1 Reprinted from Lyrics of Love, by Margaret jE. Sangster. By permission of Fleming H. Re veil Company. 84 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ORPHEUS WITH HIS LUTE Orpheus with his lute made trees. And the mountain tops that freeze. Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music, plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers 5 There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play. Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, 10 Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die. William Shakespeare THE HAND OF LINCOLN Look on this cast, and know the hand That bore a nation in its hold : From this mute witness understand What Lincoln was, — how large of mould The man who sped the woodman's team, 5 And deepest sunk the ploughman's share, And pushed the laden raft astream. Of fate before him unaware. This was the hand that knew to swing The axe — since thus would Freedom train 10 Her son — and made the forest ring, And drove the wedge, and toiled amain. EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN 85 Firm hand, that loftier ofRce took, A conscious leader's will obeyed, And, when men sought his word and look, 15 With steadfast might the gathering swayed. No courtier's, toying with a sword, Nor minstrel's, laid across a lute; A chief's, uplifted to the Lord When all the kings of earth were mute I 20 The hand of Anak, sinewed strong. The fingers that on greatness clutch; Yet, lo! the marks their lines along Of one who strove and suffered much. For here in knotted cord and vein 25 I trace the varying chart of years; I know the troubled heart, the strain, The weight of Atlas — and the tears. Again I see the patient brow That palm ere while was wont to press; 30 And now 't is furrowed deep, and now Made smooth with hope and tenderness. For something of a formless grace This moulded outline plays about; A pitying flame, beyond our trace, 35 Breathes like a spirit, in and out, — The love that cast an aureole Round one who, longer to endure. Called mirth to ease his ceaseless dole, Yet kept his nobler purpose sure. 40 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON Lo, as I gaze, the statured man, Built up from yon large hand, appears : A type that Nature wills to plan But once in all a people's years. What better than this voiceless cast 45 To tell of such a one as he, Since through its living semblance passed The thought that bade a race be free ! Edmund Clarence Stedman THE THROSTLE "Summer is coming, summer is coming. I know it, I know it, I know it. Light again, leaf again, life again, love again!" Yes, my wild little Poet. Sing the new year in under the blue. 5 Last year you sang it as gladly. "New, new, new, new!" Is it then so new That you should carol so madly.? " Love again, song again, nest again, young again," Never a prophet so crazy ! 10 And hardly a daisy as yet, little friend. See, there is hardly a daisy. "Here again, here, here, here, happy year!" O warble unchidden, unbidden! Summer is coming, is coming, my dear, 15 And all the winters are hidden. Alfred y Lord Tennyson JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 87 THE PIPES AT LUCKNOW Pipes of the misty moorlands, Voice of the glens and hilLs; The droning of the torrents, The treble of the rills! Not the braes of bloom and heather, 5. Nor the mountains dark with rain. Nor maiden bower, nor border tower, Have heard your sweetest strain! Dear to the Lowland reaper, And plaided mountaineer, — 10 To the cottage and the castle The Scottish pipes are dear; — Sweet sounds the ancient pibroch O'er mountain, loch, and glade; But the sweetest of all music 15 The pipes at Lucknow played. Day by day the Indian tiger Louder yelled, and nearer crept; Round and round the jungle-serpent Near and nearer circles swept. 20 "Pray for rescue, wives and mothers, — Pray to-day!" the soldier said; "To-morrow, death's between us And the wrong and shame we dread." Oh, they listened, looked, and waited, 25 Till their hope became despair; And the sobs of low bewailing Filled the pauses of their prayer. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER Then up spake a Scottish maiden, With her ear unto the ground : 30 "Dinna ye hear it? — dinna ye hear it? The pipes o' Havelock sound!" Hushed the wounded man his groaning; Hushed the wife her Httle ones; Alone they heard the drum-roll 35 And the roar of Sepoy guns. But to sounds of home and childhood The Highland ear was true; — As her mother's cradle-crooning The mountain pipes she knew. 40 Like the march of soundless music Through the vision of the seer, More of feeling than of hearing, Of the heart than of the ear, She knew the droning pibroch, 45 She knew the Campbell's call: "Hark! hear ye no MacGregor's, The grandest o' them all!" Oh, they listened, dumb and breathless. And they caught the sound at last; 50 Faint and far beyond the Goomtee Rose and fell the piper's blast! Then a burst of wild thanksgiving Mingled woman's voice and man's; "God be praised! — the march of Have- lock! 55 The piping of the clans!" JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 89 Louder, nearer, fierce as vengeance, Sharp and shrill as swords at strife. Came the wild MacGregor's clan-call, Stinging all the air to life. 60 But when the far-off dust-cloud To plaided legions grew. Full tenderly and blithesomely The pipes of rescue blew! Round the silver domes of Lucknow, 65 Moslem mosque and Pagan shrine. Breathed the air to Britons dearest, The air of Auld Lang Syne. O'er the cruel roll of war-drums Rose that sweet and homelike strain; 70 And the tartan clove the turban, As the Goomtee cleaves the plain. Dear to the corn-land reaper And plaided mountaineer, — To the cottage and the castle 75 The piper's song is dear. Sweet sounds the Gaelic pibroch O'er mountain-glen and glade; But the sweetest of all music The pipes at Lucknow played ! 80 John Greenleaf Whittier LUCY GRAY, OR SOLITUDE Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray; And, when I crossed the wild, I chanced to see, at break of day, The solitary child. 90 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; 6 She dwelt on a wide moor, — The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door! You yet may spy the fawn at play, The hare upon the green; 10 But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will nevermore be seen. "To-night will be a stormy night, — You to the town must go; And take a lantern. Child, to light 15 Your mother through the snow." "That, Father! will I gladly do: 'T is scarcely afternoon, — The minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the moon!" 20 At this the father raised his hook, And snapped a fagot-band; He plied his work; — and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. Not blither is the mountain roe; 25 With many a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the powdery snow. That rises up like smoke. The storm came on before its time. She wandered up and down; 30 And many a hill did Lucy climb. But never reached the town. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 91 The wretched parents all that night Went shouting far and wide; But there was neither sound nor sight 35 To serve them for a guide. At daybreak on the hill they stood That overlooked the moor; And thence they saw the bridge of wood, A furlong from their door. 40 They wept, — and, turning homeward, cried, " In heaven we all shall meet;" — When in the snow the mother spied The print of Lucy's feet. Then downwards from the steep hill's edge 45 They tracked the footmarks small; And through the broken hawthorn-hedge, And by the long stone- wall. And then an open field they crossed. The marks were still the same ; 50 They tracked them on, nor ever lost. And to the bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank Those footmarks, one by one. Into the middle of the plank; 55 And further there were none! — Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child, That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. 60 92 SIR HENRY WOTTON O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind. William Wordsworth LORD OF HIMSELF How happy is he born and taught. That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought. And simple truth his utmost skill! Whose passions not his masters are, 5 Whose soul is still prepared for death. Untied unto the worldly care Of public fame, or private breath; Who envies none that chance doth raise. Or vice; who never understood 10 How deepest wounds are given by praise; Nor rules of state, but rules of good; Who hath his life from rumours freed. Whose conscience is his strong retreat; Whose state can neither flatterers feed, 15 Nor ruin make oppressors great; Who God doth late and early pray, More of his grace than gifts to lend; And entertains the harmless day With a religious book or friend; 20 SIR HENRY WOTTON 93 This man is freed from servile bands, Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands; And having nothing, yet hath all. Sir Henry Wotton INDEX OF TITLES Abou Ben Adhem {Hunt), 64. Arnold Winkelried {Montgom- ery), 73. Before the Rain {Aldrich), 17. Blue and the Gray, The {Finch), 42. Chevy-Chace {Ballad), 20. Christmas in Old England {Scotf), 11. Concord Hymn {Emerson), 40. Dare to be Right! {Anonymous), 17. Pare to do Right! {Anonymous), 18. Deserted Village, The {Gold- smith), 47. Destruction of Sennacherib, The (Byron), 33. Excelsior (Longfellow), 69. Flag Goes By, The (Bennett), 30. Hand of Lincoln, The (Stedman), 84. Height of the Ridiculous, The (Holmes), 62. Hie Away (Scott), 1. Hunting Song (Scott), 10. Jock of Hazeldean (Scott), 8. June (Lowell), 71. Legend of Bregenz, A (Procter), 77. Lochinvar (Scott), 3. Lord of Himself (Wotton), 92. Lord Lovel (Anonymous), 18. Lucy Gray (Wordsworth), 89. Marseillaise, La (de Lisle), 38. Orpheus with his Lute (Shake- speare), 84. Our Flag (Sangster), 83. Parting of Marmion and Doug- las, The (Scott), 5. Pictures of Memory (Gary), 34. Pipes at Lucknow, The (Whit- tier), 87. Rhodora, The (Emerson), 39. Santa Filoraena {Longfellow), 64. Sea, The (Gornwall), 37. Snowstorm, The (Emerson), 41. Soldier, Rest! (Scott), 1. Spindle Song (Scott), 9. Throstle, The (Tennyson), 86. To the Fringed Gentian (Bry- ant), 31. Wants of Man, The (Adams), 14. Work (Gary), 36. Wreck of the Hesperus, The (Longfellow), 66. Yarn of the Nancy Bell, The (Gilbert), 44. Yellow Violet, The (Bryant), 32. FIRST YEAR IN NUMBER 36 cents net. Postpaid An Introductory Book to Precede any Series of Arithmetics BY FRANKLIN S. HOYT Formerly Assistant Superintendent of Schools. Indianapolis AND HARRIET E. PEET Instructor in Methods of Teaching Arit lunette, State Normac. School^ Salem ^ Massachusetts The work is based upon the familiar experiences and activities of children, and follows as closely as possible the child's own method of acquiring new knowledge and skill Thus we have lessons based on playing store, making tickets, mailing letters, fishing, etc. Every step is made in- teresting, but no time is wasted in mere entertainment. By the same authors THE EVERYDAY ARITHMETICS THREE-BOOK COURSE Book One, grades I I-IV . % .48 Book Two, grades V-VI . .48 Book Three, grades Vll-Vin .52 Course of Study (with answers) % .25 TWO-BOOK COURSE Book One, grades I I-IV . $ .48 Book Two, grades V-VIII . .72 Distinctive Features I. Their socialized point of view — all problems and top- ics taken from the everyday life of children, home inter- ests, community interests, common business and industries. 2. Their attractiveness to children — spirited illustrations, legible page, interesting subject matter. 3. The omission of all antiquated topics and problems. 4. The grouping of problems about a given life situation. 5. The development of accuracy and skill in essential processes. 6. Th ^voca- tional studies. 7. The careful attention to method. 8. Tl.e exact grading. 9. The systematic reviews. 10. The adap tation to quick and to slow pupils. HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO 1901 RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES (Continued) 149. Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. 150. Ouida's Dog of Flanders, etc. 151. Ewing's Jackanapes, etc. 15'J. Martiueau's The Peasant asd the Prince. 153. Sliakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. 154. Shakespeare's Tempest. 155. Irving's Life of Goldsmith. 156. Tennyson's Gareth and LjTiette, etc. 157. The Song of Roland. 158. Malory's Merlin and Sir Balin. 159. Beowulf. 160. Spenser's Faerie Queene. Book I. 161. Dickens's Tale of Two Cities. 162. Prose and Poetry of Cardinal Newman. IG3. Shakespeare's Henry V. 164. De Qtiincey's Joan of Arc, etc. 165. Scott's Quentin Durward. 166. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero- Worship. 167. Longfellow's Autobiographical Poems. 168. Slielley's Poems. 169. Lowell's My Garden Acquaintance, etc. 170. Lamb's Essays of Elia. 171. 172. Emerson's Essays. 173. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Flag-Raising. 174. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Finding a Home. 175. Whittier's Autobiographical Poems. 176. Burroughs's Afoot and Afloat. 177. Bacon's Essays. 178. Selections from John Ruskin. 179. King Arthur Stories from Malory. 180. Palmer's Odyssey. 181. Goldsmith's The Good-Natured Man. 182. Goldsmith's She Stoops to Conquer. 183. Old English and Scottish Ballads. 184. Shakespeare's King Lear. 185. Moores's Life of Lincoln. 186. Thoreau's Camping in the Maine Woods. 187, 188. Huxley's Autobiography, and Essays. 189. Byron's Childe Harold, Canto IV, etc. 190. Washington's Farewell Address, and Web- ster's Bunker Hill Oration. 191. The Second Shepherds' Play, etc. 192. Mrs. Gaskell's Cranford. 193. Williams's ^neid. 194. Irving's Bracebridge Hall. Selections. 195. Thoreau's Walden. 196. Sheridan's The Rivals. 197. Parton's Captains of Industry. Selected. 198. !99. Macaulay'sLordClive an (/Sm alto back cover) m) RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES (Continued) EXTRA NUMBERS A American Authors and their Birthdays. C Warriner ' s Teaching of English Classics in the Grades. D Scudder's Literature in School. F Longfellow Leaflets. G Whittier Leaflets. Jf Holmes Leaflets. / Thomas ' s How to TeachEnglish Classics. J Holbrook's Northland Heroes. K Minimum College Requirements in Eng- lish for Study. ' L The Riverside Song Book. M Lowell's Fable for Critics. A' Selections from American Authors. O Lowell Leaflets. P Holbrook's Hiawatha Primer. Q Selections from English Authors. Ji Hawthorne ' s Twice-Told Tales. Selected. -S" Irving's Essays from Sketch Book. Se lected. T Literature for the Study of Language. U A Dramatization of the Song of Hia watha. V Holbrook's Book of Nature Myths. W Brown's In the Days of Giants. X Poems for the Study of Language. Y Warner's In the Wilderness. Z Nine Selected Poems. A A Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner anc Lowell's The Vision of Sir Launfal. Poe's The Raven, Whittier' s Snow- Bound, and Longfellow's The Court- ship of Miles Standish. Selections for Study and Memorizing. DD Sharp's The Year Out-of-Doors. EE Poems for Memorizing. BB CC LIBRARY BINDING 135-136. Chaucer's Prologue, The Knight's Tale, and The Nun's Priest's Tale. 160. Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book I. 166. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero-Worship. 168. Shelley's Poems. Selected. 177. Bacon's Essays. 178. Selections from the Works of John Ruskin. 181-182. Goldsmith's The Good-Natured Man, and She Stoops to Conquer. 183. Old English and Scottish Ballads. 187-188. Huxley's Autobiography and Stlected Essays. 191. Second Shepherd's Play, Everyman, etc. 211. Milton's Areopagitica, etc. 216. Ralph Roister Doister. 222. Briggs's College Life. 223. Selections from the Prose Works of Matthew Arnold. 224. Perry's The American Mind and American Idealism. 225. Newman's University Subjects. 226. Burroughs 's Studies in Nature and Literature. 227. Bryce's Promoting Good Citizenship. 235. Briggs's To College Girls. 236. Selected Literary Essays from James Russell Lowell. 242. Eliot's The Training for an Effective Life. 244. Lockwood's English Sonnets. 246 . Shepard ' s Shakespeare Questions . 248. Boswell's Life of Johnson. Abridged, 250. Sheridan's The School for Scandal. 251. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and Piers the Ploughman. 252. Howells's A Modern Instance. 254. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Modern Verse. 255. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of American Poets. 256. Richards's High Tide. K. Minimum College Requirements in English for Study. Complete Catalogue and Price List f7'ee upon application HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY SELECTIONS FOR READING AND MEMORIZING SEVENTH GRADE Prescribed by the New York State Edi th( ation Department Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature, 1919 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY « BOSTON, NEW YORK, AND CHICAGO (3Ebe fihiersibe press ^ambtiDge ^,iis;^\M\!^\\\\\\\\\r////^////r/irr//. a<^^^^^0:v:^-l Sub-series. RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES Complete Catalogue and Price List free tipon application Longfellow's Evangeline. Longfellow's Courtship of Miles Standish. Dramatization of Miles Standish. Whittier's Snow-Bound, etc. Whittier's Mabel Martin. Holmes's Grandmother's Story. 8, 9. Hawthorne's Grandfather's Chair. Hawthorne's Biographical Series. Longfellow's Children's Hour, etc. 14. Longfellow's Song of Hiawatha. Lowell's Under the Old Elm, etc. Bayard Taylor's Lars. 18. Hawthorne's Wonder-Book. 20. Franklin's Autobiography. Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanac, etc. 23. Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales. Washington's Farewell Addresses, etc. 26. Longfellow's Golden Legend. Thoreau's Forest Trees, etc. Burroughs's Birds and Bees. Hawthorne's Little Daffydowndilly, etc. Lowell's Vision of Sir Launfal, etc. Holmes's My Hunt after the Captain, etc. Lincoln's Gettysburg Speech, etc. 35. Longfellow's Tales of a Wayside Lin. Burroughs's Sharp Eyes, etc. Warner's A-Hunting of the Deer, etc. Longfellow's Building of the Ship, etc. Lowell's Books and Libraries, etc. Hawthorne's Tales of the White Hills. Whittier's Tent on the Beach, etc. Emerson's Fortune of the Republic, etc. Bryant's Ulysses among the Phstacians. Edgeworth's Waste not, Want not, etc. Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. Old Testament Stories. 48. Scudder's Fables and Folk Stories. 50. Andersen's Stories. Irving's Rip Van Winkle, etc. Irving's The Voyage, etc. Scott's Lady of the Lake. Bryant's Thanatopsis, etc. \ Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. Webster's First Bunker Hill Oration. Dickens's Christmas Carol. Dickens's Cricket on the Hearth. Verse and Prose for Beginners in Reading. 61. The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. Fiske's War of Independence. Longfellow's Paul Revere's Ride, etc. 66. Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. Sliakespeare's Julius C?esar. Goldsmith's Deserted Village, etc. Hawthorne's The Old Manse, etc. 71 Selection from Whittier's Child Life. Milton's Minor Poems. Tennyson's Enoch Arden, etc. Gray's Elegy ; Cowper's John Gilpin. Scudder's George Washington. Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality. Burns's Cotter's Saturday Niglit, etc. Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. Lamb's Old China, etc. 80. Coleridge's Ancient Mariner; Campbell's Lochiel's Warning, etc. 81 . Holmes' s Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. 82. Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales. 83. Eliot's Silas Marner. 84. Dana's Two Years Before the Mast. 85. Hughes's Tom Brown's School Days. 86. Scott's Ivanhoe. 87. Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. 88. Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. 89. 90. Swift's Gulliver's Voyages. 91. Hawthorne's House of the Seven Gables. 92. Burroughs's A Bunch of Herbs, etc. 93. Sliakespeare's As You Like It. 94. Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I-IIL 95-98. Cooper's Last of the Mohicans. 99. Tennyson's Coming of Arthur, etc. 100. Burke's Conciliation witli tlie Colonies. 101. Pope's Iliad. Books I, VI, XXII, XXIV. 102. Macaulay's Johnson and Goldsmith. 103. Macaulay's Milton. 104. Macaulay's Addison. 105. Carlyle's Essay on Burns. 106. Shakespeare's Macbeth. 107. 108. Grimms' Tales. 109. Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 110. De Quincey's Flight of a Tartar Tribe. 111. Tennyson's Princess. 112. Cranch's .S:neid. Books I-III. 1 13. Poems from Emerson. 114. Peabody's Old Greek Folk Stories. 115. Browning's Pied Piper of Hamelin, etc. 116. Shakespeare's Hamlet. 117. 118. Stories from the Arabian Nights. 119, 120. Poe's Poems and Tales. 121. Speech by Hayne on Foote's Resolution. 122. Speech by Webster in Reply to Hayne. 123. Lowell's Democracy, etc. 124. Aldrich's The Cruise of the Dolphin. 125. Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. 126. Ruskin's King of the Golden River, etc. 127. Keats's Ode on a Grecian Urn, etc. 128. Byron's Prisoner of Chillon, etc. 129. Plato's Judgment of Socrates. 130. Emerson's The Superlative, etc. 131. Emerson's Nature, etc. 132. Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, etc. 133. Schurz's Abraham Lincoln. 134. Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. 135. Chaucer's Prologue. 136. Chaucer's The Knight's Tale, etc. 137. Bryant's Iliad. Bks. I, VI, XXII, XXIV. 138. Hawthorne's The Custom House, etc. 139. Howells's Doorstep Acquaintance, etc. 140. Thackeray's Henry Esmond. 141. Higginsoii's Three Outdoor Papers. 142. Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies. 143. Plutarch's Alexander the Great. 144. Scudder's The Book of Legends. 145. Hawthorne's The Gentle Boy, etc. 146. Longfellow's Giles Corey. 147. Pope's Rape of the Lock. etc. 148. Hawtliorne's Marble Faun. (/See also back covers.) (74) " ®l)f ISiijersiot iLltetature ^etiesi ^ SELECTIONS FOR READING AND MEMORIZING SEVENTH GRADE Prescribed by the New York State Education Department in the Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature, 1919 BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY A^^ COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED The copyrighted selections in this book are used by permission of, and special arrangement with, their proprietors. OiC^ Wttt Slttoergibe $re££ CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A CU560224 CONTENTS {Arranged ds a Course " FIRST HALF YEAR Poems for Reading Herve Riel Robert Browning 39 Contentment Oliver Wendell Holmes 1 The Deacon's Masterpiece Oliver Wendell Holmes 4 Old Ironsides Oliver Wendell Holmes 8 Union and Liberty Oliver Wendell Holmes 8 Skeleton in Armor Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 63 The Heritage James Russell Lowell 70 The Revenge Alfred, Lord Tennyson 82 Centennial Hymn John Greenleaf Whittier 99 Miscellaneous Selections for Memorizing Address to the Army Albert, King of Belgium 36 America the Beautiful Katharine Lee Bates 38 New Every Morning Susan Coolidge 46 The Rose and the Gardener Austin Dobson 48 Each and All Ralph Waldo Emerson 48 The Spires of Oxford ' Winifred M. Letts M The American's Creed William Tyler Page 76 Hark, Hark, the Lark William Shakespeare 80 Trailing Arbutus John Ikeenleaf Whittier 101 SECOJ^D HALF YEAR Poems for Reading Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill Battle Oliver Wendell Holmes 10 How the Old Horse Won the Bet Oliver Wendell Holmes 21 1 The titles are here grouped in. accordance with suggestions in the New York Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature. The text of the selections (pages 1-101) is arranged according to the alphabetical sequence of authors' names. An Index of Titles is given on page 102. IV CONTENTS A Ballad of the Boston Tea-Party Oliver Wendell Holmes 27 The Broomstick Train Oliver Wendell Holmes 31 King Robert of Sicily Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 53 Sandalphon Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 61 The Parting of Marmion and Douglas Sir Walter Scott 76 The Song of the Camp Bayard Taylor 80 The Lady of Shalott Alfred, Lord Tennyson 88 Barbara Frietchie John Greenleaf Whittier 97 Miscellaneous Selections for Memorizing Be True Horatio Bonar 39 Nobility Alice Cary 45 My Poplars Theodosia Garrison 50 War Inevitable Patrick Henry 51 The Finding of the Lyre James Russell Lowell 69 Lincoln, the Man of the People Edwin Markham 72 The Coming of Spring Nora Perry 74 Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind William Shakespeare 79 Sir Galahad Alfred, Lord Tennyson 94 Index of Titles 10^ POEMS AND PROSE FOR READING AND MEMORIZING IN THE SEVENTH GRADE GROUP I. POEMS BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES CONTENTMENT "Man wants but little here below** Little I ask; my wants are few; I only wish a hut of stone, (A very plain brown stone will do,) That I may call my own; — And close at hand is such a one, 5 In yonder street that fronts the sun. Plain food is quite enough for me; Three courses are as good as ten; — If Nature can subsist on three. Thank Heaven for three. Amen! 10 I always thought cold victual nice; — My choice would be vanilla-ice. I care not much for gold or land; — Give me a mortgage here and there, — Some good bank-stock, some note of hand, 15 Or trifling railroad share, — I only ask that Fortune send A little more than I shall spend. 2 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES Honors are silly toys, I know, And titles are but empty names; 20 I would, perhaps, be Plenipo, — But only near St. James; I 'm very sure I should not care To fill our Gubernator's chair. Jewels are baubles; 't is a sin 25 To care for such unfruitful things; One good-sized diamond in a pin, — Some, not so large, in rings, — A ruby, and a pearl, or so. Will do for me; — I laugh at show. 30 My dame should dress in cheap attire; (Good, heavy silks are never dear;) I own perhaps I might desire Some shawls of true Cashmere, — Some marrowy crapes of China silk, 35 Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk. I would not have the horse I drive So fast that folks must stop and stare; An easy gait — two, forty-five — Suits me; I do not care; — 40 Perhaps, for just a single spurt, Some seconds less would do no hurt. Of pictures, I should like to own Titians and Raphaels three or four, — 22. St. James's Palace was the London residence of the British sov- ereigns, from the burning of Whitehall, in the reign of William III., down to 1837, in the reign of Victoria, when the royal household was transferred to Buckingham Palace. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES B I love so much their style and tone, — 45 One Turner, and no more, (A landscape, — foreground golden dirt, — The sunshine painted with a squirt.) Of books but few, — some fifty score For daily use, and bound for wear; 50 The rest upon an upper floor; — Some little luxury there Of red morocco's gilded gleam And vellum rich as country cream. Busts, cameos, gems, — such things as these, 55 Which others often show for pride, I value for their power to please, And selfish churls deride; One Stradivarius, I confess. Two meerschaums, I would fain possess. 60 Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn. Nor ape the glittering upstart fool; — Shall not carved tables serve my turn, But all must be of buhl? Give grasping pomp its double share, — 65 I ask but one recumbent chair. Thus humble let me live and die, Nor long for Midas' golden touch; If Heaven more generous gifts deny, I shall not miss them much, — 70 Too grateful for the blessing lent Of simple tastes and mind content! 59. Stradivarius was a famous violin maker, born at Cremona, in Italy (1649-1737). Some of his instruments have sold as high as $2000. 9LIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE OR, THE WONDERFUL "ONE-HOSS SHAY" A LOGICAL STORY Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay. That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day, And then, of a sudden, it — ah, but stay, I *11 tell you what happened without delay, 5 Scaring the parson into fits, Frightening people out of their wits, — Have you ever heard of that, I say? Seventeen hundred and fifty-five. Georgius Secundus was then alive, — 10 Snuffy old drone from the German hive. That was the year when Lisbon-town Saw the earth open and gulp her down. And Braddock's army was done so brown. Left without a scalp to its crown. 15 It was on the terrible Earthquake-day That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay. Now in building of chaises, I tell you what. There is always somewhere a weakest spot, — In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, 20 In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill. In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace, — lurking still. Find it somewhere you must and will, — Above or below, or within or without, — And that 's the reason, beyond a doubt, 25 That a chaise breaks down, but does n't wear out. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 5 But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do. With an ''I dew vum," or an "I tell yeou") He would build one shay to beat the taown 'n' the keounty 'n* all the kentry raoun*; 30 It should be so built that it could n' break daown : "Fur," said the Deacon, '*'t's mighty plain Thut the weakes' place mus' stan* the strain; 'n' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain. Is only jest 35 T' make that place uz strong uz the rest." So the Deacon inquired of the village folk Where he could find the strongest oak. That could n't be spht nor bent nor broke, — That was for spokes and floor and sills ; 40 He sent for lancewood to make the thills; The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees. The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese, But lasts like iron for things Hke these; The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum," — 45 Last of its timber, — they could n't sell 'em. Never an axe had seen their chips. And the wedges flew from between their lips, Their blunt ends frizzled Hke celery-tips; Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw, SO Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too. Steel of the finest, bright and blue; Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide; Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide Found in the pit when the tanner died. 55 That was the way he " put her through." "There!" said the Deacon, *' naow she '11 dew!" OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES Do! I tell you, I rather guess She was a wonder, and nothing less ! Colts grew horses, beards turned gray, 60 Deacon and deaconess dropped away. Children and grandchildren — where were they? But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day! Eighteen hundred; it came and found 65 The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound. Eighteen hundred increased by ten; — "Hahnsum kerridge " they called it then. Eighteen hundred and twenty came; — Running as usual; much the same. 70 Thirty and forty at last arrive. And then come fifty, and fifty-five. Little of all we value here Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year Without both feeling and looking queer. 75 In fact, there 's nothing that keeps its youth. So far as I know, but a tree and truth. (This is a moral that runs at large; Take it. — You're welcome. — No extra charge.) First of November, — the Earthquake-day, — There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay, 81 A general flavor of mild decay. But nothing local, as one may say. There could n't be, — for the Deacon's art Had made it so like in every part 85 That there was n't a chance for one to start. For the wheels were just as strong as the thills. And the floor was just as strong as the sills. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 7 And the panels just as strong as the floor. And the whipple-tree neither less nor more, 90 And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore. And spring and axle and hub encore. And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt In another hour it will be worn out! First of November, Tifty-five! 95 This morning the parson takes a drive. Now, small boys, get out of the way! Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay. Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay. " Huddup ! " said the parson. — Off went they. 100 The parson was working his Sunday's text, — Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed At what the — Moses — was coming next. All at once the horse stood still. Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill. 105 First a shiver, and then a thrill. Then something decidedly like a spill, — And the parson was sitting upon a rock. At half past nine by the meet'n'-house clock, — Just the hour of the Earthquake shock ! no What do you think the parson found. When he got up and stared around? The poor old chaise in a heap or mound. As if it had been to the mill and ground! You see, of course, if you 're not a dunce, 115 How it went to pieces all at once — All at once, and nothing first, — Just as bubbles do when they burst. End of the wonderful one-hoss shay. Logic is logic. That 's all I say. 120 8 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES OLD IRONSIDES Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, 5 And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood. Where knelt the vanquished foe, 10 When winds were hurrying o'er the flood. And waves were white below. No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck 15 The eagle of the sea ! Oh, better that her shattered hulk Should sink beneath the wave; Her thunders shook the mighty deep, And there should be her grave; 20 Nail to the mast her holy flag. Set every threadbare sail. And give her to the god of storms. The lightning and the gale ! UNION AND LIBERTY Flag of the heroes who left us their glory. Borne through their battle-fields' thunder and flame. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 9 Blazoned in song and illumined in story. Wave o'er us all who inherit their fame ! Up with our banner bright, 5 Sprinkled with starry light. Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore. While through the sounding sky Loud rings the Nation's cry, — Union and Liberty ! One evermore ! 10 Light of our firmament, guide of our Nation, Pride of her children, and honored afar. Let the wide beams of thy full constellation Scatter each cloud that would darken a star! Up with our banner bright, etc. 15 Empire unsceptred ! what foe shall assail thee. Bearing the standard of Liberty's van? Think not the God of thy fathers shall fail thee. Striving with men for the birthright of man ! Up with our banner bright, etc. 20 Yet, if by madness and treachery blighted. Dawns the dark hour when the sword thou must draw. Then with the arms of thy millions united, Smite the bold traitors to Freedom and Law ! Up with our banner bright, etc. 25 Lord of the Universe ! shield us and guide us. Trusting Thee always, through shadow and sun ! Thou hast united us, who shall divide us? Keep us, oh keep us the Many in One ! Up with our banner bright, 30 Sprinkled with starry light. 10 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore. While through the sounding sky Loud rings the Nation's cry, — Union and Liberty ! One evermore ! 35 GRANDMOTHER'S STORY OF BUNKER HILL BATTLE AS SHE SAW IT FROM THE BELFRY 'T IS hke stirring hving embers when, at eighty, one remembers All the achings and the quakings of "the times that tried men's souls;" When I talk of Whig and Tory, when I tell the Rebel story, To you the words are ashes, but to me they 're burning coals. 2. In December, 1776, Thomas Paine, whose Common Sense had so remarkable a popularity as the first homely expression of public opinion on Independence, began issuing a series of tracts called The Crisis, eighteen numbers of which appeared. The familiar words quoted by the grandmother must often have been heard and used by her. They begin the first number of The Crisis : "These are the times that try men's souls: the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now deserves the love and thanks of man and woman." 3. The terms Whig and Tory were applied to the two parties in England who represented, respectively, the Whigs political and relig- ious liberty, the Tories royal prerogative and ecclesiastical authority. The names first came into use in 1679 in the struggles at the close of Charles II's reign, and continued in use until a generation or so ago, when they gave place to somewhat corresponding terms of Liberal and Conservative. At the breaking out of the war for Independence, the Whigs in England opposed the measures taken by the crown in the management of the American colonies, while the Tories sup- ported the crown. The names were naturally applied in America to the patriotic party, who were termed Whigs, and the loyalist party, termed Tories. The Tories in turn called the patriots rebels. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 11 I had heard the muskets' rattle of the April running battle; 5 Lord Percy's hunted soldiers, I can see their red coats still; But a deadly chill comes o'er me, as the day looms up before me. When a thousand men lay bleeding on the slopes of Bunker's Hill. 'T was a peaceful summer's morning, when the first thing gave us warning Was the booming of the cannon from the river and the shore : 10 "Child," says grandma, "what's the matter, what is all this noise and clatter? Have those scalping Indian devils come to murder us once more?" Poor old soul ! my sides were shaking in the midst of all my quaking. To hear her talk of Indians when the guns began to roar: She had seen the burning village, and the slaughter and the pillage, 15 When the Mohawks killed her father with their bul- lets through his door. Then I said, "Now, dear old granny, don't you fret and worry any. For I'll soon come back and tell you whether this is work or play; 5. The Lexington and Concord affair of April 19, 1775, when Lord Percy's soldiers retreated in a disorderly manner to Charles- town, annoyed on the way by the Americans who followed and accompanied them. 12 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES There can't be mischief in it, so I won't be gone a min- ute"— For a minute then I started. I was gone the Hvelong day. 20 No time for bodice-lacing or for looking-glass grimac- ing; Down my hair went as I hurried, tumbhng half-way to my heels; God forbid your ever knowing, when there's blood around her flowing, How the lonely, helpless daughter of a quiet household feels ! In the street I heard a thumping; and I knew it was the stumping 25 Of the Corporal, our old neighbor, on the wooden leg he wore. With a knot of women round him, — it was lucky I had found him, So I followed with the others, and the Corporal marched before. They were making for the steeple, — the old soldier and his people; The pigeons circled round us as we climbed the creak- ing stair, 30 Just across the narrow river — Oh, so close it made me shiver ! — Stood a fortress on the hill-top that but yesterday v/as bare. Not slow our eyes to find it; well we knew who stood behind it. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 13 Though the earthwork hid them from us, and the stub- born walls were dumb : Here were sister, wife, and mother, looking wild upon each other, 35 And their lips were white with terror as they said, THE HOUR HAS COME! The morning slowly wasted, not a morsel had we tasted, And our heads were almost splitting with the cannons* deafening thrill, When a figure tall and stately round the rampart strode sedately; It was Prescott, one since told me; he commanded on the hill. 40 Every woman's heart grew bigger when we saw his manly figure. With the banyan buckled round it, standing up so straight and tall; Like a gentleman of leisure who is strolling out for pleasure. Through the storm of shells and cannon-shot he walked around the wall. At eleven the streets were swarming, for the red-coats' ranks were forming; 45 40. Colonel William Prescott, who commanded the detachment which marched from Cambridge, June 16, 1775, to fortify Breed's Triill, was the grandfather of William Hickling Prescott, the histo- rian. He was in the field during the entire battle of the 17th, in com- mand of the redoubt. 42. Banyan — a flowered morning gown which Prescott is said to have worn during the hot day, a good illustration of the unmilitary appearance of the soldiers engaged. His nonchalant walk upon the parapets is also a historic fact, and was for the encouragement of the troops within the redoubt. 14 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES At noon in marching order they were moving to the piers; How the bayonets gleamed and glistened, as we looked far down, and listened To the trampling and the drum-beat of the belted grenadiers ! At length the men have started, with a cheer (it seemed faint-hearted). In their scarlet regimentals, with their knapsacks on their backs, 50 And the reddening, rippling water, as after a sea-fight's slaughter. Round the barges gliding onward blushed like blood along their tracks. So they crossed to the other border, and again they formed in order; And the boats came back for soldiers, came for sol- diers, soldiers still: The time seemed everlasting to us women faint and fasting, — 55 At last they're moving, marching, marching proudly up the hill. We can see the bright steel glancing all along the lines advancing — Now the front rank fires a volley — they have thrown away their shot; For behind their earthwork lying, all the balls above them flying. Our people need not hurry; so they wait and answer not. 60 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 15 Then the Corporal, our old cripple (he would swear sometimes and tipple), — He had heard the bullets whistle (in the old French war) before, — Calls out in words of jeering, just as if they all were hearing, — And his wooden leg thumps fiercely on the dusty bel- fry floor : — "Oh! fire away, ye villains, and earn King George's shillin's, 65 But ye '11 waste a ton of powder afore a * rebel' falls; You may bang the dirt and welcome, they 're as safe as Dan'l Malcolm Ten foot beneath the gravestone that you've splin- tered with your balls!" In the hush of expectation, in the awe and trepi- dation Of the dread approaching moment, we are well-nigh breathless all; 70 Though the rotten bars are failing on the rickety bel- fry railing. We are crowding up against them like the waves against a wall. Just a glimpse (the air is clearer), they are nearer, — nearer, — nearer. When a flash — a curling smoke-wreath — then a crash — the steeple shakes — 62. Many of the officers as well as men on the American side had Ijecome familiarized with service through the old French war, which came to an end in 1763. 16 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES The deadly truce is ended; the tempest's shroud is rended; 75 Like a morning mist it gathered, like a thunder-cioad it breaks! O the sight our eyes discover as the blue-black smoke blows over! The red-coats stretched in windrows as a mower rakes his hay; Here a scarlet heap is lying, there a headlong crowd is flying Like a billow that has broken and is shivered into spray. 80 Then we cried, "The troops are routed! they are beat — it can't be doubted ! God be thanked, the fight is over!" — Ah! the grim old soldier's smile! "Tell us, tell us why you look so?" (we could hardly speak we shook so), — "Are they beaten? Are they beaten? Are they beaten?" — "Wait a while." O the trembling and the terror! for too soon we saw our error: 85 They are baffled, not defeated; we have driven them back in vain; And the columns that were scattered, round the colors that were tattered, Toward the sullen silent fortress turn their belted breasts again. All at once, as we were gazing, lo ! the roofs of Charles- town blazing! OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 17 They have fired the harmless village; in an hour it will be down! 90 The Lord in Heaven confound them, rain his fire and brimstone round them, — The robbing, murdering red-coats, that would burn a peaceful town ! They are marching, stern and solemn; we can see each massive column As they near the naked earth-mound with the slanting walls so steep. Have our soldiers got faint-hearted, and in noiseless haste departed? 95 Are they panic-struck and helpless? Are they palsied or asleep? Now! the walls they're almost under! scarce a rod the foes asunder! Not a firelock flashed against them ! up the earthwork they will swarm ! But the words have scarce been spoken when the ominous calm is broken. And a bellowing crash has emptied all the vengeance of the storm ! 100 So again, with murderous slaughter, pelted backwards to the water. Fly Pigot's running heroes and the frightened braves of Howe; ^ And we shout, '*At last they're done for, it's their barges they have run for: They are beaten, beaten, beaten; and the battle's over now!" 102. The generals on the British side were Howe, Clinton, and Pigot. 18 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES And we looked, poor timid creatures, on the rough old soldier's features, 105 Our lips afraid to question, but he knew what we would ask: "Not sure," he said; ''keep quiet, — once more, I guess, they'll try it — Here's damnation to the cut-throats!" then he handed me his flask, Saying, *'Gal, you're looking shaky; have a drop of Old Jamaiky; I'm afeard there'll be more trouble afore the job is done;" 110 So I took one scorching swallow; dreadful faint I felt and hollow, Standing there from early morning when the firing was begun. All through those hours of trial I had watched a calm clock dial, As the hands kept creeping, creeping, — they were creeping round to four, When the old man said, "They're forming with their bagonets fixed for storming: 115 It's the death-grip that's a- coming, — they will try the works once more." With brazen trumpets blaring, the flames behind them glaring. The deadly wall before them, in close array they come; Still onward, upward toihng, like a dragon's fold un- coiling, — Like the rattlesnake's shrill warning the reverberating drum! 120 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 19 Over heaps all torn and gory — shall I tell the fearful story, How they surged above the breastwork, as a sea breaks over a deck; How, driven, yet scarce defeated, our worn-out men retreated. With their powder-horns all emptied, like the swim- mers from a wreck? It has all been told and painted; as for me, they say I fainted, 125 . And the wooden-legged old Corporal stumped with me down the stair: When I woke from dreams affrighted the evening lamps were hghted, — On the floor a youth was lying; his bleeding breast was bare. And I heard through all the flurry, **Send for War- ren ! hurry ! hurry ! Tell him here's a soldier bleeding, and he'll come and dress his wound!" 130 Ah, we knew not till the morrow told its tale of death and sorrow. How the starlight found him stiffened on the dark and bloody ground. Who the youth was, what his name was, where the place from which he came was, Who had brought him from the battle, and had left him at our door, 129. Dr. Joseph Warren, of equal note at the time as a medical man and a patriot. He was a volunteer in the battle, and fell there, the most serious loss on the American side. 20 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES He could not speak to tell us; but 't was one of our brave fellows, 135 As the homespun plainly showed us which the dying soldier wore. For they all thought he was dying, as they gathered round him crying, — And they said, '*0h, how they'll miss him!" and, "What ivill his mother do?" Then, his eyelids just unclosing like a child's that has been dozing. He faintly murmured, "Mother!" and — I saw his eyes were blue. 140 — "Why grandma, how you're winking!" — Ah, my child, it sets me thinking Of a story not like this one. Well, he somehow lived along; So we came to know each other, and I nursed him like a — mother. Till at last he stood before me, tall, and rosy-cheeked, and strong. And we sometimes walked together in the pleasant summer weather; 145 — "Please to tell us what his name was?" — Just your own, my little dear. There 's his picture Copley painted : we became so well acquainted. That, — in short, that 's why I 'm grandma, and you children are all here! OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 21 HOW THE OLD HORSE WON THE BET DEDICATED BY A CONTRIBUTOR TO THE COLLEGIAN, 1830, TO THE EDITORS OF THE HARVARD ADVOCATE, 1876 'T WAS on the famous trotting-ground. The betting men were gathered round From far and near; the "cracks" were there Whose deeds the sporting prints declare; The swift g. m., Old Hiram's nag, 5 The fleet s. h., Dan Pfeiffer's brag. With these a third — and who is he That stands beside his fast b. g.? Budd Doble, whose catarrhal name So fills the nasal trump of fame. 10 There too stood many a noted steed Of Messenger and Morgan breed; Green horses also, not a few; Unknown as yet what they could do; And all the hacks that know so well 15 The scourgings of the Sunday swell. Blue are the skies of opening day; The bordering turf is green with May; The sunshine's golden gleam is thrown On sorrel, chestnut, bay, and roan; 20 The horses paw and prance and neigh. Fillies and colts like kittens play. And dance and toss their rippled manes Shining and soft as silken skeins; Wagons and gigs are ranged about, 25 And fashion flaunts her gay turn-out; 6. g. m. gray mare. 6. s. h. scnrel horse. 8. b. g. hi ^2 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES Here stands — each youthful Jehu's dream — The jointed tandem, tickhsh team ! And there in ampler breadth expand The splendors of the four-in-hand; 30 On faultless ties and glossy tiles The lovely bonnets beam their smiles; (The style's the man, so books avow; The style's the woman, anyhow); From flounces frothed with creamy lace 35 Peeps out the pug-dog's smutty face. Or spaniel rolls his liquid eye. Or stares the wiry pet of Skye — woman, in your hours of ease So shy with us, so free with these f 40 " Come on ! I '11 bet you two to one I'll make him do it I" ''Will you? Done!" What was it who was bound to do? 1 did not hear and can't tell you, — Pray Hsten till my story 's through. 45 Scarce noticed, back behind the rest. By cart and wagon rudely prest. The parson's lean and bony bay Stood harnessed in his one-horse shay — Lent to his sexton for the day; 50 (A funeral — so the sexton said; His mother's uncle's wife was dead.) Like Lazarus bid to Dives' feast. So looked the poor forloni old beast; His coat was rough, his tail was bare, 55 The gray was sprinkled in his hair; OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES ^3 Sportsmen and jockeys knew him not, And yet they say he once could trot Among the fleetest of the town. Till something cracked and broke him down, — 60 The steed's, the statesman's, common lot! " And are we then so soon forgot? " Ah me ! I doubt if one of you Has ever heard the name "Old Blue," Whose fame through all this region rung 65 In those old days when I was young! " Bring forth the horse ! " Alas ! he showed Not hke the one Mazeppa rode; Scant-maned, sharp-backed, and shaky-kneed. The wreck of what was once a steed, 70 Lips thin, eyes hollow, stiff in joints; Yet not without his knowing points. The sexton laughing in his sleeve. As if 't were all a make-believe. Led forth the horse, and as he laughed 75 Unhitched the breeching from a shaft, Unclasped the rusty belt beneath. Drew forth the snaffle from his teeth, Slipped off his head-stall, set him free From strap and rein, — a sight to see! 80 So worn, so lean in every limb, It can't be they are saddling him ! It is ! his back the pig-skin strides And flaps his lank, rheumatic sides; With look of mingled scorn and mirth 85 They buckle round the saddle-girth; With horsy wink and saucy toss A youngster throws his leg across. 24 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES And so, his rider on his back. They lead him, Hmping, to the track, 90 Far up behind the starting-point, To hmber out each stiffened joint. As through the jeering crowd he past. One pitying look old Hiram cast; " Go it, ye cripple, while ye can ! " 95 Cried out unsentimental Dan; "A Fast-Day dinner for the crows!" Budd Doble's scoffing shout arose. Slowly, as when the walking-beam First feels the gathering head of steam, 100 With warning cough and threatening wheeze The stiff old charger crooks his knees; At first with cautious step sedate. As if he dragged a coach of state; He 's not a colt; he knows full well 105 That time is weight and sure to tell; No horse so sturdy but he fears The handicap of twenty years. As through the throng on either hand The old horse nears the judges' stand, 110 Beneath his jockey's feather-weight He warms a little to his gait. And now and then a step is tried That hints of something like a stride. " Go ! " — Through his ear the summons stung 115 As if a battle-trump had rung; The slumbering instincts long unstirred Start at the old familiar word; OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 25 It thrills like flame through every limb — What mean his twenty years to him? 120 The savage blow his driver dealt Fell on his hollow flanks unfelt; The spur that pricked his staring hide Unheeded tore his bleeding side; Alike to him are spur and rein, — 125 He steps a five-year-old again ! Before the quarter pole was past, Old Hiram said, *'He's going fast." Long ere the quarter was a half, The chuckling crowd had ceased to laugh; 130 Tighter his frightened jockey clung As in a mighty stride he swung. The gravel flying in his track. His neck stretched out, his ears laid back, His tail extended all the while 135 Behind him like a rat-tail file ! Off went a shoe, — away it spun. Shot like a bullet from a gun; The quaking jockey shapes a prayer From scraps of oaths he used to swear; 140 He drops his whip, he drops his rein. He clutches fiercely for a mane; He '11 lose his hold — he sways and reels — He'll slide beneath those trampling heels! The knees of many a horseman quake, 145 The flowers on many a bonnet shake. And shouts arise from left and right, "Stick on! Stick on!" "Hould tight! Hould tight!" "Cling round his neck and don't let go — That pace can't hold — there! steady! whoa!" 150 26 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES But like the sable steed that bore The spectral lover of Lenore, His nostrils snorting foam and fire. No stretch his bony limbs can tire; And now the stand he rushes by, 155 And " Stop him ! — stop him ! '* is the cry. Stand back ! he 's only just begun — He 's having out three heats in one ! "Don't rush in front! he'll smash your brains; But follow up and grab the reins ! " 160 Old Hiram spoke. Dan Pfeiffer heard. And sprang impatient at the word; Budd Doble started on his bay, Old Hiram followed on his gray, And off they spring, and round they go, 165 The fast ones doing "all they know." Look! twice they follow at his heels, As round the circling course he wheels. And whirls with him that clinging boy Like Hector round the walls of Troy; 170 Still on, and on, the third time round! They 're tailing off ! they 're losing ground ! Budd Doble's nag begins to fail! Dan Pfeiffer's sorrel whisks his tail! And see ! in spite of whip and shout, 175 Old Hiram's mare is giving out! Now for the finish ! at the turn. The old horse — all the rest astern — \ Comes swinging in, with easy trot; ( By Jove! he's distanced all the lot! 180 j That trot no mortal could explain; Some said, "Old Dutchman come again!" OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 27 Some took his time, — at least they tried, But what it was could none decide; One said he could n't understand 185 What happened to his second-hand; One said 2.10; that could n't be — More like two twenty two or three; Old Hiram settled it at last; "The time was two — too dee-vel-ish fast!" 190 The parson's horse had won the bet; It cost him something of a sweat; Back in the one-horse shay he went; The parson wondered what it meant. And murmured, with a mild surprise 195 And pleasant twinkle of the eyes, "That funeral must have been a trick. Or corpses drive at double-quick; I should n't wonder, I declare, If brother — Jehu — made the prayer ! " 200 And this is all I have to say About that tough old trotting bay. Huddup! Huddup! G'lang! — Good-day! Moral for which this tale is told: A horse can trot, for all he 's old. 205 A BALLAD OF THE BOSTON TEA-PARTY No ! never such a draught was poured Since Hebe served with nectar The bright Olympians and their Lord, Her overkind protector, — 28 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES Since Father Noah squeezed the grape 5 And took to such behaving As would have shamed our grandsire ape Before the days of shaving, — No! ne'er was mingled such a draught In palace, hall, or arbor, 10 As freemen brewed and tyrants quaffed That night in Boston Harbor! It kept King George so long awake His brain at last got addled. It made the nerves of Britain shake, 15 With sevenscore milhons saddled; Before that bitter cup was drained. Amid the roar of cannon. The Western war-cloud's crimson stained The Thames, the Clyde, the Shannon; 20 Full many a six-foot grenadier The flattened grass had measured. And many a mother many a year Her tearful memories treasured; Fast spread the tempest's darkening j>all, 25 The mighty realms were troubled. The storm broke loose, but first of all The Boston teapot bubbled! An evening party, — only that. No formal invitation, 30 No gold-laced coat, no stiff cravat. No feast in contemplation, No sillv-robed dames, no fiddling band. No flowers, no songs, no dancing, — A tribe of Red men, axe in hand, — 35 Behold the guests advancing! OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 29 How fast the stragglers join the throng. From stall and workshop gathered I The lively barber skips along And leaves a chin ha If -lathered; 4p The smith has flung his hammer down, — The horseshoe still is glowing; The truant tapster at the Crown Has left a beer-cask flowing; The cooper's boys have dropped the adze, i5 And trot behind their master; Up run the tarry ship-yard kds, — The crowd is hurrying faster, — Out from the Millpond's purlieus gush The streams of white-faced millers, 50 And down their slippery alleys rush The lusty young Fort-Hillers; The ropewalk lends its prentice crew, — The tories seize the omen: "Ay, boys, you '11 soon have work to do 55 For England's rebel foemen, *King Hancock,' Adams, and their gang. That fire the mob with treason, — When these we shoot and those we hang The town will come to reason." go On — on to where the tea-ships ride! And now their ranks are forming, — A rush, and up the Dartmouth's side The Mohawk band is swarming! See the fierce natives ! What a ghmpse 65 Of paint and fur and feather, As all at once, the full-grown imps Light on the deck together! 30 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES A scarf the pigtail's secret keeps, A blanket hides the breeches, — 70 And out the cursed cargo leaps. And overboard it pitches! O woman, at the evening board So gracious, sweet, and purring. So happy while the tea is poured, 75 So blest while spoons are stirring. What martyr can compare with thee. The mother, wife, or daughter. That night, instead of West Bohea, Condemned to milk and water! 80 Ah, little dreams the quiet dame Who plies with rock and spindle The patient flax, how great a flame Yon little spark shall kindle ! The lurid morning shall reveal 85 A fire no king can smother Where British flint and Boston steel Have clashed against each other! Old charters shrivel in its track. His Worship's bench has crumbled, 90 It climbs and clasps the union-jack. Its blazoned pomp is humbled. The flags go down on land and sea Like com before the reapers; So burned the fire that brewed the tea 95 That Boston served her keepers! The waves that wrought a century's wreck Have rolled o'er whig and tory; 69. At this time, 1773, and until near the end of the century, it was the fashion to wear wigs tied in a queue (pigtail) behind. OLIVER AVENDELL HOLMES 31 The Mohawks on the Dartmouth's deck Still Hve in song and story; 100 The waters in the rebel bay Have kept the tea-leaf savor; Our old North-Enders in their spray Still taste a Hyson flavor; And Freedom's tea-cup still o'erflows 105 With ever fresh libations, To cheat of slumber all her foes And cheer the wakening nations! THE BROOMSTICK TRAIN OR, THE RETURN OF THE WITCHES Look out! Look out, boy s ! Clear the track! The witches are here ! They 've all come back ! They hanged them high, — No use ! No use ! What cares a witch for a hangman's noose? They buried them deep, but they would n't lie still, 5 For cats and witches are hard to kill; They swore they should n't and would n't die, — Books said they did, but they lie ! they lie ! A couple of hundred years, or so. They had knocked about in the world below, 10 When an Essex Deacon dropped in to call. And a homesick feeling seized them all; For he came from a place they knew full well. And many a tale he had to tell. They longed to visit the haunts of men, 15 To see the old dwellings they knew again. And ride on their broomsticks all around Their wide domain of unhallowed ground. 32 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES In Essex County there 's many a roof Well known to him of the cloven hoof; 20 The small square windows are full in view Which the midnight hags went sailing through, On their well-trained broomsticks mounted high Seen like shadows against the sky; Crossing the track of owls and bats, 25 Hugging before them their coal-black cats. Well did they know, those gray old wives, The sights we see in our daily drives: Shimmer of lake and shine of sea. Brown's bare hill with its lonely tree, 30 (It was n't then as we see it now. With one scant scalp-lock to shade its brow;) Dusky nooks in the Essex woods. Dark, dim, Dante-like solitudes. Where the tree-toad watches the sinuous snake 35 Glide through his forests of fern and brake; Ipswich River; its old stone bridge; Far-off Andover's Indian Ridge, And many a scene where history tells Some shadow of bygone terror dwells, — 40 Of '* Norman's Woe" with its tale of dread. Of the Screeching Woman of Marblehead, (The fearful story that turns men pale: Don't bid me tell it, — my speech would fail.) 34. Dante was an Italian poet (1265-1321). One of his works. The Inferno, is famous for its graohic pictures of the gloomy and the awful. 41. "Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow! Christ save us all from a death like this On the reef of Norman's Woe." H. W. Longfellow, The Wreck of the Hesperus, OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 33 Who would not, will not, if he can, 45 Bathe in the breezes of fair Cape Ann, — Rest in the bowers her bays enfold. Loved by the sachems and squaws of old? Home where the white magnolias bloom. Sweet with the bayberry's chaste perfume, 50 Hugged by the woods and kissed by the sea ! Where is the Eden Uke to thee? For that "couple of hundred years, or so," There had been no peace in the world below; The witches still grumbling, " It is n't fair; 65 Come, give us a taste of the upper air! We *ve had enough of your sulphur springs, And the evil odor that round them clings; We long for a drink that is cool and nice, — Great buckets of water with Wenham ice; 60 We've served you well up-stairs, you know; You're a good old — fellow — come, let us go!" I don't feel sure of his being good. But he happened to be in a pleasant mood, — As fiends with their skins full sometimes are, — 65 (He'd been drinking with '* roughs" at a Boston bar.) So what does he do but up and shout To a graybeard turnkey, "Let 'em out!" To mind his orders was all he knew; The gates swung open, and out they flew. 70 "Where are our broomsticks?" the beldams cried. "Here are your broomsticks," an imp replied. "They've been in — the place you know — so long They smell of brimstone uncommon strong; But they 've gained by being left alone, — 75 Just look, and you'll see how tall they've grown.'* 34 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES . ^ "And where is my cat? " a vixen squalled. "Yes, where are our cats?" the witches bawled. And began to call them all by name; As fast as they called the cats, they came : 80 There was bob-tailed Tommy and long-tailed Tim, And wall-eyed Jacky and green-eyed Jim, And splay-foot Benny and slim-legged Beau, And Skinny and Squally, and Jerry and Joe, And many another that came at call, — 85 It would take too long to count them all. All black, — one could hardly tell which was which, But every cat knew his own old witch; And she knew hers as hers knew her, — Ah, did n't they curl their tails and purr! 90 No sooner the withered hags were free Than out they swarmed for a midnight spree; ' I could n't tell all they did in rhymes. But the Essex people had dreadful times. The Swampscott fishermen still relate 95 How a strange sea-monster stole their bait; How their nets were tangled in loops and knots. And they found dead crabs in their lobster-pots. Poor Danvers grieved for her blasted crops. And Wilmington mourned over mildewed hops. 100 A blight played havoc with Beverly beans, — It was all the work of those hateful queans ! ]oo « You wish to correct an error in my Broomstick poem, do you? You give me to understand that Wilmington is not in Essex County, but in Middlesex. Very well; but are they separated by running water ? Because if they are not, what could hinder a witch from cross- ing the line that separates Wilmington from Andover, I should like to know? I never meant to imply that the witches made no excur- sions beyond the district which was more especially their seat of operations." — Unwritten answer to a correspondent in Over the Teacups, page 311. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 35: A dreadful panic began at '* Pride's," Where the witches stopped in their midnight rides, And there rose strange rumors and vague alarms 105 'Mid the peaceful dwellers at Beverly Farms. Now when the Boss of the Beldams found That without his leave they were ramping round. He called, — they could hear him twenty miles. From Chelsea beach to the Misery Isles; 110 The deafest old granny knew his tone Without the trick of the telephone. "Come here, you witches! Come here! " says he, — " "At your games of old, without asking me! I *11 give you a little job to do 115 That will keep you stirring, you godless crew!" They came, of course, at their master's call, The witches, the broomsticks, the cats, and all; He led the hags to a railway train The horses were trying to drag in vain. 120 "Now, then," says he, "you've had your fun. And here are the cars you've got to run. The driver may just unhitch his team. We don't want horses, we don't want steam; You may keep your old black cats to hug, 125 But the loaded train you've got to lug." Since then on many a car you'll see A broomstick plain as plain can be; On every stick there 's a witch astride, — The string you see to her leg is tied. 130 She will do a mischief if she can, But the string is held by a careful man. 86 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES And whenever the evil-minded witch Would cut some caper, he gives a twitch. As for the hag, you can't see her, 135 But hark ! you can hear her black cat's purr. And now and then, as a car goes by. You may catch a gleam from her wicked eye. Often you've looked on a rushing train. But just what moved it was not so plain. 140 It could n't be those wires above. For they neither could pull nor shove; Where was the motor that made it go You could n't guess, but now you know. Remember my rhymes when you ride again On the rattling rail by the broomstick train! 145 GROUP II. POEMS AND PROSE BY VARIOUS AUTHORS ADDRESS TO THE ARMY Soldiers: Without the least provocation on our part, a neigh- bor, glorying in his power, has torn into shreds the treaties that bear his signature and violated the terri- tory of our fathers. 5 Because we have been worthy of ourselves, because we have refused to forfeit our honor, he has attacked us. But the whole world is amazed at our loyal stand. May its respect and its esteem sustain you in this su- preme moment! 10 ALBERT, KING OF BELGIUM 37 Seeing its freedom menaced, the nation has been deeply moved and her children have hurried to her frontiers. Valiant soldiers of a sacred cause, I have con- fidence in your tenacious bravery, and I salute you in the name of Belgium. Your citizens are proud of 15 you. You will triumph, for yours is the might that serves the right. Caesar said of your ancestors: "Of all the peoples of Gaul the Belgians are the bravest." Hail to you, army of the Belgian people! In the 20 face of the enemy, remember that you are fighting for liberty and for your menaced hearths. Remember, men of Flanders, the Battle of the Golden Spurs; and you, Walloons, who now stand on your honor, remember the six hundred Franchimontois. 25 SMiersJ I leave Brussels to put myself at your bead. Albert Done al the Palace of Brusselsy this fifth day of Au- gust, 1914.. 30 Albert, King of Belgium 23. The Battle of the Golden Spurs was fought July 11, 130^. An army of the workingmen of Flanders Fought and defeated the steel-clad knights of France, who far outnumbered them. The con- flict arose from the attempt of France to hinder the exportation of wool from England. This would have meant poverty and star- vation for the Flemish, whose main industry was weaving. 25. Beginning in 1830, Belgium fought Holland for independence. The Walloons (or French-speaking people in the south) were the first to lead this struggle, though they were soon joined by the Flem- ish (or Dutch-speaking people of the north) . Six hundred Belgians are buried in "The Place of the Martyrs" in Brussels, which com- memorates the first hard fighting of the war. Franchimont is a ham- let near Liege, with a castle, now in ruins (mentioned in Scott's Marmion), iamous as a stronghold from the twelfth century. From Liege came many of the "Mai'tyrs." SB KATHARINE LEE BATES AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL O BEAUTIFUL for spacious skies, ^ For amber waves of grain. For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! 5 God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea ! O beautiful for pilgrim feet. Whose stern, impassioned stress 10 A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness ! America! America! God mend thine every flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, 15 Thy hberty in law! O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife. Who more than self their country loved. And mercy more than hf e ! 20 America ! America I May God thy gold refine Till all success be nobleness And every gain divine! O beautiful for patriot dream 25 That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears! HORATIO BONAR S9 America! America! - God shed His grace on thee 30 And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea ! Katharine Lee Bates BE TRUE Thou must be true thyself, If thou the truth wouldst teach; Thy soul must overflow, if thou Another's soul wouldst reach ! It needs the overflow of heart ^ To give the lips full speech. Think truly, and thy thoughts Shall the world's famine feed; Speak truly, and each word of thine Shall be a fruitful seed; 10 Live truly, and thy life shall be A great and noble creed. Horatio Bonar HERVE RIEL On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety- two, Did the English fight the French, — woe to France ! And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter thro' the blue, Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue. Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Ranee, 5 With the English fleet in view. 40 ROBERT BROWNING 'T was the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase; First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Dam- freville; Close on him fled, great and small. Twenty-two good ships in all; 10 And they signalled to the place "Help the winners of a race! Get us guidance, give us harbour, take us quick — or, quicker still, Here 's the English can and will ! " Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board; 15 "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?" laughed they: "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred and scored, Shall the Formidable here with her twelve and eighty guns Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way, Trust to enter where 't is tickhsh for a craft of twenty tons, 20 And with flow at full beside? Now, 't is slackest ebb of tide. Reach the mooring? Rather say, While rock stands or water rims. Not a ship will leave the bay ! " 25 Then was called a council straight. Brief and bitter the debate: "Here's the EngUsh at our heels; would you have them take in tow ROBERT BROWNING 41 All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stem and bow, Fora prize to Plymouth Sound? 30 Better run the ships aground!" (Ended Damfreville his speech.) Not a minute more to wait ! " Let the Captains all and each Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach ! 35 France must undergo her fate. " Give the word ! *' But no such word Was ever spoke or heard; For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these — A Captain? A Lieutenant? A Mate — first, second, third? 40 No such man of mark, and meet With his betters to compete! But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the fleet, A poor coasting-pilot he, Herve Riel the Croisickese. And, "What mockery or malice have we here?'* cries Herve Riel: 45 " Are you mad, you Malouins ? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues? Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell 'Twixt the offing here and Greve where the river dis- embogues? Are you bought by Enghsh gold? Is it love the lying's for? 50 42 ROBERT BROWNING Morn and eve, night and day. Have I piloted your bay. Entered free and anchored fast at foot of SoHdor. Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues ! Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, beHeve me there 's a way ! 55 Only let me lead the line. Have the biggest ship to steer, Get this Formidable clear. Make the others follow mine. And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well, 60 Right to Solidor past Greve, And there lay them safe and sound; And if one ship misbehave, — Keel so much as grate the ground. Why, I've nothing but my life, — here's my head!" cries Herve Kiel. 65 Not a minute more to wait. "Steer us in, then, small and great! Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried his chief. " Captains, give the sailor place ! He is Admiral, in brief." , 70 Still the north-wind, by God's grace ! See the noble fellow's face. As the big ship with a bound. Clears the entry like a hound. Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide seas profound ! 75 See, safe thro' shoal and rock, ^ How they follow in a flock, ROBERT BROWNING 43 Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground, Not a spar that comes to grief! The peril, see, is past, 80 All are harboured to the last. And just as Herve Riel hollas "Anchor!" — sure as fate Up the English come, too late! So, the storm subsides to calm: They see the green trees wave 85 On the heights o'erlooking Greve. Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. "Just our rapture to enhance. Let the English rake the bay. Gnash their teeth and glare askance, 90 As they cannonade away! 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Ranee!'' How hope succeeds despair on each Captain's counte- nance ! Out burst all with one accord, "This is Paradise for Hell! 95 Let France, let France's King Thank the man that did the thing ! " What a shout, and all one word, "Herve Riel!" As he stepped in front once more, J 100 Not a symptom of surprise In the frank blue Breton eyes. Just the same man as before. Then said Damfreville, "My friend, I must speak out at the end, 105 44 ROBERT BROWNING Though I find the speaking hard. Praise is deeper than the hps : You have saved the King his ships. You must name your own reward. 'Faith our sun was near echpse I 110 Demand whatever you will, France remains your debtor still. Ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not Damfreville.'* Then a beam of fun outbroke On the bearded mouth that spoke, ill. As the honest heart laughed through Those frank eyes of Breton blue: " Since I needs must say my say. Since on board the duty 's done. And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run? — 120 Since 't is ask and have, I may — Since the others go ashore — Come ! A good whole holiday ! Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!" That he asked and that he got, — nothing more. 125 Name and deed alike are lost : Not a pillar nor a post In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; Not a head in white and black On a single fishing smack, 130 In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack AU that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell. ROBERT BROWNING 45 Go to Paris : rank on rank Search the heroes flung pell-mell \ On the Louvre, face and flank ! 135 You shall look long enough ere you come to Herve Riel. So, for better and for worse, Herve Riel, accept my verse ! In my verse, Herve Riel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honour France, love thy wife, the Belle Aurore! 140 Robert Browning NOBILITY True worth is in being, not seeming, — In doing each day that goes by Some little good — not in the dreaming Of great things to do by and by. For whatever men say in blindness, 5 And spite of the fancies of youth. There 's nothing so kingly as kindness, And nothing so royal as truth. We get back our mete as we measure — We cannot do wrong and feel right, 10 Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure, For justice avenges each shght. The air for the wing of the sparrow. The bush for the robin and wren. But alway the path that is narrow 15 And straight, for the children of men. 'T is not in the pages of story The heart of its ills to beguile. 46 ALICE GARY Though he who makes courtship to glory Gives all that he hath for her smile. 20 For when from her heights he has won her, Alas ! it is only to prove That nothing 's so sacred as honor. And nothing so loyal as love ! We cannot make bargains for blisses, 2S Nor catch them like fishes in nets; And sometimes the thing our life misses. Helps more than the thing which it gets. For good lieth not in pursuing. Nor gaining of great nor of small, 30 But just in the doing, and doing As we would be done by, is all. Through envy, through malice, through hating. Against the world, early and late. No jot of our courage abating — 35 Our part is to work and to wait. And shght is the sting of his trouble Whose winnings are less than his worth; For he who is honest is noble, Whatever his fortunes or birth. 40 Alice Cory NEW EVERY MORNING ^ Every day is a fresh beginning. Every morn is the world made new. You who are weary of sorrow and sinning. Here is a beautiful hope for you, — A hope for me and a hope for you. 5 ' By courtesy of Little, Brown & Co. SUSAN COOLIDGE 47 All past things are past and over; The tasks are done and the tears are shed. Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover; Yesterday's wounds, which smarted and bled, Are healed with the healing which night has shed. 10 Yesterday now is a part of forever. Bound up in a sheaf, which God holds tight. With glad days, and sad days, and bad days, which never Shall visit us more with their bloom and their blight. Their fulness of sunshine or sorrowful night. 15 Let them go, since we cannot re-live them. Cannot undo and cannot atone; God in his mercy receive, forgive them! Only the new days are our own; To-day is ours, and to-day alone. 20 Here are the skies all burnished brightly. Here is the spent earth all re-born. Here are the tired limbs springing lightly To face the sun and to share with the morn In the chrism of dew and the cool of dawn. 25 Every day is a fresh beginning. Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain. And, spite of old sorrow and older sinning, And puzzles forecasted and possible pain, ^ Take heart with the day, and begin again. 30 Susan Coolidge 48 AUSTIN DOBSON THE ROSE AND THE GARDENER The Rose in the garden slipped her bud, And she laughed in the pride of her youthful blood, As she thought of the Gardener standing by — "He is old — so old! And he soon must die ! " The full Rose waxed in the warm June air, And she spread and spread till her heart lay bare; And she laughed once more as she heard his tread — "He is older now! He will soon be dead!" But the breeze of the morning blew, and found That the leaves of the blown Rose strewed the ground; 10 And he came at noon, that Gardener old, And he raked them gently under the mould. And I wove the thing to a random rhyme: For the Rose is Beauty; the Gardener, Time. Austin Dohson \ EACH AND ALL Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown Of thee from the hill-top looking down; The heifer that lows in the upland farm, Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, 5 Deems not that great Napoleon Stops his horse, and lists with delight. Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; Nor knowest thou what argument Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. 10 RALPH WALDO EMERSON 49 All are needed by each one; Nothing is fair or good alone. I thought the sparrow's note from heaven. Singing at dawn on the alder bough; I brought him home, in his nest, at even; 15 He sings the song, but it cheers not now, For I did not bring home the river and sky; — He sang to my ear, — they sang to my eye. The delicate shells lay on the shore; The bubbles of the latest wave 20 Fresh pearls to their enamel gave. And the bellowing of the savage sea Greeted their safe escape to me. I wiped away the weeds and foam, I fetched my sea-born treasures home; 25 But the poor, unsightly noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. The lover watched his graceful maid, As 'mid the virgin train she strayed, 30 Nor knew her beauty's best attire Was woven still by the snow-white choir. At last she came to his hermitage, Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage; — The gay enchantment was undone, 35 A gentle wife, but fairy none. Then I said, '*I covet truth; Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; I leave it behind with the games of youth": — As I spoke, beneath my feet 40 The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, Running over the club-moss burrs; I inhaled the violet's breath; Around me stood the oaks and firs; 50 RALPH WALDO EMERSON Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground; 45 Over me soared the eternal sky, Full of light and of deity; Again I saw, again I heard, The rolling river, the morning bird; — Beauty through my senses stole; 50 I yielded myself to the perfect whole. Ralph Waldo Emerson MY POPLARS 1 My poplars are like ladies trim. Each conscious of her own estate; In costume somewhat over prim, In manner cordially sedate. Like two old neighbours met to chat ' 5 Beside my garden gate. My stately old aristocrats — I fancy still their talk must be Of rose-conserves and Persian cats, And lavender and Indian tea; — 10 I wonder sometimes as I pass If they approve of me. I give them greeting night and morn, I like to think they answer, too. With that benign assurance born 15 When youth gives age the reverence due, And bend their wise heads as I go As courteous ladies do. Long may you stand before my door, Oh, kindly neighbours garbed in green, 20 ^ By courtesy of the author THEODOSIA GARRISON 51 And bend with rustling welcome o'er The many friends who pass between; And where the httle children play Look down with gracious mien. Theodosia Garrison WAR INEVITABLE They tell us, sir, that we are weak — unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? 5 Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we 10 make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. 15 Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of na- tions; and who will raise up friends to fight our bat- tles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, 20 sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery ! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston ! The war is inevitable — and let it come ! ! I repeat it, sir, let it come ! ! ! 26 52 PATRICK HENRY It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace — but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resound- 30 ing arms ! Our brethren are already in the field ! Why stand we here idle.^ What is it that gentlemen wish.^ What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery .f^ Forbid it, Almighty God! — I know not 35 what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death ! Patrick Henry THE SPIRES OF OXFORD^ I SAW the spires of Oxford As I was passing by, The gray spires of Oxford Against the pearl-gray sky. My heart was with the Oxford men 5 Who went abroad to die. The years go fast in Oxford, The golden years and gay. The hoary Colleges look down On careless boys at play. 10 But when the bugles sounded war They put their games away. They left the peaceful river, The cricket-field, the quad, ^ Taken by permission from " The Spires of Oxford, and Other Poems " by Winifred M. Letts. Copyrighted, 1918, by E. P. Dutton & Co., New York. WmiFRED M. LETTS 53 The shaven lawns of Oxford, 15 To seek a bloody sod — They gave their merry youth away For country and for God. God rest you, happy gentlemen. Who laid your good lives down, 20 Who took the khaki and the gun Instead of cap and gown. God bring you to a fairer place Than even Oxford town. Winifred M. Letts KING ROBERT OF SICILY Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine, Apparelled in magnificent attire. With retinue of many a knight and squire. On St. John's eve, at vespers, proudly sat 5 And heard the priest chant the Magnificat. And as he listened, o'er and o'er again Repeated, like a burden or refrain. He caught the words, ''Deposuit potentes De sede, et exaltavit humiles;'' 10 And slowly lifting up his kingly head. He to a learned clerk beside him said, 2. Allemaine is Germany. The Germans living on the borders of the Rhine were formerly called Alemanni by their Gallic neighbors, and to-day the French name for Germany is Allemagne. 6. The Magnificat is the song of rejoicing by the Virgin Mary when receiving the visit of Elizabeth. See St. Luke's Gospel, chap- ter i. In the Roman Catholic service the Latin words of the song at its beginning are Magnificat anima mea Dominum. 54 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW "What mean these words?" The clerk made answer meet, " He has put down the mighty from their seat. And has exalted them of low degree." 15 Thereat King Robert muttered scornfully, " 'T is well that such seditious words are sung Only by priests and in the Latin tongue; For unto priests and people be it known, There is no power can push me from my throne ! " 20 And leaning back, he yawned and fell asleep. Lulled by the chant monotonous and deep. When he awoke, it was already night; The church was empty, and there was no light, Save where the lamps, that glimmered few and faint, 25 Lighted a little space before some saint. He started from his seat and gazed around, But saw no living thing and heard no sound. He groped towards the door, but it was locked; He cried aloud, and listened, and then knocked, 30 And uttered awful threatenings and complaints, And imprecations upon men and saints. The sounds reechoed from the roof and walls As if dead priests were laughing in their stalls. At length the sexton, hearing from without 35 The tumult of the knocking and the shout, And thinking thieves were in the house of prayer. Came with his lantern, asking, " W^ho is there?" Half choked with rage. King Robert fiercely said, " Open : 't is I, the King ! Art thou afraid? " 40 The frightened sexton, muttering, with a curse, " This is some drunken vagabond, or worse ! " Turned the great key and flung the portal wide; A man rushed by him at a single stride. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 55 Haggard, half naked, without hat or cloak, 45 Who neither turned, nor looked at him, nor spoke. But leaped into the blackness of the night, And vanished Hke a spectre from his sight. Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine, 50 Despoiled of his magnificent attire. Bareheaded, breathless, and besprent with mire. With sense of wrong and outrage desperate. Strode on and thundered at the palace gate ; Rushed through the courtyard, thrusting in his rage 55 To right and left each seneschal and page, And hurried up the broad and sounding stair. His white face ghastly in the torches' glare. From hall to hall he passed with breathless speed; Voices and cries he heard, but did not heed, 60 Until at last he reached the banquet-room, Blazing with light, and breathing with perfume. There on the dais sat another king. Wearing his robes, his crown, his signet-ring, King Robert's self in features, form, and height, 65 But all transfigured with angelic fight ! It was an Angel; and his presence there With a divine effulgence filled the air. An exaltation, piercing the disguise, Though none the hidden Angel recognize. 70 A moment speechless, motionless, amazed, The throneless monarch on the Angel gazed, Who met his look of anger and surprise With the divine compassion of his eyes; 56 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Then said, "Who art thou? and why com'st thou here?" 75 To which King Robert answered with a sneer, '* I am the King, and come to claim my own From an impostor, who usurps my throne!" And suddenly, at these audacious words. Up sprang the angry guests, and drew their swords; 80 The Angel answered, with unruffled brow, "Nay, not the King, but the King's Jester, thou Henceforth shalt wear the bells and scalloped cape, And for thy counsellor shalt lead an ape; Thou shalt obey my servants when they call, 85 And wait upon my henchmen in the hall!" Deaf to King Robert's threats and cries and prayers, They thrust him from the hall and down the stairs; A group of tittering pages ran before. And as they opened wide the folding-door, 90 His heart failed, for he heard, with strange alarms. The boisterous laughter of the men-at-arms, And all the vaulted chamber roar and ring With the mock plaudits of "Long hve the King!" Next morning, waking with the day's first beam, 95 He said within himself, "It was a dream!" But the straw rustled as he turned his head; There were the cap and bells beside his bed; Around him rose the bare, discolored walls; Close by, the steeds were champing in their stalls, 100 82. The king's jester was one of the persons about the king who made sport for the court. He was dressed in a motley garb, which has passed down with changes to that of the modern circus clown. The jester, or fool, plays a conspicuous part in Shakespeare's plays. Scott describes one in the character of Wamba in Ivanhoe. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 57 And in the corner, a revolting shape, Shivering and chattering sat the wretched ape. It was no dream; the world he loved so much Had turned to dust and ashes at his touch! Days came and went; and now returned again 105 To Sicily the old Saturnian reign; Under the Angel's governance benign The happy island danced with corn and wine, And deep within the mountain's burning breast Enceladus, the giant, was at rest. 110 Meanwhile King Robert yielded to his fate. Sullen and silent and disconsolate. Dressed in the motley garb that Jesters wear, With look bewildered and a vacant stare. Close shaven above the ears, as monks are shorn, 115 By courtiers mocked, by pages laughed to scorn. His only friend the ape, his only food What others left, — he still was unsubdued. And when the Angel met him on his way. And half in earnest, half in jest, would say, 120 Sternly, though tenderly, that he might feel The velvet scabbard held a sword of steel, "Art thou the King?" the passion of his woe Burst from him in resistless overflow, And, lifting high his forehead, he would fling 125 The haughty answer back, "I am, I am the King!" Almost three years were ended; when there came Ambassadors of great repute and name 106. The fabled reign of the god Saturn was often called "the golden age." 110. Enceladus was a hundred-armed giant, who made war on the gods, was killed by Zeus, and buried under yEtna. An old myth attributes the eruptions of iEtna to his restlessness. 58 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW From Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine, Unto King Robert, saying that Pope Urbane 130 By letter summoned them forthwith to come On Holy Thursday to his city of Rome. The Angel with great joy received his guests. And gave them presents of embroidered vests. And velvet mantles with rich ermine lined, 135 And rings and jewels of the rarest kind. Then he departed with them o'er the sea Into the lovely land of Italy, Whose loveliness was more resplendent made By the mere passing of that cavalcade, 140 With plumes, and cloaks, and housings, and the stir Of jewelled bridle and of golden spur. And lo ! among the menials, in mock state. Upon a piebald steed, with shambling gait. His cloak of fox-tails flapping in the wind, 145 The solemn ape demurely perched behind. King Robert rode, making huge merriment In all the country towns through which they went. The Pope received them with great pomp and blare Of bannered trumpets, on Saint Peter's square, 150 Giving his benediction and embrace. Fervent, and full of apostolic grace. While with congratulations and with prayers He entertained the Angel unawares, Robert, the Jester, bursting through the crowd, 155 Into their presence rushed, and cried aloud, " I am the King ! Look, and behold in me Robert, your brother. King of Sicily ! This man, who wears my semblance to your eyes. Is an impostor in a king's disguise. 160 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 59 Do you not know me? does no voice within Answer my cry, and say we are akin? " The Pope in silence, but with troubled mien. Gazed at the Angel's countenance serene; The Emperor, laughing, said, " It is strange sport 165 To keep a madman for thy Fool at court!" And the poor, baffled Jester in disgrace Was hustled back among the populace. In solemn state the Holy Week went by. And Easter Sunday gleamed upon the sky; 170 The presence of the Angel, with its light, Before the sun rose, made the city bright, And with new fervor filled the hearts of men, Who felt that Christ indeed had risen again. Even the Jester, on his bed of straw, 175 With haggard eyes the unwonted splendor saw. He felt within a power unfelt before. And, kneeling humbly on his chamber-floor, He heard the rushing garments of the Lord Sweep through the silent air, ascending heavenward. And now the visit ending, and once more 181 Valmond returning to the Danube's shore. Homeward the Angel journeyed, and again The land was made resplendent with his train. Flashing along the towns of Italy 185 Unto Salerno, and from thence by sea. And when once more within Palermo's wall. And, seated on the throne in his great hall. He heard the Angelus from convent towers. As if the better world conversed with ours, 190 189. The Angelus or Angelus Domini is a prayer to the Virgin, insti- tuted by Pope Urban 11. It begins with the words Angelus Domini 60 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW He beckoned to King Robert to draw nigher. And with a gesture bade the rest retire; And when they were alone, the Angel said, '* Art thou the King? " Then, bowing down his head. King Robert crossed both hands upon his breast, 195 And meekly answered him: '*Thou knowest best! My sins as scarlet are; let me go hence. And in some cloister's school of penitence. Across those stones, that pave the way to heaven, Walk barefoot, till my guilty soul be shriven ! '* 200 The Angel smiled, and from his radiant face A holy hght illumined all the place. And through the open window, loud and clear, They heard the monks chant in the chapel near, Above the stir and tumult of the street: 205 "He has put down the mighty from their seat, And has exalted them of low degree!" And through the chant a second melody Rose like the throbbing of a single string: " I am an Angel, and thou art the King ! " 210 King Robert, who was standing near the throne, Lifted his eyes, and lo ! he was alone ! But all apparelled as in days of old. With ermined mantle and with cloth of gold; And when his courtiers came, they found him there 215 Kneeling upon the floor,^absorbed in silent prayer. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow nuntiavit Mariae (the angel of the Lord announced to Mary). Then follows the salutation of Gabriel, Ave Maria (Hail, Mary). The prayer is recited three times a day at the sound of a bell, which is therefore called the Angelus bell. Note line 49 of Evangeline, and re- call also the well-known picture entitled The Angelus by the French painter, Jean Frangois Millet. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 61 SANDALPHON Have you read in the Talmud of old. In the Legends the Rabbins have told Of the limitless realms of the air. Have you read it, — the marvelous story Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory, 5 Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer? How, erect, at the outermost gates Of the City Celestial he waits. With his feet on the ladder of light. That, crowded with angels unnumbered, 10 By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered Alone in the desert at night? The Angels of Wind and of Fire Chant only one hymn, and expire With the song's irresistible stress; 15 Expire in their rapture and wonder. As harp-strings are broken asunder By music they throb to express. But serene in the rapturous throng. Unmoved by the rush of the song, 20 With eyes unimpassioned and slow, Among the dead angels, the deathless Sandalphon stands listening breathless To sounds that ascend from below; — ■ From the spirits on earth that adore, 25 From the souls that entreat and implore In the fervor and passion of prayer; 62 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW From the hearts that are broken with losses. And weary with dragging the crosses Too heavy for mortals to bear. 30 And he gathers the prayers as he stands, And they change into flowers in his hands. Into garlands of purple and red; And beneath the great arch of the portal, Through the streets of the City Immortal 35 Is wafted the fragrance they shed. It is but a legend, I know, — A fable, a phantom, a show. Of the ancient Rabbinical lore; Yet the old mediaeval tradition, 40 The beautiful, strange superstition. But haunts me and holds me the more. When I look from my window at night. And the welkin above is all white, All throbbing and panting with stars, 45 Among them majestic is standing Sandalphon the angel, expanding His pinions in nebulous bars. And the legend, I feel, is a part Of the hunger and thirst of the heart, 50 The frenzy and fire of the brain. That grasps at the fruitage forbidden. The golden pomegranates of Eden, To quiet its fever and pain. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 63 THE SKELETON IN ARMOR ^ "Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me ! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, 5 But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms, Why dost thou haunt me?" Then, from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to rise, 10 As when the Northern skies Gleam in December; And, like the water's flow Under December's snow. Came a dull voice of woe 15 From the heart's chamber. "I was a Viking old! My deeds, though manifold, * "This ballad was suggested to me," says Mr. Longfellow, ** while riding on the sea-shore at Newport. A year or two previous a skeleton had been dug up at Fall River, clad in broken and corroded armor; and the idea occurred to me of connecting it with the Round Tower at Newport, generally known hitherto as the Old Windmill, though now claimed by the Danes as a work of their early ances- tors." It is generally conceded now that the Norsemen had nothing to do with the old mill at Newport, which is a close copy of one standing at Chesterton, in Warwickshire, England. The destruction of the armor shortly after it was found has prevented any trust- worthy examination of it, to see if it was really Scandinavian or only Indian. The poet sings as one haunted by the skeleton, and able to call out its voice. 5. This old warrior was not embalmed as an Egyptian mummy. 17. The Vik-ings took their name from an old Norse word, vik, still 64 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW No Skald in song has told. No Saga taught thee ! 20 Take heed, that in thy verse Thou dost the tale rehearse, Else dread a dead man's curse; For this I sought thee. "Far in the Northern Land, 25 By the wild Baltic's strand, I, with my childish hand, Tamed the gerfalcon; And, with my skates fast-bound. Skimmed the half -frozen Sound, 30 That the poor whimpering hound Trembled to walk on. "Oft to his frozen lair Tracked I the grisly bear. While from my path the hare 35 Fled like a shadow; Oft through the forest dark Followed the were-wolf's bark. Until the soaring lark Sang from the meadow. 40 used in Norway, signifying creek, because these sea-pirates made their haunts among the indentations of the coast, and sallied out thence in search of booty. 19. The Skald was the Norse chronicler and poet who sang of brave deeds at the feasts of the warriors. 20. The Saga was the saying or chronicle of the heroic deeds. There are many of these old sagas still preserved in Northern litera- ture. 38. In the fables of Northern Europe there were said to be men who could change themselves into wolves at pleasure, and they were called were-wolves. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW G5 "But when I older grew. Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders. Wild was the life we led; 45 Many the souls that sped, Many the hearts that bled, By our stern orders. "Many a wassail-bout Wore the long winter out; 50 Often our midnight shout Set the cocks crowing. As we the Berserk's tale Measured in cups of ale, Draining the oaken pail, 65 Filled to o'erflowing. " Once as I told in glee Tales of the stormy sea, Soft eyes did gaze on me, Burning, yet tender; 60 And as the white stars shine On the dark Norway pine, On that dark heart of mine Fell their soft splendor. "I wooed the blue-eyed maid, 65 Yielding, yet half afraid, 53. There was a famous warrior in the fabulous history of Nor- way who went into battle bare of armor (ber — bare; scerke — a shirt of mail), but possessed of a terrible rage; he had twelve sons like himself, who were also called Berserks or Berserkers, and the phrase Berserker rage has come into use to express a terrible fury which makes a man fearless and strong. €6 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW And in the forest's shade Our vows were plighted. Under its loosened vest Fluttered her little breast, 70 Like birds within their nest By the hawk frighted. "Bright in her father's hall Shields gleamed upon the wall. Loud sang the minstrels all, 75 Chanting his glory; When of old Hildebrand I asked his daughter's hand; Mute did the minstrels stand To hear my story. 80 "While the brown ale he quaflFed, Loud then the champion laughed. And as the wind-gusts waft The sea-foam brightly. So the loud laugh of scorn, 85 Out of those lips unshorn, From the deep drinking-horn Blew the foam Hghtly. ^. "She was a Prince's child, I but a Viking wild, 90 And though she blushed and smiled, I was discarded! Should not the dove so white Follow the sea-mew's flight. Why did they leave that night 95 Her nest unguarded .^^ HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 67 " Scarce had I put to sea. Bearing the maid with me. Fairest of all was she Among the Norsemen! 100 When on the white sea-strand. Waving his armed hand. Saw we old Hildebrand, With twenty horsemen. "Then launched they to the blast, 105 Bent like a reed each mast. Yet we were gaining fast. When the wind failed us; And with a sudden flaw Came round the gusty Skaw, 110 So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us. "And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail, Death ! was the helmsman^s hail, 115 Death without quarter! Mid-ships with iron keel Struck we her ribs of steel; Down her black hulk did reel Through the black water! 120 [ "As with his wings aslant. Sails the fierce cormorant. Seeking some rocky haunt. With his prey laden; So toward the open main, 125 Beating to sea again. 68 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Through the wild hurricane, Bore I the maiden. "Three weeks we westward bore. And when the storm was o'er, 130 Cloud-hke we saw the shore Stretching to leeward; There for my lady's bower Built I the lofty tower, Which, to this very hour, 135 Stands looking seaward. "There lived we many years; Time dried the maiden's tears; She had forgot her fears, She was a mother; 140 Death closed her mild blue eyes. Under that tower she lies; Ne'er shall the sun arise On such another! "Still grew my bosom then, 145 Still as a stagnant fen! Hateful to me were men. The sunhght hateful! In that vast forest here. Clad in my warlike gear, 150 Fell I upon my spear, O, death was grateful! "Thus, seamed with many scars, Bursting these prison bars. Up to its native stars 155 My soul ascended ! HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 69 There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, Skoal! to the Northland! skoal T' Thus the tale ended. 160 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow THE FINDING OF THE LYRE There lay upon the ocean's shore What once a tortoise served to cover; A year and more, with rush and roar, The surf had rolled it over. Had played with it, and flung it by, 5 As wind and weather might decide it. Then tossed it high where sand-drifts dry Cheap burial might provide it. It rested there to bleach or tan, The rains had soaked, the suns had burned it; 10 With many a ban the fisherman Had stumbled o'er and spurned it; And there the fisher-girl would stay. Conjecturing with her brother How in their play the poor estray 15 Might serve some use or other. So there it lay, through wet and dry. As empty as the last new sonnet, Till by and by came Mercury, And, having mused upon it, 20 "Why, here," cried he, "the thing of things In shape, material, and dimension ! 159. "In Scandinavia," says Mr. Longfellow, "this is the custom- ary salutation when drinking a health. " 70 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Give it but strings, and, lo, it sings, A wonderful invention!'* So said, so done; the chords he strained, 25 And, as his fingers o'er them hovered. The shell disdained a soul had gained, The lyre had been discovered. O empty world that round us lies. Dead shell, of soul and thought forsaken, 30 Brought we but eyes like Mercury's, In thee what songs should waken! James Russell Lowell THE HERITAGE The rich man's son inherits lands. And piles of brick and stone, and gold, And he inherits soft white hands. And tender flesh that fears the cold. Nor dares to wear a garment old; 5 A heritage, it seems to me. One scarce would wish to hold in fee. The rich man's son inherits cares; The bank may break, the factory burn, A breath may burst his bubble shares, 10 And soft white hands could hardly earn A living that would serve his turn; A heritage, it seems to me. One scarce would wish to hold in fee. The rich man's son inherits wants, 15 His stomach craves for dainty fare; JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 71 With sated heart, he hears the pants Of toihng hinds with brown arms bare. And wearies in his easy-chair; A heritage, it seems to me. One scarce would wish to hold in fee. 20 What doth the poor man's son inherit? Stout muscles and a sinewy heart, A hardy frame, a hardier spirit ; King of two hands, he does his part 25 In every useful toil and art; A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. What doth the poor man's son inherit .'* Wishes o'erjoyed with humble things, 30 A rank adjudged by toil- won merit. Content that from employment springs, A heart that in his labor sings; A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. 35 What doth the poor man's son inherit? A patience learned of being poor. Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it, A fellow-feeling that is sure To make the outcast bless his door; 40 A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. O rich man's son ! there is a toil That with all others level stands; Large charity doth never soil, 45 But only whiten, soft white hands; This is the best crop from thy lands. 72 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL A heritage, it seems to me, Worth being rich to hold in fee. O poor man's son! scorn not thy state; 50 There is worse weariness than thine. In merely being rich and great; Toil only gives the soul to shine, And makes rest fragrant and benign; A heritage, it seems to me, 55 Worth being poor to hold in fee. Both, heirs to some six feet of sod. Are equal in the earth at last; Both, children of the same dear God, Prove title to your heirship vast 60 By record of a well-filled past; A heritage, it seems to me, Well worth a life to hold in fee. James Russell Lowell LINCOLN, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE ^ When the Norn Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour Greatening and darkening as it hurried on, She left the Heaven of Heroes and came down To make a man to meet the mortal need. She took the tried clay of the common road — 5 Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth, Dasht through it all a strain of prophecy; Tempered the heap with thrill of human tears; Then mixt a laughter with the serious stuff. ^ By courtesy of the author. Copyright, 1919, by Edwin Mark- ham. EDWIN MAEKHAM 73 Into the shape she breathed a flame to hght 10 That tender, tragic, ever-changing face; And laid on him a sense of the Mystic Powers, Moving — all husht — behind the mortal vail. Here was a man to hold against the world, A man to match the mountains and the sea. 15 The color of the ground was in him, the red earth; The smack and tang of elemental things : The rectitude and patience of the cliff; The good- will of the rain that loves all leaves; The friendly welcome of the wayside well; 20 The courage of the bird that dares the sea; The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn; The pity of the snow that hides all scars; The secrecy of streams that make their way Under the mountain to the rifted rock; 25 The tolerance and equity of hght That gives as freely to the shrinking flower As to the great oak flaring to the wind — To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn That shoulders out the sky. Sprung from the West, 30 He drank the valorous youth of a new world. The strength of virgin forests braced his mind, The hush of spacious prairies stilled his soul. His words were oaks in acorns; and his thoughts Were roots that firmly gript the granite truth. 35 Up from log cabin to the Capitol, One fire was on his spirit, one resolve — To send the keen ax to the root of wrong. Clearing a free way for the feet of God, The eyes of conscience testing every stroke, 40 To make his deed the measure of a man. 74 EDWIN MARKHAM He built the rail-pile and he built the State, Pouring his splendid strength through every blow: The grip that swung the ax in Illinois Was on the pen that set a people free. 45 So came the Captain with the mighty heart; And when the judgment thunders split the house. Wrenching the rafters from their ancient rest. He held the ridgepole up, and spikt again The rafters of the Home. He held his place — 50 Held the long purpose like a growing tree — Held on through blame and faltered not at praise. And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down As when a lordly cedar, green with boughs. Goes down with a great shout upon the hills, 55 And leaves a lonesome place against the sky. Edwin Markham THE COMING OF SPRING There 's something in the air That 's new and sweet and rare — A scent of summer things, A whir as if of wings. There's something, too, that's new 5 In the color of the blue That's in the morning sky, Before the sun is high. And though on plain and hill 'T is winter, winter still, 10 There's something seems to say That winter 's had its day. NORA PERRY is And all this changing tint. This whispering stir and hint Of bud and bloom and wing, 15 Is the coming of the spring. And to-morrow or to-day The brooks will break away From their icy, frozen sleep. And run, and laugh, and leap. 20 And the next thing, in the woods. The catkins in their hoods Of fur and silk will stand, A sturdy Httle band. And the tassels soft and fine 25 Of the hazel will entwine, And the elder branches show Their buds against the snow. So, silently but swift. Above the wintry drift, 30 The long days gain and gain. Until on hill and plain, — Once more, and yet once more. Returning as before. We see the bloom of birth 35 Make young again the earth. Nora Perry 76 WILLIAM TYLER PAGE THE AMERICAN'S CREED I BELIEVE in the United States of America as a govern- ment of the people, by the people, for the people, whose just powers are derived from the consent of the governed; a democracy in a republic, a sovereign nation of many sovereign states, a perfect Union, 5 one and inseparable, established upon those princi- ples of freedom, equality, justice, and humanity for which American patriots sacrificed their lives and fortunes. I therefore believe it is my duty to my country 10 to love it, to support its constitution, to obey its laws, to respect its flag, and to defend it against all enemies. William Tyler Page THE PARTING OF MARMION AND DOUGLAS Not far advanced was morning day. When Marmion did his troops array To Surrey's camp to ride; He had safe-conduct for his band. Beneath the royal seal and hand, 5 And Douglas gave a guide: The ancient Earl, with stately grace. Would Clara on her palfrey place, And whispered in an undertone, "Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown.'* 10 The train from out the castle drew. But Marmion stopped to bid adieu : — "Though something I might plain," he said, "Of cold respect to stranger guest. Sent hither by your king's behest, 15 SIR WALTER SCOTT 77 While in Tantallon's towers I stayed. Part we in friendship from your land. And, noble Earl, receive my hand." — But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms and thus he spoke : — 20 "My manors, halls, and bowers shall still Be open, at my sovereign's will, To each one whom he hsts, howe'er Unmeet to be the owner's peer. My castles are my king's alone, 25 From turret to foundation-stone, — The hand of Douglas is his own; And never shall in friendly grasp The hand of such as Marmion clasp." — Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, 30 And shook his very frame for ire. And — "This to me!" he said, — "An 't were not for thy hoary beard. Such hand as Marmion's had not spared To cleave the Douglas' head! 35 And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer, He who does England's message here. Although the meanest in her state. May well, proud Angus, be thy mate: And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, 40 Even in thy pitch of pride. Here in thy hold, thy vassals near (Nay never look upon your lord. And lay your hands upon your sword), I tell thee, thou 'rt defied ! 45 And if thou said'st I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near. 78 SIR WALTER SCOTT Lord Angus, thou hast lied!" — On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage 50 Overcame the ashen hue of age: Fierce he broke forth, — "And dar*st thou then To beard the Hon in his den. The Douglas in his hall? And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go? 55 No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no ! Up drawbridge, grooms, — what. Warder, ho ! Let the portcullis fall." — Lord Marmion turned, — well was his need ! — And dashed the rowels in his steed; 60 Like arrow through the archway sprung; The ponderous grate behind him rung: To pass there was such scanty room. The bars descending razed his plume. The steed along the drawbridge flies, 65 Just as it trembled on the rise; Not lighter does the swallow skim Along the smooth lake's level brim; And when Lord Marmion reached his band. He halts, and turns with clenched hand, 70 And shout of loud defiance pours. And shook his gauntlet at the towers. "Horse! horse!" the Douglas cried, "and chase!" But soon he reined his fury's pace : "A royal messenger he came, 75 Though most unworthy of the name. Saint Mary, mend my fiery mood! Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood, I thought to slay him where he stood r 'T is pity of him too," he cried; ^ ^ WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 79 "Bold can he speak, and fairly ride: I warrant him a warrior tried." With this his mandate he recalls, And slowly seeks his castle halls. Sir Walter Scott BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen. Because thou art not seen, 5 Although thy breath be rude. Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly; Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then, heigh-ho, the holly! This life is most jolly ! 10 Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, Thou dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp. Thy sting is not so sharp 15 As friend remembered not. Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then, heigh-ho, the holly! This life is most jolly! 20 William Shakespeare 8ft WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE HARK, HARK! THE LARK Hark, hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings. And Phoebus gins arise His steeds to water at those springs On chahc'd flowers that hes; And winking Mary-buds begin 5 To ope their golden eyes; With every thing that pretty is. My lady sweet, arise, Arise, arise. William Shakespeare THE SONG OF THE CAMP "Give us a song!" the soldiers cried. The outer trenches guarding. When the heated guns of the camps allied Grew weary of bombarding. The dark Redan, in silent scoff, 5 Lay, grim and threatening, under; And the tawny mound of the Malakoff No longer belched its thunder. There was a pause. A guardsman said, "We storm the forts to-morrow; 10 Sing while we may, another day Will bring enough of sorrow." They lay along the battery's side. Below the smoking cannon: Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde, 15 And from the banks of Shannon. BAYARD TAYLOR 81 They sang of love, and not of fame; Forgot was Britain's glory : Each heart recalled a different name, But all sang "Annie Laurie." 20 Voice after voice caught up the song, Until its tender passion Rose like an anthem, rich and strong, — Their battle-eve confession. Dear girl, her name he dared not speak, 25 But, as the song grew louder. Something upon the soldier's cheek Washed off the stains of powder. Beyond the darkening ocean burned The bloody sunset's embers, 30 While the Crimean valleys learned How English love remembers. And once again a fire of hell Rained on the Russian quarters. With scream of shot, and burst of shell, 35 And bellowing of the mortars! And Irish Nora's eyes are dim For a singer, dumb and gory; And English Mary mourns for him Who sang of "Annie Laurie." 40 Sleep, soldiers ! still in honored rest Your truth and valor wearing: The bravest are the tenderest, — The loving are the daring. Bayard Taylor 82 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON THE REVENGE A BALLAD OF THE FLEET I At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, And a pinnace, Hke a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away; "Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty- three!" Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: "Tore God I am no coward; But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear, 5 And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick. We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty- three.?" II Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward; You fly them for a moment to fight with them again. But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore. 10 I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard, To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain." Ill So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day, Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven; But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land 15 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 83 Very carefully and slow, Men of Bideford in Devon, And we laid them on the ballast down below; For we brought them all aboard, And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain, 20 To the thumb-screw and the stake, for the glory of the Lord. IV He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight. And he sailed away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight. With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow. "Shall we fight or shall we fly.? 25 Good Sir Richard, tell us now. For to fight is but to die! There'll be little of us left by the time this sun be set." And Sir Richard said again: '* We be all good EngHsh men. Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil, 30 For I never turn'd my back upon Don or devil yet." V Sir Richard spoke and he laugh'd, and we roar'd a hurrah, and so The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe. With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below; 84 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen, 35 And the little Revenge ran on thro' the long sea-lane between. VI Thousands of their soldiers look'd down from their decks and laugh'd, Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft Running on and on, till delay'd By their mountain-like San Philip that, of fifteen hun- dred tons, 40 And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns. Took the breath from our sails, and we stay'd. VII And while now the great San Philip hung above us like a cloud Whence the thunderbolt will fall Long and loud, 45 Four galleons drew away From the Spanish fleet that day, And two upon the larboard and two upon the star- board lay. And the battle-thunder broke from them all. VIII But anon the great San Philip, she bethought herself and went, 50 Having that within her womb that had left her ill content: ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 85 And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand. For a dozen times they came with their pikes and mus- queteers. And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his ears When he leaps from the water to the land. 65 IX And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea. But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty- three. Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came. Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle- thunder and flame; Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame. 60 For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could fight us no more — God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before? X For he said, ''Fight on! fight on!" Tho' his vessel was all but a wreck; And it chanced that, when half of the short summer night was gone, 65 With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck, But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead. And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head, And he said, "Fight on! fight on!" 86 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON XI And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer sea, 70 And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring; But they dared not touch us again, for they fear'd that we still could sting, So they watch'd what the end would be. And we had not fought them in vain. But in perilous plight were we, 75 Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain. And half of the rest of us maim'd for life In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife; And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold. And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it spent; 80 And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side; But Sir Richard cried in his EngHsh pride: "We have fought such a fight for a day and a night As may never be fought again! We have won great glory, my men! 85 And a day less or more At sea or ashore, We die — does it matter when? Sink me the ship, Master Gunner — sink her, split her in twain! Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!" 90 XII And the gunner said, "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply: ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 87 "We have children, we have wives, And the Lord hath spared our hves. We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go; We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow." 95 And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe. XIII And the stately Spanish men to their flag-ship bore him then. Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last. And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace; But he rose upon their decks, and he cried: 100 "I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true; I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do. With a joyful spirit I Sir Richard Grenville die!'* And he fell upon their decks, and he died. XIV And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true, 105 And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap That he dared her with one little ship and his English few; Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew. But they sank his body with honor down into the deep. And they mann'd the Revenge with a swarthier alien crew, 110 88 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own ; When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep. And the water began to heave and the weather to moan. And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew, And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earth- quake grew, 115 Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags, And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shat- ter'd navy of Spain, And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags To be lost evermore in the main. Alfred, Lord Tennyson THE LADY OF SHALOTT PART I On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye. That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And through the fields the road runs by To many-towered Camelot; 5 And up and down the people go. Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below. The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, 10 Little breezes dusk and shiver Through the wave that runs forever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot; ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 89 Four gray walls, and four gray towers, 15 Overlook a space of flowers. And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott. By the margin, willow-veiled, Slide the heavy barges trailed 20 By slow horses; and unbailed ^ The shallop flitteth silken-sailed. Skimming down to Camelot: But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? 25 Or is she known in all the land, The Lady of Shalott. Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley. Hear a song that echoes cheerly, 30 From the river winding clearly, Down to towered Camelot: And by the moon the reaper weary, Piling sheaves in uplands airy. Listening, whispers, *"T is the fairy 35 Lady of Shalott." PART II There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colors gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay 40 To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she. The Lady of Shalott. 45 90 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year. Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near Winding down to Camelot; 60 There the river eddy whirls, And there the surly village churls, And the red cloaks of market-girls. Pass onward from Shalott. Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, 55 An abbot on an ambhng pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd lad. Or long-haired page in crimson clad. Goes by to towered Camelot; And sometimes thro' the mirror blue 60 The knights come riding two and two: She hath no loyal knight and true. The Lady of Shalott. But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, 65 For often thro' the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights. And music, went to Camelot: Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed; 70 "I am half sick of shadows," said The Lady of Shalott. PART III A BOW-SHOT from her bower-eaves. He rode between the barley-sheaves. ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 91 The sun came dazzling through the leaves, 75 And flamed upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight forever kneeled To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, 80 Beside remote Shalott. The gemmy bridle glittered free. Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. The bridle-bells rang merrily 85 As he rode down to Camelot: And from his blazoned baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armor rung. Beside remote Shalott. gO All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather. The helmet and the helmet-feather Burned like one burning flame together. As he rode down to Camelot. 95 As often through the purple night. Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, traiHng light. Moves over still Shalott. His broad clear brow in sunhght glowed; 100 On burnished hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flowed His coal-black curls as on he rode. As he rode down to Camelot. From the bank and from the river 105 92 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON He flashed into the crystal mirror, "Tirra hrra," by the river Sang Sir Lancelot. She left the web, she left the loom. She made three paces thro' the room, 110 She saw the water lily bloom. She saw the helmet and the plume. She looked down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror cracked from side to side; 115 "The curse is come upon me,'* cried The Lady of Shalott. PART IV In the stormy east-wind straining. The pale yellow woods were waning. The broad stream in his banks complaining, 120 Heavily the low sky raining Over towered Camelot; Down she came and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat. And round about the prow she wrote, 125 The Lady of Shalott. And down the river's dim expanse — Like some bold seer in a trance. Seeing all his own mischance — With a glassy countenance 130 Did she look to Camelot. And at the closing of the day She loosed the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away. The Lady of Shalott. 135 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 93 Lying, robed in snowy white That loosely flew to left and right — The leaves upon her falling light — Thro' the noises of the night She floated down to Camelot: 140 And as the boat-head wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last song. The Lady of Shalott. Heard a carol, mournful, holy, 145 Chanted loudly, chanted lowly. Till her blood was frozen slowly. And her eyes were darkened wholly. Turned to towered Camelot; For ere she reached upon the tide 150 The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died. The Lady of Shalott. Under tower and balcony, By garden wall and gallery, 155 A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high. Silent into Camelot. Out upon the wharfs they came. Knight and burgher, lord and dame, 160 And round the prow they read her name, The Lady of Shalott. Who is this? and what is here. And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; 165 I And they crossed themselves for fear, " All the knights at Camelot: 94 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON But Lancelot mused a little space; He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, 170 The Lady of Shalott." Alfred, Lord Tennyson SIR GALAHAD My good blade carves the casques of men. My tough lance thrusteth sure. My strength is as the strength of ten. Because my heart is pure. The shattering trumpet shrill eth high, 5 The hard brands shiver on the steel, The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly. The horse and rider reel; They reel, they roll in clanging lists. And when the tide of combat stands, 10 Perfume and flowers fall in showers. That lightly rain from ladies' hands. How sweet are looks that ladies bend On whom their favors fall ! For them I battle till the end, 15 To save from shame and thrall ; But all my heart is drawn above, My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine; I never felt the kiss of love. Nor maiden's hand in mine. 20 More bounteous aspects on me beam. Me mightier transports move and thrill; So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer A virgin heart in work and will. ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 95 When down the stormy crescent goes, 25 A Hght before me swims, Between dark stems the forest glows, I hear a noise of hymns. Then by some secret shrine I ride; I hear a voice, but none are there; 30 The stalls are void, the doors are wide. The tapers burning fair. Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth. The silver vessels sparkle clean. The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, 35 And solemn chaunts resound between. Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I find a magic bark. I leap on board; no helmsman steers; I float till all is dark. 40 A gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the Holy Grail; With folded feet, in stoles of white, On sleeping wings they sail. Ah, blessed vision! blood of God! 45 My spirit beats her mortal bars, As down dark tides the glory slides. And starlike mingles with the stars. When on my goodly charger borne Thro' dreaming towns I go, 50 The cock crows ere the Christmas morn. The streets are dumb with snow. The tempest crackles on the leads. And, ringing, springs from brand and mail; But o'er the dark a glory spreads, 55 And gilds the driving hail. 96 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON I leave the plain, I climb the height; No branchy thicket shelter yields; But blessed forms in whistling storms Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields. 60 A maiden knight — to me is given Such hope, I know not fear; I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven That often meet me here. I muse on joy that will not cease, 65 Pure spaces clothed in living beams, Pure lilies of eternal peace, Whose odors haunt my dreams; And, stricken by an angel's hand, This mortal armor that I wear, 70 This w^eight and size, this heart and eyes, Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air. The clouds are broken in the sky. And thro' the mountain^walls A rolling organ-harmony 75 Swells up and shakes and falls. Then move the trees, the copses nod. Wings flutter, voices hover clear: "O just and faithful knight of God! Ride on! the prize is near." 80 So pass I hostel, hall, and grange; By bridge and ford, by park and pale, All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide, Until I find the Holy Grail. Alfred, Lord Tennyson JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 97 BARBARA FRIETCHIE Up from the meadows rich with corn. Clear in the cool September morn. The clustered spires of Frederick stand Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. Round about them orchards sweep, 6 Apple and peach tree fruited deep. Fair as a garden of the Lord, To the eyes of the famished rebel horde, On that pleasant morn of the early fall When Lee marched over the mountain wall, — 10 Over the mountains, winding down. Horse and foot into Frederick town. Forty flags with their silver stars, Forty flags with their crimson bars. Flapped in the morning wind; the sun 15 Of noon looked down, and saw not one. Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then. Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; Bravest of all in Frederick town, She took up the flag the men hauled down; 20 In her attic-window the staff she set, To show that one heart was loyal yet. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER Up the street came the rebel tread, Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. Under his slouch hat left and right 25 He glanced : the old flag met his sight. "Halt!" — the dust-brown ranks stood fast; "Fire!" — out blazed the rifle-blast. It shivered the window, pane and sash; It rent the banner with seam and gash. 30 Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf; She leaned h,r out on the window-sill. And shook it forth with a royal will. "Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, 35 But spare your country's flag," she said. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame. Over the face of the leader came; The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word: 40 "Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog! March on !" he said. All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet; All day long that free flag tost 45 Over the heads of the rebel host. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 99 Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well; And through the hill-gaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night. 50 Barbara Frietchie's work is o*er. And the rebel rides on his raids no more. Honor to her! and let a tear Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, 55 Flag of freedom and union wave ! Peace and order and beauty draw Round thy symbol of light and law; And ever the stars above look down On thy stars below in Frederick town. 60 John Greenleaf Whittier CENTENNIAL HYMN * Our fathers' God ! from out whose hand The centuries fall like grains of sand. We meet to-day, united, free, And loyal to our land and Thee, To thank Thee for the era done, 5 And trust Thee for the opening one. ^ Written for the opening of the International Exhibition, Phila- delphia, May 10, 1876. 100 JOHN GEEENLEAF WHITTIER II Here, where of old, by Thy design, The fathers spake that word of Thine Whose echo is the glad refrain Of rended bolt and falling chain, lO To grace our festal time, from all The zones of earth our guests we call. Ill Be with us while the New World greets The Old World thronging all its streets. Unveiling all the triumphs won 15 By art or toil beneath the sun; And unto common good ordain This rivalship of hand and brain. IV Thou, who hast here in concord furled The war flags of a gathered world, 20 Beneath our Western skies fulfil The Orient's mission of good-will, And, freighted with love's Golden Fleece, Send back its Argonauts of peace. V For art and labor met in truce, 25 For beauty made the bride of use. We thank Thee; but, withal, we crave The austere virtues strong to save. The honor proof to place or gold. The manhood never bought nor sold ! 30 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 101 VI Oh make Thou us, through centuries long. In peace secure, in justice strong; Around our gift of freedom draw The safeguards of Thy righteous law: And, cast in some diviner mould, 35 Let the new cycle shame the old! John Greenleaf Whittier THE TRAILING ARBUTUS I WANDERED loucly whcrc the pine-trees made Against the bitter East their barricade, And, guided by its swfeet Perfume, I found, within a narrow dell, The trailing spring flower tinted like a shell 5 Amid dry leaves and mosses at my feet. From under dead boughs, for whose loss the pines Moaned ceaseless overhead, the blossoming vines Lifted their glad surprise. While yet the bluebird smoothed in leafless trees 10 His feathers ruffled by the chill sea-breeze, And snow-drifts lingered under April skies. As, pausing, o'er the lonely flower I bent, I thought of lives thus lowly, clogged and pent. Which yet find room, 15 Through care and cumber, coldness and decay. To lend a sweetness to the ungenial day, And make the sad earth happier for their bloom. John Greenleaf Whittier INDEX OF TITLES Address to the Army (Albert, King of Belgium), 36. America the Beautiful (Bates), S8. American's Creed, The (Page) . 76. Ballad of the Boston Tea-Party, A (Holmes), 27. Barbara Frietchie (Whittier), 97. Be True (Bonar), 39. Blow, Blow, thou Winter Wind (Shakespeare), 79. Broomstick Train, The (Holmes), 31. Centennial Hymn, The (Whit- tier), 99. Coming of Spring, The (Perry), 74. Contentment (Holmes), 1. Deacon's Masterpiece, The (Holmes), 4. Each and All (Emerson), 48. Finding of the Lyre, The (Low- ell), 69. Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill Battle (Holmes), 10. Hark, Hark! the Lark (Shake- speare), 80. Heritage, The (Lowell), 70. Herve Kiel (Browning), 39. How the Old Horse Won the Bet (Holmes), 21. King Robert of Sicily (Longfel- low), 53. Lady of Shalott, The (Tenny- son), 88. Lincoln, the Man of the People (Markham), 72. My Poplars (Garrison), 50. New Every Morning (Coolidge), 46. Nobility (Cary), 45. Old Ironsides (Holmes), 8. Parting of Marmion and Doug- las, The (Scott), 76. Revenge, The (Tennyson), 82. Rose and the Gardener, The (Dobson), 48. Sandalphon (Longfellow), 61. Sir Galahad (Tennyson), 94. Skeleton in Armor, The (Long- fellow), 63. Song of the Camp, The (Taylor) 80. Spires of Oxford, The (Letts), 52. Trailing Arbutus (Whittier), 101. Union and Liberty (Holmes), 8. War Inevitable (Henry), 51. 'A Step Forward In Reading** THE RIVERSIDE READERS EDITED BY JAMES H. VAN SICKLE Superintendent of Schools, Springfield, Mass. AND WILHELMINA SEEGMILLER Lat€ Director of Art, Indianapolis. Fortnerly Principal of the fVealthj Avenue Pub' lie School, Grand Rapids, Mich. ASSISTED BY FRANCES JENKINS Instructor in Elementary Education, College for Teachers, University of Cincinnati, Formerly Supervisor of Elementary Grades, Decatur ^ III. illustrated by Ruth Mary Hallock Clara E. Atwood Maginel Wright Enright E. Boyd Smith Howard Pyle, and other notable artists Fresh Material These Readers contain an unusually large amount of fresh copyrighted material taken from the world's best literature for children. Latest Teaching Methods They represent the latest developments in the methods of teaching readings the kind of teaching that will be found in the best schools of to-day. A rtis tic Make - up Artistically the books will set a new standard in textbook making. The colored illustrations of the primary books are particularly attractive. Mechanical Features The paper used in the books, the type for each grade, and the dimensions and arrangement of the type page were all determined by careful experimenting, in order to safeguard the eyesight of children. Send for complete illustrated circular. PRIMER FOURTH READER FIRST READER FIFTH READER SECOND READER SIXTH READER THIRD READER SEVENTH READER EIGHTH READER HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO CHILDREN'S CLASSICS IN DRAMATIC FORM BOOK ONE — For Fifst and Second Grades, 40 cents. Postpaid. BOOK TWO ~ For Second and Third Grades. 40 cents. Postpaid, BOOK THREE - For Third and Fourth Grades. 44 cents. Postpaid/ BOOK FOUR — For Fifth and Sixth Grades. 56 cents. Postpaid ^OOK FIVE — For Seventh and Eighth Grades. 64 cents. Postpaid. i DRAMATIZED SCENES FROM AMERICAN HISTORY— For Sixth to Eighth Grades. 64 cents. Postpaid. By AUGUSTA STEVENSON Formerly a Teacher in the IndiatiapoUs Fublic Schools These books accomplish three important functions : — lirs% they arouse a gfreater interest in oral reading; second, they develop an expressive voice; and third, they give freedom and grace in the bodily attitudes and movements involved in reading and speaking. The use of these books will greatly improve the oral reading in your schools^ In these days, when so many books are hastily read in school, there is a tendency to sacrifice ex- pression to the mechanics and interpretation of reading. Those acquainted with school work know too well the resulting monotonous, indistinct speech and the self-conscious, listleSi attitude which characterize so much of the reading of pupil& fn grades above the third. The dramatic appeal of the stories in this book will cause the child to lose himself in the char- acter he is impersonating, and to read with a naturalness and expressiveness unknown to him before; and this improvement will be evident in all his oral reading and even in his speech. « HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO SUPPLEMENTARY READERS GRADE I The Hiawatha Primer. By Florence Holbrook. The Dutch Twins Primer. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. GRADE II The Book of Nature Myths. By Florence Holbrook. The Doers. By William John Hopkins. The Eskimo Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. Kittens and Cats. By Eulalie Osgood Grover. Opera Stories from Wagner. By Florence Akin. Children's Classics in Dramatic Form. By Augusta Stevenson. Book One. GRADE III Book of Fables and Folk Stories. By H. E. Scudder. The Dutch Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. Famous Old Tales. Edited by Henry Cabot Lodge. Little-Folk Lyrics. By F. D. Sherman. Three Years with the Poets. Edited by Bertha Hazard. Children's Classics in Dramatic Form. By Augusta Stevenson. Book Two. GRADE IV "I Am An American." By Sara Cone Bryai^. The Cave Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. The Japanese Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. Home Life Around the World. By G. A. Mirick and Burton Holmes. Stories from the Arabian Nights. Edited by S. Eliot. Northland Heroes. By Florence Holbrook. Old Ballads in Prose. By Eva March Tappan. A Book of Fairy-Tale Bears. Edited by Clifton Johnson. Little Bird Blue. By W. L. and Irene Finley. Children's Classics in Dramatic Form. By Augusta Stevenson. Book Three. GRADE V The spartan Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. The Belgian Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. The Irish Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. The Mexican Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins. The Little Book of the Flag. By Eva March Tappan. Stories of Patriotism. By Norma H. Deming. In the Days of Giants. By Abbie Farwell Brown. Sinopah, the Indian Boy. By James W. Schultz. Children's Classics in Dramatic Form. By Augusta Stevenson. Book Four. • HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY . BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO THE TWINS SERIES By LUCY FITCH PERKINS This series of supplementary reading books aims to picture vividly the life and conditions in countries whose children have come to form a numerous portion of our own population, or in whose history America has a keen interest, and to foster a kindly feeling and a deserved respect for the various nations. Geographical Series The Dutch Twins Primer, Grade I. The Dutch Twins (( III. The Eskimo Twins « II. The Japanese Twins (( IV. The Irish Twins « V. The Mexican Twins (( VI. The Belgian Twins <( VI. The French Twins (( VII. Historical Series The Cave Twins Grade IV. The Spartan Twins " III, IV. Each Volume is illustrated by the author OPERA STORIES FROM WAGNER By FLORENCE AKIN Primary Teacher in the Irvington School, Portland, Oregon Illustrated by E. Pollak-Ottendorff. Miss Akin here interprets for the child one of the world's literary masterpieces. In simple, conversational style so much enjoyed by children, she tells the four stories of Wagner's The Nibelung Ring, which weaves into one the strange and beautiful myths and legends of Northern Europe. From the heart of the race they bear their lesson of good and evil. The text is especially adapted to the devel- opment of expression and to dramatization. Careful consideration has been given to the selection of words, that they may not require too much explanation by the teacher, and yet may afford reasonable growth for the child's vocabulary. The book is planned for use in the second and third grades. HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO 1720 THE WOODS HUTCHINSON HEALTH SERIES BY WOODS HUTCHINSON, M.D. An ideal course in physiology and hygiene for elementary, ;chools by a writer of international reputation as physician, leacher, and author. THE CHILD'S DAY For Grades III, IV or V. 44 cents. Postpaid. A series of simple, practical, and interesting health-talks, giv- ing the various experiences of a typical day, and showing the child how he may build a s.trong, vigorous body and thereby immeasurably increase his happiness and usefulness. COMMUNITY HYGIENE For Grades V and VI. 68 cents. Postpaid. With the awakening of the social conscience we now realize ) that health is merely the result of right living, and that its principles cannot be taught too early. Community Hygiene is a series of plain common-sense talks to fifth and sixth grade children on how the home, the school, and the commun- ity cooperate to make them strong, healthy, useful citizens. A HANDBOOK OF HEALTH For Grades VI, VII, VIII. 68 cents. Postpaid. An authoritative and fully equipped textbook giving practi- cal information .regarding the body machinery and the promo- tion of health in the individual and in the community. It brings to the pupil in simple language the best information and advice of the medical profession of to-day. i HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO 1921 RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES {Continued) 149. Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. 150. Ouida'a Dog of Flanders, etc. " 151. E wing's Jackanapes, etc. 152. Martineau's The Peasant asd the Prince. 153. Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. 154. Shakespeare's Tempest. 155. Irving's Life of Goldsmith. 156. Tennyson's Gareth and Lynette, etc. 157. The Song of Roland. 158. Malory's Merlin and Sir Balin. 159. Beowulf. IGO. Spenser's Faerie Queene. Book I. IGl. Dickens's Tale of Two Cities. 102. Prose and Poetry of Cardinal Newman. IG3. Shakespeare's Henry V. KM. De Qiiincey's Joan of Arc, etc. 1G5. Scott's Quentin Durwani. UiO. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero- Worship. 1G7. Longfellow's Autobiographical Poems. 1G8. Shelley's Poems. 1G9. Lowell's My Garden Acquaintance, etc. 170. Lamb's Essays of Elia. 171, 172. Emerson's Essays. • 173. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Flag-Raising. 174. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Finding a Home. 175. Whittier's Autobiograpliical Poems. 176. Burroughs' s Afoot and Afloat. 177. Bacon's Essays. 178. Selections from John Ruskin. 179. King Arthur Stories from Malory. 180. Palmer's Odyssey. 181. Goldsmith's The Good-Natured Man. 182. Goldsmith's She Stoops to Conquer. 183. Old English and Scottish Ballads. 184. Shakespeare's King Lear. 185. Moores's Life of Lincoln. 186. Thoreau's Camping in the Maine Woods. 187, 188. Huxley's Autobiography, and Essays. 189. Byron's Childe Harold, Canto IV, etc. 190. Washington's Farewell Address, and Web- ster's Bunker Hill Oration. 191. The Second Shepherds' Play, etc. 192. Mrs. Gaskell's Cranford. 193. Williams's iEneid. 194. Irving's Bracebridge Hall. Selections. 195. Thoreau's Walden. 196. Sheridan's The Rivals. 197. Parton's Captains of Industry. Selected. 198, 199. Macaulay'sLordClive and W.Hastings. 200. Howells's The Rise of Silas Lapham. 201. Harris's Little Mr.Tliimbl^finger Stories. 202. Jewett's The Night Before Thanksgiving. 203. Shum way's Nibelungenlied. J04. Sheffield's Old Testament Narrative. !05. Powers's A Dickens Reader. !0G. Goethe's Faust. Part I. !07. Cooper's The Spy. :08. Aldrich's Story of a Bad Boy. 09. Warner's Being a Boy. 10. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Polly Oliver's Pro- blem. 11. Milton's Areopagitica, etc. 12. Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. 13. Hemingway's Le Morte Arthur. 14. Moores's life of Columbus. 215. Bret Harte's Tennessee's Partner, etc. 216. Ralph Roister Doister. 217. Gorboduc. {In preparation.) 218. Selected Lyrics from Wordsworth, Keata, and Shelley. 219. Selected Lyrics from Dryden, Collins. Gray, Cowper, and Burns. 220. Southern Poems. 221. Macaulay's Speeches on Copyright; Lin- coln's Cooper Union Address. 222. Briggs's College Life. 223. Selections from the Prose Writings of Mat- thew Arnold. 224. Perry's American Mind and American Idealism. 225. Newman's University Subjects. 226. Bui-roughs's Studies in Nature and L't erature . 227. Bryce's Promoting Good Citieenship. 228. Selected English Letters. 229. Jewett's Play-Day Stories. 230. Grenfell's Adrift on an Ice-Pan. 231. Muir's Stickeen. 232. Harte's Waif of the Plains, etc. {/,. preparation.) 233. Tennyson's The Coming of Arthiir, thr Holy Grail and the Passing of Arthur. 234. Selected Essays. 235. Briggs's To College Girls. 236. Lowell's Literary Essays. (Selected.) 238. Short Stories. 239. Selections from American Poetry. 240. Howells's The Sleeping Car, and The Parlor Car. 241. Mills's The Story of a Thousand- Year Pine, etc. 242. Eliot's Training for an Effective Life. 243. Bryant's Iliad. Abridged Edition. 244. Lockwood's English Sonnets. 245. Antin's At School in the Promised Land. 246. Shepard's Shakespeare Questions. 247. Muir's The Boyhood of a Naturalist. 248. Boswell's Life of Johnson. 249. Palmer's Self-Cultivatioii in English, and The Glory of the Imperfect. 250. Sheridan's The School for Scandal. 251. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and Piers the Plougliman. 252. Howells's A Modern Instance. 253. Helen Keller's The Story of My Life. 254. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Modern Verse. 255. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Ameri- can Poets. 256. Richards's High Tide. 257. Kipling Stories and Poems Every Child Should Know, Book I. 258. Kipling Stories and Poems Every Child Should Know, Book II. 259. Burroughs's The Wit of a Duck and Other Papers. 260. Irving's Tales from the Alhambra. 261. Liberty, Peace, and Justice. 262. A Treasury of War Poetry. 263. Peabody's The Piper. (8t (dso back cov«r) 5) RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES (Continued) EXTRA NUMBERS A American Authors and their Birthdays. C Warriner ' s Teaching of English Classics in the Grades. J) Scudder's Literature in School. F Longfellow Leaflets. G Whittier Leaflets. H Holmes Leaflets. / Thomas ' s How to TeachEnglish Classics. J Holbrook's Northland Heroes. A' Minimum College Requirements in Eng- lish for Study. L The Riverside Song Book. M Lowell's Fable for Critics. N Selections from American Authors. O Lowell Leaflets. /* Holbrook's Hiawatha Primer. Q Selections from English Authors. is; Hawthorne ' s Twice-Told Tales. Selected. S Irving's Essays from Sketch Book. Se- lected. T Literature for the Study of Language. U A Dramatization of the Song of Hia- watha. V Holbrook's Book of Nature Mjrths. W Brown's In the Days of Giants. JT Poems for the Study of Language. Y Warner's In the Wilderness. Z Nine Selected Poems. , A A Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner and| Lowell's The Vision of Sir Launfal. ,| BB Poe's The Raven, Whittier' s Snow--» Bound, and Longfellow's The Court- ' ship of Miles Standish. CC Selections for Study and Memorizing.:' DD Sharp's The Year Out-of-Doors. EE Poems for Memorizing. • LIBRARY BINDING 135-136. Chaucer's Prologue, The Knight's Tale, and The Nun's Priest's Tale. 160. Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book I. 166. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero-Worship. 168. Shelley's Poems. Selected. 177. Bacon's Essays. 178. Selections from the Works of John Ruskin. 181-182. Goldsmith's The Good-Natured Man, and She Stoops to Conquer. 183. Old English and Scottish Ballads. 187-188. Huxley's Autobiography and Selected Essays. 191. Second Shepherd's Play, Everyman, etc. 211. Milton's Areopagitica, etc. 216. Ralph Roister Doister. 222. Briggs's College Life. 223. Selections from the Prose Works of Matthew Arnold. 224. Perry's The American Mind and American Idealism. 225. Newman's University Subjects. 226. Burroughs' s Studies in Nature and Literature. 227. Bryce's Promoting Good Citizenship. 235. Briggs's To College Girls. 236. Selected Literary Essays from James Russell Lowell. 242. Eliot's The Training for an Effective Life. 244. Lockwood's English Sonnets. 246. Shepard's Shakespeare Questions. 248. Boswell's Life of Johnson. Abridged, 250. Sheridan's The School for Scandal. 251. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and Piers the Ploughman. 252. Howells's A Modern Instance. 254. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Modem Verse. 255. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of American Poets. 256. Richards's High Tide. K. Minimum College Requirements in English for Study. "i Complete Catalogue and Price List free upon application HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY Extra Number MIVI -■■ «iiiiiiiiJiiiiiiJiii mmmiiuumiz^ W^^^>^^^-r^^^-^^l?^M!iAi-l^M'^^mi^t RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES Complete Catalogue and Price List free upon applicatioji Longfellow's Evangeline. Longfellow's Courtship of Miles Standish. Dramatization of Miles Standish. Whittier's Snow-Bound, etc. Whittier's Mabel Martin. Holmes's Grandmother's Story. 8, 9. Hawthorne's Grandfather's Chair. Hawthorne's Biographical Series. Longfellow's Children's Hour, etc. 14. Longfellow's Song of Hiawatha. Lowell's Under the Old Elm, etc. Bayard Taylor's Lars. 18. Hawthorne's Wonder-Book. 20. Fi-anklin's Autobiography. Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanac, etc. 23. Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales. Washington's Farewell Addresses, etc. 26. Longfellow's Golden Legend. Thoreau's Forest Trees, etc. Burroughs's Birds and Bees. Hawthorne's Little Datfydowndilly, etc. Lowell's Vision of Sir Launfal, etc. Holmes's My Hunt after the Captain, etc. Lincoln's Gettysburg Speech, etc. 35. Longfellow's Tales of a Wayside Lin. Burroughs's Sharp Eyes, etc. Warner's A-Hunting of the Deer, etc. Longfellow's Building of the Ship, etc. Lowell's Books and Libraries, etc. Hawthorne's Tales of the White Hills. Whittier's Tent on the Beach, etc. Emerson's Fortune of the Republic, etc. Bryant's Ulysses among tlie Ph*acians. Edgeworth's Waste not, Want not, etc. Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. Old Testament Stories. 48. Scudder's Fables and Folk Stories. 50. Andersen's Stories. Irving's Rip Van Winkle, etc. Irving's The Voyage, etc. Scott's Lady of the Lake. Bryant's Thanatopsis, etc. Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. Webster's First Bunker Hill Oration. Dickens's Christmas Carol. Dickens's Cricket on the Hearth. Verse and Prose for Beginners in Reading. 61. The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. Fiske's War of Independence. Longfellow's Paul Revere 's Ride, etc. 66. Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. Shakespeare's Julias Ciiesar. Goldsmith's Deserted Village, etc Hawthorne's The Old Manse, etc. 71 Selection from Whittier's Child Life. Milton's Minor Poems. Tennyson's Enoch Arden, etc. Gray's Elegy ; Cowper's John Gilpin. Scudder's George Washington. Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality. Burns's Cotter's Saturday Night, etc. Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. Lamb's Old China, etc. 80. Coleridge's Ancient Mariner ; Campbell's Lochiel's Warning, etc. 81 . Holmes' s Autocrat of the Breakf a3t-Tabl« . 82. Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales. 83. Eliot's Silas Marner. 84. Dana's Two Years Before the Mast. 85. Hughes's Tom Brown's School Days. 86. Scott's Ivanlioe. 87. Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. 88. Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. 89. 90. Swift's Gulliver's Voyages. 91. Hawthorne's House of the Seven Gablea. 92. Burroughs's A Bunch of Herbs, etc. 93. Shakespeare's As You Like It. 94. Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I-III. 95-98. Cooper's Last of the Mohicans. 99. Tennyson's Coming of Arthur, etc. 100. Burke's Conciliation with the Colonies. 101. Pope's Iliad. Books I, VI, XXII, XXIV. 102. Macaulay's Johnson and Goldsmith. 103. Macaulay's Milton. 104. Macaulay's Addison. 105. Carlyle's Essay on Burns. 106. Shakespeare's Macbeth. 107. 108. Grimms' Tales. 109. Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 110. De Quincey's Flight of a Tartar Tribe. 111. Tennyson's Princess. 112. Cranch's ^neid. Books I-III. 113. Poems from Emerson. 114. Peabody's Old Greek Folk Stories. 115. Browning's Pied Piper of Hamelin, etc. 116. Shakespeare's Hamlet. 117. 118. Stories from the Arabian Nights. 119, 120. Poe's Poems and Tales. 121. Speech by Hajoie on Foote's Resolution. 122. Speech by Webster in Reply to Hayne. 123. Lowell's Democracy, etc. 124. Aldrich's The Cruise of the Dolphin. 125. Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. 126. Ruskin's King of the Golden River, etc. 127. Keats's Ode on a Grecian Urn, etc. 128. Byron's Prisoner of Chillon, etc. 129. Plato's Judgment of Socrates. 130. Emerson's The Superlative, etc. 131. Emerson's Nature, etc. 132. Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, etc. 133. Schurz's Abraham Lincoln. 134. Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. 135. Chaucer's Prologue. 136. Chaucer's The Knight's Tale, etc. 137. Bryant's Iliad. Bks. I, VI, XXII, XXIV. 138. Hawthorne's The Custom House, etc. 139. Howells's Doorstep Acquaintance, etc. 140. Thackeray's Henry Esmond. 141. Higginson's Three Outdoor Papers. 142. Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies. 143. Plutarch's Alexander the Great. 144. Scudder's The Book of Legends. 145. Hawthorne's The Gentle Boy, etc. 146. Longfellow's Giles Corey. 147. Pope's Rape of the Lock, etc. 148. Hawthorne's Marble Faun. (/See also hack covers.) (74) 3tl)f ISiticrsiOe JLtttrature ^ttits SELECTIONS FOR READING AND MEMORIZING EIGHTH GRADE Prescribed by tbe New York State Education Department in the Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature, 1919 BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, I919, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ALL KIGHTS RESERVED The copyrighted selections in this book are used by permission of, and special arrangement with, their proprietors. 0|C 22 i9»3 tKfje 3Ribfrstbe J3rpsf« CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSKTTS U . S . A \ ©C1A560225 CONTENTS (Arranged as a Course^ ) FIRST HALF YEAR Grade Poet — James Russell Lowell Aladdin James Russell Lowell 1 The First Snowfall James Russell Lowell 1 To THE Dandelion James Russell Lowell 3 Concord Bridge James Russell Lowell 5 The Fountain James Russell Lowell 13 O Beautiful, My Country James Russell Lowell 14 The Shepherd of King Admetus James Russell Lowell 15 The Singing Leaves James Russell Lowell 16 Other Poems for Reading My Lost Youth Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 49 HoRATius Thomas Babington Macaulay 60 Princeton, May, 1917 Alfred Noyes 82 The Cloud Percy Bysshe SheUey 89 Selections for Memorizing The Soldier Rupert Brooke 37 Incident of the French Camp ' Robert Browning 37 Speech of Vindication Robert Emmet 43 King Philip to the W^jie Sftr'ftlftis Edward Everett 44 Sweet Peas John Keats 46 Gettysburg Address Abraham Lincoln 48 In Flanders Fields John McCrae 81 To Helen Edgar Allan Poe 85 My Native Land Sir Walter Scott 89 Bugle Song Alfred, Lord Tennyson 94 1 The titles are here groyped in accordance with suggestions in the New York Elementary Syllabus in Language and Literature. The text of the selections (pages 1-121), except those by the "Grade Poet," is arranged according to the alphabet- ical sequence of authors' names. An Index of Titles is given on page 123. iv CONTENTS Supposed Speech of John Adams Daniel Webster 95 Memorial Day Address Woodrow Wilson 121 SECOND HALF YEAR ' Poems for Reading The Eve of Waterloo Lord Byron 41 The Birds of Killingworth Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 52 The Vision of Sir Launfal James Russell Lowell 20 The Fool's Prayer Edward Rowland Sill 92 Snow-Bound John Greenleaf Whittier 98 Selections for Memorizing To A Waterfowl W^illiam Cullen Bryant 39 Waiting John Burroughs 40 Trees Joyce Kilmer 4G Recessional Rudyard Kipling 47 Washington James Russell Lowell 32 Lincoln, the Man of the People Edwin Markham 80 What has England Done? Vilda Sauvage Owens 84 The Uprising in the North Thomas Buchanan Read 80 Opportunity Edward Rowland Sill 92 Flower in the Crannied Wall Alfred, Lord Tennyson 95 O Captain! My Captain! Walt Whitman 97 In Quest John Greenleaf Whittier 119 Index of Titles 123 POEMS AND PROSE FOR READING AND MEMORIZING IN THE EIGHTH GRADE GROUP I. POEMS BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL ALADDIN When I was a beggarly boy. And lived in a cellar damp, I had not a friend nor a toy, But I had Aladdin's lamp; When I could not sleep for the cold, 5 I had fire enough in my brain. And builded, with roofs of gold. My beautiful castle in Spain. Since then I have toiled day and night, I have money and power good store, 10 But I 'd give all my lamps of silver bright For the one that is mine no more; Take, Fortune, whatever you choose. You gave, and may snatch again; I have nothing 't would pain me to lose, 15 For I own no more castles in Spain! THE FIRST SNOW-FALL The snow had begun in the gloaming. And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Every pine and fir and hemlock 5 Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl. From sheds new-roofed with Carrara Came Chanticleer's muffled crow, 10 The stiff rails softened to swan's-down, And still fluttered down the snow. I stood and watched by the window The noiseless work of the sky. And the sudden flurries of snow-birds, 15 Like brown leaves whirling by. I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn Where a little headstone stood; How the flakes were folding it gentl^'-, As did robins the babes in the wood. 20 Up spoke our own little Mabel, Saying, "Father, who makes it snow.^^" And I told of the good All-Father Who cares for us here below. Again T looked at the snow-fall 25 And thought of the leaden sky That arched o'er our first great sorrow. When that mound was heaped so high. I remembered the gradual patience That fell from that cloud like snow, 30 Flake by flake, healing and hiding The scar that renewed our woe. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 3 And again to the child I whispered, "The snow that husheth all, Darling, the merciful Father 35 Alone can make it fall ! " Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her, And she, kissing back, could not know That my kiss was given to her sister. Folded close under deepening snow. 40 TO THE DANDELION Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way. Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold. First pledge of blithesome May, Which children pluck, and, full of pride uphold. High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that they 5 An Eldorado in the grass have found, Which not the rich earth's ample round May match in wealth, thou art more dear to me Than all the prouder summer-blooms may be. Gold such as thine ne'er drew the Spanish prow 10 Through the primeval hush of Indian seas, Nor wrinkled the lean brow Of age, to rob the lover's heart of ease; 'T is the Spring's largess, which she scatters now To rich and poor alike, with lavish hand, 15 Though most hearts never understand To take it at God's value, but pass by The offered wealth with unrewarded eye. Thou art my tropics and mine Italy; To look at thee unlocks a warmer chme; 20 4 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL The eyes thou givest me Are in the heart, and heed not space or time: Not in mid June the golden-cuirassed bee Feels a more summer-hke warm ravishment In the white Hly's breezy tent, 25 His fragrant Sybaris, than I, when first From the dark green thy yellow circles burst. Then think I of deep shadows on the grass. Of meadows where in sun the cattle graze, Where, as the breezes pass, 30 The gleaming rushes lean a thousand ways. Of leaves that slumber in a cloudy mass. Or whiten in the wind, of waters blue That from the distance sparkle through Some woodland gap, and of a sky above, 35 Where one white cloud like a stray lamb doth move. My childhood's earliest thoughts are linked with thee; The sight of thee calls back the robin's song. Who, from the dark old tree Beside the door, sang clearly all day long, 40 And I, secure in childish piety. Listened as if I heard an angel sing With news from heaven, which he could bring Fresh every day to my untainted ears When birds and flowers and I were happy peers. 45 How like a prodigal doth nature seem. When thou, for all thy gold, so common art ! Thou teachest me to deem More sacredly of every human heart. Since each reflects in joy its scanty gleam 50 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Of heaven, and could some wondrous secret show, Did we but pay the love we owe, And with a child's undoubting wisdom look On all these living pages of God's book. CONCORD BRIDGE ODE READ AT THE ONE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE FIGHT AT CONCORD BRIDGE Who cometh over the hills, Her garments with morning sweet, The dance of a thousand rills Making music before her feet? Her presence freshens the air; 5 Sunshine steals light from her face; The leaden footstep of Care Leaps to the tune of her pace. Fairness of all that is fair, Grace at the heart of all grace, 10 Sweetener of hut and of hall, Bringer of life out of naught, Freedom, oh, fairest of all The daughters of Time and Thought! II She cometh, cometh to-day: 15 Hark! hear ye not her tread. Sending a thrill through your clay, Under the sod there, ye dead, Her nurshngs and champions? Do ye not hear, as she comes, 20 The bay of the deep-mouthed guns, JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL The gathering rote of the drums? The bells that called ye to prayer, How wildly they clamor on her. Crying, "She cometh! prepare 25 Her to praise and her to honor. That a hundred years ago Scattered here in blood and tears Potent seeds wherefrom should grow Gladness for a hundred years!" 30 III Tell me, young men, have ye seen Creature of diviner mien For true hearts to long and cry for. Manly hearts to live and die for ? What hath she that others want? 35 Brows that all endearments haunt. Eyes that make it sweet to dare, Smiles that cheer untimely death. Looks that fortify despair. Tones more brave than trumpet's breath; 40 Tell me, maidens, have ye known Household charm more sweetly rare, Grace of woman ampler blown. Modesty more debonair, Younger heart with wit full grown? 45 Oh for an hour of my prime. The pulse of my hotter years. That I might praise her in rhyme Would tingle your eyeUds to tears. Our sweetness, our strength, and our star, 50 Our hope, our joy, and our trust. Who lifted us out of the dust. And made us whatever we are ! JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 7 IV Whiter than moonshine upon snow Her raiment is, but round the hem 55 Crimson stained; and, as to and fro Her sandals flash, we see on them, And on her instep veined with blue. Flecks of crimson, on those fair feet. High-arched, Diana-like, and fleet, 60 Fit for no grosser stain than dew : Oh, call them rather chrisms than stains, Sacred and from heroic veins! For, in the glory-guarded pass, Her haughty and far-shining head 65 She bowed to shrive Leonidas With his imperishable dead; Her, too, Morgarten saw. Where the Swiss lion fleshed his icy paw; She followed Cromwell's quenchless star 70 Where the grim Puritan tread Shook Marston, Naseby, and Dunbar: Yea, on her feet are dearer dyes Yet fresh, nor looked on with untearful eyes. Our fathers found her in the woods 75 Wliere Nature meditates and broods, The seeds of unexampled things Which Time to consummation brings Through life and death and man's unstable moods; They met her here, not recognized, 80 A sylvan huntress clothed in furs. To whose chaste wants her bow sufficed. Nor dreamed what destinies were hers : 8 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL She taught them bee-Hke to create Their simpler forms of Church and State, 85 She taught them to endue The past with other functions than it knew, And turn in channels strange the uncertain stream of Fate; Better than all, she fenced them in their need With iron-handed Duty's sternest creed, 90 'Gainst Self's lean wolf that ravens word and deed. VI Why Cometh she hither to-day To this low village of the plain Far from the Present's loud highway, From Trade's cool heart and seething brain? 95 Why Cometh she? She was not far away. Since the soul touched it, not in vain. With pathos of immortal gain, 'T is here her fondest memories stay. She loves yon pine-bemurmured ridge 100 Where now our broad-browed poet sleeps. Dear to both Englands; near him he Who wore the ring of Canace; But most her heart to rapture leaps Where stood that era-parting bridge, 105 O'er which, with footfall still as dew. The Old Time passed into the New; Where, as your stealthy river creeps. He whispers to his listening weeds Tales of sublimest homespun deeds. 110 Here English law and English thought 'Gainst the self-will of England fought; And here were men (coequal with their fate) , Who did great things, unconscious they were great. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 9 They dreamed not what a die was cast 115 With that first answering shot; what then? There was their duty; they were men Schooled the soul's inward gospel to obey, Though leading to the lion's den. They felt the habit-hallowed world give way 120 Beneath their lives, and on went they. Unhappy who was last. When Buttrick gave the word, That awful idol of the unchallenged Past, Strong in their love, and in their hneage strong, 125 Fell crashing: if they heard it not. Yet the earth heard, Nor ever hath forgot, As on from startled throne to throne. Where Superstition sate or conscious Wrong, 130 A shudder ran of some dread birth unknown. Thrice venerable spot! River more fateful than the Rubicon! O'er those red planks, to snatch her diadem, Man's Hope, star-girdled, sprang with them, 135 And over ways untried the feet of Doom strode on. VII Think you these felt no charms In their gray homesteads and embowered farms? In household faces waiting at the door Their evening step should lighten up no more? 140 In fields their boyish feet had known? In trees their fathers' hands had set, And which with them had grown. Widening each year their leafy coronet? Felt they no pang of passionate regret 145 For those unsoUd goods that seem so much our own? 10 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL These things are dear to every man that Hves, And Ufe prized more for what it lends than gives. Yea, many a tie, through iteration sweet, Strove to detain their fatal feet; 150 And yet the enduring half they chose, Whose choice decides a man life's slave or king, The invisible things of God before the seen and known: Therefore their memory inspiration blows With echoes gathering on from zone to zone; 155 For manhood is the one immortal thing Beneath Time's changeful sky, And, where it lightened once, from age to age, Men come to learn, in grateful pilgrimage, That length of days is knowing when to die. 160 VIII What marvellous change of things and men! She, a world-wandering orphan then. So mighty now ! Those are her streams That whirl the myriad, myriad wheels Of all that does, and all that dreams, 165 Of all that thinks, and all that feels. Through spaces stretched from sea to sea; By idle tongues and busy brains. By who doth right, and who refrains, i Hers are our losses and our gains; 170 Our maker and our victim she. IX Maiden half mortal, half divine. We triumphed in thy coming; to the brinks Our hearts were filled with pride's tumultuous wine; Better to-day who rather feels than thinks. 175 Yet will some graver thoughts intrude, JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 11 And cares of sterner mood; They won thee: who shall keep thee? From the deeps Where discrowned empires o'er their ruins brood, And many a thwarted hope wrings its weak hands and weeps, 180 I hear the voice as of a mighty wind From all heaven's caverns rushing unconfined, "I, Freedom, dwell with Knowledge: I abide With men whom dust of faction cannot blind To the slow tracings of the Eternal Mind; 185 With men by culture trained and fortified, Who bitter duty to sweet lusts prefer, Fearless to counsel and obey. Conscience my sceptre is, and law my sword. Not to be drawn in passion or in play, 190 But terrible to punish and deter; Implacable as God's word, liike it, a shepherd's crook to them that blindly err. Your firm-pulsed sires, my martyrs and my saints, Offshoots of that one stock whose patient sense 195 Hath known to mingle flux with permanence, Rated my chaste denials and restraints Above the moment's dear-paid paradise: Beware lest, shifting with Time's gradual creep, The light that guided shine into your eyes. 200 The envious Powers of ill nor wink nor sleep : Be therefore timely wise. Nor laugh when this one steals, and that one lies, As if your luck could cheat those sleepless spies, Till the deaf Fury comes your house to sweep ! *' 205 I hear the voice, and unaff righted bow; Ye shall not be prophetic now, Heralds of ill, that darkening fly Between my vision and the rainbgwed sky, 12 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Or on the left your coarse forebodings croak 210 From many a blasted bough On Yggdrasil's storm-sinewed oak, That once was green, Hope of the West, as thou: Yet pardon if I tremble while I boast; For I have loved as those who pardon most. 215 X Away, ungrateful doubt, away! At least she is our own to-day. Break into rapture, my song, i Verses, leap forth in the sun, Bearing the joyance along 220 Like a train of fire as ye run ! Pause not for choosing of words. Let them but blossom and sing Blithe as the orchards and birds With the new coming of spring! 225 Dance in your joUity, bells; Shout, cannon; cease not, ye drums; Answer, ye hillside and dells; Bow, all ye people! She comes, Radiant, calm-fronted, as when 230 She hallowed that April day. Stay w^ith us! Yes, thou shalt stay. Softener and strengthener of men. Freedom, not won by the vain. Not to be courted in play, 235 Not to be kept without pain. Stay with us! Yes, thou wilt stay. Handmaid and mistress of all, Kindler of deed and of thought. Thou that to hut and to hall 240 Equal deliverance brought! JAIVIES RUSSELL LOWELL ; 13 Souls of her martyrs, draw near. Touch our dull lips with your fire. That we may praise without fear Her our delight, our desire, 245 Our faith's inextinguishable star, Our hope, our remembrance, our trust, Our present, our past, our to be. Who will mingle her life with our dust And makes us deserve to be free ! 250 THE FOUNTAIN Into the sunshine. Full of the light. Leaping and flashing From morn till night; Into the moonlight, 5 Whiter than snow, Waving so flower-like When the winds blow; Into the starlight Rushing in spray, 10 Happy at midnight, Happy by day; Ever in motion, Bhthesome and cheery. Still climbing heavenward, 15 Never aweary; Glad of all weathers. Still seeming best, 14 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Upward or downward. Motion thy rest; 20 Full of a nature Nothing can tame. Changed every moment. Ever the same; Ceaseless aspiring, 25 Ceaseless content. Darkness or sunshine Thy element; Glorious fountain. Let my heart be 30 Fresh, changeful, constant. Upward, like thee I "O BEAUTIFUL! MY COUNTRY!" O Beautiful ! my Country ! ours once more I Smoothing thy gold of war-dishevelled hair 0*er such sweet brows as never other wore. And letting thy set lips. Freed from wrath's pale eclipse, 5 The rosy edges of their smile lay bare. What words divine of lover or of poet Could tell our love and make thee know it. Among the Nations bright beyond compare? What were our lives without thee? 10 What all our lives to save thee? We reck not what we gave thee; We will not dare to doubt thee. But ask whatever else, and we will dare ! JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 15 THE SHEPHERD OF KING ADMETUS There came a youth upon the earth, Some thousand years ago, Whose slender hands were nothing worth, Whether to plough, or reap, or sow. Upon an empty tortoise-shell 5 He stretched some chords, and drew Music that made men's bosoms swell Fearless, or brimmed their eyes with dew. Then King Admetus, one who had Pure taste by right divine, 10 Decreed his singing not too bad To hear between the cups of wine : And so, well pleased with being soothed Into a sweet half -sleep, Three times his kingly beard he smoothed, 15 And made him viceroy o'er his sheep. His words were simple words enough, And yet he used them so. That what in other mouths was rough In his seemed musical and low. 20 Men called him but a shiftless youth. In whom no good they saw; And yet, unwittingly, in truth, They made his careless words their law. They knew not how he learned at all, 25 For idly, hour by hour, 1(5 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL He sat and watched the dead leaves fall. Or mused upon a common flower. It seemed the loveliness of things Did teach him all their use, 30 For, in mere weeds, and stones, and springs, He found a healing power profuse. Men granted that his speech was wise. But, when a glance they caught Of his slim grace and woman's eyes, 35 They laughed, and called him good-for-naught. Yet after he was dead and gone. And e*en his memory dim, Earth seemed more sweet to live upon, More full of love, because of him. 40 And day by day more holy grew Each spot where he had trod. Till after-poets only knew Their first-born brother as a god. THE SINGING LEAVES A BALLAD " What fairings will ye that I bring? " Said the King to his daughters three; *' For I to Vanity Fair am boun, Now say what shall they be.^ " Then up and spake the eldest daughter, That lady tall and grand : JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 17 *' Oh, bring me pearls and diamonds great, And gold rings for my hand." Thereafter spake the second daughter, That was both white and red: 10 "For me bring silks that will stand alone, And a gold comb for my head." Then came the turn of the least daughter. That was whiter than thistle-down, And among the gold of her bhthesome hair 15 Dim shone the golden crown. " There came a bird this morning, And sang 'neath my bower eaves, Till I dreamed, as his music made me, *Ask thou for the Singing Leaves.'" 20 Then the brow of the King swelled crimson With a flush of angry scorn : *' Well have ye spoken, my two eldest. And chosen as ye were born; *' But she, hke a thing of peasant race, 25 That is happy binding the sheaves; " Then he saw her dead mother in her face. And said, *' Thou shalthave thy leaves." II He mounted and rode three days and nights Till he came to Vanity Fair, 30 And 't was easy to buy the gems and the silk, But no Singing Leaves were there. 18 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Then deep in the greenwood rode he, And asked of every tree, ** Oh, if you have ever a Singing Leaf, 35 I pray you give it me!" But the trees all kept their counsel. And never a word said they. Only there sighed from the pine-tops A music of seas far away. 40 Only the pattering aspen Made a sound of growing rain. That fell ever faster and faster, Then faltered to silence again. " Oh, where shall I find a little foot-page 45 That would win both hose and shoon. And will bring to me the Singing Leaves If they grow under the moon.^ " Then lightly turned him Walter the page, By the stirrup as he ran: 50 *' Now pledge you me the truesome word Of a king and gentleman, *' That you will give me the first, first thing You meet at your castle-gate. And the Princess shall get the Singing Leaves, 55 Or mine be a traitor's fate." The King's head dropt upon his breast A moment, as it might be; 'T will be my dog, he thought, and said, " My faith I phght to thee." 60 JAMES RUSSELL LO^VELL 19 Then Walter took from next his heart A packet small and thin, *' Now give you this to the Princess Anne, The Singing Leaves are therein." Ill As the King rode in at his castle-gate, 65 A maiden to meet him ran, And "Welcome, father!" she laughed and cried Together, the Princess Anne. ** Lo, here the Singing Leaves," quoth he, "And woe, but they cost me dear! " 70 She took the packet, and the smile Deepened down beneath the tear. It deepened down till it reached her heart. And then gushed up again, And Ughted her tears as the sudden sun 75 Transfigures the summer rain. And the first Leaf, when it was opened. Sang: " I am Walter the page. And the songs I sing 'neath thy window Are my only heritage." 80 And the second Leaf sang: " But in the land That is neither on earth nor sea, My lute and I are lords of more Than thrice this Idngdom's fee." And the third Leaf sang, " Be mine ! Be mine ! " 85 And ever it sang, " Be mine ! " Then sweeter it sang and ever sweeter. And said, " I am thine, thine, thine! " 20 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL At the first Leaf she grew pale enough. At the second she turned aside, 90 At the third, 't was as if a hly flushed With a rose's red heart's tide. " Good counsel gave the bird," said she, " I have my hope thrice o'er, For they sing to my very heart," she said, 95 *' And it sings to them evermore." She brought to him her beauty and truth. But and broad earldoms three, And he made her queen of the broader lands He held of his lute in fee. 100 THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL PRELUDE TO PART FIRST Over his keys the musing organist. Beginning doubtfully and far away, First lets his fingers wander as they list. And builds a bridge from Dreamland for his lay: Then, as the touch of his loved instrument 5 Gives hope and fervor, nearer draws his theme. First guessed by faint auroral flushes sent Along the wavering vista of his dream. Not only around our infancy Doth heaven with all its splendors lie; 10 Daily, with souls that cringe and plot. We Sinais climb and know it not. Over our manhood bend the skies; Against our fallen and traitor fives JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 21 The great winds utter prophecies; 15 With our faint hearts the mountain strives; Its arms outstretched, the Druid wood Waits with its benedicite; And to our age's drowsy blood Still shouts the inspiring sea. 20 Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us; The beggar is taxed for a corner to die in, The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us, We bargain for the graves we lie in; At the Devil's booth are all things sold, 25 Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold; For a cap and bells our lives we pay, Bubbles we buy with a whole soul's tasking: 17. Druid wood. Poets are fond of this figure. See "Druid-like de- vice," Indian- Summer Reverie; also Evangeline, — "The murmuring pines and the hemlocks Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight Stand like Druids of eld." The priests of the pagan religion among the Celts, the Druids, performed many rites in the woods, and the oak, especially, and the mistletoe were important in certain ceremonies. For the value at- tached to mistletoe growing upon an oak-tree, and for the manner of cutting it with a golden sickle, see Brand's Popular Antiquities. Longfellow uses this figure as a means of description, but Lowell gives to it a hidden meaning, which admirably adapts the form to the purpose of this poem. In his thought the trees of the forest have become, in this later time, the bearers of divine messages, thus tak- ing the place of the priests who formerly found in them symbols of secret and unknown influences, potent to bless or to ban. 18. benedicite. See "old benedictions may recall" in Al Fresco, and Wordsworth's "The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benedictions." 27. The reference to the court jester of the Middle Ages is obvious. For the young, the significance of the figure borrowed from the adornment of the king's fool should be interpreted by conversation and illustration. 22 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 'T is heaven alone that is given away, 'T is only God may be had for the asking; 30 No price is set on the lavish summer; June may be had by the poorest comer. And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, 35 And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen. We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might. An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 40 And, groping blindly above it for hght, Chmbs to a soul in grass and flowers; The flush of life may well be seen Thrilling back over hills and valleys; The cowslip startles in meadows green, ^ 45 The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, And there *s never a leaf nor a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace; The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, 50 And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — 55 In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best? Now is the high-tide of the year. And whatever of life hath ebbed away Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer. Into every bare inlet and creek and bay; 60 JAJVrES RUSSELL LOWELL 23 Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it, We are happy now because God wills it; No matter how barren the past may have been, 'T is enough for us now that the leaves are green; We sit in the warm shade and feel right well 65 How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell, We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing That skies are clear and grass is growing; The breeze comes whispering in our ear. That dandelions are blossoming near, 70 That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, That the river is bluer than the sky. That the robin is plastering his house hard by; And if the breeze kept the good news back, For other couriers we should not lack; 75 We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing, — And hark! how clear bold chanticleer, Warmed with the new wine of the year. Tells all in his lusty crowing! Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how; 80 Everything is happy now. Everything is upward striving; 'T is as easy now for the heart to be true As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, — 'T is the natural way of Hving: 85 Who knows whither the clouds have fled? In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake; And the eyes forget the tears they have shed. The heart forgets its sorrow and ache; The soul partakes the season's youth, 90 And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth. Like burnt-out craters healed with snow. What wonder if Sir Launfal now Remembered the keeping of his vow? 95 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL PART FIRST "My golden spurs now bring to me, And bring to me my richest mail, For to-morrow I go over land, .§nd §ea , . In search of the Holy Graif;f * " ""• '•• Shall never a bed for me be spread, 100 Nor shall a pillow be under my head, Till I begin my vow to keep; Here on the rushes will I sleep. And perchance there may come a vision true Ere day create the world anew." 105 Slowly Sir Launfal's eyes grew dim, Slumber fell like a cloud on him. And into his soul the vision flew. II The crows flapped over by twos and threes. In the pool drowsed the cattle up to their knees, 110 The little birds sang as if it were The one day of summer in all the year. And the very leaves seemed to sing on the trees: The castle alone in the landscape lay Like an outpost of winter, dull and gray: 115 'T was the proudest hall in the North Countree, And never its gates might opened be, Save to lord or lady of high degree; Summer besieged it on every side, But the churlish stone her assaults defied; 120 She could not scale the chilly wall. Though around it for leagues her pavilions tall Stretched left and right, JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 25 Over the hills and out of sight; Green and broad was every tent, 125 And out of each a murmur went Till the breeze fell off at night. • . . . Ill The drawbridge dropped with a surly clang. And through the dark arch a charger sprang, Bearing Sir Launfal, the maiden knight, 130 In his gilded mail, that flamed so bright It seemed the dark castle had gathered all Those shafts the fierce sun had shot over its wall In his siege of three hundred summers long, And, binding them all in one blazing sheaf, 135 Had cast them forth: so, young and strong. And hghtsome as a locust-leaf. Sir Launfal flashed forth in his maiden mail. To seek in all climes for the Holy Grail. IV It was morning on hill and stream and tree, 140 And morning in the young knight's heart; Only the castle moodily Rebuffed the gifts of the sunshine free. And gloomed by itself apart; The season brimmed all other things up 145 Full as the rain fills the pitcher-plant's cup. As Sir Launfal made morn through the darksome gate, He was 'ware of a leper, crouched by the same. Who begged with his hand and moaned as he sate; And a loathing over Sir Launfal came; 150 26 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL The sunshine went out of his soul with a thrill, The flesh 'neath his armor 'gan shrink and crawl, And midway its leap his heart stood still Like a frozen waterfall; For this man, so foul and bent of stature, 155 Rasped harshly against his dainty nature, And seemed the one blot on the summer morn, — So he tossed him a piece of gold in scorn. VI The leper raised not the gold from the dust: *' Better to me the poor man's crust, 160 Better the blessing of the poor, Though I turn me empty from his door; That is no true alms which the hand can hold; He gives nothing but worthless gold Who gives from a sense of duty; 165 But he who gives but a slender mite. And gives to that which is out of sight. That thread of the all-sustaining Beauty Which runs through all and doth all unite, — The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms, 170 The heart outstretches its eager palms. For a god goes with it and makes it store To the soul that was starving in darkness before." PRELUDE TO PART SECOND Down swept the chill wind from the mountain peak. From the snow five thousand summers old; 175 On open wold and hilltop bleak It had gathered all the cold. And whirled it Hke sleet on the wanderer's cheek; It carried a shiver everywhere From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare; 180 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 27 The little brook heard it and built a roof 'Neath which he could house him, winter-proof; All night by the white stars' frosty gleams He groined his arches and matched his beams; Slender and clear were his crystal spars 185 As the lashes of light that trim the stars; He sculptured every summer delight In his halls and chambers out of sight; Sometimes his tinkling waters slipt Down through a frost-leaved forest-crypt, 190 Long, sparkling aisles of steel-stemmed trees Bending to counterfeit a breeze; Sometimes the roof no fretwork knew But silvery mosses that downward grew: Sometimes it was carved in sharp relief 195 With quaint arabesques of ice-fern leaf; Sometimes it was simply smooth and clear For the gladness of heaven to shine through, and here He had caught the nodding bulrush-tops And hung them thickly with diamond-drops, 200 That crystalled the beams of moon and sun. And made a star of every one: No mortal builder's most rare device Could match this winter-palace of ice; 'T was as if every image that mirrored lay 205 In his depths serene through the summer day, Each fleeting shadow of earth and sky, Lest the happy model should be lost. Had been mimicked in fairy masonry By the elfin builders of the frost. 210 Within the hall are song and laughter, The cheeks of Christmas grow red and jolly, 203. The Empress of Russia, Catherine II, in a magnifipent freak, built a palace of ice, which was a nine-days' wonder. 28 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL And sprouting is every corbel and rafter With lightsome green of ivy and holly; Through the deep gulf of the chimney wide 215 Wallows the Yule-log's roaring tide; The broad flame-pennons droop and flap And belly and tug as a flag in the wind; Like a locust shrills the imprisoned sap. Hunted to death in its galleries blind; 220 And swift little troops of silent sparks, Now pausing, now. scattering away as in fear. Go threading the soot-forest's tangled darks Like herds of startled deer. But the wind without was eager and sharp, 225 Of Sir Launfal's gray hair it makes a harp. And rattles and wrings The icy strings, Singing, in dreary monotone, A Christmas carol of its own, 230 Whose burden still, as he might guess, Was "Shelterless, shelterless, shelterless!" The voice of the seneschal flared like a torch As he shouted the wanderer away from the porch. And he sat in the gateway and saw all night 235 The great hall-fire, so cheery and bold. Through the window-slits of the castle old. Build out its piers of ruddy light Against the drift of the cold. 216. The Yule-log was anciently a huge log burned at the feast of Juul (pronounced Yule) by our Scandinavian ancestors in honor of the god Thor. Juul-tid (Yule-time) corresponded in time to Christmas tide, and when Christian festivities took the place of pagan, many ceremonies remained. The great log, still called the Yule-log, was dragged in and burned in the fireplace after Thor had been forgotten. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 29 PART SECOND There was never a leaf on bush or tree, 240 The bare boughs rattled shudderingly; The river was dumb and could not speak, For the weaver Winter its shroud had spun; A single crow on the tree-top bleak From his shining feathers shed off the cold sun; 245 Again it was morning, but shrunk and cold. As if her veins were sapless and old, And she rose up decrepitly For a last dim look at earth and sea. II Sir Launfal turned from his own hard gate, 250 For another heir in his earldom sate; An old, bent man, worn out and frail, He came back from seeking the Holy Grail; Little he recked of his earldom's loss, No more on his surcoat was blazoned the cross, 255 But deep in his soul the sign he wore, The badge of the suffering and the poor. Ill Sir Launfal's raiment thin and spare Was idle mail 'gainst the barbed air. For it was just at the Christmas time; 260 So he mused, as he sat, of a sunnier chme, And sought for a shelter from cold and snow In the hght and warmth of long-ago; He sees the snake-like caravan crawl O'er the edge of the desert, black and small, 265 30 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Then nearer and nearer, till, one by one, He can count the camels in the sun. As over the red-hot sands they pass To where, in its slender necklace of grass. The little spring laughed and leapt in the shade, 270 And with its own self like an infant played. And waved its signal of palms. IV " For Christ's sweet sake, I beg an alms;'* — The happy camels may reach the spring. But Sir Launfal sees only the grewsome thing, 275 The leper, lank as the rain-blanched bone. That cowers beside him, a thing as lone And white as the ice-isles of Northern seas In the desolate horror of his disease. And Sir Launfal said, "I behold in thee 280 An image of Him who died on the tree; Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, Thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns. And to thy life were not denied The wounds in the hands and feet and side: 285 Mild Mary's Son, acknowledge me; Behold, through him, I give to Thee!" VI Then the soul of the leper stood up in his eyes And looked at Sir Launfal, and straightway he Remembered in what a haughtier guise 290 He had flung an alms to leprosie. When he girt his young life up in gilded mail And set forth in search of the Holy Grail. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL SI The heart within him was ashes and dust; He parted in twain his single crust, 295 He broke the ice on the streamlet's brink, And gave the leper to eat and drink: 'T was a mouldy crust of coarse brown bread, 'T was water out of a wooden bowl, — Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper fed, 300 And 't was red wine he drank with his thirsty soul. VII As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, A hght shone round about the place; The leper no longer crouched at his side. But stood before him glorified, 305 Shining and tall and fair and straight As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate, — Himself the Gate whereby men can Enter the temple of God in Man. VIII His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine, 310 And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine. That mingle their softness and quiet in one With the shaggy unrest they float down upon; And the voice that was calmer than silence said, ** Lo, it is I, be not afraid! 315 In many climes, without avail, Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail; Behold, it is here, — this cup which thou Didst fill at the streamlet for Me but now; This crust is My body broken for thee, 320 This water His blood that died on the tree; The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, In whatso we share with another's need: S2 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Not what we give, but what we share, — For the gift without the giver is bare; 325 Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, — Himself, his hungering neighbor, and Me." IX Sir Launfal awoke as from a swound : — *'The Grail in my castle here is found! Hang my idle armor up on the wall, 330 Let it be the spider's banquet-hall; He must be fenced with stronger mail Who would seek and find the Holy Grail." The castle gate stands open now, And the wanderer is welcome to the hall 335 As the hangbird is to the elm-tree bough; No longer scowl the turrets tall, The Summer's long siege at last is o'er; When the first poor outcast went in at the door. She entered with him in disguise, 340 And mastered the fortress by surprise; There is no spot she loves so well on ground, She lingers and smiles there the whole year round; The meanest serf on Sir Launfal's land Has hall and bower at his command; 345 And there's no poor man in the North Countree But is lord of the earldom as much as he. WASHINGTON » FROM UNDER THE OLD ELM Soldier and statesman, rarest unison; High-poised example of great duties done * Near Cambridge Common stands an old elm, having at its base JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL S3 Simply as breathing, a world's honors worn As life's indifferent gifts to all men born; Dumb for himself, unless it were to God, 5 But for his barefoot soldiers eloquent. Tramping the snow to coral where they trod, Held by his awe in hollow-eyed content; Modest, yet firm as Nature's self; unb lamed Save by the men his nobler temper shamed; 10 Never seduced through show of present good By other than unsetting lights to steer New-trimmed in Heaven, nor than his steadfast mood More steadfast, far from rashness as from fear; Rigid, but with himself first, grasping still 15 In swerve less poise the wave-beat helm of will: Not honored then or now because he wooed The popular voice, but that he still withstood; Broad-minded, higher-souled, there is but one Who was all this and ours, and all men's, — Wash- ington. 20 Minds strong by fits, irregularly great. That flash and darken like revolving lights. Catch more the vulgar eye unschooled to wait On the long curve of patient days and nights Rounding a whole life to the circle fair 25 Of orbed fulfilment; and this balanced soul, So simple in its grandeur, coldly bare Of draperies theatric, standing there In perfect symmetry of seK-control, a stone with the inscription, "Under this tree Washington first took command of the American Army, July 3d, 1775." Upon the one hundredth anniversary of this day the citizens of Cambridge held a celebration under the tree, and Mr. Lowell read the ode from which these stanzas are quoted. 7. At Valley Forge. 34 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Seems not so great at first, but greater grows 30 Still as we look, and by experience learn How grand this quiet is, how nobly stern The discipline that wrought through life-long throes That energetic passion of repose. A nature too decorous and severe, 35 Too self-respectful in its griefs and joys, For ardent girls and boys Who find no genius in a mind so clear That its grave depths seem obvious and near, Nor a soul great that made so httle noise. 40 They feel no force in that calm-cadenced phrase. The habitual full-dress of his well-bred mind. That seems to pace the minuet's courtly maze And tell of ampler leisures, roomier length of days. His firm-based brain, to self so Httle kind 45 That no tumultuary blood could blind, Formed to control men, not to amaze, Looms not like those that borrow height of haze: It was a world of statelier movement then Than this we fret in, he a denizen 50 Of that ideal Rome that made a man for men. The longer on this earth we live And weigh the various qualities of men. Seeing how most are fugitive, Or fitful gifts, at best, of now and then, 55 Wind-wavered corpse-lights, daughters of the fen, 35. The rhythm shows the pronunciation to be deco'rous. The poets vary in their usage. An analogous word is sonorous. Deco- rum always has the accent on the second syllable. 5Q. The daughters of the fen, — will-o'-the-wisps. The Welsh call the same phenomenon corpse-lights, because it was supposed to fore- bode death, and to show the road that the corpse would take. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 35 The more we feel the liigh stern-featured beauty Of plain devotedness to duty, Steadfast and still, nor paid with mortal praise, But finding amplest recompense 60 For life's ungarlanded expense In work done squarely and unwasted days. For this we honor him, that he could know How sweet the service and how free Of her, God's eldest daughter here below, 65 And choose in meanest raiment which was she. Placid completeness, life without a fall From faith or highest aims, truth's breachless wall, Nor ever faltered 'neath the load Of petty cares, that gall great hearts the most, 70 But kept right on the strenuous up-hill road. Strong to the end, above complaint or boast: The popular tempest on his rock-mailed coast Wasted its wind-borne spray. The noisy marvel of a day; 75 His soul sate still in its unstormed abode. Virginia gave us this imperial man Cast in the massive mould Of those high-statured ages old Which into grander forms our mortal metal ran; 80 She gave us this unblemished gentleman: What shall we give her back but love and praise x\s in the dear old unestranged days Before the inevitable wrong began? Mother of States and undiminished men, 85 Thou gavest us a country, giving him. And we owe alway what we owed thee then: The boon thou wouldst have snatched from us again 36 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Shines as before with no abatement dim. A great man's memory is the only thing 90 With influence to outlast the present whim And bind us as when here he knit our golden ring. All of him that was subject to the hours Lies in thy soil and makes it part of ours: Across more recent graves, 95 Where unresentful Nature waves Her pennons o'er the shot-ploughed sod. Proclaiming the sweet Truce of God, We from this consecrated plain stretch out Our hands as free from afterthought or doubt 100 As here the united North Poured her embrowned manhood forth In welcome of our saviour and thy son. Through battle we have better learned thy worth. The long-breathed valor and undaunted will, 105 Which, like his own, the day's disaster done, Could, safe in manhood, suffer and be still. Both thine and ours the victory hardly won; If ever with distempered voice or pen We have misdeemed thee, here we take it back, 110 And for the dead of both don common black. Be to us evermore as thou wast then. As we forget thou hast not always been. Mother of States and unpolluted men, 114 Virginia, fitly named from England's manly queen ! 98. The name is drawn from a compact in 1040 when the Church forbade the barons to make any attack on their fellows between sunset on Wednesday and sunrise on the following Monday, or upon any ecclesiastical fast or feast day. It also provided that no man was to molest a laborer working in the fields, or to lay hands on any implement of husbandry, on pain of excommunication. GROUP II. POEMS BY VARIOUS AUTHORS THE SOLDIER ' If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, 5 Gave once her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air. Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. And think this heart, all evil shed away, A pulse in the eternal mind, no less 10 Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness. In hearts at peace, under an English heaven. Rupert Brooke INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP 2 You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: A mile or so away. On a little mound. Napoleon Stood on our storming-day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, 5 Legs wide, arms locked behind, ^ From the Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke. Copyright, 1915, by John Lane Co. 2 The background of this poem is the battle of Regensburg (Ratis- bon) in Napoleon's fifth war with Austria. 38 ROBERT BROWNING As if to balance the prone brow Oppressive with its mind. Just as perhaps he mused "My plans That soar, to earth may fall, 10 Let once my army-leader Lannes Waver at yonder wall," — Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew A rider, bound on bound Full-galloping; nor bridle drew 15 Until he reached the mound. Then off there flung in smiling joy. And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect — 20 (So tight he kept his lips compressed. Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two. "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace 25 We ' ve got you Ratisbon ! The Marshal 's in the market-place. And you'll be there anon To see your flag-bird flap his vans Where I, to heart's desire, 30 Perched him ! " The chief's eye flashed; his plans Soared up again like fire. The chief's eye flashed; but presently Softened itself, as sheathes A film the mother-eagle's eye S5 When her bruised eaglet breathes; ROBERT BROWNING 39 "You're wounded!" **Nay," the soldier's pride. Touched to the quick, he said: "I'm killed. Sire!" And his chief beside, Smihng the boy fell dead. 40 Robert Browning TO A WATERFOWL Whither, midst falling dew. While glow the heavens with the last steps of day. Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy sohtary way? Vainly the fowler's eye 5 Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong. As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along. Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 10 Or where the rocking billows rise and sink On the chafed ocean side.? There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and ilhmitable air — 15 Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned. At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near. 20 And soon that toil shall end; Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest. 40 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, Soon, o*er thy sheltered nest. Thou 'rt gone ! the abyss of heaven 25 Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He, who, from zone to zone. Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 30 In the long way that I must tread alone Will lead my steps aright. William Cullen Bryant WAITING Serene, I fold my hands and wait. Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea; I rave no more *gainst time or fate. For, lo ! my own shall come to me. I stay my haste, I make delays, 5 For what avails this eager pace? I stand amid the eternal ways. And what is mine shall know my face. xAsleep, awake, by night or day. The friends I seek are seeking me; 10 No wind can drive my bark astray. Nor change the tide of destiny. What matter if I stand alone? I wait with joy the coming years; My heart shall reap where it has sown, 15 And garner up its fruit of tears. JOHN BURROUGHS 41 The waters know their own and draw The brook that springs in yonder height; So flows the good with equal law Unto the soul of pure delight. 20 The stars come nightly to the sky; The tidal wave unto the sea; Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, Can keep my own away from me. John Burroughs THE EVE OF WATERLOO There was a sound of revelry by night. And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when 5 Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it.^ — No; 't was but the wind, 10 Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet. But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, 15 As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! arm! it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar! 42 GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON' Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and trembhngs of distress, 20 And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated: who could guess 25 If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetous speed, 30 And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While throng' d the citizens with terror dumb, 35 Or whispering with white lips — "The foe! They come ! they come ! " Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay. The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, 40 The morn the marshalling in arms — the day Battle's magnificently stern array! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is cover'd thick with other clay. Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent, 45 Rider and horse — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent! George Gordon, Lord Byron ROBERT EMMET 43 SPEECH OF VINDICATION (Extract) My Lords : — What have I to say why sentence of death should not be pronounced on me according to law? I have nothing to say that can alter your pre- determination, or that it would become me to ssLjy with any view to the mitigation of that sentence 5 which you are here to pronounce, and which I must abide. But I have much to say which interests me more tha n that life which you have labored to destroy. I have much to say why my reputation should be rescued from the load of false accusation and cal- 10 umny which has been heaped upon it. Were I only to suffer death, after being adjudged guilty by your tribunal, I should bow in silence, and meet the fate that awaits me without a murmur. But the sentence of the law, which delivers my body to 15 the executioner, will, through the ministry of that law, labor, in its own vindication, to consign my character to obloquy; for there must be guilt somewhere — ' whether in the sentence of the court, or in the catas- trophe, posterity must determine. 20 When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly port; when my shade shall have joined the bands of those martyred heroes who have shed their blood on the scaffold and in the field in defence of their country and virtue — this is my hope : I wish that my mem- 25 ory and name may animate those who survive me, while I look down with complacency on the destruction of that perfidious government which upholds its domina- tion by blasphemy of the Most High. My lords, you seem impatient for the sacrifice. 30 The blood for which you thirst is not congealed by the 44 ROBERT EMMET artificial terrors which surround your victim; it circu- lates, warmly and unrufiled, through the channels which God created for noble purposes, but which you are bent to destroy for purposes so grievous that 35 they cry to Heaven — be yet patient ! I have but a few words more to say. My lamp of life is nearly extin- guished. My race is run. The grave opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosom. I have but one request to ask at my departure 40 from this world — it is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph ; for, as no one who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let no prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain unin- 45 scribed, until other times and other men can do justice to my character. When my country shall take her place among the nations of the earth — then and not till then — let my epitaph be written ! Robert Emmet KING PHILIP TO THE WHITE SETTLERS White man, there is eternal war between me and thee! I quit not the land of my fathers but with my life. In those woods where I bent my youthful bow, I will still hunt the deer. Over yonder waters I will still ghde unrestrained in my bark canoe. By those dashing 5 waterfalls I will still lay up my winter's store of food. On these fertile meadows I will still plant my corn. Stranger, the land is mine! I understand not these paper rights. I gave not my consent when, as thou sayest, these broad regions were purchased, for a 10 few baubles, of my fathers. They could sell what was theirs; they could sell no more. How could my fathers EDWARD EVERETT 45 sell that which the Great Spirit sent me into the world to live upon? They knew not what they did. The stranger came, a timid suppliant, few and feeble, 15 and asked to lie down on the red man's bear-skin, and warm himself at the red man's fire, and have a little piece of land to raise corn for his women and children; and now he is become strong, and mighty, and bold and spreads out his parchment over the whole, 20 and says, It is mine. Stranger, there is not room for us both. The Great Spirit has not made us to live to- gether. There is poison in the white man's cup; the white man's dog barks at the red man's heels. If I should leave the land of my fathers, whither 25 shall I fly.? Shall I go to the South, and dwell among the graves of the Pequots? Shall I wander to the West.? — the fierce Mohawk, the man-eater, is my foe. Shall I fly to the East? — the great water is before me. No, stranger; here I have lived, and here I will die ! 30 and if here thou abidest, there is eternal war between me and thee. Thou hast taught me thy arts of de- struction. For that alone I thank thee; and now take heed to thy steps; — the red man is thy foe. When thou goest forth by day, my bullet shall whistle by 35 thee; when thou liest down at night, my knife is at thy throat. The noonday sim shall not discover thy enemy, and the darkness of midnight shall not protect thy rest. Thou shalt plant in terror, and I will reap in blood ; thou shalt sow the earth with corn, and I will 40 strew it with ashes; thou shalt go forth with the sickle, and I will follow after with the seal ping-knife; thou shalt build, and I will burn, till the white man or the Indian shall cease from the land. Go thy way, for this time, in safety; but remember, stranger, there 45 is eternal war between me and thee. Edward Everett 46 JOHN KEATS SWEET PEAS Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight : With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white. And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings. Linger awhile upon some bending planks 5 That lean against a streamlet's rushy banks. And watch intently Nature's gentle doings: They will be found softer than ringdove's cooings. How silent comes the water round that bend ! Not the minutest whisper does it send 10 To the o'erhanging sallows: blades of grass Slowly across the chequer'd shadows pass. John Keats TREES I THINK that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day , 5 And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has Iain; Who intimately lives with rain. 10 Poems are made by fools like me. But only God can make a tree. Jcyyce Kilmer RUDYARD KIPLING 47 RECESSIONAL God of our fathers, known of old, Lord of our far-flung battle line — Beneath whose awful hand we hold ' Dominion over palm and pine — Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 5 Lest we forget — lest we forget! The tumult and the shouting dies — The Captains and the Kings depart — Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice. An humble and a contrite heart. 10 Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet. Lest we forget — lest we forget! Far-called our navies melt away — On dune and headland sinks the fire -^ Lo, all our pomp of yesterday .15 Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! Judge of the Nations, spare us yet. Lest we forget — lest we forget! If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe — 20 Such boastings as the Gentiles use, Or lesser breeds without the Law — Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet. Lest we forget — lest we forget! For heathen heart that puts her trust 25 In reeking tube and iron shard — All valiant dust that builds on dust. And guarding calls not Thee to guard, For frantic boast and foolish word. Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord! 80 Rudyard Kipling 48 ABRAHAM LINCOLN GETTYSBURG ADDRESS Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in hb- erty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so 5 conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting- place for those who here gave their lives that that na- tion might live. It is altogether fitting and proper 10 that we should do this. But in a larger sense we can- not dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will httle note, 15 nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus fa r so nobly ad- vanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to 20 the great task remaining before us, — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion, — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, — that this nation, under God, 25 shall have a new birth of freedom, — and that govern- ment of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. Abraham Lincoln HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 49 MY LOST YOUTH Often I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea ; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear old town, And my youth comes back to me. 5 And a verse of a Lapland song Is haunting my memory still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I can see the shadowy lines of its trees, 10 And catch, in sudden gleams. The sheen of the far-surrounding seas. And islands that were the Hesperides Of all my boyish dreams. And the burden of that old song, 15 It murmurs and whispers still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the black wharves and the slips. And the sea -tides tossing free; 20 And Spanish sailors with bearded lips. And the beauty and mystery of the ships. And the magic of the sea. And the voice of that wayward song Is singing and saying still: 25 "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the bulwarks by the shore, And the fort upon the hill; The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar, 30 50 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er, And the bugle wild and shrill. And the music of that old song Throbs in my memory still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, 35 And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the sea-fight far away, How it thundered o'er the tide ! And the dead captains, as they lay In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay 40 Where they in battle died. And the sound of that mournful song Goes through me with a thrill: "A boy's will is the wind's will. And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 45 I can see the breezy dome of groves. The shadows of Deering's Woods; And the friendships old and the early loves Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves In quiet neighborhoods. 50 And the verse of that sweet old song, It flutters and murmurs still: "A boy's will is the wind's will. And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the gleams and glooms that dart 55 Across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, 87. In 1813, when Longfellow was a boy of six, there was an engage- ment off the harbor of Portland between the American brig Enter- prise and the English brig Boxer. Both captains were slain, but the Enterprise won the day and after a fight of three quarters of an hour came into the harbor, bringing the Boxer with her. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 51 That in part are prophecies, and in part Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song 60 Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will. And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." There are things of which I may not speak. There are dreams that cannot die; 65 There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor into the cheek. And a mist before the eye. And the words of that fatal song Come over me like a chill: 70 "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." Strange to me now are the forms I meet When I visit the dear old town; But the native air is pure and sweet, 75 And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street. As they balance up and down. Are singing the beautiful song, Are sighing and whispering still: " A boy's will is the wind's will, 80 And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair, And wdth joy that is almost pain My heart goes back to wander there, And among the dreams of the days that were, 85 I find my lost youth again. And the strange and beautiful song, The groves are repeating it still: ** A boy's will is the wind's will. And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 90 52 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE BIRDS OF KILLINGWORTH ^ It was the season, when through all the land The merle and mavis build, and building sing Those lovely lyrics, written by His hand, Whom Saxon Ceedmon calls the Bhthe-heart King; When on the boughs the purple buds expand, 5 The banners of the vanguard of the Spring, And rivulets, rejoicing, rush and leap. And wave their fluttering signals from the steep. The robin and the bluebird, piping loud. Filled all the blossoming orchards with their glee; 10 The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be; And hungry crows, assembled in a crowd. Clamored their piteous prayer incessantly. Knowing who hears the ravens cry, and said: 15 "Give us, O Lord, this day, our daily bread!" Across the Sound the birds of passage sailed, Speaking some unknown language strange and sweet Of tropic isle remote, and passing hailed The village with the cheers of all their fleet; 20 Or quarrelling together, laughed and railed Like foreign sailors, landed in the street Of seaport town, and with outlandish noise Of oaths and gibberish frightening girls and boys. 1. One of the Tales of a Wayside Inn, supposed to be told by the Poet of the company. Killingworth in Connecticut was named from the Enghsh town Kenilworth, but both in England and in Con- necticut the name became changed into Kilhngworth in popular usage, and here that name has become the regular name of the town. 4. Pronounced Kedmon. 12. See the Gospel of Matthew, x. 29-31. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 53 Thus came the jocund Spring in KilHngworth, 25 In fabulous days, some hundred years ago; And thrifty farmers, as they tilled the earth, Heard with alarm the cawing of the crow. That mingled with the universal mirth, Cassandra-like, prognosticating woe; 30 They shook their heads, and doomed with dreadful words To swift destruction the whole race of birds. And a town-meeting was convened straightway To set a price upon the guilty heads Of these marauders, who, in lieu of pay, 35 Levied black-mail upon the garden beds And cornfields, and beheld without dismay The awful scarecrow, with his fluttering shreds; The skeleton that waited at their feast. Whereby their sinful pleasure was increased. 40 Then from his house, a temple painted white. With fluted columns, and a roof of red. The Squire came forth, august and splendid sight ! Slowly descending, with majestic tread. Three flights of steps, nor looking left nor right, 45 Down the long street he walked, as one who said, "A town that boasts inhabitants like me Can have no lack of good society!'* The Parson, too, appeared, a man austere. The instinct of whose nature was to kill; 50 39. There is an old story that the Egyptians used to set up an image of a dead man at their feasts, to remind the guests of the say- ing, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." 54 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW The wrath of God he preached from year to year. And read, with fervor, Edwards on the Will; His favorite pastime was to slay the deer In Summer on some Adirondac hill; E*en now, while walking down the rural lane, 55 He lopped the wayside lilies with his cane. From the Academy, whose belfry crowned The hill of Science with its vane of brass. Came the Preceptor, gazing idly round. Now at the clouds, and now at the green grass, 60 And all absorbed in reveries profound Of fair Almira in the upper class. Who was, as in a sonnet he had said. As pure as water, and as good as bread. And next the Deacon issued from his door, 65 In his voluminous neck-cloth, white as snow; A suit of sable bombazine he wore; His form was ponderous, and his step was slow; There never was so wise a man before; He seemed the incarnate " Well, I told you so ! " 70 And to perpetuate his great renown There was a street named after him in town. These came together in the new town-hall, With sundry farmers from the region round. The Squire presided, dignified and tall, 75 His air impressive and his reasoning sound; 111 fared it with the birds, both great and small; Hardly a friend in all that crowd they found, 52. Jonathan Edwards was a famous New England divine who lived in the former half of the eighteenth century, and wrote a great book on The Freedom of the Will. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 55 But enemies enough, who every one Charged them with all the crimes beneath the sun. 80 When they had ended, from his place apart Rose the Preceptor, to redress the wrong, And, trembling like a steed before the start, Looked round bewildered on the expectant throng; Then thought of fair Ahnira, and took heart 85 To speak out what was in him, clear and strong. Alike regardless of their smile or frown. And quite determined not to be laughed down. "Plato, anticipating the Reviewers, From his Republic banished without pity 90 The Poets ; in this little town of yours. You put to death, by means of a Committee, The ballad-singers and the Troubadours, The street-musicians of the heavenly city. The birds, who make sweet music for us all 95 In our dark hours, as David did for Saul. "The thrush that carols at the dawn of day From the green steeples of the piny wood; The oriole in the elm; the noisy jay, Jargoning like a foreigner at his food; 100 The bluebird balanced on some topmost spray. Flooding with melody the neighborhood; Linnet and meadow-lark, and all the throng That dwell in nests, and have the gift of song. "You slay them all! and wherefore? for the gain 105 Of a scant handful more or less of wheat. Or rye, or barley, or some other grain. Scratched up at random by industrious feet. 56 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Searching for worm or weevil after rain ! Or a few cherries, that are not so sweet 110 As are the songs these uninvited guests Sing at their feast with comfortable breasts. "Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these? Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught The dialect they speak, where melodies 115 Alone are the interpreters of thought? Whose household words are songs in many keys. Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught ! Whose habitations in the tree-tops even Are half-way houses on the road to heaven! 120 "Think, every morning when the sun peeps through The dim, leaf-latticed windows of the grove. How jubilant the happy birds renew Their old, melodious madrigals of love! And when you think of this, remember too 125 'T is always morning somewhere, and above The awakening continents, from shore to shore. Somewhere the birds are singing evermore. "Think of your woods and orchards without birds! Of empty nests that cling to boughs and beams 130 As in an idiot's brain remembered words Hang empty 'mid the cobwebs of his dreams ! Will bleat of flocks or bellowing of herds Make up for the lost music, when your teams Drag home the stingy harvest, and no more 135 The feathered gleaners follow to your door? " Wliat! would you rather see the incessant stir Of insects in the windrows of the hay. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 57 And hear the locust and the grasshopper Their melancholy hurdy-gurdies play? 140 Is this more pleasant to you than the whir Of meadow lark, and her sweet roundelay. Or twitter of little field-fares, as you take Your nooning in the shade of bush and brake? "Y^ou call them thieves and pillagers; but know, 145 They are the winged wardens of your farms, Who from the cornfields drive the insidious foe, And from your harvests keep a hundred harms; Even the blackest of them all, the crow. Renders good service as your man-at-arms, 150 Crushing the beetle in his coat of mail. And crying havoc on the slug and snail. *'IIow can I teach your children gentleness. And mercy to the weakj and reverence For Life, which, in its weakness or excess, 155 Is still a gleam of God's omnipotence, Or Death, which, seeming darkness, is no less The selfsame light, although averted hence. When by your laws, your actions, and your speech, You contradict the very things I teach? " 160 With this he closed; and through the audience went A murmur, like the rustle of dead leaves; The farmers laughed and nodded, and some bent Their yellow heads together like their sheaves; Men have no faith in fine-spun sentiment 165 Who put their trust in bullocks and in beeves. The birds were doomed; and, as the record shows, A bounty offered for the heads of crows. ^ ' 58 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW There was another audience out of reach, Who had no voice nor vote in making laws, 170 But in the papers read his Httle speech, And crowned his modest temples with applause; They made him conscious, each one more than each, He still was victor, vanquished in their cause. Sweetest of all the applause he won from thee, 175 O fair Almira at the Academy ! And so the dreadful massacre began; O'er fields and orchards, and o'er woodland crests. The ceaseless fusillade of terror ran. Dead fell the birds, with blood-stains on their breasts, 180 Or wounded crept away from sight of man. While the young died of famine in their nests; A slaughter to be told in groans, not words. The very Saint Bartholomew of Birds! The Summer came, and all the birds were dead; 185 The days were like hot coals; the very ground Was burned to ashes; in the orchards fed Myriads of caterpillars, and around The cultivated fields and garden beds Hosts of devouring insects crawled, and found 190 No foe to check their march, till they had made The land a desert without leaf or shade. Devoured by worms, like Herod, was the town, Because, like Herod, it had ruthlessly 184. The Massacre of Saint Bartholomew was the name given to the sudden destruction of Huguenots in France, by order of the ruling sovereign, Charles IX., at the instance of his mother Cathe- rine, begun on Saint Bartholomew's Day, i.e. between the 24th and 2jth of August. The year was 1572. 193. The Herod thus devoured was the grandson of the Herod who ordered the massacre of the Innocents. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 59 Slaughtered the Innocents. From the trees spun down The canker-worms upon the passers-by, 196 Upon each woman's bonnet, shawl, and gown, Who shook them off with just a little cry; They were the terror of each favorite walk, The endless theme of all the village talk. 200 The farmers grew impatient, but a few Confessed their error, and would not complain, For after all, the best thing one can do When it is raining, is to let it rain. Then they repealed the law, although they knew 205 It would not call the dead to life again; As school-boys, finding their mistake too late, Draw a wet sponge across the accusing slate. That year in Killingworth the Autumn came Without the light of his majestic look, 210 The wonder of the falling tongues of flame. The illumined pages of his Doom's-Day book. A few lost leaves blushed crimson with their shame. And drowned themselves despairing in the brook. While the wild wind went moaning everywhere, 215 Lamenting the dead children of the air ! But the next Spring a stranger sight was seen, A sight that never yet by bard was sung, As great a wonder as it would have been If some dumb animal had found a tongue ! 220 A wagon, overarched with evergreen, Upon whose boughs were wicker cages hung, 212. The original Doom's-Day or Domesday book was a registra- tion of all the lands in the kingdom of England, ordered by William the Conqueror. The term is also applied to the judgment-book or book of the day of doom. 60 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW | All full of singing birds, came down the street, Filling the air with music wild and sweet. From all the country round these birds were brought. By order of the town, with anxious quest, 226 And, loosened from their wicker prisons, sought In woods and fields the places they loved best. Singing loud canticles, which many thought Were satires to the authorities addressed, 230 While others, hstening in green lanes, averred Such lovely music never had been heard ! But blither still and louder carolled they Upon the morrow, for they seemed to know It was the fair Almira's wedding-day, 235 And everywhere, around, above, below. When the Preceptor bore his bride away, Their songs burst forth in joyous overflow. And a new heaven bent over a new earth Amid the sunny farms of Killingworth. 240 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow HORATIUS A LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCLX {Condensed) Lars Porsena of Clusium By the Nine Gods he swore That the great house of Tarquin Should suffer wrong no more. 1. Lars in the Etruscan tongue signifies chieftain. Clusium is the modern Chiusi. 2. The Romans had a tradition that there were nine great Etruscan gods. THOMAS BABINGTON MACALLAY 61 By the Nine Gods he swore it, 5 And named a trysting day, And bade his messengers ride forth East and west and south and north, To summon his array. East and west and south and north 10 The messengers ride fast, And tower and town and cottage Have heard the trumpet's blast. Shame on the false Etruscan Who lingers in his home, 15 When Porsena of Clusium Is on the march for Rome. The horsemen and the footmen Are pouring in amain From many a stately market-place; 20 From many a fruitful plain; From many a lonely hamlet, Which, hid by beech and pine. Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest Of purple Apennine; 25 From lordly Volaterrse, Where scowls the far-famed hold Piled by the hands of giants For godlike kings of old; 26. Volaterrce, modern Volterra. 27. "The situation of the Etruscan towns is one of the most strik- ing characteristics of Tuscan scenery. Many of them occupy sur- faces of table-land surrounded by a series of gullies not visible from a distance. The traveller thus may be a whole day reach- ing a place which in the morning may have seemed to him but a little way off." (Dennis, Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria.) 62 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY From seagirt Populonia, 30 Whose sentinels descry Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops Fringing the southern sky; From the proud mart of Piste, Queen of the western waves, 35 Where ride MassiHa's triremes Heavy with fair-haired slaves; From where sweet Clanis wanders Through corn and vines and flowers; From where Cortona lifts to heaven 40 Her diadem of towers. There be thirty chosen prophets, The wisest of the land. Who alway by Lars Porsena Both morn and evening stand: 45 Evening and morn the Thirty Have turned the verses o'er. Traced from the right on linen white By mighty seers of yore. And with one voice the Thirty 50 Have their glad answer given: 34. Piscp, now Pisa. 36. Massilia, now Marseilles, which originally was a Greek colony and a great commercial centre. 37. The fair-haired slaves were doubtless slaves from Gaul, bought and sold by the Greek merchants. 38. Clanis, the modern la Chicana. 42. The Etruscan religion was one of sorcery, and their prophets were augurs who sought to know the will of the gods by various outward signs; such as the flight of birds, the direction of lightning, and the mystic writings of the prophets before them. 48. The Etruscan writing was from right to left. THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY 63 *'Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena; Go forth, beloved of Heaven: Go, and return in glory To Clusium's royal dome; 55 And hang round Nurscia's altars The golden shields of Rome." And now hath every city Sent up her tale of men : The foot are fourscore thousand, 60 The horse are thousands ten. Before the gates of Sutrium Is met the great array. A proud man was Lars Porsena Upon the trysting day. 65 For all the Etruscan armies Were ranged beneath his eye. And many a banished Roman, And many a stout ally; And with a mighty following 70 To join the muster came The Tusculan Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name. But by the yellow Tiber Was tumult and affright: 75 From all the spacious champaign To Rome men took their flight. A mile around the city, The throng stopped up the ways; 59. Tale of men, cf. Milton's lines in V Allegro,, — "And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn, in the dale." The tally which we keep is a kindred word. 62. Sutrium is Suiri to-day. 64 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY A fearful sight it was to see 80 Through two long nights and days. For aged folks on crutches, And women great with child, And mothers sobbing over babes That clung to them and smiled, 85 And sick men borne in litters High on the necks of slaves. And troops of sunburnt husbandmen With reaping-hooks and staves. And droves of mules and asses 90 Laden with skins of wine. And endless flocks of goats and sheep, And endless herds of kine. And endless trains of wagons That creaked beneath the weight 95 Of corn-sacks and of household goods. Choked every roaring gate. Now, from the rock Tarpeian, Could the wan burghers spy The line of blazing villages 100 Red in the midnight sky. The Fathers of the City, They sat all night and day. For every hour some horseman came With tidings of dismay. 105, 98. The Tarpeian Rock was a cliff on the steepest side of the Capitohne Hill in Rome, and overhung the Tiber. 99. Burghers, Macaulay uses a very modern word to describe the men of Rome. 102. The Fathers oj the City, otherwise the Senators of Rome. THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY 65 To eastward and to westward Have spread the Tuscan bands; Nor house nor fence nor dovecote In Crustumerium stands. Verbenna down to Ostia 110 Hath wasted all the plain; Astur hath stormed Janiculum, And the stout guards are slain. Iwis, in all the Senate, There was no heart so bold, 115 But sore it ached, and fast it beat, When that ill news was told. Forthwith up rose the Consul, Up rose the Fathers all; In haste they girded up their gowns, 120 And hied them to the wall. They held a council standing Before the River-Gate; Short time was there, ye well may guess, For musing or debate. 125 Out spake the Consul roundly: "The bridge must straight go down; For, since Janiculum is lost. Naught else can save the town." 110. Ostia, at the mouth of the Tiber, was the port of Rome. 112. The Janiculan hill was on the right bank of the Tiber. 114. Iwis, of. Lowell's lines in Credidimus Jovem rcgnare: — "God vanished long ago iwis, A mere subjective synthesis." Its meaning is "certainly." 127. The bridge was the Sublician bridge, said to have been thrown across the Tiber by Ancus Martins in the year 114 of the city. 66 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY Just then a scout came flying, 130 All wild with haste and fear; "To arms! to arms! Sir Consul: Lars Porsena is here." On the low hills to westward The Consul fixed his eye, 135 And saw the swarthy storm of dust Rise fast along the sky. And nearer fast and nearer Doth the red whirlwind come; And louder still and still more loud, 140 From underneath that roUing cloud, Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, The tramphng, and the hum. And plainly and more plainly Now through the gloom appears, 145 Far to left and far to right. In broken gleams of dark-blue light, The long array of helmets bright. The long array of spears. And plainly and more plainly 150 Above that glimmering line. Now might ye see the banners Of twelve fair cities shine; But the banner of proud Clusium Was highest of them all, 155 The terror of the Umbrian, The terror of the Gaul. And plainly and more plainly Now might the burghers know, 153. The Etruscan confederacy was composed of twelve cities. I THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY 67 By port and vest, by horse and crest, 160 Each warUke Lucumo. There Cilnius of Arretium On his fleet roan was seen; And Astur of the fourfold shield, Girt with the brand none else may wield, 165 Tolumnius with the belt of gold, And dark Verbenna from the hold By reedy Thrasymene. Fast by the royal standard, O'erlooking all the war, 170 Lars Porsena of Clusium Sat in his ivory car. By the right wheel rode Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name; And by the left false Sextus, 175 That wrought the deed of shame. But when the face of Sextus Was seen among the foes, A yell that rent the firmament From all the town arose. 180 On the house-tops was no woman But spat towards him and hissed. No child but screamed out curses, And shook its little fist. 160. By port and vest, by the way he carried himself and by his dress. Vest, an abbreviation of vesture. 161. Lucumo was the name given by the Latin writers to the Etruscan chiefs. 168. Thrasymene or Trasimenus is Lago di Perugia, and was fa- mous in Roman history as the scene of a victory by Hannibal, the Carthaginian general, over the Roman forces. 173. Octavius Mamilius of Tusculum married the daughter of Tarquinius. 175. Sextus, a son of Tarquinius, and the one whose wickedness was the immediate cause of the expulsion of the Tarquins. 68 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY But the Consul's brow was sad, 185 And the Consul's speech was low. And darkly looked he at the wall. And darkly at the foe. *' Their van will be upon us Before the bridge goes down; 190 And if they once may win the bridge, What hope to save the town? " Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the Gate: "To every man upon this earth 195 Death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers, And the temples of his Gods, 200 "And for the tender mother Who dandled him to rest. And for the wife who nurses \ His baby at her breast. And for the holy maidens 205 Who feed the eternal flame. To save them from false Sextus That wrought the deed of shame? "Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, With all the speed ye may; 210 I, with two more to help me, Will hold the foe in play. 205. The Vestal Virgins were bound by vows of celibacy, and tended the sacred fire of Vesta. The order survived till near the close of the fourth century of our era. For a very interesting account of the House of the Vestal Virgins, see Lanciani, Ancient Rome in the Light of Recent Discoveries. THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY 69 In yon strait path a thousand May well be stopped by three. Now who will stand on either hand, 215 And keep the bridge with me? " Then out spake Spurius Lartius; A Ramnian proud was he: "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee." 220 And out spake strong Herminius; Of Titian blood was he : "I will abide on thy left side, And keep the bridge with thee." "Horatius," quoth the Consul, 225 "As thou sayest, so let it be." And straight against that great array Forth went the dauntless Three. For Romans in Rome's quarrel Spared neither land nor gold, 230 Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life. In the brave days of old. Then none was for a party; Then all were for the state; Then the great man helped the poor, 235 And the poor man loved the great: Then lands were fairly portioned; Then spoils were fairly sold: The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old. 240 218. The Ramnes were one of the three tribes who comprised the Roman Patricians, or noble class. 222. The Tities were another of these three tribes. 70 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY Now Roman is to Roman More hateful than a foe, And the Tribunes beard the high, And the Fathers grind the low. As we wax hot in faction, 245 In battle we wax cold : Wherefore men fight not as they fought In the brave days of old. Now while the Three were tightening Their harness on their backs, 250 The Consul was the foremost man To take in hand an axe : And Fathers mixed with Commons Seized hatchet, bar, and crow. And smote upon the planks above, 255 And loosed the props below. Meanwhile the Tuscan army. Right glorious to behold. Came flashing back the noonday light, Rank behind rank, like surges bright 260 Of a broad sea of gold. Four hundred trumpets sounded A peal of warlike glee, As that great host, with measured tread, And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, 265 243. The Tribunes were officers who represented the tribes of the common people or Plebs of Rome. In the time when the ballad is supposed to be written, there were two strong parties, the Fathers or Patricians (Patres), and the Common People or Plebs. 253. Commons, Macaulay, an English Whig, used a political word very dear to him, as representing the rise of English parliamentary government. 256 The props held up the bridge from below. The Latin word for props was suhlicce; hence the Sublician bridge, Cf. note to 1, 127. THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY 71 Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head, Where stood the dauntless Three. The Three stood calm and silent, And looked upon the foes, And a great shout of laughter 270 From all the vanguard rose; And forth three chiefs came spurring Before that deep array; To earth they sprang, their swords they drew. And lifted high their shields, and flew 275 To win the narrow way; Annus from green Tifernum, Lordof the Hill of Vines; And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva's mines; 280 And Picus, long to Clusium Vassal in peace and war, Who led to fight his Umbrian powers From that gray crag where, girt with towers. The fortress of Nequinum lowers 285 O'er the pale waves of Nar. Stout Lartius hurled down Annus Into the stream beneath: Herminius struck at Seius, And clove him to the teeth: 290 At Picus brave Horatius Darted one fiery thrust; 277. Tifernum was on the west side of the Apennines, near the source of the Tiber. It is now Citia di Castello. 280. Ilva is the modern Elba, renowned as the island to which Napoleon was banished. 285. Nequinum, now Narni, on the banks of the Nar. / 72 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms Clashed in the bloody dust. Then Ocnus of Falerii 295 Rushed on the Roman Three; And Lausulus of Urgo, The rover of the sea; And Aruns of Volsinium, Who slew the great wild boar, COO The great wild boar that had his den Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen, And wasted fields, and slaughtered men, Along Albinia's shore. Herminius smote down Aruns: 305 Lartius laid Ocnus low: Right to the heart of Lausulus Horatius sent a blow. "Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate! No more, aghast and pale, 310 From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark The track of thy destroying bark. No more Campania's hinds shall fly To woods and caverns when they spy Thy thrice accursed sail." 315 But now no sound of laughter Was heard among the foes. A wild and wrathful clamor From all the vanguard rose. Six spears' lengths from the entrance 320 Halted that deep array, And for a space no man came forth To win the narrow way. 298. The Etruscans were pirates as well as merchants. THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY 73 But hark! the cry is Astur: And lo! the ranks divide; 325 And the great Lord of Luna Comes with his stately stride. Upon his ample shoulders Clangs loud the fourfold shield. And in his hand he shakes the brand 330 Which none but he can wield. He smiled on those bold Romans A smile serene and high; He eyed the flinching Tuscans, And scorn was in his eye. 335 Quoth he, '*The she-wolf's litter Stand savagely at bay: But will ye dare to follow. If Astur clears the way.^" Then, whirling up his broadsword 340 With both hands to the height. He rushed against Horatius, And smote with all his might. With shield and blade Horatius Right deftly turned the blow. 345 The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh; It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh: The Tuscans raised a joyful cry To see the red blood flow. He reeled, and on Herminius 350 He leaned one breathing-space; Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds. Sprang right at Astur's face. 336. The ske-icolfs litter, the Romans. The reference is to the Story of the suckling of Romulus and Remus by a she-wolf. 74 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, So fierce a thrust he sped, 355 The good sword stood a handbreadth out Behind the Tuscan's head. And the great Lord of Luna Fell at that deadly stroke, As falls on Mount Alvernus 360 A thunder-smitten oak. Far o'er the crashing forest The giant arms lie spread; And the pale augurs, muttering low. Gaze on the blasted head. 365 On Astur's throat Horatius Right firmly pressed his heel. And thrice and four times tugged amain, Ere he wrenched out the steel. "And see," he cried, "the welcome, 370 Fair guests, that waits you here ! What noble Lucumo comes next To taste our Roman cheer?" But at his haughty challenge A sullen murmur ran, 375 Mingled of wrath and shame and dread, Along that glittering van. There lacked not men of prowess. Nor men of lordly race; For all Etruria's noblest 380 Were round the fatal place. But all Etruria's noblest Felt their hearts sink to see THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY 75 On the earth the bloody corpses, In the path the dauntless Three: 385 And, from the ghastly entrance Where those bold Romans stood. All shrank, Hke boys who unaware. Ranging the woods to start a hare. Come to the mouth of the dark lair 390 Where, growhng low, a fierce old bear Lies amidst bones and blood. Was none who would be foremost To lead such dire attack: B-ut those behind cried "Forward!** 395 And those before cried "Back!** And backward now and forward Wavers the deep array; And on the tossing sea of steel, To and fro the standards reel; 400 And the victorious trumpet-peal Dies fitfully away. Yet one man for one moment Stood out before the crowd; Well known was he to all the Three, 405 And they gave him greeting loud, "Now welcome, welcome, Sextus! Now welcome to thy home ! Why dost thou stay, and turn away? Here lies the road to Rome.'* 4io Thrice looked he at the city; Thrice looked he at the dead; And thrice came on in fury, And thrice turned back in dread; 7G THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY And, white with fear and hatred, 415 Scowled at the narrow way Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, The bravest Tuscans lay. But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; 420 And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. "Come back, come back, Horatius!" Loud cried the Fathers all. "Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! 425 Back, ere the ruin fall!" Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back: And, as they passed, beneath their feet They felt the timbers crack. 430 But when they turned their faces, And on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone, They would have crossed once more. But with a crash like thunder 435 Fell every loosened beam. And, like a dam, the mighty wreck Lay right athwart the stream; And a long shout of triumph Rose from the walls of Rome, 440 As to the highest turret-tops Was splashed the yellow foam. And, like a horse unbroken When first he feels the rein, The furious river struggled hard, 445 And tossed his tawny mane, THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY 77 And burst the curb, and bounded. Rejoicing to be free, And whirling down, in fierce career, Battlement, and plank, and pier, 450 Rushed headlong to the sea. Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind. 455 "Down with him !" cried false Sextus, With a smile on his pale face. "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, "Now yield thee to our grace." Round turned he, as not deigning 460 Those craven ranks to see; Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, To Sextus naught spake he; But he saw on Palatinus The white porch of his home; 465 And he spake to the noble river That rolls b}^ the towers of Rome. "O Tiber! father Tiber! To whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, 470 Take thou in charge this day ! " So he spake, and speaking sheathed The good sword by his side. And with his harness on his back Plunged headlong in the tide. 475 464. Mons Palatinus survives in the Palatine hill of modern Rome. It was the hill on which Romulus founded the city of Rome. 78 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY No sound of joy or sorrow Was heard from either bank; But friends and foes in dumb surjjrise, With parted hps and straining eyes, Stood gazing where he sank: 480 And when above the surges They saw his crest appear, All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry. And even the ranks of Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer. 485 But fiercely ran the current. Swollen high by months of rain : And fast his blood was flowing. And he was sore in pain. And heavy with his armor, 490 And spent with changing blows: And oft they thought him sinking, But still again he rose. Never, I ween, did swimmer. In such an evil case, 495 Struggle through such a raging flood Safe to the landing-place: But his limbs were borne up bravely By the brave heart within. And our good father Tiber 500 Bore bravely up his chin. "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus; "Will not the villain drown? But for this stay, ere close of day We should have sacked the town ! " 505 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY 79 "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, "And bring him safe to shore; For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before." 510 515 620 And now he feels the bottom; Now on dry earth he stands; Now round him throng the Fathers To press his gory hands; And now, with shouts and clapping. And noise of weeping loud, He enters through the River-Gate, Borne by the joyous crowd. They gave him of the corn-land, That was of public right, As much as two strong oxen Could plough from morn till night; And they made a molten image, And set it up on high, And there it stands unto this day To witness if I lie. It stands in the Comitium, Plain for all foils: to see; Horatius in his harness. Halting upon one knee: And underneath is written. In letters all of gold. How valiantly he kept the bridge In the brave days of old. Thomas Bahington Macaulay 526 The Comitirm was that part of the Forum which served as the meeting-place of the Roman patricians. 625 530 80 EDWIN MARKHAM LINCOLN, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE ^ When the Norn Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour Greatening and darkening as it hurried on, She left the Heaven of Heroes and came down To make a man to meet the mortal need. She took the tried clay of the common road — 5 Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth, Dasht through it all a strain of prophecy; Tempered the heap with thrill of human tears; Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff. Into the shape she breathed a flame to light 10 That tender, tragic, ever-changing face; And laid on him a sense of the Mystic Powers, Moving — all husht — behind the mortal vail. Here was a man to hold against the world, A man to match the mountains and the sea. 15 The color of the ground was in him, the red earth; The smack and tang of elemental things: The rectitude and patience of the chff ; The good- will of the rain that loves all leaves; The friendly welcome of the wayside well; 20 The courage of the bird that dares the sea; The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn; The pity of the snow that hides all scars; The secrecy of streams that make their way Under the mountain to the rifted rock; 25 The tolerance and equity of light That gives as freely to the shrinking flower As to the great oak flaring to the wind — To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn That shoulders out the sky. Sprung from the West, 30 He drank the valorous youth of a new world. •^ By courtesy of the Author. Copyright, 1919, by Edwm Markham. EDWIN MARKHAM 81 The strength of virgin forests braced his mind. The hush of the spacious prairies stilled his soul. His words were oaks in acorns; and his thoughts Were roots that firmly gript the granite truth. 35 Up from log cabin to the Capitol, One fire was on his spirit, one resolve — To send the keen ax to the root of wrong, Clearing a free way for the feet of God, The eyes of conscience testing every stroke, 40 To make his deed the measure of a man. He built the rail-pile and he built the State, Pouring his splendid strength through every blow: The grip that swung the ax in Illinois Was on the pen that set a people free. 45 So came the Captain with the mighty heart; And when the judgment thunders split the house, Wrenching the rafters from their ancient rest. He held the ridgepole up, and spikt again The rafters of the Home. He held his place — 50 Held the long purpose hke a growing tree — Held on through blame and faltered not at praise. And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down As when a lordly cedar, green with boughs, Goes down with a great shout upon the hills, 55 And leaves a lonesome place against the sky. Edwin Markham IN FLANDERS FIELDS ' In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, and in the sky, The larks, still bravely singing, fly, Scarce heard amid the guns below. 5 1 By courtesy of G. P. Putnam's Sons. 82 JOHN McCRAE We are the dead; short days ago We hved, felt dawn, saw sunset glow. Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe ! 10 To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high! If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. 15 John McCrae PRINCETON, MAY, 1917 1 Here Freedom stood by slaughtered friend and foe. And, ere the wrath paled or that sunset died. Looked through the ages; then, with eyes aglow. Laid them to wait that future, side by side. (Lines for a monument to the American and British soldiers of the Revolutionary War who fell on the Princeton battlefield and were buried in one grave.) Now lamp-lit gardens in the blue dusk shine Through dogwood, red and white; And round the gray quadrangles, line by line, The windows fill with light. Where Princeton calls to Magdalen, tower to tower, 5 Twin lanthorns of the law; And those cream-white magnolia boughs embower The halls of "Old Nassau." The dark bronze tigers crouch on either side Where redcoats used to pass; 10 And round the bird-loved house where Mercer died, And violets dusk the grass, * Copyright. Used by arrangement with Frederick A. Stokes Co. •1 ALFRED NOYES 83 By Stony Brook that ran so red of old, But sings of friendship now, To feed the old enemy's harvest fifty-fold 15 The green earth takes the plow. Through this May night, if one great ghost should stray With deep remembering eyes, Where that old meadow of battle smiles away Its blood-stained memories, 20 If Washington should walk, where friend and foe Sleep and forget the past. Be sure his unquenched heart would leap to know Their souls are linked at last. Be sure he walks, in shadowy buff and blue, 25 Where those dim lilacs wave. He bends his head to bless, as dreams come true, The promise of that grave; Then, with a vaster hope than thought can scan, Touching his ancient sword, 30 Prays for that mightier realm of God in man: '* Hasten thy kingdom. Lord. "Land of our hope, land of the singing stars, Type of the world to be, The vision of a world set free from wars 35 Takes life, takes form from thee; Where all the jarring nations of this earth. Beneath the all-blessing sun. Bring the new music of mankind to birth, And make the whole world one." 40 And those old comrades rise around him there, Old foemen, side by side. 84 ALFRED NOYES With eyes like stars upon the brave night air, And young as when they died, To hear your bells, O beautiful Princeton towers, 45 Ring for the world's release. They see you piercing like gray swords through flowers, And smile, from souls at peace. Alfred Noyes WHAT HAS ENGLAND DONE .? ^ Strange, that in this great hour, when Righteousness Has won her war upon Hypocrisy, That some there be who, lost in littleness, And mindful of an ancient grudge, can ask, "Now what has England done to win this war.^^" 5 We think we see her smile that English smile. And shrug a lazy shoulder and — just smile. It were so little worth her while to pause In her stupendous task to make reply. What has she done ! When with her great, gray ships, 10 Lithe, lean destroyers, grim, invincible. She swept the prowling Prussian from the seas: And heedless of the shnking submarine. The hidden mine, the Hun-made treacheries. Her transports plied the waters ceaselessly! 15 You ask what she has done? Have you forgot That 'neath the burning suns of Palestine She fought and bled, nor wearied of the fight Till from that land where walked the Nazarene She drove the foul and pestilential Turk.^ 20 Ah ! what has England done ! No need to ask ! Upon the fields of Flanders and of France 1 By courtesy of the author and the New York Times. VILDA SAUVAGE OWENS 85 A million crosses mark a million graves: Upon each cross a well-loved English name. And ah, her women ! On that peaceful isle, 25 Where in the hawthorn hedges thrushes sang. And meadow larks made gay the scented air. Now blackened chimneys rear their grimy heads. Smoke-belching, and the frightened birds have fled Before the thunder of the whirring wheels. 30 Behind unlovely walls, amid the din. Seven times a million noble women toil — With tender, unaccustomed fingers toil, Nor dream that they have played a hero's part. Great-hearted England ! we have fought the fight 35 Together, and our mingled blood has flowed. Full well we know that underneath the mask Of cool indifference there beats a heart Grim as your own gaunt ships when duty calls, Yet warm and gentle as your summer skies; 40 A nation's heart that beats throughout a land Where kings may be beloved, and Monarchy Can teach Republics how they may be free. Ah! what has England done? When came the call She counted not the cost, but gave her all! 45 Vilda Sauvage Owens TO HELEN Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicsean barks of yore. That gently, o'er a perfumed sea. The weary, wayworn wanderer bore To his own native shore. 5 86 EDGAR ALLAN POE On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs, have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome. 10 Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand, The agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy Land! 15 Edgar Allan Poe THE UPRISING IN THE NORTH ^ Out of the North the wild news came, Far flashing on its wings of flame. Swift as the boreal light which flies At midnight through the startled skies. And there was tumult in the air, 5 The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat. And through the wild land everywhere The answering tread of hurrying feet. While the first oath of Freedom's gun Came on the blast from Lexington; 10 And Concord, roused, no longer tame. Forgot her old baptismal name, Made bare her patriot arm of power. And swell'd the discord of the hour. Within its shade of elm and oak 15 The church of Berkeley Manor stood; There Sunday found the rural folk, And some esteem'd of gentle blood. * By courtesy of the J. B. Lippincott Company. THOMAS BUCHANAN READ 87 In vain Iheir feet with loitering tread Pass'd mid the graves where rank is naught ; 20 All could not read the lesson taught In that republic of the dead. The pastor rose; the prayer was strong; The psalm was warrior David's song; The text, a few short words of might, — 25 ''The Lord of hosts shall arm the right!'* He spoke of wrongs too long endured. Of sacred rights to be secured; Then from his patriot tongue of flame The startling words for Freedom came. 30 The stirring sentences he spake Compell'd the heart to glow or quake. And, rising on his theme's broad wing. And grasping in his nervous hand The imaginary battle-brand, 35 In face of death he dared to fling Defiance to a tyrant King. Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed In eloquence of attitude. Rose, as it seem'd, a shoulder higher; 40 Then swept his kindling glance of fire From startled pew to breathless choir; When suddenly his mantle wide His hands impatient flung aside, And, lo ! he met their wondering eyes 45 Complete in all a warrior's guise. A moment there was awful pause, — When Berkeley cried, ** Cease, traitor! cease! THOMAS BUCHANAN READ God's temple is the house of peace!" The other shouted, "Nay, not so, 50 When God is with our righteous cause; His hohest places then are ours, His temples are our forts and towers That frown upon the tyrant foe; In this, the dawn of Freedom's day, 55 There is a time to fight and pray!'* And now before the open door — The warrior priest had order'd so — The enlisting trumpet's sudden soar Rang through the chapel, o'er and o'er, 60 Its long reverberating blow. So loud and clear, it seem'd the ear Of dusty death must wake and hear. And there the startling drum and fife Fired the living with fiercer life; 65 While overhead, with wild increase, Forgetting its ancient toll of peace. The great bell swung as ne'er before. It seemed as it would never cease; And every word its ardor flung 70 From off its jubilant iron tongue Was, "War! war! war!" *' Who dares" — this was the patriot's cry. As striding from the desk he came — " Come out with me, in Freedom's name, 75 For her to hve, for her to die?" A hundred hands flung up reply, A hundred voices answer'd, "I!" Thomas Buchanan Read SIR WALTER SCOTT 89 MY NATIVE LAND Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, "This is my own — my native land!" Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned 5 From wandering on a foreign strand? If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name. Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, — 10 Despite those titles, power, and pelf. The wretch, concentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown. And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, 15 Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. Sir Walter Scott THE CLOUD I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers. From the seas and the streams; I bear Hght shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken 5 The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail. And whiten the green plains under; 10 And then again I dissolve it in rain. And laugh as I pass in thunder. 90 PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast; And all the night 't is my pillow white, 15 While I sleep in the arms of the blast. Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers. Lightning my pilot sits; In a cavern under is fettered the thunder. It struggles and howls at fits; 20 Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion. This pilot is guiding me. Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea; Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, 25 Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream. The Spirit he loves remains; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile. Whilst he is dissolving in rains. 30 The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes. And his burning plumes outspread. Leaps on the back of my sailing rack When the morning-star shines dead. As on the jag of a mountain crag, 35 Which an earthquake rocks and swings. An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings. And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath Its ardors of rest and of love, 40 And the crimson pall of eve may fall From the depth of heaven above, With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest. As still as a brooding dove. PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 91 That orbsd maiden with white fire laden, 45 Whom mortals call the moon. Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-Hke floor, By the midnight breezes strewn; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet. Which only the angels hear, 50 May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof. The stars peep behind her and peer; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees. When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, 55 Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas. Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high. Are each paved with the moon and these. I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone, And the moon's with a girdle of pearl; 60 The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim. When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. - From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape, Over a torrent sea, Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof, 65 The mountains its columns be. The triumphal arch through which I march With hurricane, fire, and snow, When the powers of the air are chained to my chair, Is the miUion-colored bow; 70 The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove. While the moist earth was laughing below. I am the daughter of earth and water. And the nursling of the sky : I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; 75 I change, but I cannot die. 92 PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY For after the rain when with never a stain, The pavihon of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams. Build up the blue dome of air, SO I silently laugh at my own cenotaph. And out of the caverns of rain. Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again. Percy Bysshe Shelley OPPORTUNITY This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream : — There spread a cloud of dust along a plain; And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner 5 Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. A craven hung along the battle's edge. And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel — That blue blade that the king's son bears, but this Blunt thing!" he snapt and flung it from his hand, 10 And lowering crept away and left the field. Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead, And weaponless, and saw the broken sword. Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand. And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout 15 Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down. And saved a great cause that heroic day. Edward Rowland Sill THE FOOL'S PRAYER The royal feast was done; the King Sought some new sport to banish care. And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool, Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!" EDWARD ROWLAND SILL 93 The jester doffed his cap and bells, 5 And stood the mocking court before; They could not see the bitter smile Behind the painted grin he wore. He bowed his head, and bent his knee Upon the monarch's silken stool; 10 His pleading voice arose: "O Lord, Be merciful to me, a fool! "No pity. Lord, could change the heart From red with wrong to white as wool: The rod must heal the sin; but, Lord, 15 Be merciful to me, a fool! "'T is not by guilt the onward sweep Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay; 'T is by our follies that so long We hold the earth from heaven away. 20 "These clumsy feet, still in the mire. Go crushing blossoms without end; These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust Among the heart-strings of a friend. "The ill-timed truth we might have kept — 25 Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung! The word we had not sense to say — Who knows how grandly it had rung! " Our faults no tenderness should ask. The chastening stripes must cleanse them all; 30 But for our blunders — oh, in shame Before the eyes of heaven we fall. 94 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON "Earth bears no balsam for mistakes; Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool That did his will; but Thou, O Lord, 35 Be merciful to me, a fool!" The room was hushed; in silence rose The King, and sought his gardens cool. And walked apart, and murmured low, "Be merciful to me, a fool!'* 40 Edward Rowland Sill BUGLE SONG The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, 5 Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear! how thin and clear. And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! 10 Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky. They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 15 And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying. And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. Alfred, Lord Tennyson ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 95 FLOWER IN THE CRANNIED WALL Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower — but if 1 could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all 5 I should know what God and man is. Alfred, Lord Tennyson SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHN ADAMS, IN THE CONTINENTAL CONGRESS, JULY, 1776 Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and my heart to this vote! It is true, indeed, that, in the beginning, we aimed not at independence. But there is a Divinity which shapes our ends. The injustice of England has driven us to arms; and, 5 blinded to her own interest for our good, she has obsti- nately persisted, till independence is now within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why, then, should we defer the Declaration? Is any man so weak as now to hope for a reconciliation 10 with England, which shall leave either safety to the country and its hberties, or safety to his own life, and his own honor? Are not you. Sir, who sit in that chair, — is not he, our venerable colleague near you, — are not both already the proscribed and predestined 15 objects of punishment and of vengeance? Cut off from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what can you be, while the power of England remains, but outlaws? If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or give up the war? Do we mean to submit to 20 the measures of Parliament, Boston port-bill and all? 96 JOHN ADAMS Do we mean to submit, and consent that we ourselves shall be ground to powder, and our country and its rights trodden down in the dust? I know we do not mean to submit. We never shall submit. Do we 25 intend to violate that most solemn obhgation ever entered into by men, — that plighting, before God, of our sacred honor to Washington, when, putting him forth to incur the dangers of war, as well as the polit- ical hazards of the times, we promised to adhere 30 to him, in every extremity, with our fortunes and our lives? I know there is not a man here who would not rather see a general conflagration sweep over the land, or an earthquake sink it, than one jot or tittle of that 35 phghted faith fall to the ground. For myself, having, twelve months ago, in this place, moved you that George Washington be appointed commander of the forces raised, or to be raised, for defence of American liberty, may my right hand forget its cunning, and 40 my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I hesitate or waver in the support I give him! The war, then, must go on. We must fight it through. And, if the war must go on, why put off longer the Declaration of Independence? That measure will 45 strengthen us. It will give us character abroad. The Nations will then treat with us, which they never can do while we acknowledge ourselves subjects in arms against our sovereign. Nay, I maintain that England herself will sooner treat for peace with us on the 50 footing of independence, than consent, by repeahng her acts, to acknowledge that her whole conduct towards us has been a course of injustice and oppression. Her pride will be less wounded by submitting to that course of things which now predestinates our independ- 55 WALT WHIT^L\N 97 ence, than by yielding the points in controversy to her rebelhous subjects. The former she would regard as the result of fortune; the latter, she would feel as her own deep disgrace. Why then, Sir, do we not, as soon as possible, change this from a civil to a national 60 war? And, since we must fight it through, why not put ourselves in a state to enjoy all the benefits of victory, if we gain the victory .^^ If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall not fail! O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! O Captain ! my Captain ! our fearful trip is done. The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting. While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! 5 O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies. Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells, Rise up — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills, 10 For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths — for you the shores acrowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain ! dear father ! This arm beneath your head!. It is some dream that on the deck 15 You 've fallen cold and dead. 98 WALT WHITMAN My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will. The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; 20 Exult, O shores, and ring, bells! But I, with mournful tread. Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. Walt Whitman SNOW-BOUND A WINTER IDYL (Condensed) The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray. And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon. Slow tracing down the thickening sky 5 Its mute and ominous prophecy, A portent seeming less than threat, It sank from sight before it set. A chill no coat, however stout. Of homespun stuff could quite shut out, 10 A hard, dull bitterness of cold. That checked, mid-vein, the circling race Of life-blood in the sharpened face. The coming of the snow-storm told. The wind blew east; we heard the roar 15 Of Ocean on his wintry shore. And felt the strong pulse throbbing there Beat with low rhythm our inland air. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 99 Meanwhile we did our nightly chores, — Brought in the wood from out of doors, 20 Littered the stalls, and from the mows Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows : Heard the horse whinnying for his corn; And, sharply clashing horn on horn, Impatient down the stanchion rows 25 The cattle shake their walnut bows; While, peering from his early perch Upon the scaffold's pole of birch, The cock his crested helmet bent And down his querulous challenge sent. 30 Unwarmed by any sunset light The gray day darkened into night, A night made hoary with the swarm And whirl-dance of the blinding storm, As zigzag wavering to and fro 35 Crossed and recrossed the winged snow: And ere the early bedtime came The white drift piled the window-frame. And through the glass the clothes-line posts Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts. 40 So all night long the storm roared on: The morning broke without a sun, In tiny spherule traced with lines Of Nature's geometric signs. In starry flake and pellicle 45 All day the hoary meteor fell; And, when the second morning shone. We looked upon a world unknown. On nothing we could call our own. Around the glistening wonder bent 50 The blue walls of the firmament, lOa JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER No cloud above, no earth below, — A universe of sky and snow! The old familiar sights of ours Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers 55 Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood, Or garden-wall or belt of wood; A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed, A fenceless drift what once was road; The bridle-post an old man sat 60 With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat; The well-curb had a Chinese roof; And even the long sweep, high aloof, In its slant splendor, seemed to tell Of Pisa's leaning miracle. 65 A prompt, decisive man, no breath Our father wasted : " Boys, a path ! " Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy Count such a summons less than joy?) Our buskins on our feet we drew; 70 With mittened hands, and caps drawn low. To guard our necks and ears from snow, We cut the solid whiteness through; And, where the drift was deepest, made A tunnel walled and overlaid 75 With dazzling crystal: we had read Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave, 65. The Leaning Tower of Pisa, in Italy, which inclines from tiie perpendicular a little more than six feet in eighty, is a campanil", or bell-tower, built of white marble, very beautiful, but so famous for its singular deflection from perpendicularity as to be known al- most -wholly as a curiosity. Opinions differ as to the leaning beinfj the result of accident or design, but the better judgment makes it an effect of the character of the soil on which the town is built. Tiie Cathedral to which it belongs has suffered so much from a similar cause that there is not a vertical line in it. 77, For the story of Aladdin and his lamp see any edition of The 1 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 101 And to our own his name we gave, With many a wish the luck were ours To test his lamp's supernal powers. ■ 80 We reached the barn with merry din, And roused the prisoned brutes within. The old horse thrust his long head out. And grave with wonder gazed about; The cock his lusty greeting said, 85 And forth his speckled harem led; The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked. And mild reproach of hunger looked; The horned patriarch of the sheep, Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep, 90 Shook his sage head with gesture mute. And emphasized with stamp of foot. All day the gusty north- wind bore The loosening drift its breath before; Low circling round its southern zone, 95 The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone. No church-bell lent its Christian tone To the savage air, no social smoke Curled over woods of snow-hung oak. A solitude made more intense 100 By dreary-voiced elements. The shrieking of the mindless wind. The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind. And on the glass the unmeaning beat Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet. 105 Beyond the circle of our hearth No welcome sound of toil or mirth Arabian Nights' Entertainments, or Riverside Literature Series, No. 117. 90. Amun, or Ammon, was an Egyptian being, represtnting an attribute of Deity under the form of a ram. 102 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER Unbound the spell, and testified Of human life and thought outside. We minded that the sharpest ear 110 The buried brooklet could not hear. The music of whose liquid lip Had been to us companionship, And, in our lonely life, had grown To have an almost human tone. 115 As night drew on, and, from the crest Of wooded knolls that ridged the west, The sun, a snow-blown traveller, sank From sight beneath the smothering bank. We piled with care our nightly stack 120 Of wood against the chimney-back, — The oaken log, green, huge, and thick. And on its top the stout back-stick; The knotty forestick laid apart, And filled between with curious art 125 The ragged brush; then, hovering near. We watched the first red blaze appear, Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam On whitewashed wall and sagging beam. Until the old, rude-furnished room 130 Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom; While radiant with a mimic flame Outside the sparkling drift became. And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free. 135 The crane and pendent trammels showed, The Turks' heads on the andirons glowed; While childish fancy, prompt to tell The meaning of the miracle. Whispered the old rhyme : '* Under the tree 140 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 103 When fire outdoors burns merrily. There the witches are making tea'' The moon above the eastern wood Shone at its full; the hill-range stood Transfigured in the silver flood, 145 Its blown snows flashing cold and keen, Dead white, save where some sharp ravine Took shadow, or the sombre green Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black Against the whiteness of their back. 150 For such a world and such a night Most fitting that unwarming light. Which only seemed where'er it fell To make the coldness visible. Shut in from all the world without, 155 We sat the clean-winged hearth about, Content to let the north-wind roar In bafiled rage at pane and door. While the red logs before us beat The frost-line back with tropic heat; 160 And ever, when a louder blast Shook beam and rafter as it passed. The merrier up its roaring draught ' The great throat of the chimney laughed. The house-dog on his paws outspread 165 Laid to the fire his drowsy head, The cat's dark silhouette on the wall A couchant tiger's seemed to fall; And, for the winter fireside meet. Between the andirons' straddling feet, 170 The mug of cider simmered slow, The apples sputtered in a row, 104 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER And, close at hand, the basket stood With nuts from brown October's wood. We sped the time with stories old, 175 Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told, Or stammered from our school-book lore "The chief of Gambia's golden shore.'* How often since, when all the land Was clay in Slavery's shaping hand, 180 As if a far-blown trumpet stirred The languorous, sin-sick air, I heard *^Does not the voice of reason cry, Claim the first right which Nature gavCy From the red scourge of bondage fly 185 Nor deign to live a burdened slave ? " Our father rode again his ride On Memphremagog's wooded side; Sat down again to moose and samp In trapper's hut and Indian camp; 190 Lived o'er the old idyllic ease Beneath St. Frangois' hemlock trees; Again for him the moonlight shone On Norman cap and bodiced zone; Again he heard the violin play 195 Wliich led the village dance away. And mingled in its merry whirl The grandam and the laughing girl. Or, nearer home, our steps he led Where Salisbury's level marshes spread 200 Mile-wide as flies the laden bee; Where merry mowers, hale and strong. Swept, scythe on scythe, their swaths along The low green prairies of the sea. We shared the fishing off Boar's Head, 205 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 105 And round the rocky Isles of Shoals The hake-broil on the driftwood coals; The chowder on the sand-beach made, Dipped by the hungry, steaming hot, With spoons of clam-shell from the pot. 210 We heard the tales of witchcraft old, And dream and sign and marvel told , To sleepy listeners as they lay Stretched idly on the salted hay, Adrift along the winding shores, 215 When favoring breezes deigned to blow The square sail of the gundalow. And idle lay the useless oars. Our mother, while she turned her wheel Or run the new-knit stocking-heel, 220 Told how the Indian hordes came down At midnight on Cochecho town. And how her own great-uncle bore His cruel scalp-mark to fourscore. Recalling, in her fitting phrase, 225 So rich and picturesque and free (The common unrhymed poetry Of simple life and country ways). The story of her early days, — She made us welcome to her home; 230 Old hearths grew wide to give us room, We stole with her a frightened look At the gray wizard's conjuring-book, The fame whereof went far and wide Through all the simple country-side; 235 We heard the hawks at twilight play, The boat-horn on Piscataqua, The loon's weird laughter far away; 222. Dover in New Hampshire. 106 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER We fished her httle trout-brook, knew What flowers in wood and meadow grew, 240 What sunny hillsides autumn-brown She climbed to shake the ripe nuts down, Saw where in sheltered cove and bay The ducks* black squadron anchored lay, And heard the wild geese calling loud 245 Beneath the gray November cloud. Then, haply, with a look more grave, And soberer tone, some tale she gave From painful Sewel's ancient tome. Beloved in every Quaker home, 250 Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom, Or Chalkley's Journal, old and quaint, — Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint ! — Who, when the dreary calms prevailed. And water-butt and bread-cask failed, 255 And cruel, hungry eyes pursued His portly presence, mad for food. With dark hints muttered under breath Of casting lots for life or death. Offered, if Heaven withheld supplies, 260 To be himself the sacrifice. Then, suddenly, as if to save The good man from his living grave, A ripple on the water grew, A school of porpoise flashed in view. 265 "Take, eat," he said, "and be content; These fishes in my stead are sent 249, William Sewel was the historian of the Quakers. 252. Thomas Chalkley was an Englishman of Quaker parentage, born in 1675, who travelled extensively as a preacher, and finally made his home in Philadelphia. He died in 1749; his Journal was first published in 1747. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 107 By Him who gave the tangled ram To spare the child of Abraham." Our uncle, innocent of books, 270 Was rich in lore of fields and brooks. The ancient teachers never dumb Of Nature's unhoused lyceum. In moons and tides and weather wise. He read the clouds as prophecies, 275 And foul or fair could well divine. By many an occult hint and sign, Holding the cunning-warded keys To all the woodcraft mysteries; Himself to Nature's heart so near 280 That all her voices in his ear Of beast or bird had meanings clear. Like Apollonius of old, Who knew the tales the sparrows told. Or Hermes, who interpreted 285 What the sage cranes of Nilus said; A simple, guileless, childlike man. Content to live where life began ; Strong only on his native grounds. The little world of sights and sounds 290 Whose girdle was the parish bounds, Whereof his fondly partial pride The common features magnified, 269. See Genesis xxii. 13. 273. The measure requires the accent ly'ceum, but in stricter use the accent is lyce'um. 283. A philosopher born in the first century of the Christian era, of ■whom many strange stories were told, especially regarding his con- verse with birds and animals. 285. Hermes Trismegistus, a celebrated Egyptian priest and phi- losopher, to whom was attributed the revival of geometry, arithmetic, and art among the Egyptians. He was little later than Apollonius. 108 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER As Surrey hills to mountains grew In White of Selborne's loving view, — 295 He told how teal and loon he shot. And how the eagle's eggs he got, The feats on pond and river done. The prodigies of rod and gun; Till, warming with the tales he told, 300 Forgotten was the outside cold. The bitter wind unheeded blew. From ripening corn the pigeons flew. The partridge drummed i' the wood, the mink Went fishing down the river-brink. 305 In fields with bean or clover gay, The woodchuck, like a hermit gray. Peered from the doorway of his cell; The muskrat plied the mason's trade. And tier by tier his mud- walls laid; 310 And from the shagbark overhead The grizzled squirrel dropped his shell. Next, the dear aunt, whose smile of cheer And voice in dreams I see and hear, — The sweetest woman ever Fate 315 Perverse denied a household mate. Who, lonely, homeless, not the less Found peace in love's unselfishness. And welcome whereso'er she went, A calm and gracious element, 320 Whose presence seemed the sweet income And womanly atmosphere of home, — 295. Gilbert White, of Selborne, England, was a clergyman who wrote the Natural History of Selborne, a minute, affectionate, and charming description of what could be seen as it were from his own doorstep. The accuracy of his observation and the delightfulness of his manner have kept the book a classic. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 1C9 Called up her girlhood memories. The huskings and the apple-bees, The sleigh-rides and the summer sails, 325 Weaving through all the poor details And homespun warp of circumstance A golden woof-thread of romance. For well she kept her genial mood And simple faith of maidenhood; 330 Before her still a cloud-land lay, The mirage loomed across her way; The morning dew, that dried so soon With others, glistened at her noon; Through years of toil and soil and care, ,335 From glossy tress to thin gray hair. All unprofaned she held apart The virgin fancies of the heart. Be shame to him of woman born Who had for such but thought of scorn. 340 There, too, our elder sister plied Her evening task the stand beside; A full, rich nature, free to trust. Truthful and almost sternly just, Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act, 345 And make her generous thought a fact. Keeping with many a light disguise The secret of self-sacrifice. O heart sore-tried! thou hast the best That Heaven itself could give thee, — rest, 350 Rest from all bitter thoughts and things! How many a poor one's blessing went With thee beneath the low green tent Whose curtain never outward swings! 110 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER As one who held herself a part 355 Of all she saw, and let her heart Against the household bosom lean. Upon the motley-braided mat Our youngest and our dearest sat, Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes, 360 Now bathed within the fadeless green And holy peace of Paradise. Oh, looking from some heavenly hill, Or from the shade of saintly palms. Or silver reach of river calms, 365 Do those large eyes behold me still? With me one little year ago : — The chill weight of the winter snow For months upon her grave has lain; And now, when summer south-winds blow 370 And brier and harebell bloom again, I tread the pleasant paths we trod, I see the violet-sprinkled sod. Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak The hillside flowers she loved to seek, 375 Yet following me where'er I went With dark eyes full of love's content. The birds are glad; the brier-rose fills The air with sweetness; all the hills Stretch green to June's unclouded sky; 380 But still I wait with ear and eye For something gone which should be nigh, A loss in all familiar things. In flower that blooms, and bird that sings. And yet, dear heart ! remembering thee, 385 Am I not richer than of old? Safe in thy immortality. What change can reach the wealth I hold? What chance can mar the pearl and gold JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 111 Thy love hath left intrust with me? 390 And while in life's late afternoon, Where cool and long the shadows grow, I walk to meet the night that soon Shall shape and shadow overflow, I cannot feel that thou art far, 395 Since near at need the angels are; And when the sunset gates unbar. Shall I not see thee waiting stand, And, white against the evening star. The welcome of thy beckoning hand? 400 Brisk wielder of the birch and rule, The master of the district school Held at the fire his favored place; Its warm glow lit a laughing face Fresh-hued and fair, where scarce appeared 405 The uncertain prophecy of beard. He teased the mitten-blinded cat. Played cross-pins on my uncle's hat. Sang songs, and told us what befalls In classic Dartmouth's college halls 410 Born the wild Northern hills among, From whence his yeoman father wrung By patient toil subsistence scant, Not competence and yet not want, He early gained the power to pay 415 His cheerful, self-reliant way; Could doff at ease his scholar's gown To peddle wares from town to town; Or through the long vacation's reach In lonely lowland districts teach, 420 402. This schoolmaster was George Haskell, a native of Harvard, Mass., who was a Dartmouth College student at the time referred to in the poem, and afterward became a physician. 112 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER WTiere all the droll experience found At stranger hearths in boarding round, The moonht skater's keen delight, The sleigh-drive through the frosty night, The rustic party, with its rough 425 Accompaniment of blind-man's-buff. And whirling plate, and forfeits paid, His winter task a pastime made. Happy the snow-locked homes wherein He tuned his merry violin, 430 Or played the athlete in the barn. Or held the good dame's winding yarn, Or mirth-provoking versions told Of classic legends rare and old. Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome 435 Had all the commonplace of home. And little seemed at best the odds Twixt Yankee pedlers and old gods; Where Pindus-born Arachthus took The guise of any grist-mill brook, 440 And dread Olympus at his will Became a huckleberry hill. A careless boy that night he seemed; But at his desk he had the look And air of one who wisely schemed, 445 And hostage from the future took In trained thought and lore of book. * Another guest that winter night Flashed back from lustrous eyes the light. Unmarked by time, and yet not young, 450 439. Pindus is the mountain chain which, running from north to south, nearly bisects Greece. Five rivers take their rise from the cen- tral peak, the Aous, the Arachthus, the Hahacmon, the Peneus, and the Achelous. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 113 The honeyed music of her tongue And words of meekness scarcely told A nature passionate and bold. Strong, self -concentred, pursuing guide. Its milder features dwarfed beside 455 Her unbent will's majestic pride. She sat among us, at the best, A not unfeared, half -welcome guest. Rebuking with her cultured phrase Our homeliness of words and ways. 460 A certain pard-like, treacherous grace Swayed the lithe limbs and dropped the lash. Lent the white teeth their dazzling flash; And under low brows, black with night. Rayed out at times a dangerous light; 465 The sharp heat-lightnings of her face Presaging ill to him whom Fate Condemned to share her love or hate. A woman tropical, intense In thought and act, in soul and sense, 470 She blended in a hke degree The vixen and the devotee. Revealing with each freak or feint The temper of Petruchio's Kate, The raptures of Siena's saint. 475 Her tapering hand and rounded wrist Had facile power to form a fist; The warm, dark languish of her eyes Was never safe from wrath's surprise. Brows saintly calm and lips devout 480 Knew every change of scowl and pout; 474. See Shakespeare's comedy of The Taming of the Shrew. 475. Saint Catherine of Siena, who is represented as having won- derful visions. She made a vow of silence for three years. 114 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER And the sweet voice had notes more high And shrill for social battle-cry. Since then what old cathedral town Has missed her pilgrim staff and gown, 4S5 What convent-gate has held its lock Against the challenge of her knock ! Through Smyrna's plague-hushed thoroughfares. Up sea-set Malta's rocky stairs, Gray olive slopes of hills that hem 490 Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem, Or startling on her desert throne The crazy Queen of Lebanon With claims fantastic as her own, Her tireless feet have held their way; 495 And still, unrestful, bowed, and gray. She watches under Eastern skies. With hope each day renewed and fresh, The Lord's quick coming in the flesh. Whereof she dreams and prophesies! 500 At last the great logs, crumbling low. Sent out a dull and duller glow, The bull's-eye watch that hung in view. Ticking its weary circuit through, Pointed with mutely-warning sign 505 Its black hand to the hour of nine. That sign the pleasant circle broke : My uncle ceased his pipe to smoke. Knocked from its bowl the refuse gray. And laid it tenderly away, 510 500. This "not unf eared, half-welcome guest," Miss Harriet Livermore, at the time of this narrative was about twenty-eight years old. She once went on an independent mission to the West- ern Indians, whom she, in common with some others, believed to be remnants of the lost tribes of Israel, but much of her life was spent in the Orient. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 115 Then roused himself to safely cover The dull red brand with ashes over. And while, with care, our mother laid The work aside, her steps she stayed One moment, seeking to express 515 Her grateful sense of happiness For food and shelter, warmth and health. And love's contentment more than wealth, With simple wishes (not the weak. Vain prayers which no fulfilment seek, 520 But such as warm the generous heart, O'er-prompt to do with Heaven its part) That none might lack, that bitter night. For bread and clothing, warmth and hght. Within our beds awhile we heard 525 The wind that round the gables roared. With now and then a ruder shock. Which made our very bedsteads rock. We heard the loosened clapboards tost. The board-nails snapping in the frost; 530 And on us, through the unplastered wall. Felt the light sifted snow-flakes fall; But sleep stole on, as sleep will do When hearts are light and life is new; Faint and more faint the murmurs grew, 535 Till in the summer-land of dreams They softened to the sound of streams, Low stir of leaves, and dip of oars, And lapsing waves on quiet shores. Next morn we wakened with the shout 540 Of merry voices high and clear; And saw the teamsters drawing near To break the drifted highways out. 116 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER Down the long hillside treading slow We saw the half -buried oxen go, 545 Shaking the snow from heads uptost. Their straining nostrils white with frost. Before our door the straggling train Drew up, an added team to gain. The elders threshed their hands a-cold, 550 Passed, with the cider-mug, their jokes From lip to lip; the younger folks Down the loose snow-banks, wrestling, rolled, Then toiled again the cavalcade O'er windy hill, through clogged ravine, 555 And woodland paths that wound between Low drooping pine-boughs winter-weighed. From every barn a team afoot, At every house a new recruit. Where, drawn by Nature's subtlest law, 560 Haply the watchful young men saw Sweet doorway pictures of the curls And curious eyes of merry girls. Lifting their hands in mock defence Against the snow-balls' compliments, 565 And reading in each missive tost The charm which Eden never lost. We heard once more the sleigh-bells' sound; And, following where the teamsters led, The wise old Doctor went his round, 570 Just pausing at our door to say. In the brief autocratic way Of one who, prompt at Duty's call, Was free to urge her claim on all, 570. The wise old Doctor was Dr. Weld of Haverhill, an able man, who died at the age of ninety-six. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 117 That some poor neighbor sick abed 575 At night our mother's aid would need. For, one in generous thought and deed, What mattered in the sufferer's sight The Quaker matron's inward hght. The Doctor's mail of Calvin's creed? 580 All hearts confess the saints elect Who, twain in faith, in love agree, And melt not in an acid sect The Christian pearl of charity ! So days went on : a week had passed 585 Since the great world was heard from last. The Almanac we studied o'er, Read and reread our little store Of books and pamphlets, scarce a score; One harmless novel, mostly hid 590 From younger eyes, a book forbid. And poetry, (or good or bad, A single book was all we had,) Where EUwood's meek, drab-skirted Muse, A stranger to the heathen Nine, 595 Sang, with a somewhat nasal whine. The wftrs of David and the Jews. At last the floundering carrier bore The village paper to our door. Lo ! broadening outward as we read, 600 To warmer zones the horizon spread; In panoramic length unrolled We saw the marvel that it told. 591. Thomas Ellwood, one of the Society of Friends, a contem- porary and friend of Milton, and the suggester of Paradise Re- gained, wrote an epic poem in five books, called Davideis, the life of King David of Israel. 118 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER Before us passed the painted Creeks, And daft McGregor on his raids 605 In Costa Rica's everglades. And up Taygetus winding slow Rode Ypsilanti's Mainote Greeks, A Turk's head at each saddle bow ! Welcome to us its week-old news, 610 Its corner for the rustic Muse, Its monthly gauge of snow and rain, Its record, mingling in a breath The wedding bell and dirge of death: Jest, anecdote, and love-lorn tale, 615 The latest culprit sent to jail; Its hue and cry of stolen and lost. Its vendue sales and goods at cost. And traffic calling loud for gain. We felt the stir of hall and street, 620 The pulse of life that round us beat; The chill embargo of the snow Was melted in the genial glow; Wide swung again our ice-locked door. And all the world was ours once more ! 625 John Greenleaf Whittier. 604. Referring to the removal of the Creek Indians from Georgia to beyond the Mississippi. 605. In 1822 Sir Gregor McGregor, a Scotchman, began an in- effectual attempt to establish a colony in Costa Rica. 607. Taygetus is a mountain on the Gulf of Messenia in Grercf^\ and near by is the district of Maina, noted for its robbers and pirates. It was from these mountaineers that Ypsilanti, a Greek patriot, drew his cavalry in the struggle with Turkey which resulted in the independence of Greece. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 119 IN QUEST Have I not voyaged, friend beloved, with thee On the great waters of the unsounded sea. Momently listening with suspended oar For the low rote of waves upon a shore Changeless as heaven, where never fog-cloud drifts 5 Over its windless wood, nor mirage lifts The steadfast hills; where never birds of doubt Sing to mislead, and every dream dies out, And the dark riddles which perplex us here In the sharp solvent of its light are clear? 10 Thou knowest how vain our quest; how, soon or late, The baffling tides and circles of debate Swept back our bark unto its starting-place, Where, looking forth upon the blank, gray space, And round about us seeing, with sad eyes, 15 The same old diflScult hills and cloud-cold skies, We said: "This outward search availeth not To find Him. He is farther than we thought. Or, haply, nearer. To this very spot Whereon we wait, this commonplace of home, 20 As to the well of Jacob, He may come And tell us all things." As I hstened there. Through the expectant silences of prayer. Somewhat I seemed to hear, which hath to me Been hope, strength, comfort, and I give it thee. 25 "The riddle of the world is understood Only by him who feels that God is good. As only he can feel who makes his love The ladder of his faith, and climbs above On th' rounds of his best instincts; draws no line 30 Between mere human goodness and divine, 120 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER But, judging God by what in him is best. With a child's trust leans on a Father's breast, And hears unmoved the old creeds babble still Of kingly power and dread caprice of will, 35 Chary .of blessing, prodigal of curse. The pitiless doomsman of the universe. Can Hatred ask for love? Can Selfishness Invite to self-denial? Is He less Than man in kindly deahng? Can He break 40 His own great law of fatherhood, forsake And curse His children? Not for earth and heaven Can separate tables of the law be given. No rule can bind which He himseK denies; The truths of time are not eternal lies." 45 So heard I; and the chaos round me spread To light and order grew; and, "Lord," I said, *' Our sins are our tormentors, worst of all Felt in distrustful shame that dares not call Upon Thee as our Father. We have set 50 A strange god up, but Thou remainest yet. All that I feel of pity Thou hast known Before I was; my best is all Thy own. From Thy great heart of goodness mine but drew Wishes and prayers; but Thou, O Lord, wilt do, 55 In Thy own time, by ways I cannot see, All that I feel when I am nearest Thee ! " John Greenleaf Whittier WOODROW WILSON 121 MEMORIAL DAY ADDRESS (May 30, 1917) The program has conferred an unmerited dignity upon the remarks I am going to make by calling them an address, because I am not here to deliver an address. I am here merely to show in my official capacity the sympathy of this great Government with the object 5 of this occasion, and also to speak just a word of the sentiment that is in my own heart. Any memorial day of this sort is, of course, a day touched with sorrowful memory, and yet I for one do not see how we can have any thought of pity for 10 the men whose memory we honor to-day. I do not pity them. I envy them, rather, because their great work for hberty is accomphshed, and we are in the midst of a work unfinished, testing our strength where their strength already has been tested. 15 There is a touch of sorrow, but there is a touch of reassurance also in a day hke this, because we know how the men of America have responded to the call of the cause of liberty, and it fills our mind with a perfect assurance that that response will come again in 20 equal measure, with equal majesty, and with a result which will hold the attention of all mankind. When you reflect upon it, these men who died to preserve the Union died to preserve the instrument which we are now using to serve the world — a free 25 nation espousing the cause of human liberty. In one sense the great struggle into which we have now en- tered is an American struggle, because it is in defense of American honor and American rights, but it is some- thing even greater than that; it is a world struggle. 30 122 WOODROW WILSON It is a struggle, everywhere, of men who love liberty; and in this cause America will show herself greater than ever because she will rise to a greater thing. We have said in the beginning that we planned this great Government that men who wish freedom 35 might have a place of refuge and a place where their hope could be realized, and now, having established such a Government, having preserved such a Govern- ment, having vindicated the power of such a Gov- ernment, we are saying to all mankind, '* We did 40 not set this Government up in order that we might have a selfish and separate liberty, for we are now ready to come to your assistance and fight out upon the fields of the world the cause of human liberty." In this thing America attains her full dignity 45 and the full fruition of her great purpose. No man can be glad that such things have happened as we have witnessed in these last fateful years, but perhaps it may be permitted to us to be glad that we have an opportunity to show the principles which 50 we profess to be living — principles which live in our hearts — and to have a chance by the pouring out of our blood and treasure to vindicate the things which we have professed. For, my friends, the real fruition of life is to do the things we have said we wished 55 to do. There are times when words seem empty and only action seems great. Such a time has come, and in the providence of God America will once more have an opportunity to show to the world that she was born to serve mankind. 60 Woodrow Wilson INDEX OF TITLES Aladdin (Lowell), 1. Birds of Killingworth, The (Longfellow), 52. Bugle Song (Tennyson), 94. Cloud, The (Shelley), 89. Concord Bridge (Lowell), 5. Dandelion, To the (Lowell), 3. Eve of Waterloo, The (Byron) , 41 . First Snowfall, The (Lowell), 1. Flower in the Crannied Wall (Tennyson), 95. Fool's Prayer, The (Sill), 92. Fountain, The (Lowell), 13. Gettysburg Address, (Lincoln), 48. Horatius (Macaulay), 60. Incident of the French Camp (Browning), 37. In Flanders Fields (McCrae), 81. In Quest (Whittier), 119. King Philip to the White Settlers (Everett), 44. Lincoln, the Man of the People (Markham), 80. Memorial Day Address (Wilson) , 121. My Lost Youth (Longfellow), i9. My Native Land (Scott), 89. O Beautiful, My Country' (Low- ell), 14. O Captain! My Captain! (Whit- mari), 97. Opportunity (Sill), 92. Princeton, May, 1917 (Noyes), 82. Recessional (Kipling), 47. Shepherd of King Admetus, The (Lowell), 15. Singing Leaves, The (Lowell), 16. Snow-Bound (Whittier), 98. Soldier, The (Brooke), 37. Speech of John Adams (Webster), 95. Speech of Vindication (Emmet), 43. Sweet Peas (Keats), 46. To a Waterfowl (Bryant), 39. To Helen (Poe), 85. Trees (Kilmer), 46. Uprising in the North, The (Read), 86. Vision of Sir Launfal, The (Low- ell), 20. Waiting (Burroughs), 40. Washington (Lowell), 32. What has England Done.' (Ow- ens), 84. RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES (Continued) 149. 150. 151, 15-2. 153. 154. 155. 15(j. 157. 158. 159. IGO. KJl. 1()2. 1(>3. 104. 105. Kid. 167. 168. 169. 170. 171, 173. 174. 175. 176. 177. 178. 179. 180. 181. 182. 183. 184. 185. 186. 187, 189. 190. 191. 192. 193. 194. 195. 196. 197. 198, 200. 201. 202. 203. 204. 205. 206. 207. 208. 209. 210. 211. 212. 213. 214. Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Ouida's Dog of Flauders, etc. Ewing's Jackanapes, etc. Martineau's The Peasant and the Prince. Shakespeare's MidsumiuerNight's Dream. Shakespeare's Tempest. Irving's Life of Goldsmith. Tennyson's Gareth and Lynette, etc. The Song of Roland. Malory's Merlin and Sir Balin. Beowulf. Spenser's Faerie Queene. Book I. Dickens's Tale of Two Cities. Prose and Poetry of Cardinal Newman. Shakespeare's Henry V. De Quincey's Joan of Arc, etc. Scott's Quentin Durward. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero- Worship. Longfellow's Autobiographical Poems. Shelley's Poems. Lowell's My Garden Acquaintance, etc. Lamb's Essays of Elia. 172. Emerson's Essays. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Flag-Raising. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Finding a Home. Whittier's Autobiographical Poems. Burroughs' s Afoot and Atioat. Bacon's Essays. Selections from John Ruskin. King Arthur Stories from Malory. Palmer's Odyssey. Goldsmith's The Good-Natured Man. Goldsmith's Slie Stoops to Conquer. Old English and Scottish Ballads. Shakespeare's King Lear. Moores's Life of Lincoln. Thoreau's Camping in the Maine Woods. 188. Huxley's Autobiography, and Essays. Byron's Childe Harold, Canto IV, etc. Washington's Farewell Address, and Web- ster's Bunker Hill Oration. The Second Shepherds' Play, etc. Mrs. Gaskell's Cranford. Williams's ^neid. Irving's Bracebridge Hall. Selections. Thoreau's Walden. Sheridan's The Rivals. Parton's Captains of Industry. Selected. 199. Macaulay'sLordClive .and W.Hastings. Howells's The Rise of Silas LapJiam. Harris's Little Mr. Thimbl^ finger Stories. Jewett's The Nigiit Before Thanksgiving. Shumway's Nibeluiigenlied. Slieffield's Old Testament Narrative. Powers's A Dickens Reader. Goethe's Faust. Part I. Cooper's The Spy. Aldrich's Story of a Bad Boy. Warner's Being a Boy. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Polly Oliver's Pro- blem. Milton's Areopagitica, etc. Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Hemingway's Le Morte Arthur. Moores's life of Columbus. 215. Bret Harte's Tennessee's Partner, etc. 216. Ralph Roister Doister. 217. Gorboduc. (In preparation.) 218. Selected Lyrics from Wordsworth, Keats, and Shelley. 219. Selected Lyrics from Dryden, Collins. Gray, Cowper, and Burns. Southern Poems. Macaulay's Speeches on Copyright; Lin- coln's Cooper Union Address. Briggs's College Life. Selections from the Prose Writings of Mat- thew Arnold. Perry's American Mind and American Idealism. Newman's University Subjects. Burroughs's Studies in Nature and L't erature. Bryce's Promoting Good Citieenship. Selected English Letters. Jewett's Play-Day Stories. Grenfell's Adrift on an Ice-Pan. Muir's Stickeen. Harte's Waif of the Plains, etc. (//• preparation.) 233. Tennyson's The Coming of Arthur, the Holy Grail and the Passing of Arthur. Selected Essays. Briggs's To College Girls. Lowell's Literary Essays. (Selected.) Short Stories. Selections from American Poetry. Howells's The Sleeping Car, and The Parlor Car. Mills's Tlie Story of a Thousand-Year Pine, etc. Eliot's Training for an Effective Life. Bryant's Ili.nd. Abridged Edition. Lockwood's English Sonnets. Antin's At School in the Promised Land. 246. Shepard's Sliakespeare Questions. 247. Muir's The Boyhood of a Naturalist. Bosvvell's Life of Johnson. Palmer's Self-Cultivation in English, and The Glory of the Imperfect. Sheridan's The School for Scandal. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and Piers the Plongliman. Howells's A Modern Instance. Helen Keller's The Story of My Life. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Modern Verse. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Ameri- pan Poets. Richards' s High Tide. Kipling Stories and Poems Every Child Should Know, Book I, Kipling Stories and Poems Every Child Should Know, Book II. Burroughs's The Wit of a Duck and Other Papers. Irving's Tales from the Alhambra. Liberty, Peace, and Justice. 262. A Treasury of War Poetry. 263. Peabody's The Piper. (/Sm alto back coim-) (75) 220. 221. 222. 223. 224. 225. 226. 228. 229. 230. 231. 232. 234. 235. 236. 238. 239. 240. 241. 242. 243. 244. 245. 248. 249. 250. 251. 252. 253. 254. 255. 256. 257. 258. 259. 260. 261. RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SE mi (Continued) EXTRA NUMBERS A American Authors and their Birthdays. C Warriner ' s Teaching of English Classics in the Grades. D Scudder's Literature in School. F Longfellow Leaflets. G Whittier Leaflets. H Holmes Leaflets. / Thomas ' s How to TeachEnglish Classics. J Holbrook's Northland Heroes. K Minimum College Requirements in Eng- lish for Study, L The Riverside Song Book. M Lowell's Fable for Critics. N Selections from American Authors. O Lowell Leaflets. /* Holbrook's Hiawatha Primer. Q Selections from English Authors. E Hawthorne ' s T wice-Told Tales. Selected. S Irving's Essays from Sketch Book. & lected. T Literature for the Study of Language. U A Dramatization of the Song of Hia watha. V Holbrook's Book of Nature Myths. W Brown's In the Days of Giants. X Poems for the Study of Language. Y Warner's In the Wilderness. Z Nine Selected Poems. A A Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner an Lowell's The Vision of Sir Launfal. Poe's The Raven, Whittier 's Snow Bound, and Long-fellow's The Court ship of Miles Standish. Selections for Studj' and Memorizing DD Sharp's The Year Out-of-Doors. EE Poems for Memorizing. BB CC LIBRARY BINDING 135-136. Chaucer's Prologue, The Knight's Tale, and The Nun's Priest's Tale. 160. Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book I. 166. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero-Worship. 168. Shelley's Poems. Selected. 177. Bacon's Essays. 178. Selections from the Works of John Ruskin. 181-182. Goldsmith's The Good-Natured Man, and She Stoops to Conquer. 183. Old English and Scottish Ballads. 187-188. Huxley's Autobiography and S«lected Essays. 191. Second Shepherd's Play, Everyman, etc. 211. Milton's Areopagitica, etc. 216. Ralph Roister Doister. 222. Briggs's College Life. 223. Selections from the Prose Works of Matthew Arnold. 224. Perry's The American Mind and American Idealism. 225. Newman's University Subjects. 226. Burroughs's Studies in Nature and Literature. 227. Bryce's Promoting Good Citizenship. 235. Briggs's To College Girls. 236. Selected Literary Essays from James Russell Lowell. 242. Eliot's The Training for an Effective Life. 244. Lockwood's English Sonnets. 246. Shepard's Shakespeare Questions. 248. Boswell's Life of Johnson. Abridged. 250. Sheridan's The School for Scandal. 251. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and Piers the Ploughman. 252. Howells's A Modern Instance. 254. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of Modem Verse, 255. Rittenhouse's The Little Book of American Poets. 256. Richards 's High Tide. K. Minimum College Requirements in English for Study. if Complete Catalogue and Price List free upon application HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY