A A HORA Ex Libris C. K. OGDEN THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES LI LE AVTttOlVOf S . -/1ND OWER TOCMTi MORRISON AND GIBE, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. X. Gil PREFATORY NOTE " LITTLE FOLKS' LAND " consists chiefly of verses contributed to The Child's Own Magazine. A few were included in an illustrated volume of verses, published some years ago, now out of print, and the remainder appear in this volume for the first time. H. G. G. 1C50697 To S. J. To whom but you, Whose patient fingers trained my own The difficult slow pen to guide, When Life and Knowledge all unknown I learned and listened at your side To whom should I, in tribute late, This sheaf of verses dedicate, To whom but you f Your voice, before my lips could sing, Has oft made music over me; None other could such comfort bring, When cares would vex or sleep would flee. I do but -waft you back again The echoes of an earlier strain. You shared those petty joys that made The garden plot a kingdom bright, The common wood a fairy glade, The nursery fire a dear delight. Those days are fled, but leave you still To fill the place none else can fill. And so with these light-woven songs Of things that mark the flowery way From Childhood's Land, and what belongs To golden hours before the grey, Your name I couple, since 'twas you Led me that pleasant country through. H. G. 1895. LIST OF CONTENTS PAGE STORY-BOOK TIME . . ". . . u KEEP YOUR PLACES . . . .13 AFTER THE WINTER .... . .16 BEFORE A STORM . . - . . . .17 MARCH VIOLETS . . ' . . . .18 DAFFODILS 19 THE Two CATS . . . . .20 MY TOYS . 22 SUMMER is COMING 27 AFTER THE RAIN 28 THE CUCKOO . . . . . .29 SUNSHINE 30 THE BIG BALLOON 31 "MOVING" 32 THE WONDERFUL FAIRY DREAM . . .34 HAREBELLS . . ... . . .37 THE LANE TO HENDON 39 THINKING OF OTHERS 42 HOLIDAY TIME ...... 43 THE BUTTERFLIES 44 A NAUTICAL NONSENSE RHYME . .46 SUMMER TWILIGHT . . . . -47 AMONG THE MER-BABIES .... 49 ROWING HOME . . ... . .52 io Contents PAGE GOOD-NlGHT 53 AFTER DARK 54 A LITTLE DEAD SPARROW . . . .56 ON THE RIVER 57 PROUD AS A QUEEN 60 THE REAPERS 61 AUTUMN THOUGHTS 62 SOUTHWARD WITH THE SWALLOW . . 64 NOVEMBER . . . . . .65 THE OLD SPELLING-BOOK .... 66 WATCHING FOR FATHER .... 69 KING OF THE NURSERY 70 THE Two PICTURE-BOOKS . . . .72 IN DREAMLAND 74 LOOKING FORWARD LITTLE FOLKS' LAND STORY-BOOK TIME GOOD-BYE, good-bye to lessons and learning ! Good-bye for a month to slates and sums ! There's a capital fire in the nursery burning, And there we gather when twilight comes. Then Alice will sit in the high-back chair, And open the book that we all know well ; And each of us chooses some story there For Alice in simple words to tell. There's just enough light on the pages thrown (She need not read they are known by heart) ; The door is closed, we are left alone, And we ask her at once to make a start. The firelight flickers, the shadows dance, And the wind outside has a moaning cry ; Then Alice begins with a tale from France Of a girl who dared for her King to die. 12 Etttle .folks' 3LanU Another follows a. tale so queer That we laugh together and can't sit still. Then one that makes us shiver with fear, Of a treasure hid in a lonely hill ; And how a miser greedy of gold, As he came by night to steal the hoard, Was caught in the magic thorn-tree's hold, And never found where the gold was stored. Then beautiful stories that make us dream Of the buttercup fields and the poppied corn ; Of fairy boats on the haunted stream That are seen by those who are Sunday- born. Then other tales that are "strictly true," Of people who live far, far away, Who roam the African forest through With poisoned arrows the beasts to slay. Of islands crowded with ferns and flowers, And palms that rise at the water's edge. Of Eastern traders, and tall white towers ; Or of eagles' nests on the mountain ledge. And just as our thoughts go wandering out To those summer isles across the sea, We hear downstairs Tom's noisy shout, And Jane is ringing the bell for tea. gout Places KEEP YOUR PLACES THREE learned professors from Trin- comalee Went seeking for knowledge across the sea. Said the first, "Such a dangerous way we are going, I'll manage the sail when the wind is blowing." The second one said, "While you hold the rope, I'll keep a look-out with my telescope." And the third remarked, "Lest we all grow thinner, The fish that I catch must serve for dinner." 14 Etttle JFoifts' ILanti All went well, till the first one cried To the third, who was fishing over the side " Not much chance of a dinner to-day ; Take my place, and I'll show you the way." And the third exclaimed, " We shall never get in While our friend stands staring and stroking his chin. "He shall manage the sail, for I Am better able the land to spy." But the second replied, "We had better keep still, For, to tell you the truth, I am feeling ill." "No, said the first; "you shall do as we wish ! " And so said the one who was catching fish. Each fought as fiercely as any sea-rover, When all of a sudden, the boat tipped over. The man who had managed the sail went under, Dragging the fisher, who bellowed like thunder ; Hour places 15 And sorrowing friends have lost all hope Of the poor little man with the telescope. Such is the tale of the learned three, Who sailed for knowledge across the sea- What is its lesson for you and me ? 1 6 ILtttle JFoIks' ILanJ AFTER THE WINTER WHEN wintry weather is well-nigh done, And the sad earth longs for the summer sun, How glad are the strong wild winds that wake ! How shrill their cry, as the trees they shake ! Sweeping the dark wet fields, where sleep A thousand blossoms in hiding deep. Till the river runs with a merrier flow, And the drifting snow-clouds northward go, And the path is clear for the dancing feet Of Spring, who is coming with all things sweet. Then are the days when the earth is bright With orchard boughs that are robed in white, And the green of the leaf with never a stain Unfolds at the kiss of the April rain ; When violets bud, in the grass concealed, And daffodils dance in the open field ; And sharp little eyes a-seeking go Wherever the primrose clusters blow, And the light white clouds that cross the blue Scatter to let the sunlight through. before a Storm 17 BEFORE A STORM QEA-GULL white with airy flight, ^-J Why have you left the salt grey sea ? There are no flowers in the forest bowers, There is no leaf on the swaying tree ; Dreary and brown is the windy down, And what is the beauty that tempts you here? Is not the play of the dashing spray To the heart of a sea-bird far more dear ? " Little we care if the woods be fair, If the cornfields glitter or dreary lie In bleak March weather we flock together, And shoreward sail when the storm draws nigh." i8 EittU JFolfts' EanU MARCH VIOLETS WHEN as yet the Summer is a far-off comer, And few are the flowers the garden-beds can show, When the quiet woods are sleeping and the chill winds are sweeping, Then hie we to the banks where the violets blow. Pansies, lilies, roses we must wait for such gay posies, And the daffodils have scarcely unsheathed their golden bells, So a welcome warm we render to the wee buds shy and tender That dare to come so early, making sweet the forest dells. For their purple lips remind us that soon will fade behind us The long, dark months of Winter, the snow- cloud and the rain, And the cuckoo's cry shall ring to us, and flowery May shall bring to us The old blue skies unclouded and greening woods again. IDaffotils DAFFODILS THE days of dancing daffodils, How slow they come, how fast they flee! The celandines have starred the hills, And green buds deck the hawthorn tree, But not until the meadow fills With golden bells, comes Spring for me. littth JFoIfts' 3lant( THE TWO CATS. JEALOUS of Bob, you say ? Envy him ? Well I may. Bobbie is petted and spoiled exceedingly ; When he does wrong he is talked to pleadingly. Life to him is all food and play. He on the sofa sits, Fed with daintiest bits ; 7 am told to keep to the kitchen That is the place that / grow rich in. Common cats must live by their wits. He is fed from a plate, / by a mouse-hole wait ; He on the hearthrug curls and doses, I sit quiet where whiskered noses Pop through the floor, inside the grate. What is the use of him ? Silky and sleek and trim ; Where would he be if a rat ran past him? Say, how long would a fat mouse last him? Change his diet from cream to skim. Cats Bobbie would "fetch a price," But for clearing the house of mice It's better to have well-sharpened claws And wide-awake eyes and active paws, Like me, though beauty is rather nice ! 22 lattle Jolftg' MY TOYS ANY toys make tiresome boys ! " if that's the truth, I must have been About as mischievous a youth As ever in this world was seen. At three, while I was still in frocks, And not allowed to wander far, I used to draw about the floor A little painted railway car ; And well it was that friends declined To let me use it in the street, For half a dozen times a day The string would catch in people's feet. At four, I had a grand desire To have a paint-box of my own, And in a week you could not find A book that I had let alone. My pictures round the nursery shone, They got upon the staircase wall, And visitors, with curious eye, Surveyed them in the entrance hall. 23 But when the house was papered fresh, My pots and paints were stowed away ; And, to console me for the loss, A Noah's Ark came home next day. But never yet were birds or beasts So shamefully and hardly used. Before I got the paper off, The pairs were hopelessly confused. And when at bedtime Aunt came up, I had to sob a sad confession That Japheth's feet were far too weak To follow in the long procession. Nor this alone, for soon the head Was missing from his elder brother, And one of the Hyaena's legs Was somehow shorter than the other. And so it went from bad to worse : Some creature disappeared each night ; The very ark in which they lived Was now no longer water-tight. They called me "a destructive child ! " What that might mean I hardly knew, Unless it meant a host of toys Of which I tried to keep a few. 24 Eittlc folks' ILantJ They blamed me when I burst my drum To look for music through the cracks, And held my dolls before the fire To melt them down for sealing-wax. Then older grown, and wiser too, The whipping-top my thoughts employed ; I scared old ladies into fits, And many a window-pane destroyed. When tops "went out," I bought a hoop, And made the street a racing-ground ; The big Policeman seemed annoyed, The cabmen "Hi'd!" the neighbours frowned. Till one day, coming home from school, The hoop went trundling on too fast, And tangled up and overturned A stranger whom it should have passed. From that day forth I never saw My dear old iron hoop again, But, looking round for some new sport, I soon had leap-frog "on the brain." We played it on the gravel walk, We played it up and down the hall ; We pushed the furniture aside, And said the rooms were built too small 25 And when they put a stop to this, To walk on stilts we all aspired, And from the carpenter obtained The wooden poles that each required. We thought it splendid fun indeed To stride like giants through the town, Till on a slide we stepped one day, And three of us came tumbling down. From that time forth we thought it best To walk the earth like other people Not half on earth and half in air, Like weathercocks above the steeple. While sundry cuts about the hands, And smaller ones about the nose, Sufficed to teach in slippery paths A wiser use of heels and toes. When happy summer-time returned, And talk of cricket filled the air, I longed to have, like other boys, A snowy flannel suit to wear. And proud was I, when, thus attired, With bat and cap and shoes complete, Against the High School boys I played, And saved my side from sure defeat. 26 iUttle ' EanS So ran the years of Childhood by, Till I and they, no longer boys, To business went, and soon forgot That we were ever fond of TOYS. Sttmmet is CTotnmg 27 SUMMER IS COMING BIRDS in the hedgerows are singing for gladness, Lambs in the meadows are skipping at play, Sunbeams of mirth through the grey clouds ot sadness Flash, and the south wind will drive them away. Look at the lily-bells nodding with laughter I Hark at the shepherd boys piping in glee ! Knowing far brighter in days that come after Wood-songs and wild flowers and sunshine will be. 28 Etttle JFoIfes' Eanti AFTER THE RAIN WHEN the rain is over and gone How the flowers lift up their eyes ! And the birds in the eaves 'Neath the wet ivy leaves Peep out with a sweet surprise. And the air is balmy and soft and cool, And each little quiet wayside pool That the blue sky looks upon Takes on the hue of the arch above, As a child's face mirrors its mother's love. ffiuckoo 29 THE CUCKOO HPHROUGH the deer-park as I go, -* Where the April sunshine falls, And the shadows lie a-row, Hark ! the cuckoo calls. He is back from over sea, And his old cry comes to me Like some magic word that brings Bygone thoughts of happy things ; Till, in that repeated note, Sweeter music seems to float Than from any song-bird's throat. Sudden, joyous, bold, and clear, Like a child that calls at play, Hidden in the greenwood near. Speak and he's away : Flown across the meadows bright, In tall hedgerows lost to sight. Yet, whene'er I catch the cry, Straight I think on pleasures nigh : Happy jaunts by forest ways, Picnics where the river strays, Lilac boughs, and cloudless days. 30 Eittle folks' SUNSHINE O UNSHINE in the meadows, *J Sunshine on the sea ; All the world I look upon Smiles back at me. Then, when I look upward To the bright blue sky, God in Heaven seems smiling From His throne on high Pleased to see His children Laughing at their play, And the green world keeping Happy holiday. 28tg Balloon 31 THE BIG BALLOON MOLLY and Mac had a nice surprise Crossing 1 the fields one afternoon ; Suddenly sighting up in the skies A great round j'ellow and red balloon. " Where is it sailing, I'd like to know? " Mac with hands in his pockets cried. " P'r'aps to the land of the Eskimo," Molly suggested, open-eyed. " How many yards there must be between Us and the big balloon," sighed Mac ; "Yards?" said his sister; "miles, you mean ! How will it ever journey back ? " Home they wended, as low and red The sun peeped over his cloudy bars : And Molly mused, as she went to bed, " I s'pose by now it has reached the stars \ " 32 little JFoIfes' Eani w "MOVING" E are going to move to-day To a house some miles away. Hark ! the van comes rumbling down, Ordered from the market town. All our toys have been collected Ere this upset we expected, Some in boxes, some in bags, Marbles, peg-tops, soldiers, flags, Cords that fit the garden swing, Balls, and hoops, and everything. Poll the parrot, in her cage, Chatters loudly in her rage, Much disliking all the clatter, Wondering what can be the matter. Tossed and shaken, off she goes, Screaming at her careless foes. One load off! and in the hall Stands the next lot by the wall Chairs and tables, pictures, brackets, Lumbering chests, and tiny packets ; Cups and saucers, crockery ware, Kitchen plates, and china rare ; 33 Tubs and brooms, and pots and pans, Garden tools and watering-cans ; Toy-books from the nursery cupboard- " Cinderella," "Mother Hubbard," " Puss in Boots," and every treasure Made to charm the children's leisure. In the old home nevermore We shall con their pages o'er ; Garden, nursery, all will be New and strange to you and me. But 'tis not the picture-books, Nor the favourite haunts and nooks, But the old and well-loved faces, If we see them in their places, And the voices that we know, These make Home, where'er we go. 34 Etttlr Softs' 3Lani THE WONDERFUL FAIRY DREAM THEY woke me just in the very best part Of the wonderful fairy dream. I heard a noise, and I gave a start, And I blinked at the morning beam. I rubbed my eyes, and I stared around, For it seemed so very strange That a knock at the door such a little sound Should work such a wondrous change. STfje ffiJKonfoetful jFairg am 35 One moment back I had bird-like wings, And fast through the sky I flew, And I looked on a world of beautiful things My governess never knew. There were creatures roaming and racing there That never are seen in books Fishes that swam through the golden air And singing-birds down in the brooks. Woolly-white sheep as tiny as mice Up in the mulberry trees ; With shepherds that lived on sugar and spice And shepherd-dogs shaped like bees. I saw the King of this wonderful place, And I kissed the hand of the Queen ; She smiled, and I fancied I knew her face, And I asked what it all could mean. For now, as I looked, it seemed to me I had been to that land before ; And the wonder and puzzle how this could be, Perplexed me more and more. 36 Etttle JFolfcs' 3LanU Then a bird that sat on a tree close by Said something-, and flew away ; And great black clouds crept over the sky, And I knew that I must not stay. Then the thunder rolled in the dark and I Woke to the light of day ! But all that morning my thoughts ran back To the country where I had been, And I fancied I spied through the lilac flowers The face of the fairy Queen. And when the hush of the evening fell And the white moths flew in the lane, I hoped through the gates of sleep to pass To that wonderful land again. 37 HAREBELLS THE harebell blue is the fairies' flower, On sandy banks of the lane up-springing, There they hide from a summer shower Have you not seen the bells set swinging When never a breath of wind doth move The grasses tall in the field above ? Fairies and bees creep in together, And snugly hide from the chill wet weather. Eane to Mention 39 THE LANE TO HENDON MIDSUMMER weather was over the world And the last-budded leaf to the sun uncurled, When, weak from fever, they sent me down To a village beyond the noise of town. Well I remember that happy night The soft breeze coming like kisses light, The sea-like sound in the fir-trees tall, And the brake-fern scent at my least foot-fall. On the sandy track of the Rider's Way The fresh-dropped burrs of the chestnuts lay ; Prickly and green and pretty to see, I gathered them all they were new to me. Swift dark wings skimmed round me there To and fro in the evening air. And someone said, " 'Twill be rain, I know, To-morrow the swallows are flying low." So, with these sights and sounds, began The holiday-time, whose bright weeks ran To the golden hour when, blithe and strong, I looked on the faces unseen so long. 40 3Little JFoIfcs' Eani But, of all the sights, I remember best The lane that skirted my cottage nest, Winding the pleasant fields between, Like a ribbon of white broad-edged with green. The edge of green was the wayside grass With its border a-dust from the wheels that pass; And betwixt the grass and the hedgerow tall Lay that which I loved the best of all. 'Twas a fairy jungle of flowers and reeds, Of willow-herb stems and water-weeds, And great convolvulus trumpets white That always closed at the touch of night ; And over them all, O glad surprise ! Hovered a thousand butterflies, White, and mottled, and burnished brown, With thread-like feelers and wings of down ; Settling now on a blossom-cup, Winging away then, up and up Over the fields, till my dazzled sight Failed to follow the airy flight. ILane to ^enion 41 The larks sang high in the cloudless blue, And the meadows were tempting to wander through, And pleasant the path on the fir-crowned heath That wound to the dingles of fern beneath ; But the sight, of all others, that charmed my eyes Was that thicket of flowers and its butterflies. The larks still sing as they sang of old, And the meadows thicken with green and gold, But vanished, never to spring again, Is the fairy forest that fringed the lane. 42 ILtttle jFoIfes' THINKING OF OTHERS r 1 ""HINK of your friends, and try to measure *- Your happiness by another's pleasure. For 'tis not only by hymn and prayer A child may climb Heaven's golden stair ; Kind looks and deeds and words of love Are stepping-stones to the Home above. |t?olitiag tZTime 43 HOLIDAY TIME HOW many weeks to holiday time ? Working and waiting, we count the days : Soon to be free, and off to the sea, Or roaming in meadow and woodland ways. The cliff to scale and the hill to climb, And, many a mile from the busy town, To breathe the air of the breezy down ; Or listening stand Where the yellow sea-sand Is beaten and bared by the rush of the tide ; And the radiant sunlight far and wide Beckons us out with a golden hand, Till we envy the flight of the sea-gull white As he wanders at will 'twixt the foam and the land. 44 EittU JFoIfcs' Eani THE BUTTERFLIES T N the sunshine, flitting over * Dusty roads and fields of clover, With their wings of brown or azure Flashing back the golden light, The butterflies come dancing, To and fro for ever glancing, Till o'er their life of pleasure Drops the long dark night. See them fly by park and paling, Round the garden blossoms sailing, About the dark green nettles By the weed-grown wall. Then choosing out the rarest Of the roses and the fairest Of the red geranium petals Ere they break and fall. Past the village school they wander, Where the children sit and ponder, With grave and sober faces, The lessons of the day ; Not too busy to discover An intruder, should he hover, Just to tempt them from their places, Where they needs must stay. Butterflies 45 For him, the garden roses ; For them, till morning closes, Dull lesson-books and learning To be mastered there ; But for him, the gay new-comer, The sun of one brief summer ; While for them, full oft returning, Shall its face shine fair. 46 Eittle jFolfes' A NAUTICAL NONSENSE RHYME A FTERNOON tea, ** Under the sea, As cool and refreshing as well could be, Discussing- at table The submarine cable And recent wrecks from the Queen's Navee. Quite select, And very " correct "; You couldn't detect the slightest fault. Everyone chatters Of nautical matters, And sugars his tea with lumps of salt. Summer 3Tfotltgf)t 47 SUMMER TWILIGHT DROP your curtains over the world, Beautiful Night ! The Day goes down with its flags unfurled And streamers bright ; And eyes are weary, and long to see The shadows falling on field and tree. Flowers are athirst, and, ere they sleep, The dew to their dry, sweet lips must creep ; And, if we listen, a low, deep sigh Goes up from earth to the evening sky. Shine, O beautiful stars, and shed Silver light in the blue o'erhead ; Little tired eyes that watched for you Closed or ever you twinkled through : But lest they open and look again Up through the darkening window pane, Keep your fairy-lamps burning bright Through the short hours of the summer night. tfje iJfler*23ai)iS 49 AMONG THE MER-BABIES MERMEN and mermaids and mer-babies too, What a world they live in (if the tales be true) ! Never, never troubled by the thirsty August weather, In the cool sea-depths they can romp at will together. The hot sun may beat on the fishing-boats above them, And flash upon the wavelets and the white- winged birds that love them, Till tired grow the cattle in the green fields straying, And tired grow the children on the sand and shingle playing, And tired grows the waggoner, and sleepy grows, and surly, And tired grow the flowers that have been awake so early. And all the world is glad when the quiet evening comes, And the workers and the players gather in to their homes. But, all the while, far down in the merry, merry sea, 4 So Eittle folks' ILantt What noises you shall hear where the mer- babies be ; What laughter, and what screams, and what games of "touch-and-go,". What nooks for "hide-and-seek "in the sea- weed groves they know ; What fun to chase the fishes and pinch their silver tails, Or a hundred at a time mount and ride the monster whales. At night, when all come home, then the mer- maids comb their curls, And ask for fairy-tales about earthly boys and girls ; And when of ships and cities the kind mer- mothers tell, And shops, and schools, and children who learn to read and spell, When all is told, the mer-baby that listens on her knee Says, " Mother, shall we ever those happy fairies see ? " And, just above a whisper, she answers, with a kiss, " Of all my fairy story, the strangest part is this tfje ffltt-Babteg 51 That in spite of books and lessons they are not always happy, And some who have the most are quite often cross and snappy, And 'tis said an earthly boy (well, he must have been a mad one) Was known to thump his school-books, and say he wished he had none ! " Then all the mer-boys shout, and the mer- maids laughing too Exclaim, "O really, mother, that story can't be true ! " 52 auttle JFfllfoi' ROWING HOME ' I A HE lake lies still and clear as glass, And all the evening sky Is piled with clouds, from which will flash The lightnings, by and by. Pull, little Nannie, pull with me, And make the old boat go ! Father will smile to see how well His little maid can row. 'Tis heavy work for childish hands To move the heavy oar, But every stroke will bring us both Nearer the distant shore. Hark, how the water-drops that drip Make music all the way ! How sweet the cool, soft twilight is After the long, hot day. Pull, sturdy little arms ! we soon The landing-place shall see, And father's kisses shall reward His little maid and me. 53 GOOD-NIGHT THE great red sun is going down, The day begins to die, And angel hands with colour rare Paint all the western sky. The flowers that in the morning stood With faces smiling bright, Now droop and nod their drowsy heads, And dream till morning light ; And I am tired and sleepy too, And fain would say " Good-night ! " Father, whose hand when day is done Calls up the evening shade, And scatters down the cooling dews On flowers that else would fade, I see Thy care for trees and flowers, And I would learn aright To trust Thee when, by darkness hid, The sun is out of sight ; And, like the flowers, to close my eyes. Nor fear to say " Good-night 1 " 54 Iiittle folks' Hatrt AFTER DARK A FTER sunset, when the sky * ^ Darkens, and the world is still, Strange new sounds, unheard before, Break from wood and lane and hill : Sounds the children seldom hear Lost in Dreamland, far away Yet, to those who listening wake, Sweeter than the sounds of day ; after Batft 55 Softly breathes the fragrant wind, Drowsy with the heat of day, Lightly stirs the leaves, and soon Through the forest dies away. Crickets in the hedges sing, Where the glow-worm tapers burn ; Furry feet along the hill Shake the dewdrops from the fern. Then from tower or ruined shed Comes a louder, noisier cry, Where the grey owl sits alone, Staring at the moon and sky. While among the sleepy flowers Float the night-moths noiselessly, Stealing sweets before the bees Come a-hunting by and by. So, while things of day are still, Other creatures wake and rise ; Sleep may hush the clattering town Nature's music never dies. 56 Eittle JFoIfes' Eanfc A LITTLE DEAD SPARROW WHERE did he find you, poor little dicky-bird? Feathers all ruffled, and music all still. ' ' Down by the hedgerow I found him this morning, Beside the big elm, at the foot of the hill." Who was it killed you, poor little dicky- bird Who was it killed you, this bright summer's morn? " Some cruel hawk must have pounced on him greedily See how his back by sharp talons is torn ! " Where shall we bury you, poor little dicky- bird ; Where, pretty bird, shall we lay you to rest? " Under the meadow grass soft we will lay him, And handfuls of daisies we'll strew on his breast." n the Eiber 57 ON THE RIVER THE summer sun is shining bright, the skies are fair and blue, And on the stream my bonnie boat is waiting, Maud, for you. Come, leave the books upon the shelf, the broom behind the door, The light itself plays hide-and-seek with the shadows on the floor. For all the world takes holiday, and why should we remain The clouds that now like feathers fly may soon grow dark with rain. There's not a ripple on the stream but what our oars will make ; The lily-cups so drowsy are, they scarce can keep awake ; The very winds have gone to sleep, the willow leaves are still, And far away I hear the tinkling sheep-bells on the hill. The merry larks are going up, and singing as they fly, And scarlet poppies glitter where the yellow wheat-fields lie. 58 fLfttte JFoIfts' Earth Come out, and we will quietly go floating down the river, And picnic in some pretty nook where reeds and rushes quiver. Forget-me-nots in clusters blue the shady banks below, The loosestrife with its crimson buds, and meadow-sweet shall blow ; And sloping to the waterside a carpet green is spread, With daisies white and softest moss where'er our feet shall tread. In gipsy-fashion, there we'll build a crackling faggot fire, And on the grass laid out shall be all dainties we desire. The wood-bird from his favourite tree shall bid us welcome there, And we will pay him for his song with crumbs, a goodly share. While over us and all about the butterflies will sail, And flash the sunshine from their wings, until the daylight fail. n tfre Kfttr 59 So we will feast, and when we both have picked a wild-flower crown, We'll steer for home, and step ashore before the sun goes down. 6o Etttle JFoIfes' Eatrti PROUD AS A QUEEN '"THHERE are plenty of things in the garden J- fair That Josephine's eyes grow bright to see, But above all the rest, the thing she loves best Is the big swing under the walnut tree. All round it in summer, sweet scents are blown, And the little birds sit in the shade and sing, And proud as a queen on a golden throne Is Josephine perched on the garden swing. >i Ijc lUapcrs 61 THE REAPERS. THE reapers came to the field, And the reapers have homeward gone, And low is the round red sun That on their labour shone. The swish of the flashing steel, And the drowsy heat of noon, Give place to the quiet night, And the glow of the harvest moon. No more, when the summer dawn Has tipp'd the hilltop trees, Will the golden wheat-ears wave At the breath of the morning breeze ; No more, like a string of pearls, The dew on the stalks will cling ; No more be rustled away By the skylark's mounting wing. Bare will the stubble lie, And the scarlet poppies fade, And many a flower beside, For lack of the friendly shade. The autumn mists must come, And the snows, and the April rain, Ere the beauty the reapers stole Shall clothe the field again. 62 Etttle JFoIftg' Eani AUTUMN THOUGHTS "\ T THAT are you thinking of, birdie, What are you thinking of now, Sitting up there in the twilight, Alone on the garden bough ? The summer at last is over, The leaves turn yellow and red, And grey mists cover so often The blue skies overhead. Do you think of the bonnie roses That made the air so sweet ? Do you miss the children's laughter And patter of children's feet ? Are you fretting after the nestlings That once you sheltered and fed, Or longing for your companions That over the sea have fled ? The roses have faded and fallen, The children to school are gone, And the swallows have followed the sunshine, For winter is creeping on. Autumn