Literature for Children Part 7

The gra.s.shopper, gnat, and fly, Serve for our minstrelsy; Grace said, we dance a while And so the time beguile: And if the moon doth hide her head, The glowworm lights us home to bed.

On tops of dewy gra.s.s So nimbly do we pa.s.s, The young and tender stalk Ne'er bends when we do walk; Yet in the morning may be seen Where we the night before have been.

--UNKNOWN.

RING OUT, WILD BELLS

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, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.

--ALFRED LORD TENNYSON.

SONG OF SPRING

The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh, Leaping upon the mountains, Skipping upon the hills.

My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: Behold, he standeth behind our wall, He looketh forth at the windows, Showing himself through the lattice.

My beloved spake and said unto me: Rise up, my love, my fair one, And come away.

For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grape Give a good smell.

Arise, my love, my fair one, And come away.

--KING SOLOMON.

FOURTH YEAR

PIPPA'S SONG

The year's at the spring And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hill-side's dew-pearled; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn: G.o.d's in his heaven-- All's right with the world!

--ROBERT BROWNING.

A SEA DIRGE

Full fathom five thy father lies: Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange.

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Hark! now I hear them,-- Ding, dong, bell.

--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 chalic'd flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With everything that pretty bin, My lady sweet, arise; Arise, arise!

--WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

WINTER

When icicles hang by the wall, And d.i.c.k the shepherd blows his nail And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail; When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, To-who; Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marion's nose looks red and raw; When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, To-who; Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

--WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

A FAIRY'S SONG

Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green: The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours: I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.

--WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

A LAND DIRGE

Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men.

Call unto his funeral dole The ant, the field mouse, and the mole To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm, And (when gay tombs are robb'd) sustain no harm: But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men: For with his nails he'll dig them up again.

--JOHN WEBSTER.

MY HEART LEAPS UP

My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began, So is it now I am a man, So be it when I shall grow old Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man: And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.

--WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

A MORNING SONG

Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day: With night we banish sorrow; Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft, To give my Love good-morrow!

Wings from the wind to please her mind, Notes from the lark I'll borrow; Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale, sing, To give my Love good-morrow; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.

Wake from thy nest, Robin-red-breast, Sing, birds, in every furrow; And from each hill, let music shrill Give my fair Love good-morrow!

Blackbird and thrush in every bush, Stare, linnet, and c.o.c.k-sparrow!

You pretty elves, amongst yourselves, Sing my fair Love good-morrow To give my Love good-morrow; Sing, birds, in every furrow!

--THOMAS HEYWOOD.

IN MARCH

The c.o.c.k is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun: The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest: The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising, There are forty feeding like one!

Like an army defeated, The snow has retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill; The ploughboy is whooping--anon--anon: 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!

--WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

CHORAL SONG TO THE ILLYRIAN PEASANTS