Required Poems for Reading and Memorizing Part 6

"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."

"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!

Their spirits are in heaven!"

'Twas throwing words away; for still The little Maid would have her will, And said, "Nay, we are seven!"

POEMS BY MARY HOWITT

THE VOICE OF SPRING

I am coming, I am coming!

Hark! the honey bee is humming; See, the lark is soaring high In the blue and sunny sky, And the gnats are on the wing Wheeling round in airy ring.

Listen! New-born lambs are bleating, And the cawing rooks are meeting In the elms--a noisy crowd.

All the birds are singing loud, And the first white b.u.t.terfly In the suns.h.i.+ne dances by.

Look around you, look around!

Flowers in all the fields abound, Every running stream is bright, All the orchard trees are white, And each small and waving shoot Promises sweet autumn fruit.

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, That open to sun and stars and moon; That open to the bright blue sky, And the frolicsome winds as they wander by.

They have left their nests on the forest bough; Those homes of delight they need not now; And the young and the old they wander out, And traverse their green world round about; And hark! at the top of this leafy hall, How one to the other in love they call!

"Come up! Come up!" they seem to say, "Where the topmost twigs in the breezes sway."

"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."

How pleasant the lives of the birds must be, Living in love 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, 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, To meet the young sun, face to face, And pierce, like a shaft, the boundless s.p.a.ce!

To pa.s.s through the bowers of the silver cloud; To sing in the thunder hall aloud; To spread out the wings for a wild, free flight With the upper cloud-wings,--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.

How pleasant the life of a bird must be, Wherever it listeth, there to flee; To go, when a joyful fancy calls, Das.h.i.+ng down 'mong the waterfalls; Then wheeling about, with its mate at play, 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;

Lightly to soar, and to see beneath, The wastes of the blossoming purple heath, And the yellow furze, like fields of gold, That gladdened some fairy region old!

On the mountain tops, on the billowy sea, On the leafy stems of a forest tree, How pleasant the life of a bird must be!

THE SPIDER AND THE FLY

"Will you walk into my parlor?"

Said a spider to a fly; "'Tis the prettiest little parlor That ever you did spy.

The way into my parlor Is up a winding stair, And I have many pretty things To show you when you're there."

"O no, no," said the little fly, "To ask me is in vain; For who goes up your winding stair Can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary With soaring up so high; Will you rest upon my little bed?"

Said the spider to the fly.

"There are pretty curtains drawn around; The sheets are fine and thin; And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in."

"O no, no," said the little fly, "For I've often heard it said They never, never wake again, Who sleep upon your bed."

Said the cunning spider to the fly, "Dear friend, what shall I do To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?

I have, within my pantry, Good store of all that's nice; I'm sure you're very welcome-- Will you please to take a slice?"

"O no, no," said the little fly, "Kind sir, that cannot be; I've heard what's in your pantry, And I do not wish to see."

"Sweet creature," said the spider, "You're witty and you're wise; How handsome are your gauzy wings, How brilliant are your eyes.

I have a little looking-gla.s.s Upon my parlor shelf; If you'll step in one moment, dear, You shall behold yourself."

"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "For what you're pleased to say, And bidding you good-morning now, I'll call another day."

The spider turned him round about, And went into his den, For well he knew the silly fly Would soon be back again; So he wove a subtle web In a little corner sly, And set his table ready To dine upon the fly.

He went out to his door again, And merrily did sing, "Come hither, hither, pretty fly, With pearl and silver wing; Your robes are green and purple, There's a crest upon your head; Your eyes are like the diamond bright, But mine are dull as lead."

Alas, alas! how very soon This silly little fly, Hearing his wily, flattering words, Came slowly flitting by; With buzzing wings she hung aloft, Then near and nearer drew-- Thought only of her brilliant eyes, And green and purple hue; Thought only of her crested head-- Poor foolish thing! At last Up jumped the cunning spider, And fiercely held her fast.

He dragged her up his winding stair, Into his dismal den Within his little parlor--but She ne'er came out again!

And now, dear little children Who may this story read, To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you, ne'er give heed.

Unto an evil counselor Close heart and ear and eye; And take a lesson from this tale Of the spider and the fly.

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 what did you see, my Mary, All up on the Caldon Low?"

"I saw the glad suns.h.i.+ne come down, And I saw the merry winds blow."

"And what did you hear, my Mary, All up on the Caldon Hill?"

"I heard the drops of the water made, And the ears of the green corn fill."

"Oh! tell me all, my Mary-- All, all that ever you know; For you must have seen the fairies Last night on the Caldon Low."