The Home Book of Verse Volume I Part 34

William Allingham [1824-1889]

IN THE GARDEN

I spied beside the garden bed A tiny la.s.s of ours, Who stopped and bent her sunny head Above the red June flowers.

Pus.h.i.+ng the leaves and thorns apart, She singled out a rose, And in its inmost crimson heart, Enraptured, plunged her nose.

"O dear, dear rose, come, tell me true-- Come, tell me true," said she, "If I smell just as sweet to you As you smell sweet to me!"

Ernest Crosby [1856-1907]

THE GLADNESS OF NATURE

Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, When our mother Nature laughs around; When even the deep blue heavens look glad, And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren, And the gossip of swallows through all the sky; The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den, And the wilding bee hums merrily by.

The clouds are at play in the azure s.p.a.ce And their shadows at play on the bright-green vale, And here they stretch to the frolic chase, And there they roll on the easy gale.

There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, There's a t.i.tter of winds in that beechen tree, There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.

And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray, On the leaping waters and gay young isles; Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away.

William Cullen Bryant [1794-1878]

GLAD DAY

Here's another day, dear, Here's the sun again Peeping in his pleasant way Through the window pane.

Rise and let him in, dear, Hail him "hip hurray!"

Now the fun will all begin.

Here's another day!

Down the coppice path, dear, Through the dewy glade, (When the Morning took her bath What a splash she made!) Up the wet wood-way, dear, Under dripping green Run to meet another day, Brightest ever seen.

Mushrooms in the field, dear, Show their silver gleam.

What a dainty crop they yield Firm as clouted cream, Cool as b.a.l.l.s of snow, dear, Sweet and fresh and round!

Ere the early dew can go We must clear the ground.

Such a lot to do, dear, Such a lot to see!

How we ever can get through Fairly puzzles me.

Hurry up and out, dear, Then--away! away!

In and out and round about, Here's another day!

W. Graham Robertson [1867-

THE TIGER

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright, In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears, And watered heaven with their tears, Did He smile His work to see?

Did He who made the Lamb, make thee?

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright, In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

William Blake [1757-1827]

ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION

Do you ask what the birds say? The Sparrow, the Dove, The Linnet and Thrush say, "I love and I love!"

In the winter they're silent--the wind is so strong; What it says, I don't know, but it sings a loud song.

But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, And singing, and loving--all come back together.

But the Lark is so brimful of gladness and love, The green fields below him, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings, and for ever sings he-- "I love my Love, and my Love loves me!"

Samuel Taylor Coleridge [1772-1834]

HOW THE LEAVES CAME DOWN

I'll tell you 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."