Graded Poetry: Third Year Part 5

Get up, get up, for shame the blooming morn Upon her wings presents the G.o.ds unshorn.

See how Aurora throws her fair, Fresh-quilted colors through the air; Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see 5 The dew-bespangled herb and tree.

Each flower has wept, and bowed toward the East Above an hour since, yet you are not drest, Nay not so much as out of bed, When all the birds have matins said, 10 And sung their thankful hymns; 'tis sin, Nay, profanation to keep in, When as a thousand virgins on this day Spring sooner than the lark to fetch in May.

Come, my Corinna, come, and coming, mark How each field turns a street--each street a park, Made green and trimmed with trees! see how Devotion gives each house a bough, Or branch! each porch, each door, ere this 5 An ark, a tabernacle is, Made up of whitethorn neatly interwove, As if he were those cooler shades of love.

Can such delights be in the street And open fields, and we not see't? 10 Come we'll abroad, and let's obey The proclamation made for May.

And sin no more, as we have done, by staying, But, my Corinna! come, let's go a-Maying.

JOHN KEATS

ENGLAND, 1795-1821

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 gra.s.s Slowly across the chequer'd shadows pa.s.s.

EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER

AMERICA, 1862-

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-- 5 Hark! was there ever so merry a note?

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, 5 Put on your mantles of purple and gold: Daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear?-- _Summer_ is coming! and _spring-time_ is here!"

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

SCOTLAND, 1850-1894

Where go the Boats?

Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand, 10 It flows along forever, With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating, Castles of the foam, Boats of mine a-boating-- Where will all come home?

On goes the river 5 And out past the mill, Away down the valley, Away down the hill.

Away down the river, A hundred miles or more, 10 Other little children Shall bring my boats ash.o.r.e.

CHARLES LAMB, MARY LAMB

ENGLAND, 1775-1834, ENGLAND, 1764-1847

The Magpie's Nest

When the arts in their infancy were, In a fable of old 'tis expressed A wise magpie constructed that rare 15 Little house for young birds, called a nest.

This was talked of the whole country round; You might hear it on every bough sung; "Now no longer upon the rough ground Will fond mothers brood over their young:

"For the magpie with exquisite skill 5 Has invented a moss-covered cell Within which a whole family will In the utmost security dwell."

To her mate did each female bird say: "Let us fly to the magpie, my dear; 10 If she will but teach us the way, A nest we will build us up here.

"It's a thing that's close arched overhead, With a hole made to creep out and in; We, my bird, might make just such a bed 15 If we only knew how to begin."

To the magpie soon all the birds went, And in modest terms made their request, That she would be pleased to consent To teach them to build up a nest.

She replied: "I will show you the way, So observe everything that I do: First, two sticks 'cross each other I lay--" 5 "To be sure," said the crow, "why I knew

"It must be begun with two sticks, And I thought that they crossed should be."

Said the pie, "Then some straw and moss mix In the way you now see done by me." 10

"Oh, yes, certainly," said the jackdaw, "That must follow, of course, I have thought; Though I never before building saw, I guessed that without being taught."

"More moss, more straw, and feathers, I place 15 In this manner," continued the pie.

"Yes, no doubt, madam, that is the case; Though no builder myself, so thought I."

Whatever she taught them beside, In his turn every bird of them said, Though the nest-making art he ne'er tried, 5 He had just such a thought in his head.

Still the pie went on showing her art, Till the nest she had built up halfway; She no more of her skill would impart, But in her anger went fluttering away. 10

And this speech in their hearing she made, As she perched o'er their heads on a tree: "If ye all were well skilled in my trade, Pray, why came ye to learn it of me?"