Children's Literature Part 106

"Bob-o'-link! Bob-o'-link!

Now what do you think?

Who stole a nest away From the plum-tree, to-day?"

"Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo!

Let me speak a word, too!

Who stole that pretty nest From little yellow-breast?"

"Not I," said the sheep; "oh, no!

I wouldn't treat a poor bird so.

I gave wool the nest to line, But the nest was none of mine.

Baa! Baa!" said the sheep; "oh, no, I wouldn't treat a poor bird so."

"To-whit! to-whit! to-whee!

Will you listen to me?

Who stole four eggs I laid, And the nice nest I made?"

"Bob-o'-link! Bob-o'-link!

Now what do you think?

Who stole a nest away From the plum-tree, to-day?"

"Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo!

Let me speak a word, too!

Who stole that pretty nest From little yellow-breast?"

"Caw! Caw!" cried the crow; "I should like to know What thief took away A bird's nest to-day?"

"Cluck! Cluck!" said the hen; "Don't ask me again, Why, I haven't a chick Would do such a trick.

We all gave her a feather, And she wove them together.

I'd scorn to intrude On her and her brood.

Cluck! Cluck!" said the hen, "Don't ask me again."

"Chirr-a-whirr! Chirr-a-whirr!

All the birds make a stir!

Let us find out his name, And all cry 'For shame!'"

"I would not rob a bird,"

Said little Mary Green; "I think I never heard Of anything so mean."

"It is very cruel, too,"

Said little Alice Neal; "I wonder if he knew How sad the bird would feel?"

A little boy hung down his head, And went and hid behind the bed, For he stole that pretty nest From poor little yellow-breast; And he felt so full of shame, He didn't like to tell his name.

279

"Susan Coolidge" was the pseudonym used by Sarah C. Woolsey (1845-1905). She wrote numerous tales and verses for young people, and her series of _Katy Books_ was widely known and enjoyed. The poem that follows is a very familiar one, and its treatment of its theme may be compared with that in Henry Ward Beecher's little prose apologue (No. 249).

HOW THE LEAVES CAME DOWN

"SUSAN COOLIDGE"

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."

"Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf, "Let us a little longer stay; Dear Father Tree, behold our grief!

'Tis such a very pleasant day, We do not want to go away."

So, just for one more merry day To the great Tree the leaflets clung, Frolicked and danced and had their way Upon the autumn breezes swung, Whispering all their sports among,

"Perhaps the great Tree will forget And let us stay until the spring, If we all beg and coax and fret."

But the great Tree did no such thing; He smiled to hear their whispering.

"Come, children all, to bed," he cried; And ere the leaves could urge their prayer, He shook his head, and far and wide, Fluttering and rustling everywhere, Down sped the leaflets through the air.

I saw them; on the ground they lay, Golden and red, a huddled swarm, Waiting till one from far away, White bedclothes heaped up on her arm, Should come to wrap them safe and warm.

The great bare Tree looked down and smiled.

"Good-night, dear little leaves," he said; And from below each sleepy child Replied, "Good-night," and murmured, "It is _so_ nice to go to bed."

The poems for young readers produced by the sisters Alice Cary (1820-1871) and Phoebe Cary (1824-1871) const.i.tute the most successful body of juvenile verse yet produced in this country.

One of Alice Cary's poems, "An Order for a Picture," is of a very distinguished quality, but as its appeal is largely to mature readers, two of Phoebe Cary's poems of simpler quality are chosen for use here. The first of these marks, by means of three ill.u.s.trations within the range of children's observation, a very common defect of child nature and is, by the force of these ill.u.s.trations, a good lesson in practical ethics. The appeal of the second is to that inherent ideal of disinterested heroism which is so strong in children. The setting of the story amidst the ever-present threat of the sea affords a good chance for the teacher to do effective work in emphasizing the geographical background. This should be done, however, not as geography merely, but with the attention on the human elements involved.

280

THEY DIDN'T THINK

PHOEBE CARY

Once a trap was baited With a piece of cheese; Which tickled so a little mouse It almost made him sneeze; An old rat said, "There's danger, Be careful where you go!"

"Nonsense!" said the other, "I don't think you know!"

So he walked in boldly-- n.o.body in sight; First he took a nibble, Then he took a bite; Close the trap together Snapped as quick as wink, Catching mousey fast there, 'Cause he didn't think.

Once a little turkey, Fond of her own way, Wouldn't ask the old ones Where to go or stay; She said, "I'm not a baby, Here I am half-grown; Surely, I am big enough To run about alone!"

Off she went, but somebody Hiding saw her pa.s.s; Soon like snow her feathers Covered all the gra.s.s.

So she made a supper For a sly young mink, 'Cause she was so headstrong That she wouldn't think.

Once there was a robin Lived outside the door, Who wanted to go inside And hop upon the floor.

"Ho, no," said the mother, "You must stay with me; Little birds are safest Sitting in a tree."

"I don't care," said Robin, And gave his tail a fling, "I don't think the old folks Know quite everything."

Down he flew, and Kitty seized him.

Before he'd time to blink.

"Oh," he cried, "I'm sorry, But I didn't think."