Rane Ripa Grae ego wise nes cohen a halos ioatinratest siemens ie " a SOMES POR IIPS, IPO IL, XSF QRVACED 1D fe rae oR : ce (Coase Y) (@ ae oly S ; Bee a ES Ox ms Le AY i itt Pp We Ww ZB tt te WW a oe . aan cs oe Sins S —D_) ; WAC A , 2 A ty z ) ie er es U9 Lp (eds, aes WS. Pa ZBe SONGS Nr Be _FoR r S77 ieee ei eh oe @) leas Nr SOS NORMAN GALE A RES) a WESTMINSTER: - BAe ») ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & COMPANY \ wa 1896 Dae ip, Lo es S Sm rs ON ¢ SMMYD SSS Pe iy. et Oy (Reo wy : ° F NO = Dry ra R> Meas »? ~ attey f ik aw p Navas (ets x : y ara : OF, a 4, Ay; ‘ns cz oe 33 a ii} <5) eG = en r) Se it a= RS \\ - DS \ x He ————_——_—— = == RS = EB eis uy a A us { ue : uh : = ai if ai 11: : i rian Ta SONG TTR TTT TT MHA PUT gt (rea ma i i ab ot ea ai sl ge PS (Oro o® THE WINDOW-BOX O TimoTHY TROT in the roses and cloves, So cross if your peas are removed by my doves, Remember the gift that your favourite loves— ‘ A window-box full of geraniums. The doctor has been with his brow full of cares, And he says that the death in my back is past prayers ; So bring me, dear Timothy, quickly upstairs A window-box full of geraniums. I leave you the heir to my rabbits and mice, Give Tommy my skates for his fun on the ice, And all I shall charge is a blossomy price— A window-box full of geraniums. 16 THE WINDOW-BOX Please tidy my garden for sweet Cousin Bess, I’ve planted potatoes and pansies and cress ; She’ll water and gather. I only possess A window-box full of geraniums. O freckled and faithful! O Timothy Trot! No more we shall manage the pinks in the plot ; But keep in full bloom, just to brighten my lot, A window-box full of geraniums. I think you will cry to the roses and cloves, I’m sure you will pardon the beaks of the doves, I know you will bring what your favourite loves— A window-box full of geraniums. THE SPIDER Boy SPIDER, spider, come to my call, Spider, spider, come to my call, Spider, spider, come to my call When I bid you, you lazy old spider! How many flies did you catch yesterday With your delicate web and its silky display ? Come, tell me the state of your larder, I pray, You shockingly gluttonous spider. B SON My Far ( , Al | INL NA) 18 THE SPIDER Spider My web was in luck, for I caught twenty flies Too near to the earth, but too far from the skies ; And I bundled them in with the other supplies, Like a thrifty and long-headed spider. Now some were fond lovers, who, buzzing of love, Looked never around them, below or above, But popped in my web as a hand to a glove, In a manner approved by a spider. And one is a maiden most lovely to see, Whose colours betoken a splendid degree ; She will make a donne bouche for the kind of High Tea That appeals to the taste of a spider. But each of the other ones followed a trade, One served with a needle, one dug with a spade ; And they’re all of them greatly abased, and afraid Of their keeper, and eater, the spider. When feeding-time comes in the cool of the dew, I shall sup on a plump but a truculent Jew, Who, because he is caught, makes a pretty to-do That provokes all the gorge of a spider. THE SPIDER 19 When Morning arrives with his forehead of gold, I may breakfast on hot or may breakfast on cold, On a lad of last night, on a virgin too bold Who has tattered the web of the spider. Boy Spider, spider, get you away, Spider, spider, get you away, Spider, spider, get you away When I bid you, you nasty old spider ! HIS FIRST PRAYER Ms Gop bess Favver, God bess Muvver, God bess Sisser, God bess Bruvver, God bess Uncoo Out at sea, God bess all, An’ God bess me! hg ¢ Phyl Bn tt i SSS MUSTARD AND CRESS ELIZABETH, my cousin, is the sweetest little girl, From her eyes like dark blue pansies, to her tiniest golden curl; I do not use her great long name, but simply call her Bess, And yesterday I planted her in mustard and in cress. My garden is so narrow that there’s very little room, But I’d rather have her name than get a hollyhock to bloom ; And before she comes to visit us with Charley and with Jess, She’ll pop up green and bonny out of mustard and of cress. LEI CEDS i OUT EARLY I’M up in the morning, and over the hill, Searching the hedges that lead to the mill, With cook’s wicker basket (the small one) to fill, Gathering roses for Auntie. She’s dressing just now, but, of course, little knows That Tommy, her nephew, is up with the crows, And, wetting his stockings with dewy drops, goes Gathering roses for Auntie. She’s sweeter than honey ; I love her to come ; She sings in the passages, brightens the home! It’s jolly to jump out of bed and to roam Gathering roses for Auntie. OUT EARLY As soon as I’m back at the cottage, I mean To sweeten her plate with these buds cool and clean, For then she wiil guess that her nephew has been Gathering roses for Auntie. I ’VE a dove for my cote, You can hear her soft note ; She sits on the slate And considers her fate. And I think she agrees That a life in the trees With a spouse rather cross Is no very great loss. With corn and with bread She is tenderly fed ; And only her crop Need compel her to stop. PEAR) ahs SSP At p. 24. BESSIE 25 I know she is wise, And there’s love in. her eyes When I fill up her pan Or replenish her can. She’s softer than silk, With a breast white as milk ; And mother declares She would like to go shares. So next Christmas Day I shall kiss her, and say That Bessie (the dove) Is for her, with my love. TIM’S FOXGLOVE THERE’S a foxglove, foxglove, foxglove in my garden- plot, Home of yellow-belted bees humming round the spot, Honey-merchants flying fast from out their dumpy cottages Crowded in companionship by six elm-trees. There’s a foxglove, foxglove, foxglove in. my pansy- patch, Decked so brightly by the rain, there never was its match ; Made of petals velvety and russet blots and lovely smells, Shaking dewy clappers in its peal of bells. There’s a foxglove, foxglove, foxglove in my garden- ground, Never mortal listener shall hear its tinkling sound ; When the stars are tired of dancing, when the elves to dreamland creep, Why, ev'ry bell’s a bedroom where the fairies sleep. ral, «y, US eS a Dy! = “Toi C25: mae, . -/ Se Yi Px, SN een), * lea Ga 3 AX WS Oo CS ESSE De pe Pr May FS RPO COLO 6 THE ‘LOGICAL GARDENS OH, look from the window, watch the door ; If he comes round the corner, scream and roar! For Daddy’s going to take us four On a’bus to the "Logical Gardens. And there the chimpanzee will scratch, The lions grumble in their patch ; And only fancy! vultures hatch Their young in the Logical Gardens ! We all shall hear the leopards swear When keepers feed them in their lair— Let ’s buy a bun for the frosty bear On his pole in the Logical Gardens. 28 THE ’LOGICAL GARDENS Won’t baby have to look up high When elephants go pounding by With backs right up against the sky In the beautiful "Logical Gardens ? And there we’re all to have our tea, Not fifty yards from the chimpanzee, And boa constrictors close will be To our cups in the Logical Gardens! And Daddy’s promised me and Jake To stop a keeper and to make Him show the snake that ate the snake For his lunch in the Logical Gardens. : Apes captured on the Guinea Coast, And crested parrots in a host— There’s Daddy by the pillar-post ! Hurrah for the Logical Gardens! THE HAPPY THRUSH WHEN Spring, with its sunshine and beauty of bud, Woke a love in his heart and desire in his voice, A comrade he found, Of a velvety round, Whom he courted and won as the bird of his choice. There’s joy and there’s pride in the house in the hedge, For the eggs of last night are a golden-throat clan ; Five children are born In the thick of the thorn, And the voluble thrush is a Family Man! THE LOST FRIEND ALL underneath the restless sea Grief ran along a wire to me: Children, your tender friend is gone— Dear Robert Louis Stevenson. With radiant smiles he reached his hands To stroke the young of many lands ; Himself a man and boy in one— Dear Robert Louis Stevenson. THE LOST FRIEND 31 Since he shall live on children’s lips In tales of treasure and of ships, What need to raise a tower of stone For Robert Louis Stevenson? Samoa nurses him in flowers, For ever hers, for ever ours ; Incarnate tune, undying tone, Dear Robert Louis Stevenson. AyD) NG Hi qavnny Re nt a \ Ht WN dy PS NARA Ny ie AM) ina ANA DDY! yy IW BH ky 2 Q ieee ero A ov & See O Mes NN Zo2s= a penne oe, sre CARRYING ANGELA LEAVING our lodging, I have for a task The prettiest, surely, an idler could ask— Carrying Angela down to the beach, A bundle of prattle, and soft as a peach. Lazily watching the children, I find Content for my heart and refreshment of mind, Making a door in a sandy abode, Or draining a ditch, or devising a road. Home then to dinner all laden with shells, With curious pebbles and flowering bells ; Angela rides me, a mistress most fair, Her heels at my chest and her fist in my hair. he -Bad-Boy- ONCE a little round-eyed lad Determined to be very bad. He called his porridge nasty pap, And threw it all in nurse’s lap. His gentle sister’s cheek he hurt, He smudged his pinny in the dirt. He found the bellows, and he blew The pet canary right in two! And when he went to bed at night He would not say his prayers aright. This pained a lovely twinkling star That watched the trouble from afar. She told her bright-faced friends, and soon The dreadful rumour reached the moon. THE BAD BOY The moon, a gossiping old dame, Told Father Sun the bad boy’s shame. And then the giant sun began A very satisfactory plan. Upon the naughty rebel’s face He would not pour his beamy grace. He would not stroke the dark-brown strands With entertaining shiny hands. The little garden of the boy Seemed desert, missing heaven’s joy. But all his sister’s tulips grew Magnificent with shine and dew. Where’er he went he found a shade, But light was poured upon the maid. He also lost, by his disgrace, That indoors sun, his mother’s face. His father sent him up to bed With neither kiss nor pat for head. THE BAD BOY 37 And in his sleep he had such foes, Bad fairies pinched his curling toes— They bit his ears, they pulled his hairs, They threw him three times down the stairs. O little boys who would not miss A father’s and a mother’s kiss, Who would not cause a sister pain, Who want the sun to shine again, Who want sweet beams to tend the plot Where grows the pet forget-me-not, Who hate a life of streaming eyes, Be good, be merry, and be wise. fe Sal Hf ay Pe ee CRADLE SONG BEES are resting sugary thighs, Stars awake in the evening skies, Timothy, Timothy, close your eyes, King of the cradle, sleep. Sleep, my honey ; O sleep, my star, Dream where the rainbow ribbons are, Ride with the Queen in the Fairies’ car King of the cradle, sleep. ’ Father is tossing upon the sea, Timothy rocks at home with me; Weary of trumpet, cannon, and knee, King of the cradle, sleep. CRADLE SONG 39 God, whose babes are many and far, Keep him from craft, and save from war ; Give to my rose from a golden star, Honey and innocent sleep. You know when mother came just now to kiss us all good-night, She had a lovely necklace on made out of sudden light ; It’s just a string of diamonds, and I lie awake to think What makes each little creature give that blue and scarlet wink. Dick calls them prisoned sunlight, but the sunlight isn’t blue! I think him very ignorant to talk like that, don’t you? O Tommy, wait a moment, for I’m sure Ive really guessed What has puzzled all the sages in the east and in the west. | . a Coc (ang ay | SS ie | a ) aan mn ar wwe SS aL == c => yea A SS . ; rn i ih 1 ra a yer ‘| i fl ‘acy na t] Wy aE il i el ea a) WE, al WW el BO eam || og IA Gua He Tot LS 2 i SA a 7 iT DIAMONDS 4l Now listen. Very long ago the fairies told the stones The gossip of the rivers, and the chat of mountain- cones ; “But man was never trusted; so a million gems to- night Are remembering their secrets, and keep winking with delight. ai il if it S (as Hy THE SLEEPLESS CHILD I OFTEN cannot sleep at night, And have the blind up for the light ; And on the carpet crumbs I put To tempt the mouse’s silky foot. And then I love to lie and watch Her feasting in the moonlight patch ; And if I speak she does not stir, Because she knows I’m fond of her. When sleep outside my bedroom waits, The mouse and moon are friendly mates, And if they come they both are sure To kiss and frolic on the floor. i | ble “i i ites | ih te ME a * i iS \ Va rh vi AN OH Roe Ut Sem) 5 n eaay “eee See SF Ann A TIM’S GRACE WHEN Baby Tim, who’s very small, Says grace for me, and Nurse, and Paul, He asks the Lord to make us all ‘Ter-looly fankful’ And if we laugh till we are red, Nurse strokes his sandy-coloured head, And loves him more because he said ‘ Ter-looly fankful.’ For when he’s older, Nursie says, And grown from all his pretty ways, She ’Il often miss his funny phrase, ‘Ter-looly fankful.’ THE DEW HARDLY any youngster knows What the dew is on a rose. If you children all are nice I will teach you in a trice. Long ago when men were sage, (This was in the Golden Age,) They were certain lovely-lipped, Meadow-haunting fairies tripped Night by night in starlit reels Practising their fragile heels. But to-day to hosts and hosts Fairies are less real than ghosts. THE DEW 45 So at night the fairies weep While the unbelievers sleep ; And, while grieving out of view, Change their sorrow into dew. Whence, my children, it appears There’s no salt in fairies’ tears ! THERE’s a gentleman out yonder Who is sowing early peas ; He puts a line across the ground, And makes a little trench ; And already in his folly He is feeling very jolly As he dreams, of coming dinners, On his knobby rustic bench. But my artful pouter pigeons Take great interest in peas, LOST LABOUR 47 And they sit devising measures Which will give that planter pain ; For I’m sure he will be nettled, When he hears that they have settled, And are carefully collecting All those early peas again. S I) OFF TO THE SEA HERE comes the train! Good-bye, Papa! Good-bye, good-bye to all! We'll watch you from the window till your bodies grow quite small. They say the engine flies along much faster than a bee— We’re going down to Sherringham to paddle in the sea ! Dear Auntie Nell and Nursie, as well as Cousin Mat, And Noel, grave and chubby, in his ribboned sailor hat, And Baby, with her merry eyes that sparkle in their glee— We’re going down to Sherringham to paddle in the sea ! OFF TO THE SEA 49 O run along, dear Puff-puff, just as hard as you can run, And eat some coal for luncheon while we have our currant bun, For Auntie says if you are fed you'll get us there by three— We’re going down to Sherringham to paddle in the sea ! At Cromer we shall find a man to drive a wagonette Past succory and poppies—how we hope it won’t be wet! And when we reach our lodgings we shall quickly have our tea— We’re going down to Sherringham to paddle in the sea! I mean to build a castle just as tall as Auntie’s head For the waves to knock to pieces when I’m dreaming in my bed ; And Noel says he’ll make a house that’s taller than a tree— We’re going down to Sherringham to paddle in the sea ! D 50 OFF TO THE SEA Just see the goosey-gander and the moo-cows by the brook, Their sides are marked like those I have at Thetford in my book. O Noel, see the piggies, and the coffee-coloured gee !— We’re going down to Sherringham to paddle in the sea ! And Auntie hopes we’ll freckle on our faces, and be brave, And not cry when Nursie dips us for a minute in the wave ; So I mean to be courageous, as a little girl should be— We’re going down to Sherringham to paddle in the sea | (ve ee | 6 NY NS SILVERWIG’S SIGHT THERE’S often a rustling by pansy and pink, But what it is rustles I never can think ; I hear it and hear it and hear it all day, And Silverwig says it’s the fairies at 52 SILVERWIG’S SIGHT Now Silverwig’s really a very wise boy, He kisses and strokes the carnations with joy, And says he can hear all the fairy folks sing At Puss-in-the-Corner or Kiss-in-the Ring. They lurk in Sweet-Williams, they crouch in ’ the cloves, They giggle in blooms looking strangely like gloves ; They bend behind pansies, scarce daring to wink, While He searches fuschia and violet and pink. US Eo \\\ ———"_ =) FFP YC = Cha CSS ey In hues of the rainbow they seek and they hide, Some peeping from lilies, some curling inside ; So Silverwig says, and perhaps he is right, é For never were eyes so enchanted and oy bright ! KN ) y How you toddle, sweet and willing, Hair the colour of a shilling, Here to Mammy! Running in your crumpled pinny, Have you just escaped from Jenny, Silver Sammy ? Now that budded mouth uncloses, Asking do I want ‘sum woses,’ ‘Do ’oo, Mammy?’ Never mind. I know some letters That are worries to your betters, Silver Sammy ! A THIEF You naughty, naughty, naughty rogue, To steal those pretty eggs! I’m glad to see you pricked your hands And scratched your wicked legs. I never thought my chubby son Would like to join those thieves Who rob the houses of the birds Among the thorns and leaves. These lovely ovals all belong To nightingales, not you ; Suppose thieves robbed your nursery Of Rose and Dick and Sue— Suppose they came when Dad was out, And found my cosy nest, Just think of Mother’s streaming eyes And Father’s aching breast ! 56 A THIEF You left the parent birds one egg? That’s little comfort, Mick. Do you imagine nightingales Can’t do arithmetic? When robbers steal both you and Rose, And take you far from here, Because they leave me Dick and Sue Shall I not notice, dear? We'll find the cup that held the eggs, And pop them in again: Come, darling, let us run with them To save the birds from pain. If they are out this afternoon, I’m sure they soon will come With eager wings, with sparkling eyes, To do their evening sum. OS aE VESTA y ERE 46 Zs WEEMS ot eA Lp LTH. EOS aes Pane oon BIE Y DP BONN Node 5 BAN Drs qe KAREN G ARS Ea YX Py Les | Soy iJ OM WW YO 7 ) WY. Pe DING GFE Y I) ZZ ® y 3 whe yy Vp kick Mess a, PLAYING AT PARADISE SHE called to me with dancing eyes, ‘We're both turned out of Paradise ; The Tree of Knowledge was the pear, That’s over in the corner there. ‘And, mother dearest, Cousin Jake Was simply splendid as the snake ; He curved about the trunk ; to hiss He shot his tongue out, just like this. ‘He kicked the branches with his feet, To knock us down some pears to eat, And when we tasted them there came An angel with a sword of flame. 58 PLAYING AT PARADISE ‘Bob was the angel ; and he said We must dig thistles for our bread. And though we digged with toil and pain, He’d make the thistles grow again. ‘But can he, mother? And he says The orchard ’s shut to us for days. Do come, and make him let us in, Because we’re sorry for our sin.’ I went; and whirling by the gate A wooden sword about his pate I found our Bob in angel-wise Guarding his orchard-paradise. ‘Beware the flaming sword !’ he cried, ‘It turns all ways! Don’t come inside!’ ‘Now, Bob, run in,’ I laughing said, ‘It’s time all angels went to bed.’ TO SHARP Now, Sharp, I admit that those troublesome geese Were the very worst foes for my early Spring peas, But I must say I grieve for this gander’s decease, You remarkably truculent lurcher. If dogs have a Prophet, a possible fact, He surely prescribes how your kin- dred should act, 4\ And I feel very certain he advo- cates tact, . You remarkably truculent lurcher. To pull out a feather or so from behind Would teach even goslings their manners to mind ; And a goose to such warnings is never quite blind, You remarkably truculent lurcher. 60 TO SHARP But chasing a goose to the shed by the stack, And killing him there in that dark cul de sac, plays of forgiveness a terrible lack, You remarkably trucu- py Dis lent lurcher. I whistled and shouted till, growing quite hoarse, I thumped with my stick as a final resource ; But I cannot admit that you showed much remorse, You remarkably truculent lurcher. Now Farmer Treherne, in a note cold as frost, Has sent me a bill for the bird he has lost ; Nine shillings and sixpence your butchery cost, You — remarkably truculent lurcher. TO SHARP 61 When honoured next time by a visit from geese, Allow me to say, and to emphasize, please, That I really prefer them to damage my peas, You remarkably truculent lurcher. THE THANKFUL BIRD Now I—yellowhammer— Desire to give praise For plentiful orchards And sunshiny days: The Spring gave me many A bud for my bill, And sent me a sweetheart From over the hill. She lent me a rose-bush Along by the quick, And there I was minstrel To mother and chick ; The leaves were our shutters, The thorns were our bars, When nested in blossoms We slept under stars. Though winter that changes My music and gold Is big on the hillside And brave on the wold, THE THANKFUL BIRD 63 By Mercy remembered, By Tenderness fed, The hedge is my larder, The hip is my bread. THE LOST LAMB YOUR mother, lamb, Will not forsake you ; | i q 1H] HUM yt Me yy No leering wolf Wa Shall overtake you. With other lambs You frisked, forgetting Your woolly mother’s Voice and petting. So now your heart With fear is beating ; You fill the air With constant bleating. THE LOST LAMB 65 And I am sure Your mother’s crying ; She thinks you lost, Or dead, or dying. So stay, my dear, Both fond and steady, Where milk and love Are always ready. ge CC HE ye. m C5 >>»,< SYS BNEN ‘_ yi Up ae BS i Ze UP Bie DN Grea se a PB TRE BE TT REV OA Pa ETT ot EASA ESTRUS ONS SORE SERA NC RYN RSA RTL MEL LSER WATT ee eo | Wir aN Ol We ee NW | TARE - RAINBOW -= ———————— THREE fairies climbed a rainbow hill ; And two were Jacks, and one a Jill. Each clambered up a coloured lane, In pleasure dreaming not of pain. At last the heavenly beamy belt Began in lessening love to melt ; Whereat the fairies through the arch Fell headlong in a wood of larch. Each, being hurt in leg and arm, Was carried to a fairies’ farm, THE RAINBOW Where comrades gave them creamy milk, And dressed their wounds in softest silk. A doctor came, who smiled and said, A rainbow was less safe than bed. So this the moral you must scan— Not where you wish, but where you can. — So SS CR — SS ——eS SE —— 67 A QUESTION HERE on the down where the sea-wind is bleak, Blowing our voices away as we speak, Stands the grey shepherd with collie and crook, Reading the sky as a page from a book. Sheep to the westward and sheep to the east, Spindle-legged, shivering, recently fleeced ! Shepherd of ewes looking shameful and sad, Have you as many as Abraham had ? Es Ae MM LN p= fy p = Now the babies are in bed, Seraphina, you can rest ; You can lick that furry fist, Wash that snowy breast. 4, »— Little time those cherubs give 2 Fora cleanly habit’s scope, Kitten using neither sponge, Water-jug, nor soap. ie j ( sah 4 “ty Ww 76 SERAPHINA When you want refreshment, puss, Run along with tabby face, Dip moustaches in the milk, Softly purring grace, Singing then melodious love, Voice your satisfaction deep, Till the friendly food and fire Make you go to sleep. Wuy, Mother, it surely is time That Timothy here was transplanted] To a sheety and blankety clime, Where his presence is, more or less, wanted. I admit he’s an angel, of course, But I wish that your rules were more drastic ; I object, as a fatherly horse, To a bit of uncleanly elastic. He has fashioned and fixed at my ears Ridiculous papery blinkers, And I’m sure my condition appears Sufficiently foolish to thinkers. As another inducement, I urge That his driving’s distinctly immoral, All affectionate feeling I merge When he thumps on my head with his coral. 78 A PROTEST Moreover, my study ’s too small To allow of superb demivolting, So I think (there will be a great squall !) Of unseating my rider, and bolting ! To be spurred by a pin is too bad ; I prefer to be driver, not driven— Yes, dearest, I know that the lad Is a cherub levanted from Heaven, But since he intends to remain In our semi-detached little mansion, I think, to avoid future pain, We should govern his moral expansion. So ring for the nursemaid, my dear, (Tim, Tim, make an end of that screaming !) For the cherub must now disappear , To his tub, to his blankets and dreaming. OVER all the world I'll tramp Till I find Aladdin’s Lamp : When I have it, I shall keep In my rabbit-hutch, asleep, Black of hair and bright of eye, Willing at my slightest cry, Quick to vanish, big and brave, Such a Genie for my slave! Then if any robbers come, Searching in our sleepy home, Tho’ the silver spoons they take, I shan’t worry when I wake. 80 ALADDIN’S LAMP Anything that mother wants Must be fetched from farthest haunts, Sinbad’s valley, plain or hill, For the Genie has the skill. Mother says that Persia’s rose Sweetens more than Europe knows, So, of course, my slave will run Picking out the finest one! OFF TO AFRICA THE cuckoos of the neighbourhood are meeting in the park, They mean to journey leagues away before the day falls dark. Oh, sweet their stay in England, and the music from their beak, But now they flit to Africa, because their chests are weak. In counties such as Warwick, if they wintered they would die, Speckled children of the sunbeam in a bluer, brighter sky ; But they visit us in springtime just to fly about and speak, Ere they point away to Africa, because their chests are weak. F 82 OFF TO AFRICA Though they treat the hedge-birds badly, we forgive them for their note, For their mellow bar of beauty, for their finely feathered coat ; They are parents of an order not affectionate, nor meek, These cuckoos bound for Africa, because their chests are weak. Though they fly away from England over many a weary mile, They love our caterpillars and they like our cosy isle. These gentlemen in feathers, with their ladies fair and fleet, When Spring is green, will travel here to call across the wheat. So at parting we God-speed them with no reprehend- ing word, Dear guests for our civility—there goes the pilot bird ! Farewell till wood-anemones are friendly by the creek— We spare you all for Africa, because your chests are weak, wT iit { I LIKE to sit on Daddy’s knee, And watch the fairy in his face, That always has a smile for me, And never wanders from her place. And mother says the eyes of Joy Will make a thousand faces shine, When Love can spare each little boy A father half as sweet as mine. re Oe “on Ss == = ind SSS 3 U sae eS | ) Sos Ze i al Pa : Cy Vi A f 4 ee eT TT Tart qt) — 3 fr THE WALLS OF JERICHO Bos, Jake, and Harry, Tim and Dick, Each blowing on a trumpet-stick, Must walk all round as valiant knights Among the beardy Israelites. And blow, and blow like anything, Till all the sandy deserts ring ; For down will topple if you blow, ? The fortress walls of Jericho. ’ has lent them me ; These boxes shall the city be > the cook And mother says this scarlet rag On Daddy 2 And Jane s stick can be the flag. ’ THE WALLS -OF JERICHO 85 Minnie and I, within the town Shall be the grizzled guards to frown ; And when the Israelitish host Is puffing out its cheeks the most, Then we inside will kick the wall, And down each orange-box will fall In just the way that, long ago, There tumbled towers in Jericho! oS (} OS 5 C/ TANS <> ae L) PT Oo QO Qh eS) ss % 1 ey 73 NY ies Oe a yf SPRL ae Se xy ee us 9 iS ° ° >" oN 2am) f oi ts / “ADD rn R 3 ° O4 INNOCENCY NOEL likes to go to sleep with roses in his fingers ; All around his darling mouth a love for blossom lingers. Moonlit birds upon the thorn, and stars with golden carol, Sing while fairies dance for him in wonderland apparel. Rose, and star, and nightingale, and fairies round him leaping, Travel with him, fill his heart, or wide awake or sleeping ! If from out an older breast he banishes you never, Mother will be sure of him for ever and for ever. You voluble, Velvety, \\ Vehement fellows, That play on your Flying and Musical ’cellos, All goldenly Girdled you Serenade clover, Each artist in Bass but a Bibulous rover ! ee Vou passionate, Powdery, Pastoral bandits, Who gave you your araw< av Roaming and AP Rollicking mandates? (YS Come out of my Foxglove ; come Out of my roses, You bees with the Plushy and Plausible noses ! WNse Py a } | rf A ; x “af i) ae sy + \ De i | LATE FOR TEA HEReE’s Auntie all ready and sitting in silk, With cakes on the table and lots of new milk, So, Mou-Mou, be quick as a fairy would be, Pop on aclean pinny, and run down to tea! For Noel is keeping his eye on the cake, And after his blessing what havoc he’ll make! So, Mou-Mou, be quick as a fairy would be, Pop on a clean pinny, and run down to tea! Dear Baby has given that sweet little nod, Which her golden head makes when she murmurs ‘Tank God.’ So, Mou-Mou, be quick as a fairy would be, Pop on a clean pinny, and run down to tea! At p. 89. SYDDIE You love to wander in the dew, Caring not for patter of the showers And sweet it is to meet with you, Syddie, with your pinny full of flowers. You gather pinks, but cannot take Hollyhocks that grow as tall as towers ; But others reach them for your sake, Syddie, with your pinny full of flowers. Who kisses you in early Spring, Kisses with the cowslips of the showers. When IJ am weary, Summer, bring Syddie, with his pinny full of flowers. ITALIAN stories we have read, Now, merry hearts, be off to bed ! Say your prayers with heads bent down, Pop into each flannel gown. When mother brings the good-night sweet, And tucks the clothes about your feet, Then sink to rest ; then ready be To dream of doves in Tuscany. Here’s chocolate for Tiny Tim, Rob’s not forgot, there’s some for him! Open that rosebud, Dorothy, And taste how sweet Mamma can be! To-morrow we will have a swing, Or kiss the cowslips by the spring ; To-night be busy, one, two, three, With dreams of doves in Tuscany. BEDFORDSHIRE 91 Ah, nurse, how quick they are to weep, Or melt from noisy romps to sleep! Most precious faces in the world, Rose-brown from sun, and golden curled ! As life o’ertakes them with surprise, Stay, Innocency, in their eyes, And keep their hearts a long time free To dream of doves in Tuscany. VOI Dp = 77 Soe MTN (| AS VV, THE STUFFED MAGPIES In the days when I was happy with my childish loves and games, With my mother’s quick caresses that forgave my simple shames, In my room (the eyes of memory can see the very place !) There were perching two stuffed magpies in an old glass case. When I grew to want of daring, I adventured on the sea, And I started from my mother’s kiss half tearful, half in glee; THE STUFFED MAGPIES 93 But often from the Tropics all my heart would fly apace To my mother and the little room that held the old glass case. Then at last my feet turned homeward to the farmstead and the stack, But mother dear was gone away, and never could come back. The furniture remained ; and oh, the tears that stung my face When I saw the two stuffed magpies in the old glass case! THE thrush was a bachelor early in March, And now there’s a wife with a velvety heart ; There’s a house in the quick Never builded of brick, And a capital egg for a start. The thrush was a bachelor early in March, And now there’s a medley of bosom and bill! There are Susan and Dick In the daggers of quick, And a couple of golden-throats still ! THE SWAN SEE the swan go In his jacket of snow, An island of white In a lake of delight. See the swan swim, When I scatter for him The half of my cake On the top of the lake. See the swan glide To the bank’s rushy side, So suddenly fleet By the strokes of his feet. 96 THE SWAN See the swan lie In the blue of the sky ; And under his breast Another at rest! THANKS THANK you very much indeed, River, for your waving reed ; Mr. Sun, for jolly beam ; Mrs. Cow, for milk and cream; Hollyhocks, for budding knobs ; Foxgloves, for your velvet fobs ; Pansies, for your silky cheeks ; Chaffinches, for singing beaks ; Spring, for wood anemones Near the mossy toes of trees ; Summer, for the fruited pear, Yellowing crab and cherry fare ; G 98 THANKS Autumn, for the bearded load, Hazel-nuts along the road ; Winter, for the fairy tale, Spitting log and bouncing hail ; Christmas Day, for Mary’s Child, Jesus manifest and mild. But, blest Father high above, All these joys are from your love; And your children everywhere, Born in palace, lane, or square, Cry, with voices all agreed, THANK YOU VERY MUCH INDEED! THE OFFENDED SNAIL A SNAIL, when climbing up a rose, By thorns assaulted, pricked her nose. She dropped, and wrote with painful scrawl A silver sentence on the wall. A fairy who was wondrous wise Regarded this with beamy eyes, And straightway with a lovely laugh Announced the glazy autograph. ‘A rose,’ the shelly scribe had writ, ‘May be the very spice of wit ; But ’tis not comely with a thorn To greet a lady’s offered horn!’ IN ARABIA IN a far Arabian glen Cousin Bob conducted Ben. How they went from Hamp- stead Heath No one knoweth—no one saith. Then began in field and lane Strange adventures thick as rain, ’ For a fountain played in air, And it had no bottom there. Flashed along the upright pool Rainbow lights most beautiful ; Every spray of water sang Till the glade’s seclusion rang With such music as the stars Send abroad in lovely bars. Next they trod a_ precious mould, Where each spear of grass was gold, IN ARABIA 101 And, as far as they could view, Diamonds served in place of dew. Crickets, lizards, adders, birds, Antelopes in antlered herds, Buffaloes with opal eyes, Bees, sweet-heavy at the thighs, Leopards crouching for the spring, Eagles of the hissing wing, All, and more than I have told, Shaped divinely were from gold. Passing all these marvels by, Next a forest touched the sky ; Hand-in-hand the children, mute, Gazed in wonder at the fruit, For the branches bent with gems Fit for finest diadems. IN ARABIA Here were topaz-orchards ; there Emeralds hanging in the air, Rubies as great apples big, Sapphires larger than a fig: When the breeze spoke, low and sweet, Pearls kept pattering round their feet ; Never yet did forest bear Stones so radiant as grew there. When they passed the onyx tree, Chrysolite, chalcedony, Straight they found beyond the wood Wonder in another mood. For, as still as warriors slain, Thousands slumbered on the plain ; All a deadly silence kept, Elephants and camels slept, Not a hound that twitched an ear, As the children’s tread came near ; Negro servants, black as soot, Never stirred a dusky foot ; All the army tricked for fight Slumbered deeply as the night, And the plume upon his cap Fluttered o’er the general’s map. IN ARABIA 103 Mute the trumpets wont to blare, Breaking up the startled air ; Even vultures in the sky Hung asleep, and could not fly. Bob began to cry aloud, Lo, a dropping of the cloud, And a genie from the mist Nursing lightning in his fist ! Far and wide rang Bobby’s scream-— Auntie says it was a dream. es = oy Meal i AUNTIE NELL WE have to stay in bed Till Auntie comes up-stairs ; And then we cluster round her knees To say our prayers. And after asking God To keep us good and sweet, Dear Nursie does her very best To make us neat. But if we go a walk, Or ride the pony Bell, It is not fun unless we have Our Auntie Nell. RR KIL Psy sy BS ASS ‘1 ¥ RSA ch al oes Ca eS NS ee) - AY Das = At p. 104. AUNTIE NELL We look in every room, But Mother is not there ; She’s never, never in the house, Or anywhere. Yet, Daddy says, some day We’ll find her bright and well ; Till then we must contrive to do With Auntie Nell. (CIM, ( AY at ©, mn GO CK oD es | \ (GY <=) er i "4 | i) Ce ab f “4 5S iy DDR 105 THANK GOD WHEN Baby settles in his place, With folded hands he says his grace— Thank God! The porridge has no time to cool. Dad calls it brief and beautiful— Thank God! For father, kinder ev’ry year, For mother hasting to be near, Thank God! For Baby Timothy so sweet, For flowers to pick, for bread to eat, Thank God! There really is not more to say Than this by night as well as day— Thank God! ee oo Ging HERE ye have reached at the end of the day, Over the opal and emerald bay, Half of it breakers and half of it beams, The harbour of dreams. Each of ye saw, as ye sailed to the port, Dolphins at tumble and seabirds at sport ; Now shall ye rest, and shall drop in the deep The anchor of sleep. ' Then when the sunbeams are gay on the boat, Up, my adventurers, farther to float ! Crowd on your mast, if ye cruise for delight, The canvas of flight. Bis Olea S) le its How better, Father, could we pray Than thus at end of honest day, Naked at heart, without pretence, Secure in simple excellence, A wife and husband, hand in hand, At prayers among the sleeping band Of angels whom Thy love hath lent To bind our household sacrament ? i @ 2 SS BEFORE SLEEP 109 When better, Father, could we ask Thy care than after righteous task, The need well met, the dream refused, The oil not spilled, the clean lamp used ? Two grey-haired children kneel to Thee, In suit for fresh felicity, .Whose married worship to Thine ear, Allowed, parental, rises clear. Nor wealth, nor place as gifts Divine I ask to fall on sons of mine; But, most of all, a nature sure To share the heart with rich and poor. O give them tears! O make them feel An inward energy to heal, That never, full of frosty pride, They pass upon the other side. Behold these children, Father, God, Their strip of life so briefly trod ; 110 BEFORE SLEEP Their hearts unshaded by the gloom, Their eyes scarce looking past a bloom. To act as ministers in these Implant such holy qualities That they may march with love unspent, And in Thy discipline content. EDINBURGH T. anp A. CONSTABLE Printers to Her Majesty TALES FROM HANS ANDERSEN With Illustrations by HELEN STRATTON Imperial 16mo, 38. 6d. A COUNTRY MUSE By NORMAN GALE First and Second Series. 2 vols. Crown 8vo, 5s. each Volume. ‘There is the same fine true touch, like the touch of the artist who carves-a perfect cameo.’—SZectator. ‘These fresh and impassioned rural lyrics keep their charm, and grow upon one the more they are read.’—Scofsman. ‘ His verses are voluntaries, and sing themselves. . . . Is as fresh, sweet, and as irre- sistible as ever.’—Glasgow Herald. ‘Nothing could be simpler, sweeter, more true to nature.’—Literary World. ‘ They well deserve their vogue.’—S¢. James's Gazette. ‘The whole book is fresh and fragrant.’—Sfeaker. ‘ Are pretty little pastorals, which show a keen appreciation of rural sights and sounds, of brooks and blossoms, blackbirds and barley-fields, missel-thrushes and milkmaids.’— Morning Post. ‘His pure sweet note awakens. only the thought of woods and fields, of country lanes, of flowers, of birds, of innocent country love, of calm airs, of fragrant breezes.’— Birmingham Post. BEYOND THE BORDER TALES TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT By WALTER DOUGLAS CAMPBELL With Illustrations by ARTHUR LAYARD. 6s. THE MARVELLOUS ADVENTURES OF SIR JOHN MAUNDEVILE, KNIGHT Edited and Profusely Illustrated by ARTHUR LAYARD With a Preface by JOHN CAMERON GRANT Extra crown 8vo, cloth, extra gilt edges, 6s.; also buckram, paper label, uncut edges, 6s. «A very handsome book it is externally ; and Mr. Layard’s illustrations are generous in number and excellent in quality . . . and we can think of no better wish for our friends than a long winter evening, an arm-chair, and Sir John for company.’—The Bookman. Asa Christmas gift-book Mr. Layard’s Maundevile will be sure of a wide popularity, for it should delight both young and old. The illustrations are among the very best of their kind which we know.’—Pudblishers’ Circular. “A brilliant and substantial volume. . . . The type and paper used are both admir- able, and the drawings by Mr. Layard are full of fancy and imagination.’—G/ode. ‘Mr. Layard’s illustrations are in a delightfully humorous vein.’—Daily News. THE KITCHEN MAID, or SOMEONE WE. KNOW VERY WELL A PLAY FOR CHILDREN, IN TWO ACTS By MARY F, GUILLEMARD With Illustrations by BERNARD PARTRIDGE, E. M. HALL, MARGERY May, AND HELEN STRATTON WESTMINSTER: ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO. 2 WHITEHALL GARDENS, S.W.