26

THE LITTLE LAND

WHEN at home alone I sit
And am very tired of it,
I have just to shut my eyes
To go sailing through the skies
To go sailing far away

To the pleasant Land of Play;
To the fairy land afar

Where the Little People are;
Where the clover tops are trees,
And the rain pools are the seas,
And the leaves like little ships
Sail about on tiny trips;

And above the daisy tree

Through the

grasses,

High o'erhead the Bumble Bee
Hums and passes.

In that forest to and fro
I can wander, I can go;
See the spider and the fly,
And the ants go marching by

Carrying parcels with their feet
Down the green and grassy street.
I can in the sorrel sit,

Where the lady-bird alit.

I can climb the jointed grass;
And on high

See the greater swallows pass
In the sky,

And the round sun rolling by,

Heeding no such things as I.

Through that forest I can pass
Till, as in a looking-glass,
Humming fly and daisy tree
And my tiny self I see,
Painted very clear and neat
On the rain pool at my feet.
Should a leaflet come to land
Drifting near to where I stand,
Straight I'll board that tiny boat,
Round the rain pool sea to float.

Little thoughtful creatures sit
On the grassy coasts of it;

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Little things with lovely eyes
See me sailing with surprise.
Some are clad in armor green
(These have sure to battle been!) —
Some are pied with every hue,
Black and crimson, gold and blue;
Some have wings and swift are gone:-
But they all look kindly on.

Open and see all things plain,
High bare walls, great bare floor;
Great big knobs on drawer and door;
Great big people perched on chairs,
Stitching tucks and mending tears,
Each a hill that I could climb,
And talking nonsense all the time
O dear me,

That I could be

A sailor on the rain-pool sea,
A climber in the clover tree,

And just come back, a sleepy-head,
Late at night to go to bed.

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

sor'rel, a little plant; par'cels, bundles; pied, marked with different colors; crim'son, a deep red color; leaf'let, a tiny leaf; coast, the ground next to a body of water; stitch, to sew.

Do you think that a boy or girl is talking in this poem ? Why do you think so? Is it a real country the child tells about? Why does he call it "the little land"? Close your eyes and see if you can see it. What kind of people live in

this land?

HIE AWAY

HIE away, hie away!
Over bank and over brae,

Where the copsewood is the greenest,
Where the lady fern grows strongest,
Where the morning dew lies longest,
Where the blackcock sweetest sips it,
Where the fairy latest trips it:
Hie to haunts right seldom seen,
Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green,
Over bank and over brae,

Hie away, hie away!

- SIR WALTER SCOTT.

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27

NARCISSUS

ONCE upon a

time, long, long ago, there lived, in a far-away land called Greece, a

young shepherd named Narcissus. All day long he minded his sheep on the hills of Greece, and drove them from place to place to find

the very best pasture.

One day the sheep stopped to drink from a little stream. The water in this stream was so clear that it was like a great looking-glass, and reflected everything that leaned over it.

Now it happened that while Narcissus was waiting for the sheep to drink, he chanced to see his