THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS

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And while on her pillow she softly lay, She knew nothing more till again it was

day;

And all things said to the beautiful sun, "Good morning, good morning!

work is begun."

Our

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

SCOTLAND, 1850-1894

The Land of Story-books

At evening when the lamp is lit,
Around the fire my parents sit;
They sit at home and talk and sing,
And do not play at anything.

Now, with my little gun, I crawl,
All in the dark, along the wall,

And follow round the forest track
Away behind the sofa back.

There in the night, where none can spy, my hunter's camp I lie,

All in

And play at books that I have read,
Till it is time to go to bed.

These are the hills, these are the woods, These are my starry solitudes;

5 And there the river by whose brink The roaring lions come to drink.

So, when my nurse comes in for me,
Home I return across the sea,
And go to bed with backward looks
10 At my dear land of Story-books.

RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES
(LORD HOUGHTON)

Lady Moon

Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving?"

"Over the sea.'

Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you

loving?"

"All that love me.'

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WINDY NIGHTS

98

Are you not tired with rolling and never Resting to sleep?

Why look so pale and so sad, as forever Wishing to weep?"

"Ask me not this, little child, if you love me; 5 You are too bold.

I must obey my dear Father above me,
And do as I'm told."

"Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving?"

Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving?"

"All that love me."

10

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

Windy Nights

Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,

All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.

15

Late in the night when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about?

Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,

5 By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he;

By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again.

10

ISAAC WATTS

ENGLAND, 1674-1748

Hush, My Babe, Lie Still and Slumber

Hush, my babe, lie still and slumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed;
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.

How much better thou'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be,
15 When from heaven He descended,

And became a child like thee!

HUMILITY

Soft and easy is the cradle;

Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay,
When his birthplace was a stable,
And his softest bed was hay.

I could give thee thousand kisses,
Hoping what I most desire;
Not a mother's fondest wishes
Can to greater joys aspire.

Mayst thou live to know and fear Him,
Trust and love Him all thy days;
Then go dwell forever near Him,
See His face and sing His praise.

95

10

ROBERT HERRICK

ENGLAND, 1591-1674

Humility

Humble we must be

If to heaven we go;
High is the roof there,

But the gate is low.

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