"You are beautiful," said Freddy, "Red and ripe, and oh, how big!" "Catch me," said the cherry, "catch me, Little master, if you can." "I would catch you soon," said Freddy, "If I were a grown-up man." Freddy jumped, and tried to reach it, But the cherry bobbed about, And laughed, and tickled Freddy's nose. -Old Rhyme THERE WERE TWO BIRDS There were two birds sat on a stone, One flew away and then there was one, The other flew after And then there was none; And so the poor stone Was left all alone. -Mother Goose CHILDREN'S MAY SONG Spring is coming, spring is coming, Weave together straw and feather, Spring is coming, spring is coming, Now are coming through. Spring is coming, spring is coming, Shimmer and quiver on the river, Joy is everywhere. We wish you a happy May. -Country Rhyme RAINBOW AT NIGHT Rainbow at night EVENING RED AND MORNING GRAY Evening red and morning gray Sets the traveler on his way. But evening gray and morning red THE FOUR WINDS The South wind brings wet weather, The North wind wet and cold together; The West wind always brings us rain, The East wind blows it back again. THE LARK AND HER YOUNG ONES I. One spring a Lark built her nest in a wheat field. She laid five speckled eggs in the nest and she kept the eggs warm for many days. At last five hungry little Larks peeped from under the Mother Lark's wings. Every day the Mother Lark flew about looking for food for her babies. The little Larks grew fast and the wheat grew fast too. Soon the wheat was ready to be cut, but the little Larks were not strong enough to fly. One morning when the Mother Lark had gone to look for worms, a farmer and his son came to the wheat field. The farmer said to his son, "This wheat is ripe. It must be cut to-morrow. We will send for our neighbors to come and help us." When the Mother Lark came back the little Larks all cried, "Listen, Mother, listen! A farmer is going to cut the wheat to-morrow. He is going to ask his neighbors to come and help him. Please take us away! Please do!" "There is time enough," said the Mother Lark. "If the farmer waits for his neighbors to help him, we do not need to hurry." |