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She shall sit by my side,

And I'll give her some food; And she'll love me because

I am gentle and good.

I'll pat little Pussy,

And then she will purr, And thus show her thanks For my kindness to her; I'll not pinch her ears,

Nor tread on her paw, Lest I should provoke her To use her sharp claw;

I never will vex her,

Nor make her displeased,

For Pussy can't bear

To be worried or teased.

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THE STAR

JANE TAYLOR

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveler in the dark
Thanks you for your tiny spark;
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.

In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye

Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark Lights the traveler in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

Although Christina G. Rossetti (1830-1894) is not known primarily as a writer for children, her Sing-Song, from which the next seven poems are taken, is a juvenile classic. She ranks very high among the women poets of the nineteenth century, her only equal being Mrs. Browning. Besides the brief poems in Sing-Song, Miss Rossetti's "Goblin Market" and "Uphill" please young people of a contemplative mood. While there is an undercurrent of sadness in much of her work, it is a natural accompaniment of her themes and is not unduly emphasized.

313

SELDOM OR NEVER

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI

Seldom "can't,"

Seldom "don't";

Never "shan't,"

Never "won't."

314

AN EMERALD IS AS
GREEN AS GRASS

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI

An emerald is as green as grass;

A ruby, red as blood;

A sapphire shines as blue as heaven; A flint lies in the mud.

A diamond is a brilliant stone

To catch the world's desire; An opal holds a fiery spark; But a flint holds fire.

315

BOATS SAIL ON THE RIVERS

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI

Boats sail on the rivers,

And ships sail on the seas;

But clouds that sail across the sky

Are prettier far than these.

There are bridges on the rivers,

As pretty as you please;

But the bow that bridges heaven,

And overtops the trees,

And builds a road from earth to sky, Is prettier far than these.

316

A DIAMOND OR A COAL?

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI

A diamond or a coal?

A diamond, if you please; Who cares about a clumsy coal Beneath the summer trees?

A diamond or a coal?

A coal, sir, if you please;

One comes to care about the coal At times when waters freeze.

317

THE SWALLOW

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI

Fly away, fly away over the sea,

Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done;

Come again, come again, come back to

me,

Bringing the summer and bringing the

sun.

318

WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND?

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI

Who has seen the wind?

Neither I nor you:

But when the leaves hang trembling, The wind is passing thro'.

Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I:

But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is passing by.

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WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS

I wish I lived in a caravan
With a horse to drive, like a peddler-man!
Where he comes from nobody knows,
Or where he goes to, but on he goes!

His caravan has windows two,
And a chimney of tin, that the smoke
comes through;

He has a wife, with a baby brown,
And they go riding from town to town.

Chairs to mend, and delf to sell!
He clashes the basins like a bell;
Tea-trays, baskets ranged in order,
Plates, with alphabets round the border!

The roads are brown, and the sea is green, But his house is like a bathing-machine; The world is round, and he can ride, Rumble and slash, to the other side!

With the peddler-man I should like to roam,

And write a book when I came home; All the people would read my book, Just like the Travels of Captain Cook!

321

THE WONDERFUL WORLD

WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS

Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World, With the wonderful water round you curled,

And the wonderful grass upon your breast

World, you are beautifully dressed!

The wonderful air is over me,

poem that has held its own in children's collections. Its quiet mood of industry at one with the gentler influences of nature is especially appealing.

GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-
MORNING

RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES

A fair little girl sat under a tree,
Sewing as long as her eyes could see;

Then smoothed her work and folded it right

And said, "Dear work, good-night, goodnight!"

Such a number of rooks came over her head,

And the wonderful wind is shaking the Crying "Caw! Caw!" on their way to

tree

It walks on the water, and whirls the mills,

And talks to itself on the top of the hills.

You friendly Earth, how far do you go, With the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow,

With cities and gardens and cliffs and isles, And the people upon you for thousands

of miles?

Ah! you are so great, and I am so small, I hardly can think of you, World, at all; And yet, when I said my prayers to-day, My mother kissed me, and said, quite gay,

"If the wonderful World is great to you, And great to father and mother, too, You are more than the Earth, though

you are such a dot!

You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!"

322

Richard Monckton Milnes (Lord Houghton, 1809-1885), an English poet, wrote one

bed,

She said, as she watched their curious flight,

"Little black things, good-night, goodnight!"

The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed, The sheep's "Bleat! Bleat!" came over the road;

All seeming to say, with a quiet delight, "Good little girl, good-night, good-night!"

She did not say to the sun, "Goodnight!"

Though she saw him there like a ball of light;

For she knew he had God's time to keep All over the world and never could sleep.

The violets curtsied, and went to bed; The tall pink foxglove bowed his head; And good little Lucy tied up her hair, And said, on her knees, her favorite prayer.

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! our work is begun."

323

It is quite impossible for us to realize why the English reading public should have been so excited over the following poem in the years immediately following its first appearance in 1806. It attracted the attention of royalty, was set to music, had a host of imitators, and established itself as a nursery classic. It was written by William Roscoe (1753-1831), historian, banker, and poet, for his son Robert, and was merely an entertaining skit upon an actual banquet. Probably the fact that the characters at the butterfly's ball were drawn with human faces in the original illustrations to represent the prominent guests at the actual banquet had much to Ido with the initial success. The impulse which it received a hundred years ago, coupled with its own undoubted power of fancy, has projected it thus far, and children seem inclined to approve and still further insure its already long life.

THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL

WILLIAM ROSCOE

"Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste

To the Butterfly's Ball and the Grasshopper's Feast,

The Trumpeter, Gadfly, has summon'd the crew,

And the Revels are now only waiting for

you."

So said little Robert, and pacing along, His merry Companions came forth in a throng,

And on the smooth Grass by the side of a Wood,

Beneath a broad oak that for ages had stood,

Saw the Children of Earth and the Tenants of Air

For an Evening's Amusement together repair.

And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black,

Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back,

And there was the Gnat and the Dragonfly too,

With all their Relations, green, orange and blue.

And there came the Moth, with his plumage of down,

And the Hornet in jacket of yellow and brown;

Who with him the Wasp, his companion, did bring,

But they promised that evening to lay by their sting.

And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his hole,

And brought to the Feast his blind. Brother, the Mole;

And the Snail, with his horns peeping out of his shell,

Came from a great distance, the length of an ell.

A Mushroom, their Table, and on it was laid

A water-dock leaf, which a table-cloth made.

The Viands were various, to each of their taste,

And the Bee brought her honey to crown the Repast.

Then close on his haunches, so solemn and wise,

The Frog from a corner look'd up to the skies;

And the Squirrel, well pleased such diver

sion to see,

Mounted high overhead and look'd down from a tree.

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Then the Grasshopper came with a jerk Can you put the dewdrops back on the

and a spring,

Very long was his Leg, though but short

was his Wing;

He took but three leaps, and was soon

out of sight,

Then chirp'd his own praises the rest of the night.

With step so majestic the Snail did advance,

And promised the Gazers a Minuet to dance;

But they all laughed so loud that he pulled in his head,

And went in his own little chamber to bed.

Then as Evening gave way to the shadows

of Night,

Their Watchman, the Glowworm, came out with a light.

"Then Home let us hasten while yet we

can see,

For no Watchman is waiting for you and for me."

So said little Robert, and pacing along, His merry Companions return'd in a throng.

flowers

And make them sparkle and shine? Can you put the petals back on the rose?

If you could, would it smell as sweet? Can you put the flour again in the husk, And show me the ripened wheat? Can you put the kernel again in the nut, Or the broken egg in the shell? Can you put the honey back in the comb, And cover with wax each cell? Can you put the perfume back in the vase When once it has sped away? Can you put the corn-silk back on the

corn,

Or down on the catkins, say? You think my questions are trifling, lad, Let me ask you another one: Can a hasty word be ever unsaid, Or a deed unkind, undone?

325

In 1841 Robert Browning (1812-1889) published a drama in verse entitled Pippa Passes. Pippa was a little girl who worked in the silkmills of an Italian city. When her one holiday of the year came, she arose early and went singing out of town to the hills to enjoy the day. Various

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