ARIEL'S SONG

[From The Tempest.]

WHERE the bee sucks there suck I;

In a cowslip's bell I lie;

There I couch when owls do cry;
On the bat's back I do fly,

After summer, merrily.

Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

SHAKESPEARE.

BED IN SUMMER

'N winter I get up at night

IN

And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

DON'T KILL THE BIRDS

DON'T

ON'T kill the birds, the pretty birds,
That sing about your door,

Soon as the joyous spring has come,
And chilling storms are o'er.
The little birds, how sweet they sing!

Oh! let them joyous live;

And never seek to take the life

That you can never give.

Don't kill the birds, the pretty birds,

That play among the trees;

'Twould make the earth a cheerless place, Should we dispense with these.

The little birds, how fond they play!

Do not disturb their sport;

But let them warble forth their songs,
Till winter cuts them short.

Don't kill the birds, the happy birds,
That bless the field and grove;
So innocent to look upon,

They claim our warmest love.
The happy birds, the tuneful birds,
How pleasant 'tis to see!

No spot can be a cheerless place

Where'er their presence be.

DANIEL CLEMENT COLESWORTHY.

DUTCH LULLABY

WYNKEN, Blynken, and Nod one night

Sailed off in a wooden shoe,

Sailed on a river of crystal light,

Into a sea of dew.

"Where are you going, and what do you wish?

The old man asked the three.

'We have come to fish for the herring-fish

That live in this beautiful sea;

Nets of silver and gold have we!"

Said Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.

The little stars were the herring-fish

That lived in the beautiful sea

"Now cast your nets wherever you wish— But never afraid are we;"

So cried the stars to the fishermen three:

Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

82

DUTCH LULLABY

All night long their nets they threw

To the stars in the twinkling foam;

Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,

Bringing the fishermen home.

'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed

As if it could not be,

And some folks thought 'twas a dream they dreamed

Of sailing that beautiful sea

But I shall name you the fishermen three:

Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And nod is a little head,

And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed.

So shut your eyes while mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,

And you shall see the beautiful things

As you rock on the crystal sea,

Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:

Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

EUGENE FIELD.