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The old oaken bucket.
The iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket,
That hung in the well.

—samuel Woodwobth.


Work, for the night is coming.

Work thro' the morning hours;
Work while the dew is sparkling,

Work 'mid springing flowers:
Work when the day grows brighter,

Work In the glowing sun;
Work, for the night is coming.

When man's work is done.

Work, for the night Is coming.

Work through the sunny noon;
Fill brightest hours with labor.

Rest comes sure' and soon,
Give every flying minute

Something to keep in store;
Work, for the night is coming,

When man works no more.

Annie L. Wamckr.


'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam.

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;

A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,

Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.

Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home! there's no place like home!

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain;

O. give me my lowly thatched cottage again!

The birds singing gayly, that came at my call,—

Give me them,—and the peace of mind, dearer than all!

Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home! there's no place like home'.

To thee I'll return, overburdened with care;
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there;
No more from that cottage again will I roam;
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.

Home! home! sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home! there's no place like home!

John Howard Payne. CREATION.

The spacious firmament on high,

With nil the blue ethereal sky,

And spangled heavens a shining frame,

Their great Original proclaim.

The unwearied sun from day to day.

Does his Creator's power display,

And publishes to every land

The work of an Almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail.
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth,
Kepeats the story of her birth.
While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.



Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World,
With the wonderful water round you curled,
And the wonderful grass upon your breast,—
World, you are beautifully drest.

The wonderful air Is over me,
And the wonderful wind is shaking the 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 people upon you for thousands of miles?

Ah, you are so great, and I am so small,
I tremble to think of you, World, at all;
And yet, when I said my prayers to-day,
A whisper within me seemed to say—

'' You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot;
You can love and think, and the Earth can not!"

William Bkighty Kanbs.

13591°—13 5


For flowers that bloom about our feet;
For tender grass, so fresh, so sweet;
For song of bird and hum of bee;
For all things fair we hear or see,
Father in heaven, we thank Thee!

For blue of stream and blue of sky;
For pleasant shade of branches high;
For fragrant air and cooling breeze;
For beauty of the blooming trees.
Father in heaven, we thank Thee!

Ralph Waldo Emerson.


I believe in a permanent agriculture, a soil that shall grow richer rather than poorer from year to year.

I believe in hundred-bushel corn and in flfty-bushel wheat, and I shall not be satisfied with anything less.

I believe that the only good weed is a dead weed, and that a clean farm is as important as a clean conscience.

I believe in the farm boy and in the farm girl, the farmer's best crops and the future's best hope.

I believe in the farm woman, and will do all in my power to make her life easier and happier.

I believe in a country school that prepares for country life, and a country church that teaches its people to love deeply and live honorably.

I believe in community spirit, a pride in home and neighbors, and I will do my part to make my own community the best in the State.

I believe in the farmer, I believe in farm life, I believe in the inspiration of the open country.

I am proud to be a farmer, and I will try earnestly to be worthy of the name.

—frank I. Mann.



Summer or winter or spring or fall—
Which do you like the best of all?


When I'm dressed warm as warm can be
And with boots, to go
Through the deepest snow.

Wintertime is the time for me.


Summer or winter or spring or fall—
Which do you like the best of all?


I like blossoms, and birds thai sing:

The grass and the dew.

And the sunshine, too.
So, best of all, I like the spring.


Summer or winter or spring or fall—
Which do you like the best of all?


O little friends, I most rejoice

When I hear the drums

As the circus comes,
So summer time's my special choice.


Summer or winter or spring or fall—
Which do you like the best of all?


Apples of ruby, and pears of gold.

And grapes of blue

That the bee stings through.
Fall—it Is all that my heart can hold.


Soh! my lovellngs and pretty dears.
You've each a favorite, it appears—
Summer and winter and spring and fall—
That's the reason I send them all!

James Whitcomb Riley.

The above can be easily dramatized by selecting children and assigning parts. Suitable costuming will be a simple matter, but is not necessary.


(Found in Mother (Joose Village (Rand-MeNally) or in Howe Third Reader



Select children about 9 yenrs old to take the parts of Polly Flinders, the mother, Mr. Cotton Stalk, six or eight children (or the whole class) to represent factory workers.

Mr. Cotton Stalk is the only person in anything but ordinary costume. A hat made of leaves from cotton plant, a cotton stalk in his hand, bits of cotton stuck on his clothes will suggest his character.

The name of the nearest factory town may be substituted for London-town.

(By Laura E. Richards, Little, Brown & Go.)


(By Elizabeth V. Brown.)

These two books have some good material and hints for vivid story-telling and play.

A good Juvenile nature drama of more length and elaborateness is Mondumlu: The First Harvest of Indian Corn. By Harry N. Baum (Atlantic Educational Journal, Baltimore, September and October, 1911). This has ample stage directions and clear assignment of parts. Part I Is The Planting of the Corn; Part II is The Blessing of the Corn Fields; and Part III is The Reaping of the Corn Fields. Either part is complete enough in itself to be used alone.


1. Marjorle's Almanac.—Selected.

2. Who Stole the Bird's Nest?—L. Maria Child.

3. A Boy's Song.—The Ettrick Shepherd.

4. The Cotton Plant—Selected.

5. Plant Song.—Nellie M. Brown.

6. The Four Winds—F. D. Sherman.

7. What the Winds Bring.—E. C. Stedman.

8. The Body.—Selected.

9. Two and One.—Selected.

10. Hurrah for the Flag.—Selected.


And he gave it for his opinion that whoever could make two ears of corn or two blades of grass to grow upon a spot of ground where one grew before would deserve better of mankind and do more essential service to his country than the whole race of politicians put together.

Dean Swift.

The year's at the spring
And day's at the morn,
Morning's at seven.
The hillside's dew pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his heaven;
All's right with the world.


And lo! in a flash of crimson splendor, with blazing scarlet clouds running before his chariot and heralding his majestic approach, God's sun rises upon the world.

—W. M. Tha.

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