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'Twas in the prime of summer time.
'Twas on a lofty vase's side.

Under the green hedges after the snow.

Under the greenwood tree

Underneath an old oak tree

Up the airy mountain

Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away

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Who is yonder poor maniac, whose wildly fixed eyes.

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'You are old, Father William,' the young man cried

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The Children's Garland from the

Best Poets

I

THE CHILD AND THE PIPER

Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,

And he, laughing, said to me,

'Pipe a song about a lamb,'

So I piped with merry cheer; 'Piper, pipe that song again,' So I piped, he wept to hear.

'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe,
Sing thy songs of happy cheer.'
So I sang the same again,

While he wept with joy to hear.

'Piper, sit thee down and write

In a book that all may read.'
So he vanish'd from my sight;
And I pluck'd a hollow reed,

B

And I made a rural pen,
And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.

W. Blake

II

ON MAY MORNING

Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.

Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire Mirth and youth and warm desire! Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

J. Milton

III

THE APPROACH OF THE FAIRIES

Now the hungry lion roars,

And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task foredone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,

Whilst the scritch owl, scritching loud,

Puts the wretch that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night

That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the churchway paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run,

By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallowed house :
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.

Through the house give glimmering light;
By the dead and drowsy fire,

Every elf and fairy sprite,

Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty after me,

Sing and dance it trippingly.
First rehearse this song by rote,
To each word a warbling note,
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
We will sing, and bless this place.

W. Shakespeare

IV

ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION

Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the

dove,

The linnet, and thrush say 'I love, and I love!'