S

LOOKING-GLASS RIVER

MOOTH it slides upon its travel,
Here a wimple, there a gleam-
O the clean gravel!

O the smooth stream!

Sailing blossoms, silver fishes,
Paven pools as clear as air-
How a child wishes

To live down there!

We can see our coloured faces
Floating on the shaken pool
Down in cool places,
Dim and very cool;

Till a wind or water wrinkle,

Dipping marten, plumping trout,
Spreads in a twinkle

And blots all out.

See the rings pursue each other;

All below grows black as night,
Just as if mother

Had blown out the light!

Patience, children, just a minuteSee the spreading circles die; The stream and all in it

Will clear by-and-by.

C

FAIRY BREAD

OME up here, O dusty feet!
Here is fairy bread to eat.

Here in my retiring room,

Children, you may dine
On the golden smell of broom
And the shade of pine;

And when you have eaten well,
Fairy stories hear and tell.

XXXVII

FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE

'ASTER than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;.
And charging along like troops in a battle,
All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;

And ever again, in the wink of an eye,
Painted stations whistle by.

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,
All by himself and gathering brambles;

Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;

And there is the green for stringing the daisies!
Here is a cart run away in the road
Lumping along with man and load;
And here is a mill and there is a river:
Each a glimpse and gone for ever!

XXXVIII

WINTER-TIME

ATE lies the wintry sun a-bed,

A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;

Blinks but an hour or two; and then,

A blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

Close by the jolly fire I sit

To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore

The colder countries round the door.

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;

The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding-cake.