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diff --git a/40598-8.txt b/40598-0.txt index ba558f4..2aceb73 100644 --- a/40598-8.txt +++ b/40598-0.txt @@ -1,38 +1,4 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Children of Christmas and Others, by Edith M. Thomas - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Children of Christmas and Others - -Author: Edith M. Thomas - -Release Date: August 28, 2012 [EBook #40598] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF CHRISTMAS AND OTHERS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40598 *** Children of Christmas @@ -538,7 +504,7 @@ VIII MEETING THE KINGS -(_Suggested by "A Provençal Christmas Postscript," +(_Suggested by "A Provençal Christmas Postscript," Thomas A. Janvier_) @@ -556,13 +522,13 @@ MEETING THE KINGS The tales our grandsires from their grandsires had-- How, in the darkening undertime of year, When with first-fallen snow the fields were clad, - That blessèd time when nothing can be sad + That blessèd time when nothing can be sad (Such peace through Christ's dear might encircles all), How, then, the sleeping hives made murmur glad-- The white ox knelt within his littered stall, And voices strange and sweet were heard through heaven to call! - We were three children--René, Pierre, Annette. + We were three children--René, Pierre, Annette. The little sister listened, wonder-eyed; Each held her hand (that touch, I feel it yet!), And all three drank those tales of Christmas tide. @@ -570,7 +536,7 @@ MEETING THE KINGS How many days and hours we know full well, Almost the little minutes that divide! Meanwhile, like music of a hidden bell, - Our beating hearts keep up the chime, _Noël_, _Noël_! + Our beating hearts keep up the chime, _Noël_, _Noël_! One thing there was, desired above all things: "Say, will they come (as ever from of old)-- @@ -586,7 +552,7 @@ MEETING THE KINGS And will they stop and see the little shrine Where Jesus lies beneath the Star's true light, As when, at first, they found him by that sign?" - "Hush, René, hush! and if the eve be fine, + "Hush, René, hush! and if the eve be fine, Thou--yes, all three--shall go to meet the Kings. But children--mark ye well these words of mine! Each way, of four, to town the traveler brings; @@ -628,7 +594,7 @@ MEETING THE KINGS At length, for straggling olive trees would show. Then, while less confident our pace would grow, Wiser than I--a twelvemonth and a day, - Would René counsel: Might it not be so-- + Would René counsel: Might it not be so-- As we had heard our own dear mother say-- _The roads are four_--the Kings had come another way? @@ -673,11 +639,11 @@ MEETING THE KINGS "Pierre! The Kings have come, and with them is a Child!" Long, long ago in dear Provence was grief. - In vain the troubadour may sing Noël! + In vain the troubadour may sing Noël! In vain the birds give thanks for Christmas sheaf, In vain I heard, "God loved Annette so well That He hath taken her to heaven to dwell." - No comfort till René would whisper me: + No comfort till René would whisper me: "O brother, think upon it--who can tell?-- Perhaps there was no other way, to _see_! And, Pierre, remember how she told the news to thee!" @@ -743,7 +709,7 @@ MELCHIOR'S RIDE The children laugh, and the children chaff, He sits so stiff and straight, - And grandpère waves, with his thorn-tree staff, + And grandpère waves, with his thorn-tree staff, A greeting at the gate! Olives and almonds, and cheese and bread, @@ -768,7 +734,7 @@ ONE OF THE TWELVE A CHRISTMAS CAROL -_From the Provençal of Roumanille_ +_From the Provençal of Roumanille_ "Great stir among the shepherd folk; @@ -987,7 +953,7 @@ BABUSHKA "I would that I had questioned them, So I the way might trace! - "When morning comes with blessèd light, + "When morning comes with blessèd light, I'll early be awake; My staff in hand I'll go,--perchance, Those strangers I'll o'ertake; @@ -1074,7 +1040,7 @@ CHRISTMAS POST THE CHRISTMAS SHEAF -(_Provençal_) +(_Provençal_) It was a gleaner in the fields,-- @@ -1104,13 +1070,13 @@ THE CHRISTMAS SHEAF "Poor ever have I been, God knows! Yet ne'er so poor before, - But they might taste their glad Noël + But they might taste their glad Noël Beside my cottage door." Then answer made that Presence sweet, "Go home, and trust right well The birds beside your cottage door - Shall find their glad Noël." + Shall find their glad Noël." And so it was--from soundest sleep The gleaner woke at morn, @@ -1599,7 +1565,7 @@ SOME LADIES OF THE OLDEN TIME Their heads they never could bow! Their heads were so round and so small and so green-- - Not clever nor learnèd were they; + Not clever nor learnèd were they; But then, they were only Four o'Clock Ladies, And their life, 'twas a short one and gay! @@ -1993,7 +1959,7 @@ MASTER CORVUS Next day, along the Forum, With slow and measured tread, - Defiled the long cortège + Defiled the long cortège Of Master Corvus dead. His bier was heaped with garlands, @@ -2718,13 +2684,13 @@ THE MOVING OF THE NEST THE WIDOWED EAGLE - Out from the aërie beloved we flew, + Out from the aërie beloved we flew, Now through the white, and now through the blue; Glided beneath us hilltop and glen, River and meadow and dwellings of men! We flew, we flew through the regions of light - And the wind's wild pæan followed our flight! + And the wind's wild pæan followed our flight! Free of the world, we flew, we flew-- Bound to each other alone,--we two! @@ -2735,7 +2701,7 @@ THE WIDOWED EAGLE Around and around I flew, I flew, Wheeling my flight, ever closer I drew! - There, on the earth, my belovèd lay, + There, on the earth, my belovèd lay, With a crimson stain on her breast-plumes gray! And creatures of earth we had scorned before, @@ -2743,7 +2709,7 @@ THE WIDOWED EAGLE And I stooped, as an arrow is shot from the height, And sought to bear her away in my flight flight-- - Away to our aërie far to seek! + Away to our aërie far to seek! Well did I fight with talons and beak; But the craven foe, in their numbers and might, Bore her in triumph out of my sight! @@ -3622,361 +3588,4 @@ THE GOOD BY End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Children of Christmas and Others, by Edith M. 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Thomas - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Children of Christmas and Others - -Author: Edith M. Thomas - -Release Date: August 28, 2012 [EBook #40598] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF CHRISTMAS AND OTHERS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40598 ***</div> <div class="figcenter"> <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="627" alt="" /> @@ -4139,383 +4101,6 @@ thoughtfully, and settles back in easy-chair</em></p></blockquote> <div class="verse02">There <em>was</em> a tear in her eye!</div> </div></div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Children of Christmas and Others, by -Edith M. Thomas - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF CHRISTMAS AND OTHERS *** - -***** This file should be named 40598-h.htm or 40598-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/5/9/40598/ - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Children of Christmas and Others - -Author: Edith M. Thomas - -Release Date: August 28, 2012 [EBook #40598] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF CHRISTMAS AND OTHERS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - Children of Christmas - - _AND OTHERS_ - - BY - - EDITH M. THOMAS - - _Author of "The Dancers and Other Legends and Lyrics" - "Cassia and Other Verse"_ - - BOSTON - RICHARD G. BADGER - The Gorham Press - 1907 - - - _Copyright, 1907, by Edith M. Thomas_ - - _All Rights Reserved_ - - _The Gorham Press, Boston_ - - - - -I - -_CHILDREN OF CHRISTMAS_ - - - - -_CONTENTS_ - - -I - -_CHILDREN OF CHRISTMAS_ - - _Cradle Song_ - _How Many_ - _Her Christmas Present_ - _A Christmas Spy_ - _Refreshments for Santa Claus_ - _How the Christmas Tree was brought to Nome_ - _Holly and Mistletoe_ - _The Firebrand_ - _The Foundling_ - _Meeting the Kings_ - _The Procession of the Kings_ - _Melchior's Ride_ - _One of the Twelve_ - _The Witch's Child_ - _Babushka_ - _A Christmas Offering_ - _Christmas Post_ - _The Christmas Sheaf_ - _The Birds on the Christmas Sheaf_ - _What the Pine Trees Said_ - _Two Child Angels_ - _The Old Doll_ - - -II - -_OTHER CHILDREN_ - - _The Apple-blossom Switch_ - _The Indignant Baby_ - _A Question of Spelling_ - "_Yours Severely_" - _A Lack of Attention_ - "_I Ought to Mustn't_" - _A Vain Regret_ - _In the Dark Little Flat_ - _The Little Girl from Town_ - _For Every Day_ - _The Day-Dreamer_ - _Born Deaf, Dumb, and Blind_ - _The Cradle-Child_ - _Some Ladies of the Olden Time_ - _A Water-Lily_ - _The Kinderbank_ - _Buonamico_ - _The Prince and the Whipping-Boy_ - _Master Corvus_ - "_P. Abbott_" - _The Giant's Daughter_ - _Erotion and the Dove_ - _The Homesick Soldier_ - _The Cossack Mother_ - _The Blossom-Child_ - _The Clock of the Year_ - - -III - -_SOME OF THEIR FRIENDS_ - - _The Young of Spring_ - _The Triumph of the Brown Thrush_ - _Day--Wide Day!_ - _The Blossoms of To-morrow_ - _The Nest in the Heather_ - _Lady Grove (Silver Birches)_ - _Shadow Brook_ - _The Brook and the Bird_ - _The Birds of Soleure_ - _The Prairie Nest_ - _The Moving of the Nest_ - _The Widowed Eagle_ - _The Chicadee_ - _The Earth-Mother and her Children_ - "_When the Leaves are Gone_" - _The First Thanksgiving_ - "_Mascots_" - _Mother Fur_ - _What the Cat-Mother Said_ - _What the Bird-Mother Said_ - _What the Friends of Both Said_ - _The Little Brown Bat_ - _The Lost Charter_ - _The Saving of Jack_ - _Skye of Skye_ - _Tip's Kitten_ - _The King of Cats_ - _Waifs_ - _Frost-Flowers of the Pavement_ - _Stars of the Snow_ - _June in the Sky_ - _Mother Earth_ - _The Rain Rains Every Day_ - _The Good By_ - - - - -CRADLE SONG - -_For one Born at Christmas_ - - - Happy thou, a winter comer, - Happier with the snows around thee - Than if rosy-fingered summer - In thy cradle-nest had crowned thee. - - Tender is the night, and holy: - Little clouds, like cherub faces, - Up the moon path, drifting slowly, - Vanish in the heavenly spaces. - - Clothed in splendor, past our earth night, - Sphere on sphere is chanting _Nowel_: - Child, thy birthnight keeps a Birthnight - Dearest in all Time's bestowal! - - He who slept within a manger - Guards the pillow thou art pressing-- - Sent thee hither, little stranger, - Blest--to be our Christmas Blessing! - - - - -HOW MANY - - - Resting her curly head on my knee, - And slipping her small hand into mine, - My baby girl asks how many there'll be - On Christmas day when we dine. - - Though I've told her before, and she knows very well, - "There'll be grandpa and grandma," I repeat, - And Uncle Charlie and Aunt Estelle - And Cousin Marguerite. - - And Uncle Philip and Cousin Kate, - And mamma's old friend, Miss Madeline; - And--let me see--ah, yes, that is eight, - And Mr. Brownell makes nine! - - As I close my story I hear a sigh, - The curly head closer nestles, and then, - In a sad little voice, "How many are I?" - "My darling! At least you are ten!" - - - - -HER CHRISTMAS PRESENT - -_A True Incident_ - - - With doll in arms to court she came,-- - A mite of tender years - Between her sobs she put the case, - Her eyes brimmed up with tears. - - "They've put my mamma into jail-- - And oh, I love her so! - She's very good--my mamma is-- - Please, won't you let her go?" - - "Just look! She made this doll for me" - (She held it up to view). - The judge did look. "Don't cry," he said, - "We'll see what we can do." - - "What charge against the prisoner, clerk?" - "Sold apples in the street. - She had no license, and, when fined, - The fine she could not meet." - - "My mamma's good. Please, let her go." - The judge looked down and smiled; - "So well you've pleaded, she shall be - Your Christmas Present, child." - - "Now take this paper, little one, - It sets your mother free. - She should be very proud of you; - Go, tell her so, from me." - - With doll in arms away she went, - And soon the prison gained; - And when her mother clasped her close, - The happy child explained: - - "A kind, good man like Santa Claus, - With hair as white as snow, - He let you out because--because - I asked him too, you know!" - - - - -A CHRISTMAS SPY - - - When Poebe brought the wood and coal; - To lay the fire, what did she see - But Baby--dropped upon one knee - And peering up the chimney-hole! - - She never turned her little head, - With all its curly, yellow hair: - I asked, "What are you doing there?" - "Me look for Santa Taus!" she said. - - - - -REFRESHMENTS FOR SANTA CLAUS - - - "It may be late and stormy and cold - When Santa Claus reaches our street; - And Santa, you know, is very old, - So I'll leave him something to eat." - - "And what do you think he would like, dear heart," - "Something nice and sweet," she said; - "Jelly and jam, and a cranberry tart, - And a _teenty_ piece of bread!" - - So there on the sideboard is Santa's feast, - Which her own small hands have spread; - Jelly and jam,--three kinds at least, - And a tart--but _where is the bread_?" - - - - -HOW THE CHRISTMAS TREE WAS BROUGHT TO NOME - - - Night of the winter--winter and night in the city of Nome, - There where the many are dwelling, but no man yet has a home! - Desolate league upon league, ice-pack and tundra and hill; - And the dark of the year when the gold-hunter's rocker and dredge - are still! - - By the fire that is no man's hearth,--by the fire more precious than - gold,-- - They are passing the time as they may, encompassed by storm and by - cold: - And their talk is of pay-streak and bedrock, of claim by seashore or - creek, - Of the brigantine fast in the ice-pack this many and many a week; - Wraiths of the mist and the snow encumber her canvas and deck,-- - And the Eskimos swear that a crew out of ghostland are crowding the - wreck! - - Thus, in the indolent dark of the year, in the city of Nome, - They were passing the time as they might, but ever their thoughts - turned home. - Said the Man from the East, "In God's country now (where we'd all - like to be), - You may bet your life there's a big boom on for the Christmas Tree; - And we'd have one here, but there isn't a shrub as high as my hand, - Nor the smell of spruce, for a hundred miles, in all this land!" - - Then the Man from the South arose: "I allow, if the Tree could be - found, - I'd 'tend to the fruit myself, and stand ye a treat all round!" - "Done!" said the Man from the West (the youngest of all was he). - "I'll lose my claim in the ruby sand--or I'll find the Tree!" - - The restless Aurora is waving her banners wide through the dome, - And the Man from the West is off, while yet they are sleeping in - Nome! - Off, ere the low-browed dawn, with Eskimo, sledge, and team: - He is leaving the tundra behind, he is climbing the source of the - stream! - On, beyond Sinrock--on, while the miles and the dim hours glide-- - On, toward the evergreen belt that darkens the mountain side! - 'Tis a hundred miles or more; but his team is strong, is swift, - And brief are his slumbers at night, in the lee of the feathery - drift! - - * * * * * - - There were watchful eyes, there were anxious hearts in the city of - Nome; - And they cheered with a will when the Man from the West with his - prize came home! - And they cheered again for the Christmas Tree that was brought from - far, - Chained to his sledge, like a king of old to the conqueror's car! - - Said the Man from the South, "I'll 'tend to the fruit that grows on - the Tree!" - Said the Man from the East, "Leave the Christmas dinner and - trimmings to me!" - - - - -HOLLY AND MISTLETOE - - - Said the Holly to the Mistletoe: - "Of this holy-tide what canst know,-- - Thou a pagan--thou - Of the leafless bough? - My leaves are green, my scarlet berries shine - At thought of things divine!" - - To the Holly spake the Mistletoe: - "Matters not, my leafless boughs but show - Berries pale as pearl-- - Ask yon boy and girl! - If human mirth and love be not some sign - Of share in things divine!" - - - - -THE FIREBRAND (_Northern Ohio, Christmas Eve, 1804_) - - - Hark to a story of Christmas Eve - In the lonely days of yore: - 'Tis of the measureless, savage woods - By the great lake's windy shore-- - Of mother and child, in a firelit span, - Where the wilderness bows to the toil of man! - - "Christmas is coming, and father'll be here; - Through the woods he is coming, I know! - Over his shoulder his ax is laid, - And his beard is white with snow! - Yes, but look in the fire, my child, - At the strange cities there, so bright and so wild!" - - "Mother, what are those restless flames - That close by the window pass?" - "Only the firelight fairies, child, - That dance on the window-glass! - But look, how the sparks up the chimney fly, - Up, and away, to the snowy sky!" - - "Oh, listen, what are those shuddering cries,-- - Mother, what can they be?" - "Only the branches that grate on the roof, - When the wind bends down the tree! - Now sing me the song I've taught to you, - That I, myself, as a little child knew!" - - "But, mother, those flames dart back and forth-- - Like balls of fire they play! - And those shuddering cries are at the door; - '_You must let us in_,' they say!"-- - "My child! Your father's whistle I hear-- - Say a prayer for him--he is coming near!" - - She has seized the tongs, she has snatched a brand, - And waved it abroad at the door! - Through the drifting snow a form she sees-- - He is safe, in a moment more; - Safe--and afar are those shuddering cries, - And the baleful lights of the _wolves' red eyes_! - - Thus did it chance on a Christmas Eve, - In the days that are long since fled; - But a light so brave, and a gleam so true, - Through the waste of the years is shed, - As I think of that blazing, windblown brand, - Waved at the door by a slim, white hand! - - - - -THE FOUNDLING - - -I - - The good man sat before the fire, - And oftentimes he sighed; - The good wife softly wept the while - Her evening work she plied: - One year ago this happy time - The little Marie died! - - -II - - "And surely, now, if she had lived, - She would have reached my knee!" - "And surely, now, if she had lived, - How cunning would she be!" - In fancy each a darling face - Beside their hearth could see. - - -III - - The door swung wide--a gust of wind - The fitful candle blew; - 'Twas Franz, the awkward stable-boy, - His clattering step they knew. - "But Franz, speak up, speak up, and tell - What thing has chanced to you!" - - -IV - - His round blue eyes with wonder shone, - His bashful fears had fled: - "I saw--I saw the cattle kneel - Upon their strawy bed; - And in a manger lay the Child-- - A light shone round His head!" - - -V - - "He must have dreamed," the good man said, - "A vision, it would seem." - "Nay, master, for the light shone bright - On stall and loft and beam." - Then said the good wife, "I, perhaps, - Might go and dream this dream!" - - -VI - - No further words, but forth she fared, - With Franz to lead the way. - They reached the barn, whose sagging door - Shot out a yellow ray; - The kine did kneel upon the straw, - As truthful Franz did say! - - -VII - - And there--oh, lovely, lovely sight, - Oh, pleading, tender sight! - Within a manger, lapped in hay, - A smiling, rosy mite - The good wife saw, and nearer held - The lantern's yellow light. - - -VIII - - She took the foundling in her arms, - And on its sleeping face - Her tears and kisses fell in one: - "How great is Heaven's grace! - It is the Christ-Child's gift to me, - To ease the aching place!" - - - - -MEETING THE KINGS - -(_Suggested by "A Provencal Christmas Postscript," - Thomas A. Janvier_) - - - Long, long ago, in dear Provence, we three! - Three children, ruddy with the _midi_ sun - (And blither none the all-seeing sun might see), - How happy when the harvest-time was done, - The last slow drop from out the winepress run; - And when the frost at morn was thick like snow; - And when Clotilde at evening sang and spun, - And old folk, by the new fire's ruddy glow, - Would tell, as I do now, the tales of long ago! - - Those tales--ah, most of all, we begged to hear - The tales our grandsires from their grandsires had-- - How, in the darkening undertime of year, - When with first-fallen snow the fields were clad, - That blessed time when nothing can be sad - (Such peace through Christ's dear might encircles all), - How, then, the sleeping hives made murmur glad-- - The white ox knelt within his littered stall, - And voices strange and sweet were heard through heaven to call! - - We were three children--Rene, Pierre, Annette. - The little sister listened, wonder-eyed; - Each held her hand (that touch, I feel it yet!), - And all three drank those tales of Christmas tide. - The leaden-footed time how shall we bide? - How many days and hours we know full well, - Almost the little minutes that divide! - Meanwhile, like music of a hidden bell, - Our beating hearts keep up the chime, _Noel_, _Noel_! - - One thing there was, desired above all things: - "Say, will they come (as ever from of old)-- - The wise, the good, the three great Eastern Kings, - Who brought rich gifts,--frankincense, myrrh, and gold?" - How often of their names had we been told-- - Balthasar, Melchior, Gaspard,--splendid all, - Wide-turbaned, sandal-shod, and purple-stoled, - Perhaps upon white steeds, curbed-in, and tall, - Or else on camels with the velvet-soft footfall! - - "Will they at vespers be, on Holy Night? - And will they stop and see the little shrine - Where Jesus lies beneath the Star's true light, - As when, at first, they found him by that sign?" - "Hush, Rene, hush! and if the eve be fine, - Thou--yes, all three--shall go to meet the Kings. - But children--mark ye well these words of mine! - Each way, of four, to town the traveler brings; - So it may chance ye miss them in your wanderings." - - Such sage replies our questions would receive. - The Holy Time drew near, and yet more near; - At last, it was the morning of the Eve, - All day we swayed from lovely hope to fear. - "'Too early?' Nay, 'tis twilight, mother dear-- - At least, so very soon the sun will set!" - "Your warmest coats--the air is sharp and clear. - And in your hurry, children, don't forget - That baby feet tire soon--remember p'tite Annette!" - - "No, no! I do not tire, though fast I run!" - Ah, how we laughed to see the red lips pout-- - The small sweet pride that would not be outdone - In such a race, by brothers big and stout! - "Annette the first shall see the Kings, no doubt"-- - It was our grandsire spake with twinkling eye. - "Yes, yes; she shall," impatient to be out, - We answered. Once beneath the deepening sky, - We ever took the sunset way--as late birds thither fly! - - For thus we reasoned with one grave consent: - If yonder star above our mountain's crest - Should be that Eastern star for guidance lent, - Then must the Kings be journeying from the West. - So on we ran, past harvest fields at rest, - Past sheepfolds where the flock of summer dreamed - (Full soon they would be kneeling, as we guessed!) - And on, and on--and now, at times, it seemed - Far down the twilight road rich banners waved and gleamed. - - But ever of enchanted weft they proved, - On sunset's pageant field emblazoned low; - And caravans, still moving as we moved, - At length, for straggling olive trees would show. - Then, while less confident our pace would grow, - Wiser than I--a twelvemonth and a day, - Would Rene counsel: Might it not be so-- - As we had heard our own dear mother say-- - _The roads are four_--the Kings had come another way? - - No time to lose. We took the homeward track, - The Kings at vespers might be lingering still. - Soon were we in the church. Alack, alack! - The Kings had passed; for though they bore good will - To our good parish, yet must they fulfil - The prayers of all; and there were other folk - Who, if unvisited, would take it ill. - "'Tis said they must reach Arle by midnight stroke; - Sweet spices they have left--judge by the censer's smoke!" - - We boys took manfully this frown of Fate; - But tears stood in petite Annette's blue eyes. - "Another year, my precious,--thou canst wait; - Besides, to-morrow morn a fine surprise - There'll be for children who are sage and wise. - Gifts--but I may not tell you now, my child."-- - 'Twas mother-love that did such cure devise - For bud-nipped hopes and hearts unreconciled; - We slept, and dreamed, on this--and then, the morning smiled! - - Time passed. We never saw the Kings. Ah, well-- - At least the two of us saw not, I know. - But how shall I the wonder of it tell? - There came a winter wild and dim with snow. - It seemed to us that sheeted ghosts did go - Upon the wind, that never ceased to moan. - And one of us with fever was laid low: - Like leaves the little hands were tossed and thrown, - And on her cheek the rose of fever was o'erblown! - - The storm was done. The day threw off its shroud-- - ('Twas Christmas Eve--till then by all forgot), - And suddenly, across a scarp of cloud - One crimson flame, a parting sunbeam shot. - It reached Annette upon the low, white cot, - It touched our mother's face, Madonna-mild. - With dreaming eyes that saw us, yet saw not, - Petite Annette threw out her hand and smiled: - "Pierre! The Kings have come, and with them is a Child!" - - Long, long ago in dear Provence was grief. - In vain the troubadour may sing Noel! - In vain the birds give thanks for Christmas sheaf, - In vain I heard, "God loved Annette so well - That He hath taken her to heaven to dwell." - No comfort till Rene would whisper me: - "O brother, think upon it--who can tell?-- - Perhaps there was no other way, to _see_! - And, Pierre, remember how she told the news to thee!" - - - - -THE PROCESSION OF THE KINGS - - - The little town is muffled all in snow; - Yet there _Weihnachten_[1] love is burning clear. - And on each door three letters[2] in a row - Proclaim the Three Kings' Day is drawing near. - - Oh, then will Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar - Ride through the country on their horses white! - And all the people, live they far or near, - Will early rise and follow with delight. - - And never will the great procession stop - Till they Christkindlein and his mother greet: - Then on their knees the turbaned kings will drop, - And fill her lap with gifts, and kiss his feet; - - For they will find her, sitting still and meek - Upon a bench beside some stable-shed, - Her soft hair brushing dear Christkindlein's cheek, - And sunshine brightness all around each head! - - Then, while the old folk smile through happy tears, - Blame not the children if a shout they raise - When little _Esel_,[3] with his pointed ears, - Leans o'er the fence with puzzled, wistful gaze. - - There, too, the gentle, great black ox will stand: - Folk say he knelt at night in strawy stall; - Perchance he knows these kings from Eastern land, - For now he lifts his head with lowing call! - - [1] _Weihnachten_--Christmas - - [2] In many parts of Southern Germany it is a custom to place on - the outer door the initials of the three kings--C. M. B. - - [3] _Esel_--German for "donkey," - - - - -MELCHIOR'S RIDE - - - Melchior rides from door to door, - Large Christmas doles he seeks; - A pannier wide receives the store, - Yet never a word he speaks! - - The _nougat_ bells so merrily ring - Yet never a note he hears; - He gathers the gifts the good folk bring, - And onward still he steers. - - The children laugh, and the children chaff, - He sits so stiff and straight, - And grandpere waves, with his thorn-tree staff, - A greeting at the gate! - - Olives and almonds, and cheese and bread, - And the pack on his back grows stout! - Let the hungry poor to their fill be fed, - While the _nougat_ bells ring out. - - Thus, Melchior rides from door to door, - Seeking of all his fee; - And their presents into his pannier pour, - Yet never a whit cares he! - - For a wicker-work man is Melchior droll, - A wicker-work man, and no more; - But the people love him, with heart and soul, - As he rides from door to door! - - - - -ONE OF THE TWELVE - -A CHRISTMAS CAROL - -_From the Provencal of Roumanille_ - - - "Great stir among the shepherd folk; - To Bethlehem they go, - To worship there a God whose head - On straw is laid full low; - Upon the lovely newborn Child - Their gifts will they bestow. - - "But I, who am as poor as Job-- - A widowed mother I, - Who for my little son's sweet sake - For alms to all apply-- - Ah, what have I that I can take - The Child of Love most high? - - "Thy cradle and thy pillow, too, - My little lamb forlorn, - Thou sorely needest them--no, no, - I cannot leave thee shorn! - I cannot take them to the God - That in the straw was born." - - Oh, miracle! The nursing babe-- - The babe e'en as he fed-- - Smiled in his tender mother's face, - And, "Go, go quick!" he said; - "To Jesus, to my Saviour, take - My kisses and my bed." - - The mother, all thrilled through and through, - To heaven her hands did raise; - She gave the babe her breast, then took - The cradle--went her ways,... - And now, at Bethlehem arrived, - To Mary Mother says: - - "O Mary, Pearl of Paradise, - That heaven on earth hath shed, - O Virgin Mother, hear the word - My little babe hath said: - To Jesus, to my Saviour, take - My kisses and my bed. - - "Here, Mary, here the cradle is; - Thy need is more than mine; - Receive, and in it lay thy Son, - Messiah all-divine! - And let me kiss, upon my knees, - That darling Babe of thine!" - - The blessed Virgin, then, at once, - Right glad of heart, bent low, - And in the cradle laid her Child, - And kissed him, doing so. - Then with his foot St. Joseph rocked - The cradle to and fro. - - "Now, thanks to thee, good woman, thanks, - For this that thou hast done." - Thus say they both, with friendly looks. - "Of thanks I merit none; - Yet, holy Mother, pity me, - For sake of thy dear Son." - - Since then a happy soul was hers; - God's blessing on her fell; - One of the Twelve her child became, - That with our Lord did dwell. - Thus was this story told to me, - Which I afar would tell. - - - - -THE WITCH'S CHILD - - - 'Tis Elfinell--a witch's child, - From holy minster banned.... - Again the old glad bells ring out - Through all the Christmas land. - - No gift might she receive or give, - Nor kneel to Mary's child: - She watched from far the joyous troop - That past the Crib defiled; - - Far in the shadow of the porch, - Yet even there espied: - "Now, hence away, unhallowed Elf!" - The sacristan did chide. - - "Hence, till some witness thou canst bring - Of gift received from thee, - In His dear name, whose birth we sing, - But this shall never be!" - - Poor Elfinell--she turned away: - "Though none for me may speak, - Yet there be those may take my gift; - And them I go to seek!" - - So, flitting light through lonesome fields - By summer long forgot, - She crossed the valley drifted deep-- - The brook in icy grot; - - And gained, at last, a still, white wood - All hung with flowers of snow: - There, down she sat, and quaintly called - In tender tones and low. - - They heard and came--the doe and fawn, - The squirrel and the hare, - And dwellers shy in earthy homes, - And wanderers of the air! - - To these she gave fresh leaves of kale. - To those the soft white bread, - Or filberts smooth, or yellow corn; - So each and all she fed. - - She fed them from her hand--she sighed; - "Might you but speak for me, - And say, ye took my Christmas gift, - Then, I the Crib might see!" - - At this, those glad, wild creatures join, - And close the child around; - They draw her on, she scarce knows how, - Across the snowy ground! - - They crowd with soft, warm, furry touch; - They stoop with frolic wing: - Grown strangely bold, to haunts of men - The elfin child they bring! - - They reach the town, the minster door; - The door they straightway pass; - And up the aisle and by the priest - That saith the holy mass. - - Nor stay, until they reach the Crib - With all its wreathen greens; - And there above, with eyes of love, - The witch-child looks and leans! - - Spake, then, the priest to all his flock: - "Forbid no more this child! - To speak for her, God sendeth these, - His loved ones of the wild! - - "'Twas God that made them take her gift, - Our stubborn hearts to shame! - Melt, hearts of ours; and open, hands, - And give in Christ's dear name." - - Thus, Elfinell with gifts was showered, - Upon a Christmas Day; - The while, beside the altar's font, - The ban was washed away. - - A carven stall the minster shows, - Whereon ye see the priest priest-- - The kneeling child--and clustering forms - Of friendly bird and beast. - - - - -BABUSHKA - -(_A Russian Legend_) - - - Babushka sits before the fire - Upon a winter's night; - The driving winds heap up the snow, - Her hut is snug and tight; - The howling winds,--they only make - Babushka's more bright! - - She hears a knocking at the door: - So late--who can it be? - She hastes to lift the wooden latch, - No thought of fear has she; - The wind-blown candle in her hand - Shines out on strangers three. - - Their beards are white with age, and snow - That in the darkness flies; - Their floating locks are long and white, - But kindly are their eyes - That sparkle underneath their brows, - Like stars in frosty skies. - - "Babushka, we have come from far, - We tarry but to say, - A little Prince is born this night, - Who all the world shall sway. - Come, join the search; come, go with us, - Who go our gifts to pay." - - Babushka shivers at the door: - "I would I might behold - The little Prince who shall be King, - But ah! the night is cold, - The wind so fierce, the snow so deep, - And I, good sirs, am old." - - The strangers three, no word they speak, - But fade in snowy space! - Babushka sits before her fire, - And dreams, with wistful face: - "I would that I had questioned them, - So I the way might trace! - - "When morning comes with blessed light, - I'll early be awake; - My staff in hand I'll go,--perchance, - Those strangers I'll o'ertake; - And, for the Child some little toys - I'll carry, for His sake." - - The morning came, and, staff in hand, - She wandered in the snow. - She asked the way of all she met, - But none the way could show. - "It must be farther yet," she sighed; - "Then farther will I go." - - And still, 'tis said, on Christmas Eve, - When high the drifts are piled, - With staff, with basket on her arm, - Babushka seeks the Child: - At every door her face is seen,-- - Her wistful face and mild! - - Her gifts at every door she leaves; - She bends, and murmurs low, - Above each little face half-hid - By pillows white as snow: - "And is He here?" Then, softly sighs, - "Nay, farther must I go!" - - - - -A CHRISTMAS OFFERING - -(_Florence, Italy_) - - - I shall never forget Cimabue's Madonna, - No, nor the niche close by in the wall, - Where, on the straw, the Bambino was lying, - While the oxen knelt in the stall. - - Rude are the images, tinsel the flowers; - But a tear to the eye unconsciously starts, - Beholding the tribute the children have rendered, - In the votive gift of "hearts"! - - Among them a little gold watch was hanging, - That told of some sick child's treasured wealth, - Sent with a prayer that his Christmas present - Might be the good gift of health! - - - - -CHRISTMAS POST - - - In Sulz-am-Neckar, when night shuts down, - And the Christmas Eve has come, - All through the little snow-white town - There's a joyous stir and hum. - - Now here and now there, along the street, - From windows wide open flung, - Float childish laughter and prattle sweet - In the kindly German tongue. - - For the happy moment at last is here, - When each child a letter sends, - Directed to _Christkindlein_ dear-- - The Children's Friend of Friends! - - Then, out at the window--strung on a thread, - The precious letter is cast; - Though far and high on the night wind sped, - 'Twill be found and read at last! - - In Sulz-am-Neckar, prompt as the day, - The children awake to find - Among the Christmas branches gay - _Christkindlein's_ answer kind! - - - - -THE CHRISTMAS SHEAF - -(_Provencal_) - - - It was a gleaner in the fields,-- - The fields gleaned long ago: - The evening wind swept down from heights - Already brushed with snow. - - The gleaner turned to right, to left, - With searching steps forlorn; - The stubble-blade beneath her feet - Was sharp as any thorn. - - But as she stooped, and as she searched, - Half blind with gathering tears, - Beside her in the field stood One - Whose voice beguiled her fears: - - "What seek ye here, this bitter eve, - The harvest long gone by?" - She lifted up her weary face, - She answered with a sigh: - - "I seek but some few heads of wheat - To nail against the wall, - To feed at morn the blessed birds, - When with loud chirps they call. - - "Poor ever have I been, God knows! - Yet ne'er so poor before, - But they might taste their glad Noel - Beside my cottage door." - - Then answer made that Presence sweet, - "Go home, and trust right well - The birds beside your cottage door - Shall find their glad Noel." - - And so it was--from soundest sleep - The gleaner woke at morn, - To see, nailed up beside her door, - A sheaf of golden corn! - - And thereupon the birds did feast,-- - The birds from far and wide: - All know it was Our Lord Himself - That goodly sheaf supplied! - - - - -THE BIRDS ON THE CHRISTMAS SHEAF - - - "And wherefore," the finch to the starling said, - On the Christmas sheaf, as they hungrily fed, - "Wherefore do now the children of men - Open their hands, when, again and again, - They drove us away from their plenteous store, - From the corn in the field, from the threshing-floor?" - "That," said the starling, "I'll try to explain: - They are feasting, themselves, and they spare us this grain; - For oft, as they feast and make merry, they sing, - 'Peace upon earth and good will'----" - "But this thing" - (Said the finch), "we birds have been singing all year, - Then, why not before have they shared their good cheer?" - - - - -WHAT THE PINE TREES SAID - - - I heard the swaying pine trees speak, - As I went down the glen: - "Next year," said one, "the wind shall seek, - But find me not again!" - - "I shall go forth upon the seas, - A mast, or steering-beam; - On me shall breathe the tropic breeze, - Above, strange stars shall gleam.' - - "And I--the ax shall cleave my grain, - And many times divide; - From my dear brood I'll shed the rain, - And roof their ingleside." - - Then up and spake a slender shaft, - That like an arrow grew; - "No breeze my leafless stem shall waft, - No ax my trunk shall hew-- - - But though a single hour is mine, - How happy shall I be! - Young hearts shall leap, young eyes shall shine - To greet their Christmas tree!" - - - - -TWO CHILD ANGELS - - - Two Child Angels on Christmas Night, - They stood on the brow of Heaven's hill; - The stars beneath them were glancing bright, - And the air was clear and still. - - "That is the Earth that dazzles so-- - That shines with a glad and a radiant light-- - That is the Earth where, long ago, - I was born on the Christmas Night!" - - Thus said the one, and the other replied, - "Forever dear is the Earth in my sight; - For there, full long ago, I died, - On the holy Christmas Night!" - - - - -THE OLD DOLL - -(_Just after Christmas_) - - - Little one, little one, open your arms, - Now are your wishes come true, come true! - Here is a love with a thousand charms, - And see! she is reaching her hands out to you! - Put the old doll by, asleep let her lie, - And open your arms to welcome the new. - - Little one, little one, play your sweet part, - Mother-love lavishes treasure untold. - Whisper fond words, and close to your heart, - Your warm little heart, the new idol enfold. - ('Tis so with us all,--to worship we fall - Before the new shrine, forgetting the old!) - - * * * * * - - Little one, little one, wherefore that sigh? - Weary of playing the long day through? - But there's something that looks like a tear in your eye, - And your lips--why, your lips are quivering, too! - Do I guess aright?--it is coming night, - And you cry for the old--you are tired of the new? - - Little one, little one, old loves are best; - And the heart still clings though the hands loose their hold! - Take the old doll back, in your arms she shall rest, - When you wander away to the dreamland fold. - (With all, even so,--ere to sleep we go, - The wavering heart wavers back to the old!) - - - - -II - -_OTHER CHILDREN_ - - - - -THE APPLE-BLOSSOM SWITCH - - - It was the daughter of a fairy witch,-- - A sweet, though wayward child. - "Go, naughty Elfinella, bring a switch - From yonder fruit tree wild!" - - (It was the charming time of all the year,-- - The darling month of May - And every bush and thicket, far and near, - With leaves and flowers was gay.) - - Poor Elfinella heard, and off she went, - With lagging steps and slow, - To where, amidst the wild, a fruit tree bent, - Her branches spreading low. - - With blossomy boughs the motherly old tree - The tearful child begirt: - "My twigs are clothed with flowers; and you will see - The switch will never hurt!" - - She broke a branch, with blossoms thickly set, - And lightly homeward tripped,-- - The switch was used--but little did she fret; - For she with flowers was whipped! - - - - -THE INDIGNANT BABY - - - Baby was out with Papa for a walk. - When their friends they met, it was "Oh!" and "Ah!" - "What a darling she is!" "Can the little kid talk?" - "Well--no; I don't think that she can," said Papa, - "Though she seems to understand." - - She was only two, but she understood, - And her small, rosy mouth was made up to cry-- - But no! she would _talk_--she would show that she could. - And, "Mamma," and "pretty," and "laly"--"by-by," - She said with a wave of her hand! - - - - -A QUESTION OF SPELLING - - - They were looking through their book - With pictures of the Zoo; - Both too young to read the text, - But each the pictures knew. - - Will was three, and Ray was five-- - And five years old is _old_! - When his wiser brother spoke, - Will did as he was told! - - "Look! I've found the _efalunt_!" - "Don't say _efalunt_," said Ray. - Said their mother: "You should tell - Little brother what to say." - - "Don't say efalunt--that's wrong; - It's _efalint_!" said Ray. - "_Efalint_!" said little Will, - In his confiding way. - - - - -"YOURS SEVERELY" - -(_The Letter of a Five Year Old_) - - - Once more she dipped her pen in ink, - And wrote: "I love you dearly." - "And now," she said, and stopped to think, - "I'll put, 'I'm - _Yours severely_.'" - - - - -A LACK OF ATTENTION - - - She had folded her hands, and had never stirred - Nor even spoken one little word. - In fact, she was good as good could be, - While the grown folks talked, and sipped their tea - At last, a small voice from the corner we heard: - "Nobody pays any pension to me!" - - - - -"I OUGHT TO MUSTN'T" - - - The chair was so near, and the shelf was so low, - And I opened the door just in time to see - The last of the coveted caramels go, - While a look imploring was cast on me, - "I ought to mustn't, I know!" - - The chair was so near, and the shelf was so low,-- - To punish, alas! no courage I had: - And I did as, perhaps, you yourself might do,-- - I kissed her, right there, so sweet and so bad! - But "I ought to mustn't," I knew! - - - - -A VAIN REGRET - - - He was six years old, just six that day, - And I saw he had something important to say, - As he held in his hand a broken toy: - He looked in my face for an instant, and then - He said, with a sigh, and a downcast eye, - "If I could live my life over again, - I think I could be a better boy!" - - - - -IN THE DARK LITTLE FLAT AT THE END OF THE COURT - - - What can the children in cities do, - The children shut in from wholesome sport-- - The children that live, all winter through, - In the dark little flat at the end of the court? - - Yet a comfort they have (and a beautiful one!), - Though the days are chill and the days are short; - At noon, for a moment, looks in the sun, - In the dark little flat at the end of the court. - - Then, the dazzled baby drops his toy, - Down tumbles the four-year-old's tottering fort-- - "Sunshine!" they all cry out, in their joy, - In the dark little flat at the end of the court. - - - - -THE LITTLE GIRL FROM TOWN - - - Us children liked her, though she was so queer, - When she came out to Pleasantville, last year; - She "mustn't walk upon the grass," she said: - We asked her _why_?--and she just shook her head! - - Oh, yes, us children liked the little kid, - Although she didn't know one thing _we_ did, - And said the oddest things you ever heard; - She saw a goose, and asked, "_What kind o' bird?_" - - Us children liked the little kid, oh, yes! - She wa'n't a bit afraid to tear her dress; - One day, when she went barefoot, just like us, - She got a stone-bruise; but she didn't _fuss_! - - Oh, yes! us children liked her, but oh, my! - We had to teach her how to play "high spy"; - She came to see us,--called our house "_a flat_"-- - I wonder now--what _could_ she mean by that? - - - - -FOR EVERY DAY - - - A flower for every day - That slips the sheath of jealous Night in May! - The violet at our feet, - The lilac's honeyed bough, - The wind-flower frail and sweet, - The apple-blossom now-- - Each keeps its promise, as Love keeps its vow: - A flower for every day in flowerful May! - - A song for every day - That breaks in music from the heart of May! - The warbler mid new leaves, - The lark in fields remote, - The housewren at our eaves, - The oriole's haunting note - When orchard blooms down fitful zephyrs float: - A song for every day in songful May! - - A joy for every day - That stirs the heart to count its joys in May! - Now Fear and Doubt take flight, - Borne down the season's stream; - Grief grows a shape of light, - And melts, a tender dream! - Now but to be alive is boon supreme-- - A joy for every day in joyful May! - - Be thanks for every day - That from thy heaven thou dost send in May! - My morn an anthem wake, - My noon sweet incense bear - Of labor for thy sake, - My evening breath a prayer. - For bloom--for song--for joy--shed everywhere, - Be thanks to thee each day in thankful May! - - - - -THE DAY-DREAMER - - - There's a day-dream strange and sweet, - Softly hovering in the air: - Now it stays the restless feet, - Now, it smoothes the wayward hair. - - Now, it droops the curly head, - Propped upon the window-sill-- - Parts the lips of rosebud red, - While the eyes with fancies fill. - - Sunbeams from the summer sky - Kiss the arm so round and bare: - There's a day-dream sweet and shy, - Softly hovering in the air! - - Is that dream of field or wood, - Mossy bank, or violet dell, - Thrush's nest, with downy brood - Lately prisoned in the shell? - - Comes that dream from fairyland, - Blown about in wondrous ways, - Like a skein of gossamer fanned - By a troop of laughing fays? - - Or, upon some elfin brook, - Wing of dragon-fly for sail, - Passing many a wildflower nook - Did it drift so light and frail? - - Little dreamer, if I dared, - I would say, "your day-dream tell!" - But it never can be shared, - And one word would break its spell! - - - - -BORN DEAF, DUMB, AND BLIND - -(_At an Asylum_) - - - A flower-soft hand once took my own,-- - That touch I never shall forget! - A strange voice spoke--so strange a tone - Mine ear had never met! - - It said, "Come--see--my--garden,--Come!" - (The flower-soft fingers closer twined): - The voice of one born deaf and dumb, - The touch of one born blind! - - They thrilled me so, the tears came fast; - But in glad haste she led the way; - Through hall and open door we passed - Into a garden gay. - - Her share was but a little space. - It bloomed with pansies dark and bright; - And each looked up with elfin grace, - As though to win her sight. - - She smiled--the pansy-faces smiled - Through tears--or was it morning dew? - Down knelt the deaf and dumb, blind child - "I do--give--all--to--you!" - - I could not stay those fingers swift, - She plucked me all the flowers she had! - I never shall have any gift - So sweet as this,--so sad! - - - - -THE CRADLE-CHILD - - - Forgotten, in a chamber lone, - The hooded Cradle, brown and old, - Began to rock, began to moan, - "Where are the babes I used to hold?" - - "To men and women they are grown, - And through the world their way must make." - The Cradle rocked and made its moan, - "My babes no single step could take!" - - "A helmsman one, on wide seas blown, - His sinewy hands the wheel employs." - The Cradle rocked and made its moan, - "My babes could scarcely grasp their toys." - - "And one, with words of winning tone, - God's shepherd, goes the lost to seek." - The Cradle rocked and still made moan, - "The babes I held no word could speak!" - - "And one, with children of her own,-- - Her life is toil and love and prayer!" - The Cradle rocked and still made moan, - "My babes of babes could take no care!" - - "Now all that once were mine are flown - But one, that still with me shall bide"-- - (The Cradle ceased to rock, to moan)-- - "The sweetest one--the babe who died!" - - - - -SOME LADIES OF THE OLDEN TIME - - - A long time ago in Childhood's Land, - A troop of sweet ladies I knew, - If the truth must be told, I myself - Was their lady's maid, patient and true! - - I served them, I dressed them, I took them to walk, - I made the fine clothes that they wore; - Very dainty,--and delicate, too, were they all, - For they never arose until four! - - Wide were their flounces of crimson or white, - A little old fashioned for now; - Prim were their figures--ah, yes, I must own, - Their heads they never could bow! - - Their heads were so round and so small and so green-- - Not clever nor learned were they; - But then, they were only Four o'Clock Ladies, - And their life, 'twas a short one and gay! - - - - -A WATER LILY - - - Did I behold the Lady of the Lake - Part the cool water with a slender hand? - And brought she for her loved knight errant's sake - Out of some liquid crypt the magic brand? - - I dreamed it was the Lady of the Lake-- - I did but dream! Again I looked, and knew - The water lily, white as winter's flake, - But with a heart all gold and fragrant dew. - - - - -THE KINDERBANK[4] - -THE LITTLE MOTHERS - - - It was a day in warm July, - It was a far countree; - The bees were humming in the flowers - That filled the linden tree. - - The linden made a cooling shade - For many a yard around, - And flecks of sunlight here and there - Did dot the shady ground. - - A long, low, easy seat there was - Beneath the linden green; - And _Kinderbank_ across the back - In letters large was seen. - - I did not need that word to read, - To know the Children's Seat; - For there the grass was trodden down - By many little feet. - - Upon this day the _Kinderbank_ - Was full as it could be, - With children sitting in a row, - A pleasant sight to see. - - Each little woman bent her head, - Too busy far to speak; - Each had a lock of yellow hair - Slipped down across her cheek. - - Each little woman pursed her lips - Into a rosebud small, - And never knew how fast time flew-- - So busy were they all. - - One made the knitting-needles click, - With shining head bent low, - And earnest eyes intent to see - The winter stocking grow. - - Another, toiling at a seam, - The thread drew in and out; - And once she sighed--so hard she tried - To make the stitches stout! - - But ever, as they worked away, - And would not look around, - They watched the little ones that played - Before them on the ground. - - The little ones they laughed and cooed, - And talked their baby-talk; - Their feet so bare were rosy-fair-- - For only one could walk! - - His flaxen hair in ringlets stood - Upon his serious head; - His eyes so blue were serious, too; - And, drawing near, I said: - - "Whose precious baby boy is this, - So thoughtful and so sweet?" - Then up and spoke a little maid, - Of those upon the seat: - - "This baby--he belongs to me. - He goes just where I go; - And I'm his Little Mother--yes, - _My_ mother told me so! - - "She said that he was mine 'all day.' - And so it must be true; - I brushed his hair--I take good care, - As she herself would do. - - "And I'm quite sure that I can cure, - And drive the pain away, - With kisses, if my baby hurts - His little hand at play!" - - "And whose are all these babies here? - "Why--we--oh, don't you know?" - We all are Little Mothers--yes, - _Our_ mothers told us so!" - - The Little Mothers all looked up, - And each did nod her head: - "Our mothers told us so!" "Ah, then - 'Tis true, indeed," I said. - - I left them as I found them, there - Beneath the linden tree; - And often since that day I've thought - I'd like to go and see - - If still the Little Mothers sit - Upon the Children's Seat, - And watch their babies as they play - And tumble at their feet. - - [4] In German, the Children's Seat. - - - - -BUONAMICO - -_A Legend of Florence_ - - -I - - When Monte Morello is capped with snow, - And the wind from the north comes whistling down, - It is chill to rise with the morning star, - In the "City of Flowers"--in Florence town. - - -II - - Light is the sleep of the old, for they know - How brief are their few remaining days; - But when hearts are young, sleep lingers long, - And too sweet to leave are the dreamful ways. - - -III - - So, Tafi, the master, awoke with the light, - But the prentice lad, Buonamico, was young, - And his dreaming ears were loath to hear - The daybreak bell's awakening tongue. - - -IV - - For it seemed to speak with old Tafi's voice, - "Colors to grind, and the shop to be swept!" - Then, out of his bed, on the bare stone floor, - Poor Buonamico, shivering, crept. - - -V - - Busy all day with his quick, young hands,-- - Busy his thoughts with a project bold. - "The master will find," he said to himself, - "'Tis not well to work in the dark and the cold!" - - -VI - - But the master, unheeding the prentice lad, - Matched the mosaics fine and quaint; - Till his tablets of stone revealed the forms - Of Mother and Child, of cherub and saint. - - -VII - - Buonamico, meanwhile, forsook his tasks, - And, prying in crevice of wall or ground, - With a patience and skill boys only know, - Thirty great beetles the truant found. - - -VIII - - As many wax tapers, then, he took-- - Thirty small tapers (nor less, nor more), - And presto! each beetle, clumsy and slow, - On its broad black back a candle bore. - - -IX - - Next morning, ere dawn, when Tafi awoke, - Ere his lips could frame their usual call, - A sight he beheld that froze his veins-- - An impish procession of tapers small! - - -X - - Slowly they came, and slowly went - (And they seemed to pass through a crack 'neath the door): - So slowly they moved, he counted them all, - Thirty they numbered, nor less, nor more! - - -XI - - "Surely, some evil these hands have wrought, - That the powers of darkness invade my cell!" - And many an _Ave_ the master said, - To reverse and undo the unholy spell. - - -XII - - When daylight was come, Buonamico he told: - "A good lad ever thou wert, and indeed, - Wise for thy years; and, therefore, speak out, - And, as best thou canst, this mystery read." - - -XIII - - "May it not be," Buonamico said, - "The powers of darkness, that good men hate, - Are vexed with my master, who falters not - In faithful service, early and late?" - - -XIV - - "Ay, that they are," said the master, "no doubt!" - Said the prentice-boy, "_Their_ time is night, - And it _may_ be they like not this wondrous work - Which thou risest to do ere peep of light!" - - -XV - - "Well hast thou counseled," the master replied, - "So young of years--so sage in thy thought; - I will rise no more ere the day hath dawned-- - A work of light should in light be wrought!" - - -XVI - - Thus runs the legend, which also saith - Spite of his pranks Buonamico became, - When the years were fled, and Tafi was gone, - A painter who rivaled his master's fame. - - - - -THE PRINCE AND THE WHIPPING-BOY - - - Upon a day of olden days, - A royal lad at school, - In mischief apt, with many a prank, - Defied the good dame's rule. - - But England's prince no rod might strike, - Though rich was his desert; - Another must the penance bear, - Another feel the hurt! - - The "whipping-boy" stood forth to take - The blows he had not earned; - Full meek he stood; no sense of wrong - Within his bosom burned. - - Young Edward saw the rod upraised, - His "whipping-boy" to smite; - And suddenly his princely soul - Revolted at the sight. - - The shame, the shame, the tingling shame - No blood of kings could brook! - Forward he sprung, the falling rod - In his own hand he took: - - "Mine is the blame--be mine the shame - For what I only wrought; - Let none but me endure the pain - My deed alone has brought!" - - Thus on a day of days, it chanced, - A royal schoolboy learned - That noble hearts in every age - A coward's shield have spurned. - - - - -MASTER CORVUS - - - In Rome, beside the Forum, - A cobbler had his shop, - Where, on his way to school, - The schoolboy loved to stop. - - The sheets of well-tanned leather - Hung all about the wall; - The cobbler stitched and scolded, - Bent over last and awl. - - 'Twas not the cobbler's scolding - At which the schoolboys laughed, - Nor did they care to watch - His cunning handicraft. - - It was a dapper person - With coat as black as night, - That offered to the schoolboy - An all-year-round delight-- - - A droll yet silent person, - "Good morrow"--all his speech; - He stood upon a rostrum, - As though to teach or preach. - - It was the cobbler's raven, - "Good morrow!" clear and loud - He called, with mimic laughter - That charmed the truant crowd, - - Until, at last, reminded - Of school and pedagogue, - Of lecture, and of ferrule - To point his apologue. - - And now, would Master Corvus, - To while the time away, - Look 'round, to see what mischief - He might devise to-day. - - Alas, the raven's cunning - No bound nor measure knew; - Alas, the cobbler's temper-- - It never better grew! - - And when his choicest leather - Embossed with claw and beak, - He saw--upon the raven - Swift vengeance he did wreak! - - Which done, morose and sullen, - He sat him down once more; - Nor scolded when the schoolboys - Called through the open door: - - "Good morrow, Master Corvus!"... - No shrill and joyous croak - Responded from within; - And then their anger broke. - - "How daredst thou kill the raven,-- - The better man of two?" - They seized and beat the cobbler, - Till he for life did sue. - - Then took they Master Corvus - From where he lifeless lay-- - Their dear and droll companion, - And carried him away. - - Said one, "There is a duty - Which to our friend we owe: - In life we gave him honor, - And honor still we'll show!" - - "That will we!" cried they warmly - (Young Romans long ago)-- - "In life we gave him honor, - And honor still we'll show!" - - Next day, along the Forum, - With slow and measured tread, - Defiled the long cortege - Of Master Corvus dead. - - His bier was heaped with garlands, - A piper went before; - And (as they had been kinsmen) - Two blacks the casket bore. - - Then, down the Via Sacra - The sad procession moved, - While at their doors and windows - The people all approved. - - And thus to Master Corvus - Full rites his friends did pay, - And buried him, 'tis said, - Beside the Appian Way, - - With lightly sprinkled earth - Above his glossy breast-- - With stone, and due inscription, - _Hic jacet_--and the rest. - - - - -"P. ABBOTT" - -(_A Tradition of Westminster Abbey_) - - - 'Tis a saying that stolen sweets are sweeter, - And so with my hero it was, I think, - "P. Abbott,"--if Philip or Paul or Peter, - 'Twill never be known; there's a missing link. - - The legend declares (without praise or censure) - A youth had been challenged to sleep all night - In the gray old Abbey; a madcap adventure, - But madcap adventures were his delight. - - In the Chapel of Kings, in Westminster Abbey, - You may see the stone that was brought from Scone, - And above it, the armchair, old and shabby, - Where every king has _once_ had his throne. - - Monarchs in marble, greater or lesser, - And at least three queens of the English land-- - In a circle they lie, round the good Confessor, - Crown on the head and scepter in hand. - - Gone from his tomb are the wondrous riches - It once did hold, both of gems and gold; - But you still may see the Gothic niches - Where the sick awaited the cure of old. - - Beggar or lord, poor drudge or duchess, - Alike might they hope for the good saint's aid; - And they left their jewels, or dropped their crutches - As token that not in vain had they prayed. - - 'Twas St. Edward's Day, and the throng, gladhearted - With the blessing of peace had gone its way; - The last red beam of the sun had departed, - And twilight spread through the chapel gray. - - And the marble kings on their marble couches - Once more they are lying in state, alone - Save for a nimble shadow that crouches - Behind the stone that was brought from Scone; - - And the aged verger was never the wiser, - As he passed that stone and the oaken chair; - Though watchful was he as watchful miser, - He never discovered my hero was there. - - When the keys at his leather girdle jingled, - How loud did they sound in young Abbott's ear! - And when they were still, how the silence tingled! - How dim was the light!--yet why should he fear? - - The night was before him, the shadows were dreary - As forth from his hiding-place he crept. - There was nothing to do; his eyelids grew weary, - And into the chair he crept and slept. - - Never before, and nevermore since then, - Hath any but royalty sat in that chair; - But my hero himself, I hold, was a prince then-- - Of the Realm of Youth and of dreams most fair! - - But with the dawn his slumbers were broken, - And, rubbing his eyes, he sat bolt upright. - "'Twere folly," he cried, "if I left no token - To prove that I stayed in the Abbey all night." - - So he carved his name, and carved it quaintly, - As pleased him best, on that ancient seat. - And the sculptured kings in the dawn smiled faintly-- - But never a one forbade the feat! - - Then, somehow and somewhere, discreetly he flitted; - And when the old verger returned for the day, - "I warrant," he muttered, with bent brows knitted, - "Something uncanny hath passed this way!" - - With the record of kings and of statesmen and sages, - This of a mischievous youth is shown: - "P. Abbott,"--a name that has lasted for ages, - Nicked on the seat of that oaken throne! - - - - -THE GIANT'S DAUGHTER - - - My story's of the olden day - Beside the hurrying, blue Rhine water,-- - My story's of a runaway,-- - The Giant Niedeck's little daughter! - - She wanders at her own sweet will, - Her flaxen ringlets wide she tosses: - A dozen steps--she climbs the hill, - A dozen more--a vineyard crosses! - - The pine trees young aside are brushed, - As though they were but nodding grasses; - She laughs aloud--the birds are hushed, - And hide away until she passes! - - She heeds them not,--the giant mite, - So bent upon her own wild pleasure; - And now she sees a wondrous sight, - A curious thing for her to treasure! - - "Oh, what a lovely toy I've found!" - She clapped her hands in childish wonder. - (The great trees trembled, miles around, - The rocks gave back a sound like thunder.) - - A plowman with his horse,--the toy,-- - A plowman at his daily drudging: - She snatched them up with eager joy; - And home the giant child went trudging. - - She reached the castle out of breath, - And from her pocket (says my fable) - She drew the ploughman, scared to death, - And laid him swooning on the table. - - And then away in haste she sped, - To bring her nurse and lady mother; - "Now, burn my wooden dolls," she said. - "Live toys are best--I'll have no other!" - - The giant lady, fair and mild, - Thus spake unto her little daughter: - "Go, take the plowman back, my child, - To fields beside the blue Rhine water. - - "Though weak and small, his heart is great; - And Liebchen, if we kept him here, - All day, beside his cottage gate, - Would weep for him his children dear." - - Then back the giant child did go, - And left the plowman where she found him; - And when the sun was sinking low, - He started up and looked around him. - - "I must have dreamed," he laughed outright, - As when some sudden fancy pleases; - "And I will tell my dream to-night - When Gretchen for a story teases!" - - - - -EROTION AND THE DOVE. - - - I was too young, they said (I was not seven), - But I would understand, as I grew older, - Why the White Dove that died was not in heaven. - But they were wrong, for when I came to heaven,-- - When first I came, and all was strange and lonely, - My pretty pet flew straight upon my shoulder! - And there she stays all day; at evening only, - Between my hands, close to my breast, I fold her. - - - - -THE HOMESICK SOLDIER - - - The soldier woke at the quail's first note, - At dawn, on the grassy couch where he lay: - "O bird, that calls from the fields of home, - What do my darlings so far away?" - "They are up and ready to roam; - They scatter the dew with their small bare feet, - And laugh as they wade through the meadow sweet." - - The soldier paused on the dusty march, - And stooped by the cooling stream to drink: - "O river, that runs through the fields of home, - What do my dear ones, who dwell on thy brink?" - "Farther and farther they roam-- - They are sending their mimic fleets adrift; - And they follow them borne on my current swift." - - The soldier sank on the twilight sward, - And the vigilant lights were thronging above; - "O stars that shine on the fields of home, - What do they now, whom most I love?" - "They have ceased to roam, to roam,-- - And are lisping a prayer at their mother's knee; - And that prayer, and her tears, are for thee, for thee!" - - - - -THE COSSACK MOTHER - - - My little one will die to-night - (Then break, my heart, oh, break!); - But 'twill not be a lonely flight - Her tender soul shall take. - - For there, where smoky clouds are spread, - That blot the sunset sky, - Are many dying, many dead, - And others yet to die. - - My child loved soldiers so! And they, - Whene'er they passed this door, - Would toss her in their arms, in play, - And laugh when she cried, "More!" - - So, when she passes hence to-night, - They, too,--the brave, the strong, - As up they climb the heavenly height, - Will bear her soul along! - - With spirit lances shining clear, - They reach God's citadel:-- - My little one will have no fear, - With friends she loves so well. - - - - -THE BLOSSOM-CHILD - - - The flowers, the haunted flowers of May, - They bring delight, they bring heartache; - What wondrous things to me they say! - - So bright--so dim, so sad--so gay, - No stem of theirs I dare to break-- - The flowers--the haunted flowers of May! - - When lip to lip they softly lay-- - As soft, as still, as flake on flake, - What wondrous things to me they say! - - For lo! there comes with them to play, - A child, whose feet no imprint make-- - The flowers--the haunted flowers of May! - - From Childhood's Land they take their way, - They bloom but for that flower-child's sake-- - What wondrous things to me they say! - - With them it lives, their little day; - With them, each new-born year, 'twill wake; - The flowers--the haunted flowers of May, - What wondrous things to me they say! - - - - -THE CLOCK OF THE YEAR - - - 'Tis the Curfew of the Year, when falls and fades the maple's leafy - fire. - 'Tis Midnight of the Year, when streams beneath a fretted roof - retire. - It is the Small Hours of the Year, when none of all that sleep will - wake, - Howe'er the legion storms of heaven their deep and hidden fastness - shake. - It is the Dark Hour ere the Dawn, when, through the growing rifts of - sleep, - The wistful-eyed and moaning dreams of other days begin to peep. - But when, amid the softening rain, aloft, so mellow and so clear, - The first flute of the robin sounds, it is the Daybreak of the Year! - - - - -III - -SOME OF THEIR FRIENDS - - - - -THE YOUNG OF SPRING - - - There are so many, many young! - So many, in thy world, O Spring, - And scarcely yet they find a tongue, - Their wants to cry, their joys to sing. - - There are so many, many young young-- - Be tender to such tenderness; - And let soft arms be round them flung, - Keep them from blight, from weather stress! - - White lambs upon the green-lit sward, - And dappled darlings of the kine-- - O Spring, have them in watch and ward - And mother them--for all are thine. - - There are so many, many young! - Thine, too, the wild mouse and her brood - Within a last year's bird's-nest swung-- - And all shy litters of the wood! - - There are so many, many young young-- - Guard all--guard closeliest this year's nest; - Oh, guard, for Joy, the songs unsung - Within the thrush's speckled breast! - - - - -THE TRIUMPH OF THE BROWN THRUSH - - - A recent convention of Nature's musicians - (Their entire resolutions the Owlet quotes) - Took "high southern ground," and, from lofty positions, - All muffled in feathers and down, to their throats, - Resolved to expel, without any conditions, - The cuckoo-like fellow who stole their best notes. - - With spirit the Song-sparrow opened the session; - "I'm with you," whistled the Oriole, "I - Would like him subjected to public confession"-- - "And fined!" the Vireo said with a sigh. - "Pshaw!" hissed the Wren, with ruffled aggression, - "Pluck him, I say, and then bid him fly!" - - Answered the Brown Thrush, high in his palace, - "'Tis true I have taken your notes--less or more-- - And mingled them well (for I bear you no malice), - Just as the wines some wizard of yore - Would mingle together, then pour from his chalice - Magic new wine never tasted before!" - - - - -DAY--WIDE DAY! - - - Day to the washing seas, and to the patient land, - And to the little nautilus upon the sand. - - Day to the toiler gone afield, and to the child, - And to the peetweet's brood amid the marshes wild. - - While these awake to toil and those awake to play, - How glad are all that breathe, that night has winged away! - - For light and life are friends, and night their ancient foe. - Awake, ye birds, to song, ye buds, begin to blow! - - - - -THE BLOSSOMS OF TO-MORROW - - - The sun was shining, after rain, - The garden gleamed and glistened; - I heard a humblebee complain-- - I bent me down and listened. - - Around a nodding stalk he flew, - That bore white lilies seven; - And five were opened wide, and two - Slept in their lily heaven. - - The foolish bee, the grumbling bee, - That might have found a palace - (As any one beside could see) - Within the honeyed chalice-- - - The grumbling bee, the foolish bee, - Still hummed one note of sorrow: - "Oh, that to-day would give to me - The blossoms of to-morrow." - - From bud to bud, the livelong hour, - I saw him pass and hover, - And pry about each fast-shut flower, - Some entrance to discover. - - A discontented mind, no doubt, - A moral here should borrow; - I only say: "Don't fret about - The blossoms of to-morrow!" - - - - -THE NEST IN THE HEATHER - -(_In Scotland it was an old custom for the young people on Easter -morning to hunt for eggs of the wild fowl_) - - - Oh, fine it is at Easter - To hunt the wild fowl's nest! - A rush o' wings--a feather - From aff a broodin' breast-- - A twinkle o' the heather-- - An' weel ye ken the rest! - - Before we've ta'en a dewbit, - A' in the morning gray, - It's callin' ane anither - In haste to be away-- - It's cryin', "Wish me, mither, - The best luck o' the day!" - - An' mither's gi'en us kisses, - Wi' little sighs between; - An' if a teardrop's blinkin' - Within her tender een, - It's, maybe, that she's thinkin' - O' Easters that hae been! - - Then lads and lassies scatter, - To hunt the eggs sae white; - They thither run, an' hither, - An' shout in their delight! - An' if twa hunt thegither, - They ken it isna right! - - No laddie to a lassie - Of hidden nest may tell; - Nor lass of laddie ask it, - But she maun seek hersel'! - Wha brings the fullest basket-- - Guid luck wi' him shall dwell! - - Oh, fine it is at Easter - To hunt the wild fowl's nest; - An' when the sun is beamin', - It's hame we'll gang in haste; - For now the brose is steamin,' - The chair for us is placed! - - But oh! for a' the pleasure, - Ae thing I canna thole-- - The puir wild birdie's greetin'-- - It's pierced my verra soul! - I hear ilk ane repeatin', - "It was my eggs ye stole!" - - - - -LADY-GROVE (SILVER BIRCHES) - - - This side the deeper wood, - Of somber oak and pine, - A dryad sisterhood - Upon the hill's incline, - In poised expectance stand, - As waiting but the sign, - To dance a saraband! - - The oaks and pines, alway, - A darkling mystery hide. - In Lady-Grove, all day, - The cheerful sunbeams glide; - And many a singing brood - In peace and joy abide - With this lov'd sisterhood. - - Their raiment fair is wove - Of tender green and white: - Come, Breeze, to Lady-Grove - And put their trance to flight; - For if they once were freed-- - My Silver Birches light-- - Ah, what a dance they'd lead! - - - - -SHADOW BROOK - - - Shadow Brook creeps round the hill, - Shadow Brook darts past the mill-- - Coming from the wood, in haste - Seeks again its native waste! - Meanwhile, every friend it meets - - For protection it entreats; - Saying: "Willows, close around, - That my path may not be found! - Grass and sedges interlace, - Throw a veil across my face! - Clematis and gold-thread weave - Meshes that can best deceive! - - Celandine and gentian rise, - And my ripples help disguise! - Pebbles, do not tempt to play - Lest my laughter should betray! - Silent as my minnows are, - I would glide afar, afar: - Help me, friends, to reach the wood, - And its happy solitude, - Where I have my chosen bed - Of the brown leaves underspread." - - Thus, in ways it knoweth best, - Shadow Brook runs on its quest, - Shadow Brook--a hermit stream-- - Finding life a pleasant dream. - - - - -THE BROOK AND THE BIRD - - - I listened to a summer brook - That rippled past my shady seat; - Now far, now near, now vague, now clear, - The music of its liquid feet. - - Few tones the slender rillet has has-- - That few how sweet, how soothing sweet! - A live delight, by day, by night, - The music of its liquid feet! - - While there I mused, a songbird lit - And swung above my shady seat: - He heard the brook, and straightway took - The music of its liquid feet! - - A bird's bright glance on me he bent,-- - A bird's glance, fearless yet discreet; - As who might say, "This roundelay - Of liquid joy I can repeat!" - - The mimic carol done, once more - He needs must try its measures sweet;-- - Again, again, that rippling strain - My songbird did repeat, repeat! - - Since then I've learned that human breasts - To few and simple measures beat; - O blessed bird, my heart-warm word - I, too, repeat, repeat, repeat! - - - - -THE BIRDS OF SOLEURE - - - Thrifty the folk in the town of Soleure, - And they steadily ply their fathers' trade; - Proud are they, too, that, year after year, - The watches and clocks of the world they have made. - - Click go the seconds, kling go the hours, - In the town of Soleure the time is well kept! - Ever, new steel they cut and trim, - While into the street the filings are swept. - - Only waste metal, unfit for use; - But it catches the sunshine and glitters still-- - And what are those thrushes doing there, - Each with a scrap of steel in its bill? - - The watchmaker's boy has paused with his broom, - And he follows the birds with a boy's keen eye; - Their secret he learns, and whither they go, - In the leafy tent of yon linden high! - - Their secret he guards the springtime through, - And he smiles when he hears the young ones call; - "Never had birdlings a cradle like theirs-- - Surely to them can no harm befall!" - - When the leaves are flying and birds are flown, - 'Tis out on the linden bough he swings-- - The fearless lad that he is--and thence, - A wonderful nest of steel he brings! - - It yet may be seen in the town of Soleure, - To show how the skill of the birds began - At the point where human skill fell short; - For they used what was waste in the hands of man. - - - - -THE PRAIRIE NEST - - - Where, think you, a little gray finch in the far wide West - Chose (of all places!) to build and to brood her nest? - - Well, I will tell you the tale that the hunter told: - (Strange things has he seen--this hunter grizzled and old.) - - He spoke of the cattle that came to no herder's call, - Roaming the fenceless prairie from springtime to fall. - - A shot from his rifle laid low the king of the herd-- - When, hark! the sharp cry of a circling and hovering bird! - - What did it mean? The hunter drew in his rein, - And leaped to the ground, where dead lay the lord of the plain! - - Stilled was the beating heart, and glazed were the eyes; - The fluttering bird circled higher, and sharper her cries; - - While, finer and fainter, yet many, and all as keen, - Came cries from below, as in answer. What could it mean? - - The hunter bent down; and his heart with wonder was stirred, - When he saw, between the wide horns, the nest of a bird, - - Like a crown which the prairie's monarch might choose to wear - On his shaggy forelock, and lined with the friendly hair! - - The hunter stood still, abashed in the midst of the plain, - To hear the little gray mother's cry of pain, - - And the faint fine voices of nestlings answer the cry; - While their fearless friend lay dead between earth and sky! - - - - -THE MOVING OF THE NEST - - - Do not ask me _why?_ or _how?_-- - All in Fairyland it chanced, - As the leaves upon the bough - In the autumn breezes danced! - - "Quip-a-quip-a-quip-a-queer!" - Said the Thrush unto his mate. - "We must soon be gone from here; - No one else would stay so late!" - - Do not ask me _why?_ or _how?_-- - But his mate did sorely grieve: - "My dear nest upon this bough - It will break my heart to leave!" - - Do not ask me _how?_ or _why?_-- - But the thrush's children, too, - Perched around, began to cry, - "Oh, whatever shall we do?" - - "Cheep-a-cheep-a-cheep-a-cheer! - Never such a nest as ours; - We would rather have it, _here_, - Than Bermuda and the flowers!" - - "Cheep-a-cheep-a-cheep-a-cheer," - Pleaded then the thrush's mate: - "Let us take the nest, my dear, - It is light and we are eight!" - - (Do not ask me _why?_ or _how?_--) - But the thrushes, with a cheer, - Took that nest from off the bough-- - "Quip-a-quip-a-quip-a-queer! - - "Quip-a-quip-a-quip-a-queer! - Firmly, now, with beak and claw; - Spread your wings, and never fear,-- - _You_ to push, and _you_ to draw!" - - So the thrushes took their nest, - Every one his strength applied; - But the youngest 'twas thought best - Should be snugly tucked inside. - - All in Fairyland it chanced! - There is nothing more to say; - Ere the morn was far advanced, - They were miles and miles away! - - - - -THE WIDOWED EAGLE - - - Out from the aerie beloved we flew, - Now through the white, and now through the blue; - Glided beneath us hilltop and glen, - River and meadow and dwellings of men! - - We flew, we flew through the regions of light - And the wind's wild paean followed our flight! - Free of the world, we flew, we flew-- - Bound to each other alone,--we two! - - To the shivering migrant we called "Adieu!" - Mid the frost-sweet weather, we flew, we flew! - Till, hark from below! the hiss of lead, - And one of us dropped, as a plume is shed! - - Around and around I flew, I flew, - Wheeling my flight, ever closer I drew! - There, on the earth, my beloved lay, - With a crimson stain on her breast-plumes gray! - - And creatures of earth we had scorned before, - Now measured the wings that would lift no more: - And I stooped, as an arrow is shot from the height, - And sought to bear her away in my flight flight-- - - Away to our aerie far to seek! - Well did I fight with talons and beak; - But the craven foe, in their numbers and might, - Bore her in triumph out of my sight! - - - - -THE CHICKADEE - - - Black-cap, madcap, - Never tired of play, - What's the news to-day? - "Faint-heart, faint-heart, - Winter's coming up this way, - And the winter comes to stay!" - - Black-cap, madcap, - Whither will you go, - Now the storm-winds blow? - "Faint-heart, faint-heart, - In the pine boughs, thick and low, - We are sheltered from the snow!" - - Black-cap, madcap, - In the snow and sleet, - What have you to eat? - "Faint-heart, faint-heart, - Seeds and berries are a treat, - When the frost has made them sweet!" - - Black-cap, madcap, - Other birds have flown - To a summer zone! - "Faint-heart, faint-heart, - When they're gone, we black-caps own - Our white playground all alone!" - - - - -THE EARTH-MOTHER AND HER CHILDREN - - - Her children all were gathered round her, - One olden, golden day; - Between her tender, drooping eyelids - She watched them feed or play. - - Upon the lion's living velvet - She pillowed her fair head; - A white fawn pushed its dewy muzzle - Beneath the hand that fed. - - A goldfinch clung upon a ringlet - That brushed her wide, smooth brow; - And, thence, right merrily he answered - His comrades on the bough. - - But at her feet there lay a sleeper, - Of subtly-fashioned limb; - Whose motion, force and will to be, - Kept yet their prison dim. - - And round about his couch of slumber - The rest a space did make: - "Your peace" (the Mother told her children) - "Is broken, if he wake! - - "Lo! this--the best of all created-- - Shall yet an evil bring: - And ye in doubt shall graze the pasture, - And ye in fear shall sing. - - "For your dear sake, my lesser children, - I keep him long asleep; - Play on, sing on, a happy season-- - His dreams be passing deep!" - - Thus, while her children gathered round her, - And while Man sleeping lay, - The fair Earth-Mother softly murmured, - "It is your Golden Day!" - - - - -"WHEN THE LEAVES ARE GONE" - - - When the leaves are gone, the birds are gone, - And 'tis very silent at the dawn. - Snowbird, nuthatch, chickadee,-- - Come and cheer the lonely tree! - - When the leaves are gone, the flowers are gone, - Fast asleep beneath the ground withdrawn. - Flowers of snow, so soft and fine-- - Clothe the shivering branch and vine! - - - - -THE FIRST THANKSGIVING - -(1621) - - - I would like to lift the curtain - Hides the past from mortal view, - For a glimpse of one Thanksgiving - When New England still was new. - - I would like to see that feast day - Bradford for his people made, - Ere the onset of the winter, - That their hearts might be upstayed. - - First he sent a score of yeomen, - Skilled in woodcraft, sure of aim; - All one day they spent in hunting, - That there might be store of game. - - Fathers, brothers (aye, and lovers!), - Home they bring the glossy deer; - Some but praise their hunter's prowess, - Some, soft-hearted, drop a tear. - - I would like to see those housewives, - Busy matrons, maidens too, - Watching by the ripening oven, - Bending o'er the home-made brew. - - I would like to see the feasting - Where the snowy cloth is spread; - Here shall no one be forgotten, - Here shall all be warmed and fed. - - Welcome, too, ye friendly shadows - At the white man's feast and sport, - Tufted warriors, grave onlooking, - Massasoit and his court. - - - - -"MASCOTS" - - - Home they come from Cuba Libre; - And they march with hastening feet - Underneath the floating banners, - Up the thronged and ringing street. - - When you cheer your sunburnt heroes, - Don't forget their pensioners small, - Led along, or perched on shoulder, - Four-foot, furry "mascots" all! - - Comrades of the march and bivouac, - Sharers of the cup and can, - All unconscious of their portion - In the drama played by man. - - Did they bring, perchance, good fortune - (As they brought their owners joy)? - Ask the youth who owns the "mascot"-- - For a soldier's but a boy! - - - - -MOTHER FUR - - - I wonder what charm there can be in fur? - The kitten curls up and begins to purr, - The puppy tumbles about in the rug - In his silly way and gives it a hug, - And mousekin, that even a shadow can scare, - For a moment lies still in the long, soft hair - Then slips away to its home in the wall. - Can it be--poor darlings! that each and all - Believe 'tis their mother, and hasten to her? - - All babies, I think, love old Mother Fur; - For my little brother--too little to speak-- - See how he nestles his peach-blossom cheek - In the velvet coat that the tiger wore, - As it lies stretched out at length on the floor! - Tiger, if you were alive--dear me! - I shudder to think how cruel you'd be. - No doubt in your day you did harm enough, - But now you're safe as my tippet or muff! - You, too, I will call (since you never can stir) - Old Mother Fur, kind Mother Fur! - - - - -WHAT THE CAT-MOTHER SAID - - - We live in a cave the wild-rose bushes hide, - For my kittens and I were turned out of the house. - There are plenty of birds here, on every side-- - And a bird I must catch, for I can't find a mouse! - - - - -WHAT THE BIRD-MOTHER SAID - - - Keep still in the nest, O my birdlings dear, - While I search for a worm! Do not chirrup one word! - There's a cruel tigress crouching so near-- - For her hungry cubs she is seeking a bird! - - - - -WHAT THE FRIEND OF BOTH SAID - - - The friend of both to pity was stirred, - And a wish divided, her heart possessed: - "May you hungry kittens lack never a bird"-- - "May you birdlings dear be safe in your nest!" - - - - -THE LITTLE BROWN BAT - - - Quoth the little brown bat: "I rise with the owl,-- - Wisest and best of the feathered fowl; - Let other folks rise, if they will, with the lark, - And be early and bright--I am early and dark!" - - Quoth the little brown bat: "I'm awake and up, - When the night-moth sips from the lily's white cup; - While the firefly lanterns are searching the sky, - I am glancing about, with fiery eye!" - - Quoth the little brown bat: "The night has its noon - As well as its day--and I'm friends with the moon. - Many a secret she tells me alone, - Which never a bird or a bee has known!" - - Quoth the little brown bat: "There is house-room for me, - When the winter comes, in some hollow tree; - Or under barn eaves, near the fragrant hay, - I sleep the dull winter hours away." - - - - -THE LOST CHARTER - -(_Based on an Arabic Legend_) - - -PERSONS - - Bounce, a wire-haired Terrier; - Tip, a tortoise-shell Cat; - An old and faithful Servant of both. - - Prologue by Old Servant, as follows: - We three before the fire, one night, - Had but its flickering blaze for light-- - My dog, my cat, on either side; - I mused, while they grew sleepy-eyed. - But, if they waked, or if they slept, - Still each some watch on other kept. - Now what is this, good Bounce, good Tip, - That mars your perfect fellowship? - Speak up! Speak up! you, Tip,--you, Bounce, - Your mutual grievances announce. - - At this my dog awoke from doze, - Drew near, and thrust a foolish nose - Beneath my hand; then, deeply sighed. - Her gold-stone eyes Tip opened wide, - The middle of the hearth she took, - And cast on Bounce a scornful look; - And then, this colloquy began, - Which I record as best I can. - - -THE DIALOGUE - - - TIP: - Dear Mistress, plainly I must speak; - For _he_, who should be dumb and meek, - The simple truth would never say - And his own foolish act betray betray-- - - BOUNCE (_interrupting pleadingly_): - Oh, do not heed her, Mistress dear; - Think how I love you, guard you, cheer! - - TIP (_proceeds with withering disregard_): - When all we creatures were assigned - Our places with your human kind, - ('Twas long ago) while some became - Your slaves--as spiritless as tame, - We two, as friends, beneath your roof - Were lodged, because we each gave proof proof-- - - BOUNCE (_licking Old Servant's hand_): - Yes, yes--I of my faithfulness-- - Man calls on me in all distress! - - TIP (_severely_): - You blundering, careless beast, be still! - My cleanliness, my grace, my skill, - Did, quite as much myself commend! - That we should live, not slave, but friend - To Master Man was then agreed: - But since of caution there is need, - We asked a written document; - To which our Master did consent. - Puffed up with confidence and pride, - _He_ took the document to hide. - - [_Extends her paw towards Bounce, who winces - and buries his nose deeper under old Servant's - hand_ - - He hid it in his old bone-cave; - And then, no further thought he gave - The precious charter of our rights-- - Engaged in noisy bouts and fights! - - Bounce (_excitedly_): - There was foul play, O Mistress mine-- - The other creatures did combine! - - TIP: - Hush! 'twas your carelessness, in chief, - That gave the chance to knave and thief! - The jealous Ox and Horse conspired, - And then, the villain Rat they hired - To delve in darkness underground - Till he the precious charter found, - And brought the Horse and Ox, who thought - Their liberty could thus be bought,-- - The tiresome creatures! To this day - They drudge and drudge, the same old way! - The Ox, the Ass, the Horse--these all - Divided with the Rat their stall, - And from their mangers grain they gave-- - Such price they paid the thievish knave! - What loss was ours, we scarce can know-- - The charter we could never show! - I might have had a dais spread - With crimson velvet, and been fed - On golden finches every day; - But, as for _him_ (_indicating Bounce_), he's naught to say - (He lost the charter of our rights)-- - When flogged, or chained on moonlight nights! - Upon one subject, only, we - Can always heartily agree, - - [_gracefully waving her paw_, - - You, careless Dogs, we, careful Cats-- - Our common enemy-- - - BOUNCE: - Yes, Rats! - - [_Joyously embracing opportunity to reinstate - himself_ - - Old Servant (_starting up suddenly_): - Ah, who said "Rats!" just now--and where? - And why cannot you two play fair? - - [_At this, Tip is seen to be occupying her own - corner of the hearth, and Bounce to be sound asleep, - his nose deeply buried between his forepaws. Old - Servant rubs her eyes, then smiles thoughtfully, - and settles back in easy-chair_ - - - - -THE SAVING OF JACK - -_An East Side Incident_ - - - "Whose dog is Jack?" He belongs to this street. - Needs anti-fat--has too much to eat. - "Houseless and homeless?"--Well I guess not; - In the whole of this block there isn't a tot - But has had Jack home to board and to sleep, - And he pays 'em in fun, every cent of his keep. - He's the best-natured dog, and the smartest, too; - No end of the tricks we've taught him to do. - Got a heap of sense in his yellow hide! - He's the wonderf'lest dog on the whole East Side; - Why, even the dog-man doesn't know - What breed Jack is,--for he told me so! - The dog-catchers came a'most every day, - But Jack knew their cart, and he'd hide away; - Then out he'd come, laughing, when they'd got past. - Can't _guess_ how he ever was cotched at last; - But he was, and they boosted him into their cart, - And nobody there could take his part. - My! but the little kids cried like mad, - And us bigger ones, too,--we felt just as bad; - For he'd rode us all on his old yellow back. - It looked as though it was all up with Jack, - And I watched him go; but he cocked one eye - As much as to say, "I'll be back by and by." - The look that he gave me--it made me _think_; - And I thought of a plan as quick as wink - And I says, "Feller-citizens, ladies and gents, - I guess that we've each of us got a few cents, - And we'll club together and have a show, - And charge a price, not high nor low; - And we'll raise the money, right here and now, - That'll buy Jack back by to-morrow--that's how! - Tony, the Eyetalian boy, he'll sing; - And Patsy McGovern'll do his handspring; - And Ikey Aarons'll swallow his knife, - And make us all think he's taking his life, - And little Freda, she'll pass round the hat, - She'll smile and say nothing--she's just good for that!" - Well, we emptied our pockets--you bet we did!-- - Every one of us big 'uns and each little kid - Ran home for their banks as fast as they could; - And we raised the money, and all felt good; - And next day, early, we brought Jack back. - So, now, things run in the same old track, - But he's got his license and _don't have to hide_! - And we've bought him a _byootiful collar beside_. - - - - -SKYE OF SKYE - - - Skye, of Skye, when the night was late, - And the burly porter drowsy grew, - Ran down to the silent pier, to wait - Till the boat came in with its hardy crew. - - Skye, of Skye, as he sat on the pier, - Turned seaward ever a watchful eye, - And his shaggy ears were pricked to hear - The plash of oars, as the boat drew nigh. - - Skye, of Skye, when they leaped ashore, - Greeted the crew with a joyful cry-- - Kissed their hands, and trotted before - To the inn that stood on the hilltop high. - - Within, was the porter sound asleep-- - They could almost hear his lusty snore: - Then Skye, of Skye, with an antic leap, - Would pull on the bellrope that swung by the door. - - Then was the bolt drawn quickly back back-- - Then did the jolly crew stream in; - And--"Landlaird, bring us your best auld sack!" - And--"Aweel, aweel, where hae ye been?" - - Then Skye, of Skye, on the beach-white floor, - Sanded that day by the housemaid neat, - Lay down to rest him--his vigils o'er, - With his honest nose between his feet. - - But Skye, of Skye as he rolled his eye - On the friendly crowd, heard his master say, - "Na, na, that doggie ye couldna buy-- - Not though his weight in gold ye would pay!" - - Skye, of Skye, they have made him a bed - On the wind-swept cliff, by the ocean's swell; - On the stone they have reared above his head, - You may see a little dog ringing a bell. - - - - -TIP'S KITTEN - - - The master,--he loved my kitten, my kitten; - She was still too weak to stand, - When he placed her upon one hand, - And over it laid the other, - And looked at me kindly, and said, - "Tip, you're a proud little mother!" - - For they'd left me but one, my kitten, my kitten-- - As sweet as a kitten could be-- - And I loved her for all the three - They had taken away without warning. - I watched her from daylight till dark, - Watched her from night until morning! - - I never left my kitten, my kitten - (For I feared--and I loved her so!) - Till I thought it time she should know - That cats in the house have a duty, - And a right to be proud of their skill, - As well as their grace and their beauty. - - I only left my kitten, my kitten, - A few short moments in all, - To punish the mouse in the wall, - Each day growing bolder and bolder; - And I brought her the mouse to show - What kittens must do when older. - - I brought her the mouse--my kitten, my kitten! - I tossed it, I caught it for her; - But she would not see, nor stir. - My heart it beat fast and faster; - And I caught her up in my mouth, - And carried her so, to the master. - - I thought he would help--my kitten, my kitten! - And I laid her down at his feet-- - (Never a kitten so sweet, - And he knew that I had no other!) - But he only said, "Poor Tip, - 'Tis a sad day for you, little mother!" - - - - -THE KING OF CATS - - -I - - The wind comes down the chimney with a sigh, - The kettle sings, chain-swung from grimy hook, - While ticks the clock unseen on mantel high. - The black cat holds the cosiest chimney-nook, - Straight in the blaze his gold-stone eyeballs look, - And children four do pay him flattering court. - The baby brings to him its picture-book, - And shows the way to build a castled fort. - The black cat shares, indeed, their every thought and sport. - - -II - - The black cat came to us a twelvemonth since; - The black cat is a stranger with us yet; - We treat him well; we call him our Black Prince. - So thick and glossy is his coat of jet - You well might say that you have never met - A cat so lordly, though he seems to brood - Over some wrong he never can forget. - We know that he could tell us, if he would-- - Our dear Black Prince, so sad, so gentle, and so good! - - -III - - "You prattle, children. Fritz, bestir yourself! - The fire needs wood, so hungry is the wind; - And Elsa, bring the platters from the shelf - And lay the table. You, too, Gretchen, mind, - For you of late are carelessly inclined, - And brittle is the _blaue glocken_ ware. - Make haste, else will your father come and find, - For all his day's hard work, but churlish fare. - Full sure I am no man works harder anywhere." - - -IV - - The good house-mother speaks, and not in vain, - For promptly all her willing brood obey. - They hear the dead leaves click against the pane, - Updriven by the wind in its mad play. - "One might be thankful that one need not stray - On such a night as this--'tis just the night - When the Wild Huntsman (as the people say), - With all his hounds is scouring heaven's height, - And you may see him if, as now, the moon be bright." - - -V - - "It is an old and foolish tale. Be still, - For now, I think, your father's step I hear, - Though not the tune he whistles down the hill. - He comes--is at the door. Why, goodman, dear, - You're out of breath! Bad news you bring, I fear." - "Bad news" (the goodman smiles, with half a frown), - "But not for us; and so take heart of cheer. - I own I'm out of breath--but sit ye down - And hear the strangest thing e'er happened in this town." - - - VI - - The children gather at their father's knees - And, wonder-eyed, the coming story wait-- - The story strange, the story sure to please. - The black cat, who absorbed their cares but late, - Is left to hold his solitary state. - "'Twas thus," the father said, "as I came home, - I reached the ruined castle's postern gate - Just at the time the bats begin to roam - And dart with heedless wings about the ivied gloam; - - -VII - - "When, on my left, along the crumbling wall, - Sharp-graved against the pallid afterglow, - I saw a funeral train, with sweeping pall, - And mournful bearers in a double row. - I rubbed my eyes, I looked again, and lo! - No human forms composed that funeral train!" - (The black cat's eyes of gold-stone glitter so! - He rises from the spot where he hath lain - And listens well, as one who does not list in vain.) - - -VIII - - "Folk say the Schloss was ever haunted ground; - But tell us, father, what those mourners were." - The father answered, smiling as he frowned: - "Now, if 'twere told by some strange traveller, - I'd say, 'Too much you tax our faith, good sir.' - But truth was ever priceless unto me. - Those mourners, clad in somber coats of fur, - _Were cats--no more, nor less_! This I did see, - And that the dead grimalkin was of high degree." - - -IX - - Up, up the chimney go the sparks apace; - Up, up, to vanish in the gusty sky. - The black cat--look! he leaves his wonted place, - And hark! he speaks: "_Then, king of cats am I!_" - And with this first and last word for good-by, - Up, up the chimney he hath vanished quite. - "Our dear, our good Black Prince!" the children cry; - "We always thought he should be king by right, - But we shall miss him sadly, both by day and night." - - -X - - The legend saith (I know no more than you, - Reader of fairy lore with fancy fraught), - That humble hearth nor evil fortune knew, - Nor discontent. Long time the children sought - For tidings of the lost; yet heard they naught; - But sometimes, of a winter eventide, - When all was bright within, the children thought - That, when they called up through the chimney wide, - Thence, with a gentle purr, their olden friend replied. - - - - -WAIFS - - - Wept the Child that no one knew, - Wandering on, without a clew; - Wept so softly none did stay; - So, farther yet, he went astray. - - Cried the Lamb that missed the fold, - Trembling more from fear than cold-- - "I am lost, and thou art lost-- - Both upon the wide world tossed! - Why not wander on together, - Through the bright or cloudy weather?" - - Then the Child that no one knew - Looked through eyes that shone like dew. - Laughed, and wept, "Lost as I am, - Come with me, thou poor lost Lamb!" - Moaned the youngling wood-dove left - By the flock, of flight bereft, - "Thou art lost, and we are lost-- - All upon the wide world tossed! - Why not wander on together, - Through the bright or cloudy weather?" - - Then the Child that no one knew - Closer to the nestling drew, - Hand beneath, and hand above, - Thus he held the quivering Dove. - Still they wander on together, - Through the bright or cloudy weather,-- - Spotless Lamb and Dove and Child, - Comrades in the lonesome wild; - Child and Lamb and nestling Dove,-- - Truth and Innocence and Love! - Blest their hearth, and blest their field, - Who to these a shelter yield. - - - - -FROST-FLOWERS OF THE PAVEMENT - - - I sighed for flowers, in wintry hours - When gardens were a loveless waste; - Mine eye fell on the pavement stone, - There flowers and flowers and flowers were traced. - - For me alone, the pavement stone, - That garden pleasance did prepare; - Or else, would others stop to see - What flowers and flowers and flowers bloom there! - - - - -STARS OF THE SNOW - - - The stars are falling, are falling, - By stream-side and meadow and wood; - They silence the whispering leaves; - And swiftly and softly they brood - The robin's lone nest in the eaves. - - The stars are falling, are falling, - Yet Night has lost never a one, - Of all that are gathered below; - To-morrow they'll melt in the sun-- - For these are the stars of the snow. - - The stars are falling, are falling-- - Look! On your sleeve is a star! - Six-pointed and perfect its form, - Six-pointed its comrades are,-- - All, gems of this wonder-storm! - - - - -JUNE IN THE SKY - - - Slow through the light and silent air, - Up climbs the smoke on its spiral stair-- - The visible flight of some mortal's prayer; - The trees are in bloom with the flowers of frost, - But never a feathery leaf is lost; - - The spring, descending, is caught and bound - Ere its silver feet can touch the ground; - So still is the air that lies, this morn, - Over the snow-cold fields forlorn, - 'Tis as though Italy's heaven smiled - In the face of some bleak Norwegian wild; - And the heart in me sings--I know not why-- - 'Tis winter on earth, but June in the sky! - - June in the sky! Ah, now I can see - The souls of roses about to be, - In gardens of heaven beckoning me, - Roses red-lipped, and roses pale, - Fanned by the tremulous ether gale! - Some of them climbing a window-ledge, - Some of them peering from wayside hedge, - As yonder, adrift on the aery stream, - Love drives his plumed and filleted team; - The Angel of Summer aloft I see, - And the souls of roses about to be! - And the heart in me sings--the heart knows why-- - 'Tis winter on earth, but June in the sky. - - - - -MOTHER EARTH - - - O mother, tuck the children in, - And draw the curtains round their heads; - And mother, when the storms begin, - Let storms forbear those cradle beds. - - And if the sleepers wake too soon, - Say, "Children, 'tis too early yet!" - And hush them with a sleepy tune, - And closer draw the coverlet. - - O Mother Earth, be good to all - The little sleepers in thy care; - And when 'tis time to wake them, call - A beam of sun, a breath of air! - - - - -THE RAIN RAINS EVERY DAY - - - Said the robin to his mate - In the dripping orchard tree: - "Our dear nest will have to wait - Till the blue sky we can see. - Birds can neither work nor play, - For the rain rains every day, - And the rain rains all the day!" - - Said the violet to the leaf: - "I can scarcely ope my eye; - So, for fear I'll come to grief, - Close along the earth I lie. - All we flowers for sunshine pray, - But the rain rains every day, - And the rain rains all the day!" - - And the children, far and wide, - They, too, wished away the rain; - All their sports were spoiled outside - By the "black glove" at the pane. - - Very dull indoors to stay - While "the rain rains every day, - And the rain rains all the day!" - - Up and down the murmurs run, - Shared by child and bird and flower. - Suddenly the golden sun - Dazzled through a clearing shower. - Then they all forgot to say - That "the rain rains every day, - And the rain rains all the day!" - - - - -THE GOOD BY - - - When the Little Girl said Good by, - At the turn of the road, on the hill, - Was there a tear in her eye? - And why did she keep so still? - - When the Little Girl said Good by, - She never looked back at all! - Was there a tear in her eye? - I thought I could hear it fall! - - And then were the flowers more sweet, - And the grass breathed a long, low sigh-- - I know--for I heard my heart beat-- - There _was_ a tear in her eye! - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Children of Christmas and Others, by -Edith M. 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