Required Poems for Reading and Memorizing Part 22

Often I've heard the Wind sigh By the ivied orchard wall, Over the leaves in the dark night, Breathe a sighing call, And faint away in the silence, While I, in my bed, Wondered, 'twixt dreaming and waking, What it said.

n.o.body knows what the Wind is, Under the height of the sky, Where the hosts of the stars keep far away house And its wave sweeps by-- Just a great wave of the air, Tossing the leaves in its sea, And foaming under the eaves of the roof That covers me.

And so we live under deep water, All of us, beasts and men, And our bodies are buried down under the sand, When we go again; And leave, like the fishes, our sh.e.l.ls, And float on the Wind and away, To where, o'er the marvellous tides of the air, Burns day.

_Walter de la Mare._

THE TRUANTS

Ere my heart beats too coldly and faintly To remember sad things, yet be gay, I would sing a brief song of the world's little children Magic hath stolen away.

The primroses scattered by April, The stars of the wide Milky Way, Cannot outnumber the hosts of the children Magic hath stolen away.

The b.u.t.tercup green of the meadows, The snow of the blossoming may, Lovelier are not than the legions of children Magic hath stolen away.

The waves tossing surf in the moonbeam, The albatross lone on the spray, Alone know the tears wept in vain for the children Magic hath stolen away.

In vain: for at hush of the evening, When the stars twinkle into the grey, Seems to echo the far-away calling of children Magic hath stolen away.

_Walter de la Mare._

WILL EVER?

Will he ever be weary of wandering, The flaming sun?

Ever weary of waning in lovelight, The white still moon?

Will ever a shepherd come With a crook of simple gold, And lead all the little stars Like lambs to the fold?

Will ever the Wanderer sail From over the sea, Up the river of water, To the stones to me?

Will he take us all into his s.h.i.+p, Dreaming, and waft us far, To where in the clouds of the West, The Islands are?

_Walter de la Mare._

WANDERERS

Wide are the meadows of night, And daisies are s.h.i.+ning there, Tossing their lovely dews, l.u.s.trous and fair; And through these sweet fields go, Wanderers amid the stars-- Venus, Mercury, Ura.n.u.s, Neptune, Saturn, Jupiter, Mars.

'Tired in their silver, they move, And circling, whisper and say, Fair are the blossoming meads of delight Through which we stray.

_Walter de la Mare._

CHRISTMAS

While shepherds watched their flocks by night, All seated on the ground, The angel of the Lord came down, And glory shone around.

"Fear not," said he,--for mighty dread Had seized their troubled mind-- "Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you and all mankind.

"To you, in David's town, this day Is born, of David's line, The Saviour, who is Christ the Lord; And this shall be the sign:

"The heavenly babe you there shall find To human view displayed, All meanly wrapped in swathing bands, And in a manger laid."

Thus spake the seraph; and forthwith Appeared a s.h.i.+ning throng Of angels, praising G.o.d, and thus Addressed their joyful song:

"All glory be to G.o.d on high, And to the earth be peace: Good-will henceforth from heaven to men Begin and never cease!"

_Nahum Tate._

THE SNOW-BIRD'S SONG

The ground was all covered with snow one day, And two little sisters were busy at play, When a snow-bird was sitting close by on a tree, And merrily singing his chick-a-dee-dee, Chick-a-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee, And merrily singing his chick-a-dee-dee.

He had not been singing that tune very long, Ere Emily heard him, so loud was his song; "Oh, sister, look out of the window," said she, "Here's a dear little bird singing chick-a-dee-dee.

Chick-a-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee, Here's a dear little bird singing chick-a-dee-dee.

"Oh, mother, do get him some stockings and shoes, And a nice little frock, and a hat if you choose; I wish he'd come into the parlor, and see How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-dee-dee!

Chick-a-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee, How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-dee-dee!"

"There is One, my dear child, though I cannot tell who, Has clothed me already, and warm enough too.

Good morning! Oh, who are so happy as we?"

And away he went singing his chick-a-dee-dee.

Chick-a-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee, And away he went singing his chick-a-dee-dee.

_F.C. Woodworth._

SPRING

The alder by the river Shakes out her powdery curls; The willow buds in silver For little boys and girls.

The little birds fly over And oh, how sweet they sing!

To tell the happy children That once again 'tis spring.

The gay green gra.s.s comes creeping So soft beneath their feet; The frogs begin to ripple A music clear and sweet.

And b.u.t.tercups are coming, And scarlet columbine, And in the sunny meadows The dandelions s.h.i.+ne.

And just as many daisies As their soft hands can hold The little ones may gather, All fair in white and gold.

Here blows the warm red clover, There peeps the violet blue; O happy little children!

G.o.d made them all for you.

_Celia Thaxter._

THE SANDPIPER

Across the narrow beach we flit, One little sandpiper and I; And fast I gather, bit by bit, The scattered driftwood bleached and dry.

The wild waves reach their hands for it, The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, As up and down the beach we flit, One little sandpiper and I.

Above our heads the sullen clouds Scud black and swift across the sky; Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds Stand out the white lighthouses high.

Almost as far as eye can reach I see the close-reefed vessels fly, As fast we flit along the beach,-- One little sandpiper and I.