The Home Book of Verse Volume I Part 37

And here are little boats, and there Big s.h.i.+ps with sails spread to the breeze; And yonder, palm trees waving fair On islands set in silver seas.

And b.u.t.terflies with gauzy wings; And herds of cows and flocks of sheep; And fruit and flowers and all the things You see when you are sound asleep.

For creeping softly underneath The door when all the lights are out, Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe, And knows the things you think about.

He paints them on the window pane In fairy lines with frozen steam; And when you wake you see again The lovely things you saw in dream.

Gabriel Setoun [1861-

OCTOBER'S PARTY

October gave a party; The leaves by hundreds came-- The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples, And leaves of every name.

The Suns.h.i.+ne spread a carpet, And everything was grand, Miss Weather led the dancing, Professor Wind the band.

The Chestnuts came in yellow, The Oaks in crimson dressed; The lovely Misses Maple In scarlet looked their best; All balanced to their partners, And gaily fluttered by; The sight was like a rainbow New fallen from the sky.

Then, in the rustic hollow, At hide-and-seek they played, The party closed at sundown, And everybody stayed.

Professor Wind played louder; They flew along the ground; And then the party ended In jolly "hands around."

George Cooper [1840-1927]

THE SHEPHERD

How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot!

From the morn to the evening he strays; He shall follow his sheep all the day, And his tongue shall be filled with praise.

For he hears the lamb's innocent call, And he hears the ewe's tender reply; He is watchful, while they are in peace, For they know when their Shepherd is nigh.

William Blake [1757-1827]

NIKOLINA

O tell me, little children, have you seen her-- The tiny maid from Norway, Nikolina?

O, her eyes are blue as cornflowers, mid the corn, And her cheeks are rosy red as skies of morn!

Nikolina! swift she turns if any call her, As she stands among the poppies, hardly taller, Breaking off their scarlet cups for you, With spikes of slender larkspur, burning blue.

In her little garden many a flower is growing-- Red, gold, and purple in the soft wind blowing, But the child that stands amid the blossoms gay Is sweeter, quainter, brighter e'en than they.

Celia Thaxter [1835-1894]

LITTLE GUSTAVA

Little Gustava sits in the sun, Safe in the porch, and the little drops run From the icicles under the eaves so fast, For the bright spring sun s.h.i.+nes warm at last, And glad is little Gustava.

She wears a quaint little scarlet cap, And a little green bowl she holds in her lap, Filled with bread and milk to the brim, And a wreath of marigolds round the rim: "Ha! ha!" laughs little Gustava.

Up comes her little gray coaxing cat With her little pink nose, and she mews, "What's that?"

Gustava feeds her,--she begs for more; And a little brown hen walks in at the door: "Good day!" cries little Gustava.

She scatters crumbs for the little brown hen.

There comes a rush and a flutter, and then Down fly her little white doves so sweet, With their snowy wings and crimson feet: "Welcome!" cries little Gustava.

So dainty and eager they pick up the crumbs.

But who is this through the doorway comes?

Little Scotch terrier, little dog Rags, Looks in her face, and his funny tail wags: "Ha! ha!" laughs little Gustava.

"You want some breakfast too?" and down She sets her bowl on the brick floor brown; And little dog Rags drinks up her milk, While she strokes his s.h.a.ggy locks like silk: "Dear Rags!" says little Gustava.

Waiting without stood sparrow and crow, Cooling their feet in the melting snow: "Won't you come in, good folk?" she cried.

But they were too bashful, and stood outside Though "Pray come in!" cried Gustava.

So the last she threw them, and knelt on the mat With doves and biddy and dog and cat.

And her mother came to the open house-door: "Dear little daughter, I bring you some more.

My merry little Gustava!"

Kitty and terrier, biddy and doves, All things harmless Gustava loves.

The shy, kind creatures 'tis joy to feed, And oh, her breakfast is sweet indeed To happy little Gustava!

Celia Thaxter [1835-1894]

PRINCE TATTERS

Little Prince Tatters has lost his cap!

Over the hedge he threw it; Into the river it fell "kerslap!"

Stupid old thing to do it!

Now Mother may sigh and Nurse may fume For the gay little cap with its eagle plume.

"One cannot be thinking all day of such matters!

Trifles are trifles!" says little Prince Tatters.

Little Prince Tatters has lost his coat!

Playing, he did not need it; "Left it right there, by the nanny-goat, And n.o.body never seed it!"

Now Mother and Nurse may search till night For the little new coat with its b.u.t.tons bright; But--"Coat-sleeves or s.h.i.+rt-sleeves, how little it matters!

Trifles are trifles!" says little Prince Tatters.