Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories Part 39

LITTLE THINGS

Little drops of water Little grains of sand, Make the mighty ocean, And the pleasant land.

Thus the little moments, Humble though they be, Make the mighty ages Of eternity.

Thus our little errors Lead the soul away From the path of virtue, Off in sin to stray.

Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love, Make our earth an Eden, Like the heaven above.

Ascribed to JULIA A. F. CARNEY

THE GOLDEN RULE

To do to others as I would That they should do to me, Will make me gentle, kind, and good, As children ought to be.

UNKNOWN

DO THE BEST YOU CAN

If I was a cobbler it should be my pride The best of all cobblers to be; If I was a tinker, no tinker beside Should mend an old kettle like me.

UNKNOWN

THE VOICE OF SPRING

I am coming, I am coming!

Hark! the little bee is humming; See, the lark is soaring high In the blue and sunny sky; And the gnats are on the wing, Wheeling round in airy ring.

See, the yellow catkins cover All the slender willows over!

And on the banks of mossy green Star-like primroses are seen; And, their cl.u.s.tering leaves below, White and purple violets grow.

Hark! the new-born lambs are bleating And the cawing rooks are meeting In the elms,--a noisy crowd; All the birds are singing loud; And the first white b.u.t.terfly In the suns.h.i.+ne dances by.

Look around thee, look around!

Flowers in all the fields abound; Every running stream is bright; All the orchard trees are white; And each small and waving shoot Promises sweet flowers and fruit.

THE LARK AND THE ROOK

"Good night, Sir Rook!" said a little lark.

"The daylight fades; it will soon be dark; I've bathed my wings in the sun's last ray; I've sung my hymn to the parting day; So now I haste to my quiet nook In yon dewy meadow--good night, Sir Rook!"

"Good night, poor Lark," said his t.i.tled friend With a haughty toss and a distant bend; "I also go to my rest profound, But not to sleep on the cold, damp ground.

The fittest place for a bird like me Is the topmost bough of yon tall pine-tree.

"I opened my eyes at peep of day And saw you taking your upward way, Dreaming your fond romantic dreams, An ugly speck in the sun's bright beams; Soaring too high to be seen or heard; And I said to myself: 'What a foolish bird!'

"I trod the park with a princely air, I filled my crop with the richest fare; I cawed all day 'mid a lordly crew, And I made more noise in the world than you!

The sun shone forth on my ebon wing; I looked and wondered--good night, poor thing!"

"Good night, once more," said the lark's sweet voice.

"I see no cause to repent my choice; You build your nest in the lofty pine, But is your slumber more sweet than mine?

You make more noise in the world than I, But whose is the sweeter minstrelsy?"

UNKNOWN

THANKSGIVING DAY

Over the river and through the wood, To grandfather's house we go; The horse knows the way To carry the sleigh Through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river and through the wood-- Oh, how the wind does blow!

It stings the toes And bites the nose, As over the ground we go.