Children's Literature Part 115

MILKING TIME

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI

When the cows come home the milk is coming; Honey's made while the bees are humming; Duck and drake on the rushy lake, And the deer live safe in the breezy brake; And timid, funny, pert little bunny Winks his nose, and sits all sunny.

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William Brighty Rands (1823-1882), an English author writing under the name of "Matthew Browne," produced in his _Lilliput Lyrics_ a juvenile masterpiece containing much verse worthy to live. The two poems that follow are decidedly successful in catching that elusive something called the child's point of view.

THE PEDDLER'S CARAVAN

WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS

I wish I lived in a caravan With a horse to drive, like a peddler-man!

Where he comes from n.o.body knows, Or where he goes to, but on he goes!

His caravan has windows two, And a chimney of tin, that the smoke comes through; He has a wife, with a baby brown, And they go riding from town to town.

Chairs to mend, and delf to sell!

He clashes the basins like a bell; Tea-trays, baskets ranged in order, Plates, with alphabets round the border!

The roads are brown, and the sea is green, But his house is like a bathing-machine; The world is round, and he can ride, Rumble and slash, to the other side!

With the peddler-man I should like to roam, And write a book when I came home; All the people would read my book, Just like the Travels of Captain Cook!

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THE WONDERFUL WORLD

WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS

Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World, With the wonderful water round you curled, And the wonderful gra.s.s upon your breast-- World, you are beautifully dressed!

The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree-- It walks on the water, and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the top of the hills.

You friendly Earth, how far do you go, With the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow, With cities and gardens and cliffs and isles, And the people upon you for thousands of miles?

Ah! you are so great, and I am so small, I hardly can think of you, World, at all; And yet, when I said my prayers to-day, My mother kissed me, and said, quite gay,

"If the wonderful World is great to you, And great to father and mother, too, You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot!

You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!"

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Richard Monckton Milnes (Lord Houghton, 1809-1885), an English poet, wrote one poem that has held its own in children's collections. Its quiet mood of industry at one with the gentler influences of nature is especially appealing.

GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORNING

RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES

A fair little girl sat under a tree, Sewing as long as her eyes could see; Then smoothed her work and folded it right And said, "Dear work, good-night, good-night!"

Such a number of rooks came over her head, Crying "Caw! Caw!" on their way to bed, She said, as she watched their curious flight, "Little black things, good-night, good-night!"

The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed, The sheep's "Bleat! Bleat!" came over the road; All seeming to say, with a quiet delight, "Good little girl, good-night, good-night!"

She did not say to the sun, "Good-night!"

Though she saw him there like a ball of light; For she knew he had G.o.d's time to keep All over the world and never could sleep.

The tall pink foxglove bowed his head; The violets curtsied, and went to bed; And good little Lucy tied up her hair, And said, on her knees, her favorite prayer.

And while on her pillow she softly lay, She knew nothing more till again it was day; And all things said to the beautiful sun, "Good-morning, good-morning! our work is begun."

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It is quite impossible for us to realize why the English reading public should have been so excited over the following poem in the years immediately following its first appearance in 1806. It attracted the attention of royalty, was set to music, had a host of imitators, and established itself as a nursery cla.s.sic. It was written by William Roscoe (1753-1831), historian, banker, and poet, for his son Robert, and was merely an entertaining skit upon an actual banquet. Probably the fact that the characters at the b.u.t.terfly's ball were drawn with human faces in the original ill.u.s.trations to represent the prominent guests at the actual banquet had much to do with the initial success. The impulse which it received a hundred years ago, coupled with its own undoubted power of fancy, has projected it thus far, and children seem inclined to approve and still further insure its already long life.

THE b.u.t.tERFLY'S BALL

WILLIAM ROSCOE

"Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste To the b.u.t.terfly's Ball and the Gra.s.shopper's Feast, The Trumpeter, Gadfly, has summon'd the crew, And the Revels are now only waiting for you."

So said little Robert, and pacing along, His merry Companions came forth in a throng, And on the smooth Gra.s.s by the side of a Wood, Beneath a broad oak that for ages had stood, Saw the Children of Earth and the Tenants of Air For an Evening's Amus.e.m.e.nt together repair.

And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black, Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back, And there was the Gnat and the Dragonfly too, With all their Relations, green, orange and blue.

And there came the Moth, with his plumage of down, And the Hornet in jacket of yellow and brown; Who with him the Wasp, his companion, did bring, But they promised that evening to lay by their sting.

And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his hole, And brought to the Feast his blind Brother, the Mole; And the Snail, with his horns peeping out of his sh.e.l.l, Came from a great distance, the length of an ell.

A Mushroom, their Table, and on it was laid A water-dock leaf, which a table-cloth made.

The Viands were various, to each of their taste, And the Bee brought her honey to crown the Repast.

Then close on his haunches, so solemn and wise, The Frog from a corner look'd up to the skies; And the Squirrel, well pleased such diversion to see, Mounted high overhead and look'd down from a tree.

Then out came the Spider, with finger so fine, To show his dexterity on the tight-line, From one branch to another his cobwebs he slung, Then quick as an arrow he darted along, But just in the middle--oh! shocking to tell, From his rope, in an instant, poor Harlequin fell.

Yet he touch'd not the ground, but with talons outspread, Hung suspended in air, at the end of a thread.

Then the Gra.s.shopper came with a jerk and a spring, Very long was his Leg, though but short was his Wing; He took but three leaps, and was soon out of sight, Then chirp'd his own praises the rest of the night.

With step so majestic the Snail did advance, And promised the Gazers a Minuet to dance; But they all laughed so loud that he pulled in his head, And went in his own little chamber to bed.