Child Songs of Cheer Part 5

_Pop-pop-poppetty! Pop-pop-pop!_ The popper's full and we'll have to stop; Pile the bowl with the tempting treat, Children, come, it is time to eat!

THE RASH LITTLE SPARROW

Rash little sparrow Up in the nest; Feathers not long enough, Wee wings not strong enough!

Poor little sparrow!

Poor little breast!

WHAT IF?

When I see the new moon lightly Through cloud ripples slip, Then I'm sure that s.h.i.+ning brightly It's a fairy s.h.i.+p!

What if in it we were sailing Far and far away, With a wake of silver trailing, Till the golden day?

Why, we'd fly back home together Safely from the sky, For the moon's a fairy feather When the sun is high!

EASTER EGGS

Seven little nests of hay We have made, for Easter day Is to-morrow, and you know We must have them ready, so When the Rabbit comes she'll see We expected her, that we Children tried our very best Each to make the nicest nest.

One is in the lilac-bush, Near the ground--last year a thrush Built a nest there--let me see, Two are by the apple-tree, In the clover--that makes three-- One beside the playhouse door, --Three plus one, that must be four-- Two are in the tulip-bed-- Was it seven that I said?

Oh, yes! six I've counted, and One is in our pile of sand.

Come and see! Oh, hurry, hurry!

For the Rabbit, kind and furry, Has been here again and laid Eggs in every nest we made!

Purple, orange, red, and blue, Pink and green and yellow, too, Like a bunch of finest flowers Ever seen, and all are ours!

And oh, _look!_ What _do_ you think!

Here our names are in white ink, All spelled nicely so we know Just where every egg should go!

Is it not surprising, quite, How well Easter Rabbits write?

THE BIRDS' BATH

In our garden we have made Such a pretty little pool, Lined with pebbles neatly laid, Filled with water clean and cool.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BIRDS' BATH]

When the sun s.h.i.+nes warm and high Robins cl.u.s.ter round its brink, Never one comes flying by But will flutter down to drink.

Then they splash and splash and splash, Spattering little showers bright All around, till off they flash Singing sweetly their delight.

NOVEMBER MORNING

A tingling, misty marvel Blew hither in the night, And now the little peach-trees Are clasped in frozen light.

Upon the apple-branches An icy film is caught, With trailing threads of gossamer In pearly patterns wrought.

The autumn sun, in wonder, Is gayly peering through This silver-tissued network Across the frosty blue.

The weather-vane is fire-tipped, The honeysuckle shows A dazzling icy splendor, And crystal is the rose.

Around the eaves are fringes Of icicles that seem To mock the summer rainbows With many-colored gleam.

Along the walk, the pebbles Are each a precious stone; The gra.s.s is ta.s.seled h.o.a.rfrost, The clover jewel-sown.

Such sparkle, sparkle, sparkle Fills all the frosty air, Oh, can it be that darkness Is ever anywhere!

THE RUNAWAY

A frantic clatter of horses' feet!

A runaway's coming down the street!

Flurry, scurry, Children, hurry!

Drop your playthings! Quick! don't wait!

Run and get within the gate!

Push the baby in the door, Scramble in yourselves before --_Whoa! Whoa!_ There they go!

Pell-mell rus.h.i.+ng, snorting, quaking, Wagon rumbling, harness breaking, Frightened so they cannot know Everybody's shrieking "_Whoa!_"

O my, don't cry!

Whiz, bang, they've galloped by!

No one hurt, but horses dashed Round a post and wagon smashed!

Dear me! Dear me!

When a runaway we see, Children, too, must run, oh, fast!

Run and hide as it goes past!