Poems Teachers Ask For Volume I Part 63

"All that love me."

"Are you not tired with rolling and never Resting to sleep?

Why look so pale and so sad, as for ever Wis.h.i.+ng to weep?"

"Ask me not this, little child, if you love me; You are too bold I must obey my dear Father above me, And do as I'm told."

"Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving?"

"Over the sea."

"Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving?"

"All that love me."

_Lord Houghton._

Breathes There the Man With Soul So Dead?

_(From "The Lay of the Last Minstrel")_

Breathes there the man with soul so dead Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land?

Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand?

If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his t.i.tles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim,-- Despite those t.i.tles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored and unsung.

_Sir Walter Scott._

Pippa's Song

The year's at the spring, And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hillside's dew-pearled; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn; G.o.d's in His heaven-- All's right with the world!

_Robert Browning._

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star

Twinkle, twinkle, little star; How I wonder what you are!

Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky.

When the glorious sun is set, When the gra.s.s with dew is wet, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

In the dark blue sky you keep, And often through my curtains peep; For you never shut your eye Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark Lights the traveler in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

_Jane Taylor._

Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar.

_Alfred, Lord Tennyson._

The Tree

The Tree's early leaf buds were bursting their brown; "Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down.

"No, leave them alone Till the blossoms have grown,"

Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown.

The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung: "Shall I take them away?" said the Wind, as he swung, "No, leave them alone Till the blossoms have grown,"

Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung.

The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow: Said the child, "May I gather thy berries now?"

"Yes, all thou canst see: Take them; all are for thee,"

Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low.

_Bjorrstjerne Bjornson._

The Fountain

Into the suns.h.i.+ne, Full of the light, Leaping and flas.h.i.+ng From morn till night;