Required Poems for Reading and Memorizing Part 17

The Frost looked forth one still, clear night, And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight; So, through the valley, and over the height, In silence I'll take my way.

I will not go on like that bl.u.s.tering train, The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain, That make such a bustle and noise in vain, But I'll be as busy as they!"

So he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest; He lit on the trees, and their boughs he drest With diamonds and pearls; and over the breast Of the quivering lake he spread A coat of mail, that it need not fear The downward point of many a spear That he hung on its margin, far and near, Where a rock could rear its head.

He went to the windows of those who slept, And over each pane, like a fairy, crept; Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped, By the light of the morn were seen Most beautiful things; there were flowers and trees; There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees; There were cities with temples and towers; and these All pictured in silvery sheen!

But he did one thing that was hardly fair-- He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there That all had forgotten for him to prepare-- "Now, just to set them a-thinking,

I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he, "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three; And the gla.s.s of water they've left for me Shall 'tchick' to tell them I'm drinking!"

_Hannah F. Gould._

FAIRY SONG

Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear!

The flower will bloom another year.

Weep no more! oh, weep no more!

Young buds sleep in the root's white core.

Dry your eyes! oh, dry your eyes!

For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies,-- Shed no tear.

Overhead! look overhead!

'Mong the blossoms white and red-- Look up, look up! I flutter now On this fresh pomegranate bough.

See me! 'tis this silvery bill Ever cures the good man's ill.

Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear!

The flower will bloom another year.

Adieu, adieu--I fly--adieu!

I vanish in the heaven's blue,-- Adieu, adieu!

_John Keats._

THE DOVE

I had a dove, and the sweet dove died; And I have thought it died of grieving: Oh, what could it grieve for? its feet were tied With a silken thread of my own hands' weaving.

Sweet little red feet! Why should you die-- Why would you leave me, sweet bird! why?

You lived alone in the forest tree; Why, pretty thing! would you not live with me?

I kiss'd you oft and gave you white peas; Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?

_John Keats._

THE WIND IN A FROLIC

The wind one morning sprang up from sleep, Saying, "Now for a frolic! now for a leap!

Now for a madcap, galloping chase!

I'll make a commotion in every place!"

So it swept with a bustle right through a great town, Creaking the signs, and scattering down The shutters, and whisking, with merciless squalls, Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls.

There never was heard a much l.u.s.tier shout As the apples and oranges tumbled about; And urchins, that stand with their thievish eyes Forever on watch, ran off each with a prize.

Then away to the fields it went bl.u.s.tering and humming, And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming.

It plucked by their tails the grave matronly cows, And tossed the colts' manes all about their brows, Till offended at such a familiar salute, They all turned their backs and stood silently mute.

So on it went, capering and playing its pranks; Whistling with reeds on the broad river banks; Puffing the birds, as they sat on a spray, Or the travelers grave on the king's highway.

It was not too nice to bustle the bags Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags.

'Twas so bold that it feared not to play its joke With the doctor's wig, and the gentleman's cloak.

Through the forest it roared, and cried gayly, "Now, You st.u.r.dy old oaks, I'll make you bow!"

And it made them bow without more ado, Or it cracked their great branches through and through.

Then it rushed like a monster o'er cottage and farm, Striking their inmates with sudden alarm; And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm.

There were dames with kerchiefs tied over their caps, To see if their poultry were free from mishaps.

The turkeys they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud, And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd; There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on, Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone.

But the wind had pa.s.sed on, and had met in a lane With a schoolboy, who panted and struggled in vain, For it tossed him, and twirled him, then pa.s.sed, and he stood With his hat in a pool and his shoe in the mud.

_William Howitt._

A DAY

I'll tell you how the sun rose,-- A ribbon at a time.

The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran.

The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun.

Then said I softly to myself, "That must have been the sun!"

But how he set I know not; There seemed a purple stile Which little yellow boys and girls Were climbing all the while.

Till when they reached the other side, A dominie in gray Put gently up the evening bars, And led the flock away.

_Emily d.i.c.kinson._

THE GRa.s.s

The gra.s.s so little has to do,-- A sphere of simple green, With only b.u.t.terflies to brood, And bees to entertain,

And stir all day to pretty tunes The breezes fetch along, And hold the suns.h.i.+ne in its lap And bow to everything;

And thread the dews all night, like pearls, And make itself so fine,-- A d.u.c.h.ess were too common For such a noticing.

And even when it dies, to pa.s.s In odors so divine, As lowly spices gone to sleep, Or amulets of pine.

And then to dwell in sovereign barns, And dream the days away,-- The gra.s.s so little has to do, I wish I were the hay.

_Emily d.i.c.kinson._

WHITE SEAL

Oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us, And black are the waters that sparkled so green.

The moon, o'er the combers, looks downward to find us At rest in the hollows that rustle between.

Where billow meets billow, there soft be thy pillow; Ah, weary, wee flipperling, curl at thy ease!

The storm shall not wake thee, nor shark overtake thee, Asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging seas.