Brooks's Readers, Third Year Part 15

TALKING IN THEIR SLEEP

"You think I am dead,"

The apple tree said, "Because I have never a leaf to show-- Because I stoop And my branches droop, And the dull gray mosses over me grow.

But I'm still alive in trunk and shoot; The buds of next May I fold away-- But I pity the withered gra.s.s at my foot."

"You think I am dead,"

The quick gra.s.s said, "Because I have parted with stem and blade.

But under the ground I am safe and sound With the snow's thick blanket over me laid.

I'm all alive and ready to shoot, Should the spring of the year Come dancing here-- But I pity the flowers without branch or root."

"You think I am dead,"

A soft voice said, "Because not a branch or root I own!

I never have died But close I hide, In a plumy seed that the wind has sown.

Patient I wait through the long winter hours; You will see me again-- I shall laugh at you then, Out of the eyes of a hundred flowers."

--EDITH M. THOMAS.

A RIDDLE

I have only one foot, but thousands of toes; My one foot stands, but never goes; I have many arms and they're mighty all; And hundreds of fingers, large and small.

None e'er saw me eat--I've no mouth to bite; Yet I feed all day in the full sunlight; In the summer with song I shake and quiver, But in winter I fast and groan and s.h.i.+ver.

--GEORGE MACDONALD.

SNOWFLAKES

Out of the sky they come, Wandering down the air, Some to the roofs, and some Whiten the branches bare;

Some in the empty nest, Some on the ground below, Until the world is dressed All in a gown of snow;

Dressed in a fleecy gown Out of the snowflakes spun; Wearing a golden crown, Over her head the sun.

Out of the sky again Ghosts of the flowers that died Visit the earth, and then Under the white drifts hide.

--FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

FANNIE'S MENAGERIE

I.

dozen trickled creatures dive pounced mustn't shoulders bunch seized shouldn't s.n.a.t.c.hing shawl

"What a long, long day!" said Fannie. "Rain, rain all the time, and nothing pleasant to do. I wish mother would let me go out of doors and play in the water.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"The ducks seem to be having a fine time on the pond. They like the rain. If I only had a coat of feathers, I shouldn't mind a little wetting. I could dive and splash about all day long. But now I suppose I must go to sleep, for there seems to be nothing else for me to do."

So Fannie threw herself on her bed. She lay with her eyes half open, watching the raindrops as they trickled down the window panes.

Flap, flap, flap! "What is that at the window?" Flap, flap, flap! In flew a dozen geese. "Quack, quack! quack! Who carried off our feathers?" they were screaming. They flew around the room, beating their wings against the walls and ceiling.

Flap, flap, flap! went the flock of geese over Fannie's head, and down they pounced upon the pillow. In a few minutes it was torn to pieces, and the feathers scattered all over the floor.

"Quack, quack, quack! Here are our feathers!" cried all the geese; and each one seized a bunch of feathers in its bill. Then they flew off, leaving the air full of soft, white down.

Patter, patter, patter! The door was gently pushed open, and there stood a sheep. "Please walk in, madam," said Fannie; and in came a whole flock of sheep.

"Baa, baa, baa! Where is the wool they cut from my back?" said a great, black sheep.

"Baa, baa, baa! Who has carried off our wool?" cried all the other sheep.

"I didn't carry off your wool," said Fannie. "Stop, stop! that's my shawl. You mustn't take that. What are you pulling the carpet to pieces for?"

Without minding a word Fannie said, the great, black sheep marched out of the room with the shawl on its shoulders. All the other sheep followed with pieces of carpet folded over them.

II.

swarm nibbling exclaimed mattress troop neighing cranberries bursting eaten nonsense disturbed pillows

Buzz, buzz, buzz! "What comes to the window now?" In flew a swarm of bees.

"Buzz, buzz, buzz! Where is our wax?" said the queen bee.

"Hum, hum, hum! Who stole our wax?" said all the bees.

"There is no wax here," said Fannie.

The bees flew about, crying, "Buzz, buzz, buzz! Hum, hum, hum!" They seemed to be very angry about something.

"Oh, dear," exclaimed Fannie; "they have all lighted on my doll and are nibbling away her pretty face. Oh, my beautiful wax doll! What shall I do? What shall I do?"

At that moment there was a great noise in the hall. "I wonder what will come next," said Fannie. In trotted a troop of horses, neighing loudly, "Who stole our flowing manes? Who carried off our long, waving tails?"

"Here they are," said a great, white horse, and he began pulling the mattress into pieces.