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"Yes, all thou canst see: Take them; all are for thee,"
Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low.
Bjornstjerne Bjornson.
_The Daisy's Song_
(A Fragment)
The sun, with his great eye, Sees not so much as I; And the moon, all silver-proud Might as well be in a cloud.
And O the spring--the spring!
I lead the life of a king!
Couch'd in the teeming gra.s.s, I spy each pretty la.s.s.
I look where no one dares, And I stare where no one stares, And when the night is nigh Lambs bleat my lullaby.
John Keats.
_Song_
For the tender beech and the sapling oak, That grow by the shadowy rill, You may cut down both at a single stroke, You may cut down which you will.
But this you must know, that as long as they grow, Whatever change may be, You can never teach either oak or beech To be aught but a greenwood tree.
Thomas Love Peac.o.c.k.
_For Good Luck_
Little Kings and Queens of the May If you want to be, Every one of you, very good, In this beautiful, beautiful, beautiful wood, Where the little birds' heads get so turned with delight That some of them sing all night: Whatever you pluck, Leave some for good luck!
Picked from the stalk or pulled by the root, From overhead or under foot, Water-wonders of pond or brook-- Wherever you look, And whatever you find, Leave something behind: Some for the Naiads, Some for the Dryads, And a bit for the Nixies and Pixies!
Juliana Horatia Ewing.
V
HIAWATHA'S BROTHERS
_Of all beasts he learned the language, Learned their names and all their secrets, How the beavers built their lodges, Where the squirrels hid their acorns, How the reindeer ran so swiftly, Why the rabbit was so timid, Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them "Hiawatha's Brothers."_
_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow._
HIAWATHA'S BROTHERS
_My Pony_
My pony toss'd his sprightly head, And would have smiled, if smile he could, To thank me for the slice of bread He thinks so delicate and good; His eye is very bright and wild, He looks as if he loved me so, Although I only am a child And he's a real horse, you know.
How charming it would be to rear, And have hind legs to balance on; Of hay and oats within the year To leisurely devour a ton; To stoop my head and quench my drouth With water in a lovely pail; To wear a snaffle in my mouth, Fling back my ears, and slash my tail!
To gallop madly round a field,-- Who tries to catch me is a goose, And then with dignity to yield My stately back for rider's use; To feel as only horses can, When matters take their proper course, And no one notices the man, While loud applauses greet the horse!
He canters fast or ambles slow, And either is a pretty game; His duties are but pleasures--oh, I wish that mine were just the same!
Lessons would be another thing If I might turn from book and scroll, And learn to gallop round a ring, As he did when a little foal.
It must be charming to be shod, And beautiful beyond my praise, When tired of rolling on the sod, To stand upon all-fours and graze!
Alas! my dreams are weak and wild, I must not ape my betters so; Alas! I only am a child, And he's a real horse, you know.
"A."
_On a Spaniel, called Beau, Killing a Young Bird_
(July 15, 1793)
A Spaniel, Beau, that fares like you, Well fed, and at his ease, Should wiser be than to pursue Each trifle that he sees.
But you have kill'd a tiny bird, Which flew not till to-day, Against my orders, whom you heard Forbidding you the prey.
Nor did you kill that you might eat, And ease a doggish pain, For him, though chas'd with furious heat You left where he was slain.
Nor was he of the thievish sort, Or one whom blood allures, But innocent was all his sport Whom you have torn for yours.
My dog! What remedy remains, Since, teach you all I can, I see you, after all my pains, So much resemble Man?
