LITTLE White Lily sat by a stone, Little White Lily said: "It is good, Little White Lily drooping with pain, Little White Lily said: “Good again, Heat cannot burn me, my veins are so full." Little White Lily smells very sweet; 137 George Macdonald [1824-1905] WISHING RING-TING! I wish I were a Primrose, A bright yellow Primrose, blowing in the Spring! And the Elm-tree for our King! Nay, stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree, The sun and moonshine glance in, O-no! I wish I were a Robin, A Robin or a little Wren, everywhere to go; Well-tell! Where should I fly to, Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For Mother's kiss, sweeter this Than any other thing! William Allingham (1824-1889] IN THE GARDEN I SPIED beside the garden bed A tiny lass of ours, Who stopped and bent her sunny head Above the red June flowers. Pushing the leaves and thorns apart, She singled out a rose, And in its inmost crimson heart, Enraptured, plunged her nose. Glad Day i 139 "O dear, dear rose, come, tell me true Come, tell me true," said she, "If I smell just as sweet to you As you smell sweet to me!" Ernest Crosby [1856-1907] THE GLADNESS OF NATURE Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, When our mother Nature laughs around; When even the deep blue heavens look glad, And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground? There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren, The clouds are at play in the azure space And their shadows at play on the bright-green vale, There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles William Cullen Bryant [1794-1878] GLAD DAY HERE'S another day, dear, Here's the sun again Peeping in his pleasant way Through the window pane. Rise and let him in, dear, Hail him "hip hurray!" Now the fun will all begin. Here's another day! Down the coppice path, dear, Through the dewy glade, (When the Morning took her bath Mushrooms in the field, dear, Show their silver gleam. Ere the early dew can go We must clear the ground. Such a lot to do, dear, Such a lot to see! How we ever can get through Fairly puzzles me. Hurry up and out, dear, Then-away! away! In and out and round about, Here's another day! W. Graham Robertson [1867 THE TIGER TIGER! Tiger! burning bright, In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? Answer to a Child's Question 141 In what distant deeps or skies And what shoulder, and what art, What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? When the stars threw down their spears, Did He who made the Lamb, make thee? Tiger! Tiger! burning bright, In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? William Blake (1757-1827] ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION Do you ask what the birds say? The Sparrow, the Dove, Samuel Taylor Coleridge [1772-1834] |