A Book for Kids | Page 9

. . Hist!
(Mo . . . . . . poke!)
Who was that that spoke?
This is not a fitting
spot
To make a silly joke.
Dear . . . . . . me!
A mopoke in a tree!
It jarred me so, I didn't know

Whatever it could be.
But come along; creep along;
Soon we
shall be missed.
They'll get a scare and wonder where
We--
Hush! . . . . . . Hist!
Ssh! . . . . . . Soft!
I've told you oft and oft
We should not stray so
far away
Without a moon aloft.
Oo! . . . . . . Scat!
Goodness! What was that?
Upon my word, it's
quite absurd,
It's only just a cat.
But come along; haste along;

Soon we'll have to rush,
Or we'll be late and find the gate
Is--
Hist! . . . . . . Hush!
(Kok!. . . . . . Korrock!)
Oh! I've had a shock!
I hope and trust it's
only just
A frog behind a rock.
Shoo! . . . . . . Shoo!
We've had enough of you;
Scaring folk just for
a joke
Is not the thing to do.

But come along, slip along--
Isn't it a
lark
Just to roam so far from home
On-- Hist! . . . . . . Hark!

Look! . . . . . . See!
Shining through the tree,
The window-light is
glowing bright
To welcome you and me.
Shout! . . . . . . Shout!
There's someone round about,
And through
the door I see some more
And supper all laid out.
Now, run! Run!
Run!
Oh, we've had such splendid fun--
Through the park in the
dark,
As brave as anyone.
Laughed, we did, and chaffed, we did,
And whistled all the way,

And we're home again! Home again!
Hip . . . . . . Hooray!
BIRD SONG
I am friendly with the sparrow
Though his mind is rather narrow
And his manners--well, the less we say the better.
But as day begins
to peep,
When I hear his cheery "Cheep"
A am ready to admit I am his debtor
I delight in red-browed finches
And all birds of scanty inches.
Willie wagtail is a pleasant bird, and coy.
All the babblers, chats and
wrens,
Tits and robins, and their hens,
Are my very special friends, and bring me joy.
THE MUSIC OF YOUR VOICE
A vase upon the mantelpiece,
A ship upon the sea,
A goat upon a mountain-top
Are much the same to me;
But when you mention melon jam,
Or picnics by the creek,
Or apple pies, or pantomimes,

I love to hear you speak.
The date of Magna Charta or
The doings of the Dutch,
Or capes, or towns, or verbs, or nouns
Do not excite me much;
But when you mention motor rides--
Down by the sea for choice
Or chasing games, or chocolates,
I love to hear your voice.
THE BOY WHO RODE INTO THE SUNSET
Once upon a time--it was not so very long ago, either--a little boy,
named Neville, lived with his people in a house which was almost in
the country. That is to say, it was just at the edge of the city; and at the
back of the house was a rather large hill, which was quite bald.
Neville, who was fond of playing by himself, would often wander to
the top of the bald hill; and if he stood right on top of it and looked one
way, toward the East, he could see right over the city, with all its tall
buildings and domes and spires and smoking chimneys. But looking the
other way, to the West, he could see for miles over the beautiful
country, with its green fields and orchards and white roads and little
farm houses.
One evening Neville was playing alone on the top of the hill when he
noticed that one of the very finest sunsets he had ever seen was just
coming on. The sky in the West, away over the broad country lands,
was filled with little clouds of all sorts and shapes, and they were just
beginning to take on the most wonderful colours.
Neville had often before amused himself with watching clouds and the
strange shapes into which they changed themselves--sometimes like
great mountain ranges, sometimes like sea-waves, and very often like
elephants and lions and seals and all manner of interesting things of
that sort. But never before had he been able to make out so many

animal shapes in the clouds. The sky was almost as good as a Zoo.
There were kangaroos and elephants and a hen with chickens and
wallabies and rabbits and a funny man with large ears and all sorts of
other peculiar shapes.
The sun was sinking behind a distant range of hills, where a golden
light shone out as if through a gateway. It was so much like a great
golden gateway that Neville fell to wondering what might be found on
the other side of it.
Suddenly, right in the middle of all the