A Childs Garden of Verses | Page 9

Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges
and ditches;
And charging along like troops in a battle
All through
the meadows the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and the
plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;
And ever again, in the wink of an
eye,
Painted stations whistle by.
Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,
All by himself and
gathering brambles;
Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
And
here is the green for stringing the daisies!
Here is a cart run away in
the road
Lumping along with man and load;
And here is a mill, and
there is a river:
Each a glimpse and gone forever!
XXXVIII
Winter-Time

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks
but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;

And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with
a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;

The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my
nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath
abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a
wedding cake.
XXXIX
The Hayloft

Through all the pleasant meadow-side
The grass grew shoulder-high,
Till the shining scythes went far and
wide
And cut it down to dry.
Those green and sweetly smelling crops
They led in waggons home;
And they piled them here in mountain
tops
For mountaineers to roam.
Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail,
Mount Eagle and Mount High;--
The mice that in these mountains
dwell,
No happier are than I!

Oh, what a joy to clamber there,
Oh, what a place for play,
With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,
The happy hills of hay!
X L
Farewell to the Farm

The coach is at the door at last;
The eager children, mounting fast

And kissing hands, in chorus sing:
Good-bye, good-bye, to
everything!
To house and garden, field and lawn,
The meadow-gates we swang
upon,
To pump and stable, tree and swing,
Good-bye, good-bye, to
everything!
And fare you well for evermore,
O ladder at the hayloft door,
O
hayloft where the cobwebs cling,
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
Crack goes the whip, and off we go;
The trees and houses smaller
grow;
Last, round the woody turn we sing:
Good-bye, good-bye, to
everything!
XLI
North-West Passage

1. Good-Night

When the bright lamp is carried in,
The sunless hours again begin;

O'er all without, in field and lane,
The haunted night returns again.
Now we behold the