A Jolly Jingle-Book | Page 6

day,?Down where the forest meets the sky?The Pinewood People play.
Far off I see them bow, advance,?Swing partners and retreat,?As though some slow, old-fashioned dance?Had claimed their tripping feet.
Or hand to hand they wave, and so,?With dip and bend and swing,?Through "tag" and "hide" and "touch and go"?They flutter, frolicking.
But when I run to join the play,?I find my search is vain.?Always they see me on the way,?And change to pines again.
ELIZABETH THORNTON TURNER.
THE STUDENTS
I say to Tommy every day,?"Now let us read awhile,"?But Tommy doesn't like to read,?He'd rather be a prancing steed,?And have me drive him many a mile,?And often run away.
I like to do as grown folks do.?Our house is full of books.?My sisters gather every night?About the cheery study light.?I often think how wise it looks,?And wish I could stay, too.
So I coax Tommy every day?To read a little while.?I know my M's and N's and P's?And everything, 'way down to Z's.?When Tommy reads I have to smile,?For Tommy just knows A!
HANNAH G. FERNALD.
THE LADY MOON
There's a lady in the moon,?With a floating gown of white;?You can see her very soon,?When mamma turns out the light.
Tis a lady and she smiles?Through my narrow window way,?As she sails on miles and miles,?Making night as fair as day.
ALICE TURNER CURTIS.
THE JOURNEY
Whither away shall the baby ride??How many miles shall he fare??Under the trees whose arms spread wide,?Out to the meadow there.
Down by the brook that flows rippling by,?Bordered by moss and fern.?From flower and bird and tree and sky?How many things shall he learn?
Baby'll journey all safe and sound?Out in the world of green,?Traveling over the grassy ground,?Where wild flowers are seen.
Leaves will whisper and birds will trill,?And all things display their charms,?And, when he's journeyed as far as he will,?He'll ride back to mother's arms.
Then, though he thought the green world good,?He'll gladly come back to rest,?And will drowsily feel, as a baby should,?That mother's arms are the best.
ANNIE WILLIS MCCULLOUGH.
PRETENDING
We played we were lost in the wood,?But home was just over the hill.?With only one cooky for food,?We played we were lost in the wood.?We talked just as loud as we could,?The world seemed so big and so still.?We wished we had always been good,?And we said in our hearts, "Now we will."
We gathered fresh grass for our bed,?And then there was nothing to do.?A robin flew over my head?As we gathered fresh grass for our bed.?"He'll cover us up," brother said,?And then he began to boo-hoo,?And home to our mother we fled,?Or, really, I might have cried too.
HANNAH G. FERNALD.
A LITTLE APRIL FOOL
One day in the midst?Of an April shower.?This dear little girl?Was missed for an hour.
And under the trees?And over the grass,?We all went hunting?The little lost lass.
We found her at last?Where two walls met,?A-looking naughty?And a-dripping wet.
"I was April-fooling,"?She softly said;?And down she dropped?A shamed little head.
[Illustration: A Little April Fool]
FROST FIRES
Look! look! look!?The woods are all afire!?See! see! see!?Aflame are bush and brier!?The trees are all unhurt, I know--?Oak, maple, elm and all--?But, oh, they all seem burning up?In red fires of the fall!
WHISTLING IN THE RAIN
Whistle, whistle, up the road,?And whistle, whistle down the lane!?That's the laddie takes my heart,?A-whistling in the rain.
Winter wind may whistle too--?That's a comrade gay!?Naught that any wind can do?Drives his cheer away.
Whistle, whistle, sun or storm;?And whistle, whistle, warm or cold!?Underneath his ragged coat?There beats a heart of gold.
He will keep a courage high,?Bear the battle's brunt;?Let the coward whine and cry!--?His the soldier's front.
Shoes, I know, are out at toe,?And rags and patches at the knee;?He whistles still his merry tune,?For not a fig cares he.
Whistle, whistle, up the road,?Whistle, whistle, down the lane!?That's the laddie for my love,?Whistling in the rain.
[Illustration: Whistling in the rain]
THE WOODEN HORSE
I'm just a wooden horsy, and I work hard all the day?At hauling blocks and dollies in my little painted dray.
Sometimes they feed me make-believe, sometimes nothing at all, And sometimes I'm left standing on my head out in the hall.
I try to be most patient, but 'twas just the other day?I got provoked with Teddy Bear and almost ran away.
REBECCA DEMING MOORE.
AFTER SCHOOL
I've come to you again, my dear. There's no more school today. Let's cuddle down a little while before we go to play,?And you shall tell me what you've done, and whether you've felt sad. I always hurry home because I know you'll be so glad.
I had a thought in school today--I quite forgot my book-- I seemed to see you waiting, and how lonely you must look, And all the other children's dolls, ten thousand, I suppose, All sitting up so patiently, and turning out their toes.
And then when I was called upon to answer "four times four," I failed, and teacher told me that I ought to study more. She asked if I