Child Songs of Cheer | Page 5

and tassel?Bobbing to and fro,?Look, oh, look! he plucks it off now,?Bowing very low.
And he's passing it politely--?Can it be for _pay_??O dear me! I have no penny!?Let us run away!
THE NEW MOON
Pretty new moon, little new moon,?Now, as first I look at you,?I must make a wish, for wise folks?Say it surely will come true!
Little new moon, pretty new moon,?I wish--but I must not tell!?For if any one should hear it,?Wise folks say it breaks the spell!
SHOWERY TIME
The April rain-drops tinkle?In cuckoo-cups of gold,?And warm south winds unwrinkle?The buds the peach-boughs hold.
In countless fluted creases?The little elm-leaves show,?While white as carded fleeces?The dogwood blossoms blow.
A rosy robe is wrapping?The early red-bud trees;?But still the haws are napping,?Nor heed the honey-bees.
And still in lazy sleeping?The apple-buds are bound,?But tulip-tips are peeping?From out the garden ground.
And yonder, gayly swinging?Upon the turning vane,?A robin redbreast singing?Makes merry at the rain!
EASTER DAY
Christ the Lord is risen to-day!?Angels rolled the stone away?From the tomb wherein He lay!
Little children, come and sing,?"Glory, glory to the King,?Christ the Lord of everything!"
THE SANDMAN
The Sandman! hark, I hear him!?He's coming up the stair,?And everybody near him?Is nodding, I declare!
He's peeping in the door now,?And first of all he spies,?As he has done before now,?The little children's eyes!
Then quickly does he throw it,?His golden sleepy-sand,?And all, before they know it,?Are off for sleepy-land!
DANDELION CURLS
Ah, ha, ha, now! who comes here?Wreathed in flowers of gold and queer?Tiny tangled curls of green?Gayly bobbing in between?
Pretty token of the spring!?Hark! we hear the bluebirds sing?When we thus see little girls?Decked in dandelion curls.
POP-CORN
_Pop! Pop!--Poppetty-pop!_?Shake and rattle and rattle and shake?The golden grains as they bounce and break?To fluffy puffiness--_Poppetty-pop!_?Bursting and banging the popper's top!
_Poppetty-pop!
Pop! Pop!_
The yellow kernels, oh, see them grow?White as cotton or flakes of snow!
_Pop! Pop!_?O-ho, how they frolic and fly about?And turn themselves suddenly inside out!?_Pop-pop-poppetty! Pop-pop-pop!_?The popper's full and we'll have to stop;?Pile the bowl with the tempting treat,?Children, come, it is time to eat!
THE RASH LITTLE SPARROW
Rash little sparrow?Up in the nest;?Feathers not long enough,?Wee wings not strong enough!
Poor little sparrow!?Poor little breast!
WHAT IF?
When I see the new moon lightly?Through cloud ripples slip,?Then I'm sure that shining brightly?It's a fairy ship!
What if in it we were sailing?Far and far away,?With a wake of silver trailing,?Till the golden day?
Why, we'd fly back home together?Safely from the sky,?For the moon's a fairy feather?When the sun is high!
EASTER EGGS
Seven little nests of hay?We have made, for Easter day?Is to-morrow, and you know?We must have them ready, so?When the Rabbit comes she'll see?We expected her, that we?Children tried our very best?Each to make the nicest nest.
One is in the lilac-bush,?Near the ground--last year a thrush?Built a nest there--let me see,?Two are by the apple-tree,?In the clover--that makes three--?One beside the playhouse door,?--Three plus one, that must be four--?Two are in the tulip-bed--?Was it seven that I said??Oh, yes! six I've counted, and?One is in our pile of sand.

Come and see! Oh, hurry, hurry!?For the Rabbit, kind and furry,?Has been here again and laid?Eggs in every nest we made!?Purple, orange, red, and blue,?Pink and green and yellow, too,?Like a bunch of finest flowers?Ever seen, and all are ours!?And oh, _look!_ What _do_ you think!?Here our names are in white ink,?All spelled nicely so we know?Just where every egg should go!?Is it not surprising, quite,?How well Easter Rabbits write?
THE BIRDS' BATH
In our garden we have made?Such a pretty little pool,?Lined with pebbles neatly laid,?Filled with water clean and cool.
[Illustration: THE BIRDS' BATH]
When the sun shines warm and high?Robins cluster round its brink,?Never one comes flying by?But will flutter down to drink.
Then they splash and splash and splash,?Spattering little showers bright?All around, till off they flash?Singing sweetly their delight.
NOVEMBER MORNING
A tingling, misty marvel?Blew hither in the night,?And now the little peach-trees?Are clasped in frozen light.
Upon the apple-branches?An icy film is caught,?With trailing threads of gossamer?In pearly patterns wrought.
The autumn sun, in wonder,?Is gayly peering through?This silver-tissued network?Across the frosty blue.
The weather-vane is fire-tipped,?The honeysuckle shows?A dazzling icy splendor,?And crystal is the rose.
Around the eaves are fringes?Of icicles that seem?To mock the summer rainbows?With many-colored gleam.
Along the walk, the pebbles?Are each a precious stone;?The grass is tasseled hoarfrost,?The clover jewel-sown.
Such sparkle, sparkle, sparkle?Fills all the frosty air,?Oh, can it be that darkness?Is ever anywhere!
THE RUNAWAY
A frantic clatter of horses' feet!?A runaway's coming down the street!
Flurry, scurry,?Children, hurry!?Drop your playthings! Quick! don't wait!?Run and get within the gate!?Push the baby in the door,?Scramble in yourselves before
--_Whoa! Whoa!_?There they go!?Pell-mell rushing, snorting, quaking,?Wagon rumbling, harness breaking,?Frightened so they cannot know?Everybody's shrieking "_Whoa!_"
O my, don't cry!?Whiz, bang, they've galloped by!?No one hurt, but horses dashed?Round a post