Soft is the meadow gra.s.s, 15 Under my feet.
Wrapped in your hood of green, Violet, why Peep from your earth door, So silent and shy?
FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN
AMERICA, 1860-
Pebbles
Out of a pellucid brook 5 Pebbles round and smooth I took: Like a jewel every one Caught a color from the sun,-- Ruby red and sapphire blue, Emerald and onyx too, 10 Diamond and amethyst,-- Not a precious stone I missed: Gems I held from every land In the hollow of my hand.
Workman Water these had made 15 Patiently through sun and shade, With the ripples of the rill He had polished them until, Smooth, symmetrical, and bright, Each one sparkling in the light Showered within its burning heart All the lapidary"s art; And the brook seemed thus to sing: 5 Patience conquers everything!
BJoRNSTJERNE BJoRNSON
NORWAY, 1832-
The Tree
The Tree"s early leaf buds were bursting their brown; "Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down.
"No, leave them alone Till the blossoms have grown," 10 Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown.
The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung; "Shall I take them away?" said the Wind, as he swung.
"No, leave them alone Till the berries have grown,"
Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung.
The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow; 5 Said the girl: "May I gather thy berries now?"
"Yes, all thou canst see: Take them; all are for thee,"
Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low.
FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN
AMERICA, 1860-
September
Here"s a lyric for September, 10 Best of all months to remember; Month when summer breezes tell What has happened, wood and dell, Of the joy the year has brought, And the changes she has wrought.
She has turned the verdure red; 5 In the blue sky overhead, She the harvest moon has hung, Like a silver boat among Shoals of stars--bright jewels set In the earth"s blue coronet; 10 She has brought the orchard"s fruit To repay the robin"s flute Which has gladdened half the year With a music liquid, clear; And she makes the meadow gra.s.s 15 Catch the sunbeams as they pa.s.s, Till the autumn"s floor is rolled With a fragrant cloth of gold.
CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
ENGLAND, 1830-1894
The Swallow
Fly away, fly away, over the sea, Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done.
Come again, come again, come back to me, Bringing the summer, and bringing the sun.
When you come hurrying home o"er the sea, 5 Then we are certain that winter is past; Cloudy and cold though your pathway may be, Summer and sunshine will follow you fast.
LYDIA MARIA CHILD
AMERICA, 1802-1880
Thanksgiving Day
Over the river and through the wood, To grandfather"s house we go; 10 The horse knows the way To carry the sleigh Through the white and drifted snow.
Over the river and through the wood-- Oh, how the wind does blow! 5 It stings the toes And bites the nose, As over the ground we go.
Over the river and through the wood, To have a first-rate play; 10 Hear the bells ring, "Ting-a-ling-ding!"
Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river and through the wood, Trot fast, my dapple-gray! 15 Spring over the ground, Like a hunting hound!
For this is Thanksgiving Day.
Over the river and through the wood, And straight through the barn-yard gate. 20 We seem to go Extremely slow-- It is so hard to wait!
Over the river and through the wood-- Now grandmother"s cap I spy! 5 Hurrah for the fun!
Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
AMERICA, 1807-1882