They follow from the snowy bank Those footmarks, one by one, Into the middle of the plank; And further there were none!
--Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild.
O"er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind.
William Wordsworth
_Deaf and Dumb_
He lies on the gra.s.s, looking up to the sky; Blue b.u.t.terflies pa.s.s like a breath or a sigh, The shy little hare runs confidingly near, And wise rabbits stare with inquiry, not fear: Gay squirrels have found him and made him their choice; All creatures flock round him, and seem to rejoice.
Wild ladybirds leap on his cheek fresh and fair, Young partridges creep, nestling under his hair, Brown honey-bees drop something sweet on his lips, Rash gra.s.shoppers hop on his round finger-tips, Birds hover above him with musical call; All things seem to love him, and he loves them all.
Is nothing afraid of the boy lying there?
Would all nature aid if he wanted its care?
Things timid and wild with soft eagerness come.
Ah, poor little child!--he is deaf--he is dumb.
But what can have brought them? but how can they know?
What instinct has taught them to cherish him so?
Since first he could walk they have served him like this.
His lips could not talk, but they found they could kiss.
They made him a court, and they crowned him a king; Ah, who could have thought of so lovely a thing?
They found him so pretty, they gave him their hearts, And some divine pity has taught them their parts!
"A."
_The Blind Boy_
O, say, what is that thing called Light, Which I must ne"er enjoy?
What are the blessings of the sight?
O tell your poor blind boy!
You talk of wondrous things you see; You say the sun shines bright; I feel him warm, but how can he Make either day or night?
My day and night myself I make, Whene"er I sleep or play, And could I always keep awake, With me "twere always day.
With heavy sighs I often hear You mourn my hapless woe; But sure with patience I can bear A loss I ne"er can know.
Then let not what I cannot have My peace of mind destroy; Whilst thus I sing, I am a king, Although a poor blind boy!
Colley Cibber.
VII
PLAY-TIME
_The world"s a very happy place, Where every child should dance and sing, And always have a smiling face, And never sulk for anything._
_Gabriel Setoun._
PLAY-TIME
_A Boy"s Song_
Where the pools are bright and deep, Where the gray trout lies asleep, Up the river and o"er the lea, That"s the way for Billy and me.
Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That"s the way for Billy and me.
Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hay lies thick and greenest, There to trace the homeward bee, That"s the way for Billy and me.
Where the hazel bank is steepest, Where the shadow falls the deepest, Where the cl.u.s.tering nuts fall free, That"s the way for Billy and me.
Why the boys should drive away Little sweet maidens from the play, Or love to banter and fight so well, That"s the thing I never could tell.
But this I know, I love to play, Through the meadow, among the hay, Up the water and o"er the lea, That"s the way for Billy and me.
James Hogg (The Ettrick Shepherd).
_The Lost Doll_
I once had a sweet little doll, dears, The prettiest doll in the world; Her cheeks were so red and white, dears, And her hair was so charmingly curled.
But I lost my poor little doll, dears, As I played on the heath one day; And I cried for her more than a week, dears, But I never could find where she lay.
I found my poor little doll, dears, As I played on the heath one day; Folks say she is terribly changed, dears, For her paint is all washed away, And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears, And her hair not the least bit curled; Yet for old sake"s sake, she is still, dears, The prettiest doll in the world.