With Trumpet and Drum (Google eBook)

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C. Scribner's Sons, 1892 - Children's poetry - 126 pages
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Page 48 - twas a dream they'd dreamed Of sailing that beautiful sea; But I shall name you the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, And Nod is a little head, And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies Is a wee one's trundle-bed...
Page 78 - THE little toy dog is covered with dust, But sturdy and stanch he stands; And the little toy soldier is red with rust, And his musket moulds in his hands. Time was when the little toy dog was new, And the soldier was passing fair; And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue Kissed them and put them there. "Now don't you go till I come," he said, "And don't you make any noise!
Page 78 - And don't you make any noise!" So, toddling off to his trundle-bed, He dreamt of the pretty toys; And, as he was dreaming, an angel song Awakened our Little Boy Blue Oh! the years are many, the years are long, But the little toy friends are true! Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand, Each in the same old place, Awaiting the touch of a little hand, The smile of a little face; And they wonder, as waiting...
Page 46 - Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe, Sailed on a river of misty light Into a sea of dew. "Where are you going, and what do you wish?' The old moon asked the three. "We have come to fish for the herring-fish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of silver and gold have we," Said Wynken, Blynken, And Nod.
Page 47 - Now cast your nets wherever you wish Never afeard are we"; So cried the stars to the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. All night long their nets they threw To the stars in the twinkling foam Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, Bringing the fishermen home; 'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed As if it could not be, And some...
Page 115 - CHRISTMAS TREASURES I COUNT my treasures o'er with care, The little toy my darling knew, A little sock of faded hue, A little lock of golden hair. Long years ago this holy time, My little one my all to me Sat robed in white upon my knee, And heard the merry Christmas chime. "Tell me, my little golden-head, If Santa Claus should come to-night, What shall he bring my baby bright, What treasure for my boy?
Page 35 - PRAYER I PRAY that, risen from the dead, I may in glory stand A crown, perhaps, upon my head, But a needle in my hand. I 've never learned to sing or play, So let no harp be mine; From birth unto my dying day, Plain sewing 's been my line. SOME TIME 231 Therefore, accustomed to the end To plying useful stitches, I 'll be content if asked to mend The little angels
Page 34 - Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep; What shall you fear when I am here? Sleep, little one, sleep." The king may sing in his bitter flight, The tree may croon to the vine to-night, But the little snowflake at my breast Liketh the song I sing the best, '' Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep; Weary, thou art.
Page 1 - Tis a marvel of great renown! It blooms on the shore of the Lollypop sea In the garden of Shut-Eye Town; The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet (As those who have tasted it say) That good little children have only to eat Of that fruit to be happy next day. When you've got to the tree, you would have a hard time To capture the fruit which I sing; The...
Page 47 - The old moon laughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe, And the wind that sped them all night long Ruffled the waves of dew; The little stars were the herring-fish That lived in the beautiful sea. "Now cast your nets wherever you wish, But never afeard are we!

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