Little-folk lyrics (Google eBook)

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Houghton.Mifflin and company, 1897 - American poetry - 140 pages
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Seventy-one poems on such varied topics as animals, months, holidays, and nature.
  

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Page 19 - At evening when I go to bed I see the stars shine overhead; They are the little daisies white That dot the meadow of the night. And often while I'm dreaming so, Across the sky the Moon will go; It is a lady, sweet and fair, Who comes to gather daisies there.
Page 57 - I often sit and wish that I Could be a kite up in the sky, And ride upon the breeze, and go Whatever way it chanced to blow...
Page 25 - March (holding out a little trumpet) March is merry, March is mad, March is gay and March is sad; March is Spring's own trumpeter, Hailing us to welcome her. Act. Girls enter jumping rope.
Page 67 - re sure to meet Them running to and fro. They move around without a sound, They play at hide-and-seek, But no one yet that I have met Has ever heard them speak. Beneath the tree you often see Them dancing in and out, And in the sun there 's always one To follow you about. Go where you will, he follows still, Or sometimes runs before, And, home at last, you 'll find him fast Beside you at the door.
Page 120 - When all the ground with snow is white, The merry snow-bird comes, And hops about with great delight To find the scattered crumbs. How glad he seems to get to eat A piece of cake or bread! He wears no shoes upon his feet, Nor hat upon his head. But happiest is he, I know, Because no cage with bars Keeps him from walking on the snow And printing it with stars.
Page 81 - LEAVES AT PLAY Scamper, little leaves, about In the autumn sun; I can hear the old Wind shout, Laughing as you run, And I haven't any doubt That he likes the fun.
Page 22 - Spring is the morning of the year, And summer is the noontide bright ; The autumn is the evening clear That comes before the winter's night. And in the evening, everywhere' Along the roadside, up and down, I see the golden torches flare Like lighted street-lamps in the town. I think the butterfly and bee, From distant meadows coming back, Are quite contented when they see These lamps along the homeward track.
Page 93 - TIT of the sky they come, Wandering down the air, Some to the roofs, and some Whiten the branches bare ; Some in the empty nest, Some on the ground below, Until the world is dressed All in a gown of snow ; Dressed in a fleecy gown Out of the snowflakes spun ; Wearing a golden crown, Over her head the sun. Out of the sky again Ghosts of the flowers that died Visit the earth, and then Under the white drifts hide.
Page 45 - tis the wind who sweeps the sky And piles the snow in ridges high. In spring, when stirs the wind, I know That soon the crocus buds will show ; For 'tis the wind who bids them wake And into pretty blossoms break.

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