. The golden staircase: poems and verses for children . fittest place for a bird like me Is the topmost bough of yon tall pine-tree. I opened my eyes at peep of day And saw you taking your upward way, Dreaming your fond, romantic dreams, An ugly speck in the suns bright beams ; Soaring too high to be seen or heard, And I said to myself: What a foolish bird 1 I trod the park with a princely air, I filled my crop with the richest fare; I cawed all day mid a lordly crew, And I made more noise in the world than you ! The sun shone forth on my ebon wing; I looked and wondered—good-night, poor thing
. The golden staircase: poems and verses for children . fittest place for a bird like me Is the topmost bough of yon tall pine-tree. I opened my eyes at peep of day And saw you taking your upward way, Dreaming your fond, romantic dreams, An ugly speck in the suns bright beams ; Soaring too high to be seen or heard, And I said to myself: What a foolish bird 1 I trod the park with a princely air, I filled my crop with the richest fare; I cawed all day mid a lordly crew, And I made more noise in the world than you ! The sun shone forth on my ebon wing; I looked and wondered—good-night, poor thing! Good-night, once more, said the Larks sweet voice, I see no cause to repent my choice ; You build your nest in the lofty pine, But is your slumber more sweet than mine ? You make more noise in the world than I, But whose is the sweeter minstrelsy ? UNKNOWN. THE LAMB LITTLE Lamb, who made thee,Dost thou know who made thee,Gave thee life and bade thee feedBy the stream and oer the mead ;Gave thee clothing of delight,Softest clothing, woolly, bright;. THE GOLDEN STAIRCASE 63 Gave thee such a tender voice,Making all the vales rejoice? Little Lamb, who made thee ? Dost thou know who made thee ? Little Lamb, I 11 tell thee ; Little Lamb, I 11 tell thee:He is called by thy name,For He calls Himself a is meek, and He is mild,He became a little a child and thou a lamb,We are called by His name. Little Lamb, God bless thee 1 Little Lamb, God bless thee! WILLIAM BLAKE. THE BEARS SONG (From Katawampiis) OH, the mother she loves her only son,While he makes eyes at the curranty bun,And the slippery, slimy, sea-side snakeLoves soothing syrup and seedy nothing to the love I feelFor thee, thou little savoury seal. The tide may follow the master moon,And the dish run away with the silver spoon,The ice may weep for the noonday sun,And three times seven be nothing to the love I feelFor thee, thou little savoury seal. Oh, savoury seal with the silent eye,
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