Child life: a collection of poems . the turf, or white the something to be glad about. It makes my heart bound, just to pass The sunbeams dancing on the grass. And when the bare rocks shut me in Where not a blade of grass will grow,My happy fancies soon begin To warble music, rich and paint what eyes could never see :My thoughts are company for me. What does it mean to be alone ? And how is any one feels the dear God on His throne Beaming like sunshine through the the damp sod into bloom,And smiling off the thickets gloom ? 60 LIFE. At morning
Child life: a collection of poems . the turf, or white the something to be glad about. It makes my heart bound, just to pass The sunbeams dancing on the grass. And when the bare rocks shut me in Where not a blade of grass will grow,My happy fancies soon begin To warble music, rich and paint what eyes could never see :My thoughts are company for me. What does it mean to be alone ? And how is any one feels the dear God on His throne Beaming like sunshine through the the damp sod into bloom,And smiling off the thickets gloom ? 60 LIFE. At morning, down the wood-path cool,The fluttering leaves make cheerful talk ; After the stifled day at school,I hear, along my homeward walk, The airy wisdom of the wood, — Far easiest to be understood. I whisper to the winds ; I kiss The rough old oak, and clasp his bark : No tarewell of the thrush I miss ;I lift the soft veil of the dark, And say to bird, and breeze, and tree, Grood night ! Good friends you are to me ! —Lucy Larconi,. ;J?^ --SifSyr* **^ OUT OF DOORS. 61 OVER IN THE MEADOW. Over in the meadow, In the sand, in the sun,Lived an old mother-toad And her little toadie one. Wink ! said the mother ; I wink, said the one :So she winked and she blinked In the sand, in the sun. Over in the meadow, Where the stream runs ijlue,Lived an old mother-fish And her little fishes two. Swim ! said the mother ; We swim, said the two :So they swam and they leaped Where the stream runs blue. Over in the meadow. In a hole in a a mother-bluebird And her little birdies three Sing ! said the mother ; We sing, said the three :So they sang, and were glad. In the hole in the tree. Over in the meadow. In the reeds on the shore, Lived a mother-muskratAnd her little rattles four. 52 CHILD LIFE. Dive ! said the mother ; We dive, said the four :So they dived and they burrowed In the reeds on the shore. Over in the meadow, In a snug beehive,Lived a mother-honeybee And her little honeys fiv
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Keywords: ., book, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksubjectchildrenspoetry
