Sing Heigh-Ho!" Her fingers are like lilies fair Whose hand they press With fond caress,— Her foot is small, and has a fall Beneath the rose, Wouldn't you like to know? She has a name, the sweetest name 'Twould break the spell If I should tell, Wouldn't you like to know? 709 John Godfrey Saxe [1816-1887] "SING HEIGH-HO!" THERE sits a bird on every tree; There sits a bird on every tree, And courts his love as I do thee; Young maids must marry. -There grows a flower on every bough; There grows a flower on every bough, From sea to stream the salmon roam; Sing heigh-ho! From sea to stream the salmon roam; Each finds a mate and leads her home; The sun's a bridegroom, earth a bride; They court from morn till eventide: Young maids must marry. Charles Kingsley [1819-1875] THE GOLDEN FISH LOVE is a little golden fish, Wondrous shy . . . ah, wondrous shy. You may catch him if you wish; He might make a dainty dish . . . But I ... Ah, I've other fish to fry! For when I try to snare this prize, Earnestly and patiently, All my skill the rogue defies, So, you see, I am caught and Love goes free! George Arnold [1834-1865] THE COURTIN' GOD makes sech nights, all white an' still Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' pecked in thru' the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, A fireplace filled the room's one side, There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) The Courtin' The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her! An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser. Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung, The ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther Young The very room, coz she was in, An' she looked full ez rosy agin 'Twas kin' o' kingdom-come to look A dogrose blushin' to a brook He was six foot o' man, A 1, He'd sparked it with full twenty gals, He'd squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em, But long o' her his veins 'ould run Ez a south slope in Ap'il. She thought no v'ice hed sech a swing Ez hisn in the choir; My! when he made Ole Hundred ring, She knowed the Lord was nigher. 711 An' she'd blush scarlit, right in prayer, Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some! She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu, All ways to once her feelin's flew He kin' o' l'itered on the mat, An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk "You want to see my Pa, I s'pose?" "Wal. no . . . I come dasignin"" "To see my Ma? She's sprinklin' clo'es Agin to-morrer's i'nin'." To say why gals acts so or so, He stood a spell on one foot fust, He couldn't ha' told ye nuther. L'eau Dormante Says he, "I'd better call ag'in "; When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, All kin' o'smily roun' the lips For she was jes' the quiet kind Whose naturs never vary, Like streams that keep a summer mind The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued Tell mother see how metters stood Then her red come back like the tide An' all I know is they was cried In meetin' come nex' Sunday. 713 James Russell Lowell [1819-1891] L'EAU DORMANTE CURLED up and sitting on her feet, |