I am not happy lying here,
With neither book nor toy;
For I am sent to bed, because
I've been a naughty boy.
If you will listen, little stars,
I'll tell you all I did;
I only said I would not do
The thing that I was bid!
I'm six years old this very day,
And I can write and read;
And not to have my own way yet
very hard indeed.
I do not know how old you are,
Or whether you can speak;
But you may twinkle all night long,
And play at hide and seek.
If I were with you, little stars,
How merrily we'd roll
Across the skies, and through the clouds,
And round about the Pole!
The moon, that once was round and full,
Is now a silver boat;
We'd launch it off that bright-edged cloud,
And then-how we should float!
Does anybody say, "Be still!"
When you would dance or play?
Does anybody hinder you
When would have your way?
Oh, tell me, little stars! for much
I wonder why you go,
The whole night long, from east to west,
So patiently and slow?
"We have a Father, little child,
Who guides us on our way;
We never question ;-when He speaks,
We listen and obey."
THE LITTLE STREAM.
"LITTLE Stream, tell me what 'tis you say
As you murmur along, with your musical song,
Through the grass and the flowers by the way
"I have washed all the pebbles quite bright,
And now, as I pass, you may see them like glass,
And I murmur a song of delight.
"I have watered each plant that I love,
And the blossoms are coming, and the wild bees are hum-ming,
And I sing with the skylark above.
"Little children have played by my side,
They have stooped at the brink of the streamlet to
And I sing them this song as I glide.
"I call them to love and to praise;
In gladsome content should childhood be spent,
Like the stream singing on all its days."
GOOD NIGHT.
BABY, baby, lay your head
On your pretty cradle bed;
Shut
your eye-peeps, now the day
And the light are gone away;
All the clothes are tuck'd in tight;
Little baby, dear, good night.
Yes, my darling, well I know
How the bitter wind doth blow;
And the winter's snow and rain
Patter on the window-pane;
But they cannot come in here,
To my little baby dear.
For the window shutteth fast,
Till the stormy night is past;
And the curtains warm are spread
Round about her cradle-bed;
So till morning shineth bright,
Little baby, dear, good night.
MORNING CALL.
AWAKE, weary sleeper!
Awake to my song;
Already the reaper
Is hast'ning along;
Some speed to the mountain,
Some work by the fountain,
And all with the morning
Their labours prolong.
Thou know'st not how stealeth
Each moment away!
Yon labourer feeleth
New strength with the day
The breeze freshly winging,
The lark gaily singing,
Call us from slumber,
And chide our delay.
THE STORMY NIGHT.
THE air is chill, the rain falls fast,
And dark and wintry is the night;
And cold and biting is the blast,
And not a star affords its light.
How can I, then, ungrateful be
Who have a house to cover me?
How many poor around me roam,
Not knowing where to lay their head,
Without a friend, without a home,
Except it be a mud-wall'd shed.
How can I, then, ungrateful be
Who have a house to cover me?
How can I, then, while thus I live,
Be aught but thankful for my lot?
The Lord does many mercies give,
Yet who so often is forgot?
See the young lambs playing;
IIear the blackbirds sing,
In the woods together.
Oh! how sweet is spring,
And the pleasant weather.
All about the flowers,
Little bees are humming!
They are gath'ring honey,
For the winter coming.
In the hedges green
Grasshoppers are singing;
From her nest unseen,
There's the skylark springing
See, amongst the branches,
Pretty squirrels leaping;
How many things are creeping.
Birds are on the wing;
Swiftly flies the swallow:
Little fishes spring
From the water shallow.
God hath shed his blessing,
And the earth rejoices; All his creatures praise him,
With their many voices.
|