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قراءة كتاب Verses for Children and Songs for Music
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
Verses for Children and Songs for Music
الصفحة رقم: 6
class="i0">Of getting up and finding our garden ablaze with all colours, blue, red, yellow, and white.
And Midsummer's coming, and big brother Tom will sit under the tree
With his book, and Mary will beg sweet nosegays of Jack and me.
The worst is, we often start for the seaside about Midsummer Day,
And no one takes care of our gardens whilst we are away.
But if we sow lots of seeds, and take plenty of cuttings before we leave home,
When we come back, our flowers will be all in full bloom,
Bright, bright sunshine above, and sweet, sweet flowers below.
Come, oh Midsummer, quickly come! and go quickly, Midsummer, go!
P.S. It is so tiresome! Jack wants to build a green-house now,
He has found some bits of broken glass, and an old window-frame, and he says he knows how.
I tell him there's not glass enough, but he says there's lots,
And he's taken all the plants that belong to the bed and put them in pots.
He has found some bits of broken glass, and an old window-frame, and he says he knows how.
I tell him there's not glass enough, but he says there's lots,
And he's taken all the plants that belong to the bed and put them in pots.
A FRIEND IN THE GARDEN.
He is not John the gardener,
And yet the whole day long
Employs himself most usefully,
The flower-beds among.
And yet the whole day long
Employs himself most usefully,
The flower-beds among.
He is not Tom the pussy-cat,
And yet the other day,
With stealthy stride and glistening eye,
He crept upon his prey.
And yet the other day,
With stealthy stride and glistening eye,
He crept upon his prey.
He is not Dash the dear old dog,
And yet, perhaps, if you
Took pains with him and petted him,
You'd come to love him too.
And yet, perhaps, if you
Took pains with him and petted him,
You'd come to love him too.
He's not a Blackbird, though he chirps,
And though he once was black;
And now he wears a loose grey coat,
All wrinkled on the back.
And though he once was black;
And now he wears a loose grey coat,
All wrinkled on the back.
He's got a very dirty face,
And very shining eyes!
He sometimes comes and sits indoors;
He looks—and p'r'aps is—wise.
And very shining eyes!
He sometimes comes and sits indoors;
He looks—and p'r'aps is—wise.
But in a sunny flower-bed
He has his fixed abode;
He eats the things that eat my plants—
He is a friendly Toad.
He has his fixed abode;
He eats the things that eat my plants—
He is a friendly Toad.
THREE LITTLE NEST BIRDS.
We meant to be very kind,
But if ever we find
Another soft, grey-green, moss-coated, feather-lined nest in a hedge,
We have taken a pledge—
Susan, Jemmy, and I—with remorseful tears, at this very minute,
That if there are eggs or little birds in it—
Robin or wren, thrush, chaffinch or linnet—
We'll leave them there
To their mother's care.
There were three of us—Kate, and Susan, and Jem—
And three of them—
I don't know their names, for they couldn't speak,
Except with a little imperative squeak,
Exactly like Poll,
Susan's squeaking doll;
But squeaking dolls will lie on the shelves
For years and never squeak of themselves:
The reason we like little birds so much better than toys
Is because they are really alive, and know how to make a noise.
But if ever we find
Another soft, grey-green, moss-coated, feather-lined nest in a hedge,
We have taken a pledge—
Susan, Jemmy, and I—with remorseful tears, at this very minute,
That if there are eggs or little birds in it—
Robin or wren, thrush, chaffinch or linnet—
We'll leave them there
To their mother's care.
There were three of us—Kate, and Susan, and Jem—
And three of them—
I don't know their names, for they couldn't speak,
Except with a little imperative squeak,
Exactly like Poll,
Susan's squeaking doll;
But squeaking dolls will lie on the shelves
For years and never squeak of themselves:
The reason we like little birds so much better than toys
Is because they are really alive, and know how to make a noise.
There were three of us, and three of them;
Kate,—that is I,—and Susan, and Jem.
Our mother was busy making a pie,
And theirs, we think, was up in the sky;
But for all Susan, Jemmy, or I can tell,
She may have been getting their dinner as well.
They were left to themselves (and so were we)
In a nest in the hedge by the willow tree;
And when we caught sight of three red little fluff-tufted, hazel-eyed, open-mouthed, pink-throated heads, we all shouted for glee.
Kate,—that is I,—and Susan, and Jem.
Our mother was busy making a pie,
And theirs, we think, was up in the sky;
But for all Susan, Jemmy, or I can tell,
She may have been getting their dinner as well.
They were left to themselves (and so were we)
In a nest in the hedge by the willow tree;
And when we caught sight of three red little fluff-tufted, hazel-eyed, open-mouthed, pink-throated heads, we all shouted for glee.
The way we really did wrong was this:
We took them for Mother to kiss,
And she told us to put them back;
Whilst out on the weeping-willow their mother was crying "Alack!"
We really heard
Both what Mother told us to do, and the voice of the mother-bird.
But we three—that is Susan and I and Jem—
Thought we knew better than either of them:
And in spite of our mother's command and the poor bird's cry,
We determined to bring up her three little nestlings ourselves on the sly.
We took them for Mother to kiss,
And she told us to put them back;
Whilst out on the weeping-willow their mother was crying "Alack!"
We really heard
Both what Mother told us to do, and the voice of the mother-bird.
But we three—that is Susan and I and Jem—
Thought we knew better than either of them:
And in spite of our mother's command and the poor bird's cry,
We determined to bring up her three little nestlings ourselves on the sly.
We each took one,
It did seem such excellent fun!
Susan fed hers on milk and bread,
Jem got wriggling worms for his instead.
I gave mine meat,
For, you know, I thought, "Poor darling pet! why shouldn't it have roast beef to eat?"
But, oh dear! oh dear! oh dear! how we cried
When in spite of milk and bread and worms and roast beef, the little birds died!
It's a terrible thing to have heart-ache,
I thought mine would break
As I heard the mother-bird's moan,
And looked at the grey-green, moss-coated, feather-lined nest she had taken such pains to make,
And her three little children dead, and as cold as stone.
Mother said, and it's sadly true,
"There are some wrong things one can never undo."
It did seem such excellent fun!
Susan fed hers on milk and bread,
Jem got wriggling worms for his instead.
I gave mine meat,
For, you know, I thought, "Poor darling pet! why shouldn't it have roast beef to eat?"
But, oh dear! oh dear! oh dear! how we cried
When in spite of milk and bread and worms and roast beef, the little birds died!
It's a terrible thing to have heart-ache,
I thought mine would break
As I heard the mother-bird's moan,
And looked at the grey-green, moss-coated, feather-lined nest she had taken such pains to make,
And her three little children dead, and as cold as stone.
Mother said, and it's sadly true,
"There are some wrong things one can never undo."