قراءة كتاب The Keepsake or, Poems and Pictures for Childhood and Youth
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اللغة: English
The Keepsake or, Poems and Pictures for Childhood and Youth
الصفحة رقم: 4
class="stanza">In gay profusion they shall spread
O'er each border and each bed,
And when joyous May shall come,
We'll deck the lofty pole at home.
Garlands gay in wreaths we'll twine,
That with brightest colours shine;
And dance around, till setting sun
Proclaims the children's day is done.
That with brightest colours shine;
And dance around, till setting sun
Proclaims the children's day is done.
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| The Gardeners |
LITTLE GIRL.
Little girl, little girl, where are you going?
Down in the meadow where cowslips are blowing.
Little girl, little girl, what to do there?
To gather a garland to deck my brown hair.
Little girl, little girl, why all alone?
My mother has sent me, and playmates I've none.
Then follow me, follow me, down to yon wood,
Where you shall find playmates both gentle and good;
We'll ask them, we'll ask them to join in your play,
And your mother shall give you a long holiday.
From Erin, from Erin, the cotter shall bring,
To twine a gay garland, her shamrock of spring;
In her plaid, in her plaid, Scotia's daughter shall come,
With the thistle that grows on her mountains at home;
The peasant, the peasant of France shall be there,
And add to the chaplet his lily so fair;
Dark glancing, dark glancing, the daughter of Spain,
With the bloom of her orange shall join the gay train;
And leaving, and leaving his cold northern tides,
A plume from his eagle the Russian provides;
Whilst England, fair England, the wreath shall adorn,
With her rose-bud more bright than the blushes of morn.
Then carol, then carol the sweet strains of peace,
And never again may her harmony cease;
May the dreams, may the dreams of ambition be o'er,
And the falchion of war be at rest evermore.
Down in the meadow where cowslips are blowing.
Little girl, little girl, what to do there?
To gather a garland to deck my brown hair.
Little girl, little girl, why all alone?
My mother has sent me, and playmates I've none.
Then follow me, follow me, down to yon wood,
Where you shall find playmates both gentle and good;
We'll ask them, we'll ask them to join in your play,
And your mother shall give you a long holiday.
From Erin, from Erin, the cotter shall bring,
To twine a gay garland, her shamrock of spring;
In her plaid, in her plaid, Scotia's daughter shall come,
With the thistle that grows on her mountains at home;
The peasant, the peasant of France shall be there,
And add to the chaplet his lily so fair;
Dark glancing, dark glancing, the daughter of Spain,
With the bloom of her orange shall join the gay train;
And leaving, and leaving his cold northern tides,
A plume from his eagle the Russian provides;
Whilst England, fair England, the wreath shall adorn,
With her rose-bud more bright than the blushes of morn.
Then carol, then carol the sweet strains of peace,
And never again may her harmony cease;
May the dreams, may the dreams of ambition be o'er,
And the falchion of war be at rest evermore.
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| Little Girl |
THE BLIND BOY.
"Mamma, what a pretty new basket you've got,"
Little Emma exclaim'd with delight;
"The straw-work below is so firm and so neat,
And the bag such a beautiful white."
Little Emma exclaim'd with delight;
"The straw-work below is so firm and so neat,
And the bag such a beautiful white."
"I am glad you approve it, my love: I myself
Think it pretty and neat, I confess;
And when I have told you by whom it was made,
You will not, I think, like it the less.
Think it pretty and neat, I confess;
And when I have told you by whom it was made,
You will not, I think, like it the less.
"You remember, no doubt, that blind boy on the green,
Whose father and mother both died,
And left him in poverty, sickness, and grief,
Without a protector or guide.
Whose father and mother both died,
And left him in poverty, sickness, and grief,
Without a protector or guide.
"A kind and rich lady, who heard his sad case,
Restor'd him to life by her aid,
Then plac'd him secure in the house for the blind,
And all the expences defray'd.
Restor'd him to life by her aid,
Then plac'd him secure in the house for the blind,
And all the expences defray'd.
"There they taught him these beautiful baskets to make,
With straw-work of every kind;
And now he's employ'd, and his living can earn,
And is useful and happy, though blind."
With straw-work of every kind;
And now he's employ'd, and his living can earn,
And is useful and happy, though blind."
"And may I believe it," cried Emma, "that Jem,
Who so helpless and poor us'd to be,
Has made this nice basket without any help,
And as neatly as if he could see?"
Who so helpless and poor us'd to be,
Has made this nice basket without any help,
And as neatly as if he could see?"
"As you doubt poor Jem's powers," her mother replied,
"What I've said to be true I must prove;
So finish your work, get your bonnet and coat,
And quickly come to me, my love."
"What I've said to be true I must prove;
So finish your work, get your bonnet and coat,
And quickly come to me, my love."
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| The Blind Boy |
Her work was soon finish'd, her books all laid by,
Her coat and her bonnet put on,
And joyfully taking mamma's ready hand,
To the school for the blind she is gone.
Her coat and her bonnet put on,
And joyfully taking mamma's ready hand,
To the school for the blind she is gone.
With delight and amazement there Emma beheld
Poor Jem at his daily employ;
As he platted his basket, he sung to his work,
And smil'd with contentment and joy.
Poor Jem at his daily employ;
As he platted his basket, he sung to his work,
And smil'd with contentment and joy.
"Ah, mamma," exclaim'd Emma, as home they return'd,
"Ev'ry penny you give me I'll save;
Neither gingerbread, comfit, nor nut will I buy,
Till a basket of Jem's I can have."
"Ev'ry penny you give me I'll save;
Neither gingerbread, comfit, nor nut will I buy,
Till a basket of Jem's I can have."
SPRING.
Wintry winds no longer blow,
Far away are frost and snow;
Peeping from its grassy bed,
The primrose rears its modest head;
Far away are frost and snow;
Peeping from its grassy bed,
The primrose rears its modest head;
