THE NIGHT WIND

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,

Father will come to thee soon;

Father will come to his babe in the nest,

Silver sails all out of the west

Under the silver moon:

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep!

- ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.

GRADE 4 A

THE NIGHT WIND

HAVE you ever heard the wind go

'Tis a pitiful sound to hear!

"Yooooo"?

It seems to chill you through and through

With a strange and speechless fear.

'Tis the voice of the night that broods outside
When folk should be asleep,

And many and many's the time I've cried
To the darkness brooding far and wide
Over the land and the deep:

"Whom do you want, O lonely night,

That you wail the long hours through ?" And the night would say in its ghostly way: "Yoooooooo!

Yoooooooo!

Yoooooooo!"

My mother told me long ago

(When I was a little lad)

315

THE NIGHT WIND

That when the night went wailing so,
Somebody had been bad;

And then, when I was snug in bed,

Whither I had been sent,

With the blankets pulled up round my head,

I'd think of what my mother'd said,

And wonder what boy she meant !
And "Who's been bad to-day?" I'd ask
Of the wind that hoarsely blew,

And the voice would say in its meaningful way:
"Yoooooooo!

Yoo000000!

Yoooooooo!"

That this was true I must allow
You'll not believe it, though!
Yes, though I'm quite a model now,
I was not always so.

And if you doubt what things I say,

Suppose you make the test;

Suppose, when you've been bad some day

And up to bed are sent away

From mother and the rest

Suppose you ask, "Who has been bad?"

And then you'll hear what's true;

For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone:

From "Poems of Childhood," by Eugene Field, published by Charles

Scribner's Sons.

THE CHILDREN'S HOUR

THE CHILDREN'S HOUR

BETWEEN the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations
That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,

The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence;
Yet I know by their merry eyes,
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!

By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret

O'er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen

In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine.

317

318

JACK FROST

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am

Is not a match for you all?

I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,

But put you down into the dungeons
In the round tower of my heart.

And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,

Till the wall shall crumble to ruin,
And molder in dust away.

- HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

JACK FROST

THE Frost looked forth on a still, clear night,
And whispered, "Now, I shall be out of sight;
So, through the valley, and over the height,
In silence I'll take my way.

I will not go on like that blustering train,
The wind, and the snow, the hail and the rain,
That makes such a bustle and noise in vain;
But I'll be as busy as they!"

So he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest,
He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed
With diamonds and pearls; and over the breast
Of the quivering lake, he spread

A coat of mail, that it need not fear

ROBERT OF LINCOLN

The glittering point of many a spear
Which he flung on its margin, far and near,
Where a rock could rear its head;

He went to the window of those who slept,
And over each pane like a fairy crept:
Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped,
By the morning light were seen

Most beautiful things! there were flowers and trees,
There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees;
There were cities, and temples, and towers; and these
All pictured in silvery sheen!

But he did one thing that was hardly fair;
He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there
That all had forgotten for him to prepare,
"Now, just to set them a-thinking,
I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he,
"This costly pitcher I'll burst in three!
And the glass of water they've left for me,
Shall 'tchick,' to tell them I'm drinking."

- HANNAH GOULD.

319

ROBERT OF LINCOLN

MERRILY Swinging on brier and weed,
Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain side or mead,

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name:
"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

Snug and safe is that nest of ours,

Hidden among the summer flowers.
Chee, chee, chee."