Graded Memory Selections. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
in the world;
Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,
And her hair was so charmingly curled:
But I lost my poor little doll, dears,
As I played on the heath one day,
And I cried for her more than a week, dears,
And I never could find where she lay.
I found my poor little doll, dears,
As I played on the heath one day;
Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,
For her paint is all washed away;
And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears,
And her hair not the least bit curled:
Yet for old time’s sake, she is still to me
The prettiest doll in the world.
BED IN SUMMER
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
THREE COMPANIONS
We go on our walk together—
Baby and dog and I—
Three little merry companions,
’Neath any sort of sky:
Blue as our baby’s eyes are,
Gray like our old dog’s tail;
Be it windy or cloudy or stormy,
Our courage will never fail.
Baby’s a little lady;
Dog is a gentleman brave;
If he had two legs as you have,
He’d kneel to her like a slave;
As it is, he loves and protects her,
As dog and gentleman can.
I’d rather be a kind doggie,
I think, than a cruel man.
THE WIND
I saw you toss the kites on high,
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass
Like ladies’ skirts across the grass—
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all—
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
O you, that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
Hearts like doors can open with ease
To very, very little keys;
And ne’er forget that they are these:
“I thank you, sir,” and “If you please.”
THE MINUET.1
Grandma told me all about it,
Told me so I couldn’t doubt it,
How she danced, my grandma danced; long ago—
How she held her pretty head,
How her dainty skirt she spread,
How she slowly leaned and rose—long ago.
Grandma’s hair was bright and sunny,
Dimpled cheeks, too, oh, how funny!
Really quite a pretty girl—long ago.
Bless her! why, she wears a cap,
Grandma does and takes a nap
Every single day: and yet
Grandma danced the minuet—long ago.
“Modern ways are quite alarming,”
Grandma says, “but boys were charming”
(Girls and boys she means of course) “long ago.”
Brave but modest, grandly shy;
She would like to have us try
Just to feel like those who met
In the graceful minuet—long ago.
WYNKEN, BLYNKEN AND NOD.2
Wynken, Blynken and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
“Where are you going?” “What do you wish?”
The old Moon asked the three.
“We come to fish for the herring fish
That live in the beautiful sea,
Nets of silver and gold have we,”
Said Wynken, Blynken and Nod.
The old Moon laughed and sang a song
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.
The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in that beautiful sea,—
“Now cast your nets whenever you wish,
Never afeard are we!”
So cried the stars to the fishermen three—
Wynken, Blynken and Nod.
All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam.
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe
Bringing the fishermen home.
’Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed
As if it could not be,
And some folks thought ’twas a dream they’d dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea.
But I can name you the fishermen three—
Wynken,
From “Along the Way,” copyright 1879 by Mary Mapes Dodge, and published by Chas. Scribner’s Sons.
From “Love Songs of Childhood.” Copyright, 1894, by Eugene Field. Reprinted by permission of the publishers, Chas. Scribner’s Sons.