[THE LITTLE FOLK ON THE HILL]
Right on the top of the Feraling Hill
There’s a queer little seat made of stone,
And sometimes I climb up the heathery slope.
And sit in the wind all alone.
Nobody knows why the little seat’s there,
(It’s almost too tiny for me)
But I love to squeeze into it on a clear day,
And look over the hills to the sea.
Sometimes I’ve sat there and heard funny
sounds
And voices, and tho’ I’ve kept still,
I’ve only seen one of the queer Little Folk
That I know live inside of the hill.
For once I came quietly up to the stone—
And on it sat one of the Folk!
He was looking across all the hills to the sea,
But he vanished away when I spoke.
And that’s how I know why the little seat’s
there,
And why it’s small even for me;
The Folk put it there in the wind, for they love
To look over the hills to the sea.
[THE MOON AT TEA-TIME]
I was playing in the meadow, where there’s
not a single tree,
I was throwing bits of sorrel at a fat old
bumble-bee,
And then—I just looked up to see the clouds
go sailing by—
And oh, I saw the moon, in daytime! and I
can’t think why!
Such funny things keep happ’ning, and
they’ve happened all to-day,
First, I found a weeny mouse, all cuddled in
the hay,
Then at home we’ve got a baby, from I don’t
know where!
And now I find the moon at tea-time, sitting in
the air!
I’m sure it’s wrong, because the Bible says it’s
meant for night,
And look, it hides behind the clouds—it knows
it isn’t right.
Now there it comes! Oh, silly moon, you make
the sun look fine,
’Cos bumping up against the clouds has
rubbed off all your shine!