She took my toys and books and ball,
And all the bricks I’d built;
There’s nothing here that’s nice at all,
’Cept Grannie’s patchwork quilt!
[THE MERRY BREEZE]
Round about the orchard went the merry
little breeze,
Playing with the butterflies and teasing all
the bees,
Sending showers of apple-blossom down upon
the ground,
And spilling half the dew-drops from the
grasses all around.
He ruffled up the feathers of the ducks a-sailing
by,
And hustled all the lazy clods that floated in
the sky,
He swung the beeches to and fro, then darted
off again
To dry the shiny puddles scattered down along
the lane.
The chimney smoke he twisted in the queerest
kind of way,
Until at last the little breeze was weary of his
play;
He crept back to the orchard, where the
daffodillies peep,
And there it was I found him lying, curled up
fast asleep!
[AN ACCIDENT]
We’ve a little summer house
With a pointed top,
And on it, watching us at play,
The fairies often stop.
But now we’ve done a dreadful thing,
And frightened them away,
Because, by accident, our ball
Struck two of them to-day.
It bounced upon the summer house,
And hurt the fairies there;
They flew away with cries of pain,
And said it wasn’t fair.
Each day we watch our summer house
And watch the pointed top.
But now, tho’ fairies fly around,
They never come to stop.