Summer Holidays
SCHOOL’S out! they cried, two happy wights;
School’s out for such a while,
The old bell won’t ding-dong to-day
And make us run a mile.
It seems too good—no lessons now
To tire us right out,
We’ve not a single thing to do
But run, and play, and shout.
We’re going fishing in the creek
With bran new hook an’ line,
We’re going hunting in the woods,
O, holidays are fine!
We’re going to wade out in the pond
And scare the ducks and drake,
We’re going haying in the field,
And swimming in the lake.
We’re going to jump, we’re going to sing,
And yell, and make a noise—
’Cause holidays come from the sky
For tired-out, shut-up boys.
That mean old bell that called so loud
Each time that it was rung,
Come right straight in and hurry up!
Has just to hold its tongue.
Violet
O WRINKLED, withered little flower,
You were so pretty and so blue
The day that you were given me,
By Mariana, fair and true.
Angry and jealous had I been
That fragrant budding day in spring—
Strange, that a man should let his mind
Be vexed by some light simple thing!
She had gone walking with my friend,
A splendid fellow, with a face
As handsome as Apollo’s own,
And figure full of manly grace.