What was the moon a-spying
Out of her half-shut eye?
One of her stars went flying
Across the broad blue sky.
————————
A NURSERY RHYME FOR BIG FOLKS.
Not only the little toddlers,
Perched high on papa's toe,
Bound for a ride to London town,
On childish journeys go—
For we all go up, up, up,
And all go down, down, down-y,
And all go backward and forward,
And all go round, round, round-y.
Still do we reach for sunbeams,
And learn the rattle's trick.
The great big watch of Father Time—
How we love to hear it tick!
To pat a cake for our Tommy,
And pat a cake for ourself—
For that alone we labor and strive,
And hoard up our golden pelf.
This little pig goes to market;
This little pig stays at home;
And we all cry "Wee!" for our mammy
Wherever we chance to roam.
We seek our bed with Sleepyhead,
We stay a while with Slow;
And fill the pot with Greedy, glad
To sup before we go.
When Jack and Jill go up the hill
To fetch their pail o' water,
As sure as Jack comes tumbling down
Poor Jill comes tumbling arter.
Mistress Marys are still contrary,
Marjorie Daws still sell;
Mother Hubbards ransack their cupboards
For bones for their ne'er-do-well.
Jack Horners in their corners still
Do ply their busy thumb,
And, "What a big boy!" we always cry
Whenever we see the plum.
"What do you want?" "A pot o' beer."
Alack the bitter wrong!
That grenadier an army hath
How many million strong!
Our wise men into brambles still
Do jump with might and main;
And those who go to sea in bowls
Rarely come back again.
And don't some hearts, deploring
The things that gnaw and harrow,
Let fall the wheelbarrow, wife and all,
When lanes are rough and narrow?
Ah yes! the old rhymes suit us
As well as ever they did;
For the gist of our lives, from first to last,
Is under their jingle hid—
As we all go up, up, up,
And all go down, down, down-y,
And all go backward and forward,
And all go round, round, round-y.
————————
FIRE-FLIES.
See the air filling near by and afar—
A shadowy host—how brilliant they are!
Silently flitting, spark upon spark,
Gemming the willows out in the dark;
Waking the night in a twinkling surprise,
Making the starlight pale where they rise;
Snowing soft fire-flakes into the grass,
Lighting the face of each daisy they pass;
Dancing like jewels high up in the pines;
Drowsily poised on the low-swinging vines;
Startling the darkness, over and over,
Where the sly pimpernel kisses the clover;
Suddenly setting their tapers around,
Now on the fences, now on the ground,
Now on the bushes and tree-tops, and then
Pitching them far into darkness again;
There like a shooting-star, slowly on wing,
Here like the flash of a dowagers ring;
Playing their pranks of living and dying
All in an instant, merrily flying;
Setting the dark, croaking hollows a-gleam,
Spangling the gloom of the ghoul-haunted stream;
Sweet in their gentleness, daring, and cheer,
No depth too dark for them, no place too drear;
They pulse and they sparkle, they glimmer and glow,
Teaching a lesson wherever they go:
Ever in gentle souls shineth a light—
Trusting it ever, no gloom can affright.
————————