A SUMMER HOLIDAY
Can you guess where I have been?
On the hillsides fresh and green!
Out where all the winds are blowing,
Where the free, bright streamlet's flowing
Leap and laugh and race and run
Like a child that's full of fun!—
Crinkle, crinkle through the meadows,
Hiding in the woodland shadows;
Making here and there a pool
In some leafy covert cool
For the Lady Birch to see
Just how fair and sweet is she.
Can you guess where I have been?
By a brook where willows lean;
With a book whereon to look,
In some little shady nook,
If that I should weary grow
Of that lovelier book I know
Whose sweet leaves the wind is turning—
Full of lessons for my learning.
There are little songs to hear
If you bend a listening ear;
And no printed book can be
Half so dear and sweet to me.
TWO POCKETS
There are two bulging pockets that I have in mind.
Just listen and see if the owners you'll find.
In one—it's quite shocking—there's a round wad of gum,
A china doll's head and a half finished sum,
A thimble, a handkerchief—sticky, I fear—
A dolly's blue cap and some jackstones are here.
In the other are marbles and fishhooks and strings,
Some round shiny stones and a red top that sings,
A few apple cores and a tin full of bait,
A big black jack-knife in a sad bladeless state.
And now I wonder how many can guess
Which pocket Bob owns and which one does Bess?
REBECCA DEMING MOORE.
MY HORSE
I give my pony corn and hay,
With oats to tempt him twice a week;
I smooth and curry every day
Until his coat is bright and sleek;
At night he has a cosy stall;
He does not seem to care at all.