271

RUNAWAY BROOK

ELIZA LEE FOLLEN

"Stop, stop, pretty water!"
Said Mary one day,
To a frolicsome brook
That was running away.
"You run on so fast!

I wish you would stay;
My boat and my flowers
You will carry away.
"But I will run after:

Mother says that I may; For I would know where You are running away."

So Mary ran on;

But I have heard say, That she never could find

Where the brook ran away.

272

DING DONG! DING DONG!

ELIZA LEE FOLLEN

Ding dong! ding dong!
I'll sing you a song;

"Tis about a little bird;
He sat upon a tree,
And he sang to me,
And I never spoke a word.

Ding dong! ding dong!
I'll sing you a song;
'Tis about a little mouse;
He looked very cunning,
As I saw him running
About my father's house.

Ding dong! ding dong!
I'll sing you a song
About my little kitty;

She's speckled all over, And I know you'll love her, For she is very pretty.

In the sun

Webs are spun;

What if he gets into one?

When it rains

He complains

On the window-panes.

Tongue to talk have you and I;

God has given the little fly

No such things,

So he sings

With his buzzing wings.

He can eat

Bread and meat;

There's his mouth between his feet.

On his back

Is a pack

Like a pedler's sack.
Does the baby understand?
Then the fly shall kiss her hand;
Put a crumb

On her thumb,
Maybe he will come.

Catch him? No,

Let him go,

Never hurt an insect so; But no doubt

He flies out

Just to gad about.

Now you see his wings of silk Drabbled in the baby's milk;

Fie, oh fie,

Foolish fly!

How will he get dry?

All wet flies

Twist their thighs,

Thus they wipe their head and eyes;

Cats, you know,

Wash just so,

Then their whiskers grow.

Flies have hair too short to comb, So they fly bareheaded home;

But the gnat

Wears a hat,

Do you believe that?

Flies can see

More than we.

So how bright their eyes must be!

Little fly,

Ope your eye;

Spiders are near by.

For a secret I can tell,Spiders never use flies well. Then away!

Do not stay.

Little fly, good-day!

2.76

Prominent among American writers who have contributed to the happiness of children is Lucy Larcom (1826-1893). One of a numerous family, she worked as a child in the Lowell mills, later taught school in Illinois, was one of the editors of Our Young Folks, and wrote a most fascinating autobiography called A New England Girlhood. Several of her poems are still used in schools. The one that follows is, perhaps, the most popular of these. It is semi-dramatic, and the three voices of the poem can be easily discovered. Miss Larcom's finest poem is the one entitled "Hannah Binding Shoes."

THE BROWN THRUSH

LUCY LARCOM

There's a merry brown thrush sitting up in the tree,

He's singing to me! He's singing to me! And what does he say, little girl, little

boy?

"Oh, the world's running over with joy!
Don't you hear? Don't you see?
Hush! Look! In my tree
I'm as happy as happy can be!"