Far off I see them bow, advance, Swing partners and retreat, As though some slow, old-fashioned dance Had claimed their tripping feet.

Or hand to hand they wave, and so, With dip and bend and swing, Through "tag" and "hide" and "touch and go"

They flutter, frolicking.

But when I run to join the play, I find my search is vain.

Always they see me on the way, And change to pines again.

ELIZABETH THORNTON TURNER.

THE STUDENTS

I say to Tommy every day, "Now let us read awhile,"

But Tommy doesn't like to read, He'd rather be a prancing steed, And have me drive him many a mile, And often run away.

I like to do as grown folks do.

Our house is full of books.

My sisters gather every night About the cheery study light.

I often think how wise it looks, And wish I could stay, too.

So I coax Tommy every day To read a little while.

I know my M's and N's and P's And everything, 'way down to Z's.

When Tommy reads I have to smile, For Tommy just knows A!

HANNAH G. FERNALD.

THE LADY MOON

There's a lady in the moon, With a floating gown of white; You can see her very soon, When mamma turns out the light.

Tis a lady and she smiles Through my narrow window way, As she sails on miles and miles, Making night as fair as day.

ALICE TURNER CURTIS.

THE JOURNEY

Whither away shall the baby ride?

How many miles shall he fare?

Under the trees whose arms spread wide, Out to the meadow there.

Down by the brook that flows rippling by, Bordered by moss and fern.

From flower and bird and tree and sky How many things shall he learn?

Baby'll journey all safe and sound Out in the world of green, Traveling over the gra.s.sy ground, Where wild flowers are seen.

Leaves will whisper and birds will trill, And all things display their charms, And, when he's journeyed as far as he will, He'll ride back to mother's arms.

Then, though he thought the green world good, He'll gladly come back to rest, And will drowsily feel, as a baby should, That mother's arms are the best.

ANNIE WILLIS MCCULLOUGH.

PRETENDING

We played we were lost in the wood, But home was just over the hill.

With only one cooky for food, We played we were lost in the wood.

We talked just as loud as we could, The world seemed so big and so still.

We wished we had always been good, And we said in our hearts, "Now we will."

We gathered fresh gra.s.s for our bed, And then there was nothing to do.

A robin flew over my head As we gathered fresh gra.s.s for our bed.

"He'll cover us up," brother said, And then he began to boo-hoo, And home to our mother we fled, Or, really, I might have cried too.

HANNAH G. FERNALD.

A LITTLE APRIL FOOL

One day in the midst Of an April shower.

This dear little girl Was missed for an hour.

And under the trees And over the gra.s.s, We all went hunting The little lost la.s.s.

We found her at last Where two walls met, A-looking naughty And a-dripping wet.

"I was April-fooling,"

She softly said; And down she dropped A shamed little head.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Little April Fool]

FROST FIRES