BED IN SUMMER.

In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light.

In summer, quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people's feet Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day?

--_Robert Louis Stevenson._

THREE COMPANIONS.

We go on our walk together-- Baby and dog and I-- Three little merry companions, 'Neath any sort of sky: Blue as our baby's eyes are, Gray like our old dog's tail; Be it windy or cloudy or stormy, Our courage will never fail.

Baby's a little lady; Dog is a gentleman brave; If he had two legs as you have, He'd kneel to her like a slave; As it is, he loves and protects her, As dog and gentleman can.

I'd rather be a kind doggie, I think, than a cruel man.

--_Dinah Mulock-Craik._

THE WIND.

I saw you toss the kites on high, And blow the birds about the sky; And all around I heard you pa.s.s Like ladies' skirts across the gra.s.s-- O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song!

I saw the different things you did, But always you yourself you hid.

I felt you push, I heard you call, I could not see yourself at all-- O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song!

O you, that are so strong and cold, O blower, are you young or old?

Are you a beast of field and tree, Or just a stronger child than me?

O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song!

--_Robert Louis Stevenson._

Hearts like doors can open with ease To very, very little keys; And ne'er forget that they are these: "I thank you, sir," and "If you please."

--_Sel._

THE MINUET.[1]

Grandma told me all about it, Told me so I couldn't doubt it, How she danced, my grandma danced; long ago-- How she held her pretty head, How her dainty skirt she spread, How she slowly leaned and rose--long ago.

Grandma's hair was bright and sunny, Dimpled cheeks, too, oh, how funny!

Really quite a pretty girl--long ago.

Bless her! why, she wears a cap, Grandma does and takes a nap Every single day: and yet Grandma danced the minuet--long ago.

"Modern ways are quite alarming,"

Grandma says, "but boys were charming"

(Girls and boys she means of course) "long ago."

Brave but modest, grandly shy; She would like to have us try Just to feel like those who met In the graceful minuet--long ago.

--_Mary Mapes Dodge._

[1] From "Along the Way," copyright 1879 by Mary Mapes Dodge, and published by Chas. Scribner's Sons.

WYNKEN, BLYNKEN AND NOD.[2]

Wynken, Blynken and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe, Sailed on a river of crystal light Into a sea of dew.

"Where are you going?" "What do you wish?"

The old Moon asked the three.

"We come to fish for the herring fish That live in the beautiful sea, Nets of silver and gold have we,"

Said Wynken, Blynken and Nod.

The old Moon laughed and sang a song As they rocked in the wooden shoe, And the wind that sped them all night long Ruffled the waves of dew.

The little stars were the herring fish That lived in that beautiful sea,-- "Now cast your nets whenever you wish, Never afeard are we!"

So cried the stars to the fishermen three-- Wynken, Blynken and Nod.

All night long their nets they threw To the stars in the twinkling foam.

Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe Bringing the fishermen home.

'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed As if it could not be, And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed Of sailing that beautiful sea.

But I can name you the fishermen three-- Wynken, Blynken and Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes And Nod is a little head, And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies Is a wee one's trundle bed.

So shut your eyes while mother sings Of wonderful sights that be, And you shall see the beautiful things As you rock on the misty sea,-- Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three-- Wynken, Blynken and Nod.

--_Eugene Field._

[2] From "Love Songs of Childhood." Copyright, 1894, by Eugene Field. Reprinted by permission of the publishers, Chas. Scribner's Sons.

PRETTY IS THAT PRETTY DOES.

The spider wears a plain brown dress, And she is a steady spinner; To see her, quiet as a mouse, Going about her silver house, You would never, never, never guess The way she gets her dinner.

She looks as if no thought of ill In all her life had stirred her; But while she moves with careful tread, And while she spins her silken thread, She is planning, planning, planning still The way to do some murder.

My child, who reads this simple lay, With eyes down-dropt and tender, Remember the old proverb says That pretty is which pretty does, And that worth does not go nor stay For poverty nor splendor.

'Tis not the house, and not the dress, That makes the saint or sinner.

To see the spider sit and spin, Shut with her walls of silver in, You would never, never, never guess The way she gets her dinner.

--_Alice Cary._

LULLABY.[3]