Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories Part 24

When at home alone I sit And am very tired of it, I have just to shut my eyes To go sailing through the skies--

To go sailing far away To the pleasant Land of Play; To the fairy land afar Where the Little People are; Where the clover-tops are trees, And the rain-pools are the seas, And the leaves like little ships Sail about on tiny trips; And above the daisy tree Through the gra.s.ses, High o'erhead the b.u.mble Bee Hums and pa.s.ses.

In that forest to and fro I can wander, I can go; See the spider and the fly, And the ants go marching by Carrying parcels with their feet Down the green and gra.s.sy street I can in the sorrel sit Where the ladybird alit.

I can climb the jointed gra.s.s; And on high See the greater swallows pa.s.s In the sky, And the round sun rolling by Heeding no such thing as I.

Through the forest I can pa.s.s Till, as in a looking-gla.s.s, Humming fly and daisy tree And my tiny self I see, Painted very clear and neat On the rain-pool at my feet.

Should a leaflet come to land Drifting near to where I stand, Straight I'll board that tiny boat Round the rain-pool sea to float.

Little thoughtful creatures sit On the gra.s.sy coasts of it; Little things with lovely eyes See me sailing with surprise.

Some are clad in armor green-- (These have sure to battle been!) Some are pied with ev'ry hue, Black and crimson, gold and blue; Some have wings and swift are gone;-- But they all look kindly on.

When my eyes I once again Open and see all things plain; High bare walls, great bare floor; Great big k.n.o.bs on drawer and door; Great big people perched on chairs, St.i.tching tucks and mending tears, Each a hill that I could climb, And talking nonsense all the time-- O dear me, That I could be A sailor on the rain-pool sea, A climber in the clover-tree, And just come back, a sleepy-head, Late at night to go to bed.

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

A LOBSTER QUADRILLE

"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail, "There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.

See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!

They are waiting on the shingle--will you come and join the dance?

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?

"You can really have no notion how delightful it will be When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!"

But the snail replied, "Too far, too far!" and gave a look askance-- Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.

Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance, Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.

"What matters it how far we go?" his scaly friend replied, "There is another sh.o.r.e, you know, upon the other side.

The further off from England the nearer is to France-- Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?"

LEWIS CARROLL

WHERE GO THE BOATS?

Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand.

It flows along forever With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating, Castles of the foam, Boats of mine a-boating-- Where will all come home?

On goes the river And out past the mill, Away down the valley, Away down the hill.

Away down the river, A hundred miles or more, Other little children Shall bring my boats ash.o.r.e.

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

THE WIND AND THE MOON

Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out; You stare In the air Like a ghost in a chair, Always looking what I am about-- I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."

The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.

So, deep On a heap Of clouds to sleep, Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon, Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."

He turned in his bed; she was there again!

On high In the sky, With her one ghost eye, The Moon shone white and alive and plain.

Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again."

The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim.

"With my sledge, And my wedge, I have knocked off her edge!

If only I blow right fierce and grim, The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."

He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread, "One puff More's enough To blow her to snuff!

One good puff more where the last was bred, And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go the thread."

He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone.

In the air Nowhere Was a moonbeam bare; Far off and harmless the shy stars shone-- Sure and certain the Moon was gone!

The Wind he took to his revels once more; On down, In town, Like a merry-mad clown, He leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar-- "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!

He flew in a rage--he danced and blew; But in vain Was the pain Of his bursting brain; For still the broader the Moon-sc.r.a.p grew, The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew.

Slowly she grew--till she filled the night, And shone On her throne In the sky alone, A matchless, wonderful silvery light, Radiant and lovely, the queen of the night.

Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I!

With my breath, Good faith!

I blew her to death-- First blew her away right out of the sky-- Then blew her in; what strength have I!"

But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair; For high In the sky, With her one white eye, Motionless, miles above the air, She had never heard the great Wind blare.

GEORGE MACDONALD