Required Poems for Reading and Memorizing Part 19

But long it won't be, Don't you know? Don't you see?

Unless we are as good as can be!"

_Lucy Larcom._

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._

A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,-- When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash; The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave a l.u.s.ter of mid-day to objects below; When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!-- To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, Now, dash away, dash away, dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, So, up to the housetop the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of toys,--and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound; He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes how they twinkled; his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry; His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump--a right jolly old elf-- And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.

A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere they drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!"

_Clement C. Moore._

HUNTING SONG

Up, up! ye dames and la.s.ses gay!

To the meadows trip away.

'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn, And scare the small birds from the corn.

Not a soul at home may stay: For the shepherds must go With lance and bow To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.

Leave the hearth and leave the house To the cricket and the mouse: Find grannam out a sunny seat, With babe and lambkin at her feet.

Not a soul at home may stay: For the shepherds must go With lance and bow To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.

_Samuel T. Coleridge._

THE FIR-TREE

The winds have blown more bitter Each darkening day of fall; High over all the house-tops The stars are far and small I wonder, will my fir-tree Be green in spite of all?

O grief is colder--colder Than wind from any part; And tears of grief are bitter tears, And doubt's a sorer smart!

But I promised to my fir-tree To keep the fragrant heart.

_Josephine Preston Peabody._

HOW THE LEAVES CAME DOWN

"I'll tell you how the leaves came down,"

The great tree to his children said, "You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown, Yes, very sleepy, little Red.

It is quite time to go to bed."

"Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf, "Let us a little longer stay; Dear Father Tree, behold our grief; Tis such a very pleasant day We do not want to go away."

So, for just one more merry day To the great tree the leaflets clung, Frolicked and danced, and had their way, Upon the autumn breezes swung, Whispering all their sports among,--

"Perhaps the great tree will forget, And let us stay until the spring, If we all beg, and coax, and fret."

But the great tree did no such thing; He smiled to hear their whispering.

"Come, children, all to bed," he cried; And ere the leaves could urge their prayer, He shook his head, and far and wide, Fluttering and rustling everywhere, Down sped the leaflets through the air.

I saw them; on the ground they lay, Golden and red, a huddled swarm, Waiting till one from far away, White bedclothes heaped upon her arm, Should come to wrap them safe and warm.