The Sun's Babies Part 26

"The nests in the trees are deserted, for the little birds have grown up and now perch on the branches with the older ones. From some of the trees the tired leaves are dropping one by one. They have done their work well, so the tree-mother gently loosens them from the branches and gives them leave to rest."

AUTUMN TIME

Autumn time is apple time!

Time for pears and plums.

Corn is golden in the fields.

How the reaper hums!

Lilies shine in garden plots, Berries in the bush.

Brown pods burst along the hedge, Where the ripe seeds push.

Come with me to Orchard-land; Gra.s.s will do for chairs.

Leaves fall off and tumble fast-- So do juicy pears!

WINTER STORY

The Winter Fairy said: "The sun is so busy on the other side of the world that he has not time to climb high in our sky. The Storm King, the Snow Queen, and Jack Frost have their way now, turn and turn about, with no powerful sun to check them. To-day it is Jack Frost's turn.

He has drawn fairy pictures on your windows, frozen the little pool below the fruit garden, and flung glittering lace-work over all the land.

"In the garden plots all the flowers have fled except the hardy winter roses; the fallen seeds have hidden themselves as far down under the warm earth as they could creep.

"Everything is resting. The fruit-trees stand bare and brown and still, and you might think their life was gone. But on every branch sit the little buds which the tree-mother made in the long days of the busy summer. They are snugly wrapped in thick woolly blankets till the sun returns and the air is warm again. Then they will fling aside their coverings and dance out in the wind.

"Everything is waiting for the spring. The flies have hidden themselves away under the gra.s.s and in the hedges, and have gone to sleep till the cold dark days are done. b.u.t.terflies and moths have laid their last eggs and have hidden themselves away, to die, most of them. Bees keep close within their hives; the hum of insect life is stilled.

"The snails have buried themselves in the ground, sinking into their sh.e.l.ls and fastening their little doors so tightly that no enemy can come in. Round the pond, too, the frogs have buried themselves in the soft mud to sleep till winter is over, leaving only openings enough for air.

"The wheatfield is being ploughed, that Jack Frost may break the earth for next year's crop. On the roadside the empty gra.s.s-heads stand, white and beautiful with fine frost-work, but dead beneath their beauty.

"Of the birds who sang their joyous way through the other seasons only the braver ones are left. The rest have flown to find a warmer land till spring returns. So ends the tale."

WINTER TIME

Snow, snow! How the winds blow.

Across the sky the white flakes go.

Their steps are fast--their steps are slow-- They mean some mischief, that I know.

Cold, cold! Jack Frost is bold.

He nips the toes of young and old.

But better laugh than cry and scold.

Come for a slide with me. Take hold!

Run, run! The slide is done.

We'll warm ourselves without the sun.

Now snow is here and frost's begun, The Winter will be splendid fun.