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Page 81 - 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...
Page 13 - I SAW a ship a-sailing, A-sailing on the sea, And oh! it was all laden With pretty things for thee! There were comfits in the cabin, And apples in the hold; The sails were made of silk, And the masts were made of gold. The four-and-twenty sailors That stood between the decks Were four-and-twenty white mice, With chains about their necks. The captain was a duck, With a packet on his back, And when the ship began to move, The captain said "Quack! Quack!
Page 35 - Suppose your task, my little man, Is very hard to get, Will it make it any easier For you to sit and fret? And wouldn't it be wiser Than waiting like a dunce, To go to work in earnest And learn the thing at once? Suppose that some boys have a horse, And some a coach and pair, Will it tire you less while walking To say, "It isn't fair"?
Page 158 - A fair little girl sat under a tree, Sewing as long as her eyes could see; Then smoothed her work and folded it right, And said, "Dear work, good night, good night!
Page 135 - All things bright and beautiful, All creatures great and small, All things wise and wonderful. The Lord God made them all. Each little flower that opens, Each little bird that sings, He made their glowing colors, He made their tiny wings.
Page 90 - We swim," said the two : So they swam and they leaped where the stream runs blue. Over in the meadow, in a hole in a tree, Lived a mother blue-bird and her little birdies three. " Sing ! " said the mother ; " We sing," said the three : So they sang, and were glad, in the hole in the tree.
Page 135 - The cold wind in the winter, The pleasant summer sun, The ripe fruits in the garden, He made them every one.
Page 89 - Swim ! " said the mother; " We swim," said the two: So they swam and they leaped Where the stream runs blue.
Page 65 - Young birds in their pretty nest, I must not in play Steal the birds away, To grieve their mother's breast. My mother, I know, Would sorrow so, Should I be stolen away; So I'll speak to the birds In my softest words, Nor hurt them in my play.