Volume I Part 32 (1/2)

They don't know much about the moss And all the stones they pa.s.s: They never lie and play among The forests in the gra.s.s:

They walk about a long way off; And, when we're at the sea, Let father stoop as best he can He can't find things like me.

But, when the snow is on the ground And all the puddles freeze, I wish that I were very tall, High up above the trees.

Laurence Alma-Tadema [18--

”WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND?”

Who has seen the wind?

Neither I nor you: But when the leaves hang trembling, The wind is pa.s.sing through.

Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I: But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is pa.s.sing by.

Christina Georgina Rossetti [1830-1894]

THE WIND'S SONG

O winds that blow across the sea, What is the story that you bring?

Leaves clap their hands on every tree And birds about their branches sing.

You sing to flowers and trees and birds Your sea-songs over all the land.

Could you not stay and whisper words A little child might understand?

The roses nod to hear you sing; But though I listen all the day, You never tell me anything Of father's s.h.i.+p so far away.

Its masts are taller than the trees; Its sails are silver in the sun; There's not a s.h.i.+p upon the seas So beautiful as father's one.

With wings spread out it flies so fast It leaves the waves all white with foam.

Just whisper to me, blowing past, If you have seen it sailing home.

I feel your breath upon my cheek, And in my hair, and on my brow.

Dear winds, if you could only speak, I know that you would tell me now.

My father's coming home, you'd say, With precious presents, one, two, three; A shawl for mother, beads for May, And eggs and sh.e.l.ls for Rob and me.

The winds sing songs where'er they roam; The leaves all clap their little hands; For father's s.h.i.+p is coming home With wondrous things from foreign lands.

Gabriel Setoun [1861-

THE PIPER ON THE HILL A Child's Song

There sits a piper on the hill Who pipes the livelong day, And when he pipes both loud and shrill, The frightened people say: ”The wind, the wind is blowing up 'Tis rising to a gale.”

The women hurry to the sh.o.r.e To watch some distant sail.

The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind, Is blowing to a gale.