Part 13 (2/2)

Then, ”Ha! ha! ha!” a chorus came Of laughter soft and low, From the millions of flowers under the ground-- Yes--millions--beginning to grow.

”I'll promise my blossoms,” the Crocus said, ”When I hear the bluebirds sing.”

And straight thereafter, Narcissus cried, ”My silver and gold I'll bring.”

”And ere they are dulled,” another spoke, ”The Hyacinth bells shall ring.”

And the Violet only murmured, ”I'm here,”

And sweet grew the air of spring.

Then, ”Ha! ha! ha!” a chorus came Of laughter soft and low, From the millions of flowers under the ground-- Yes--millions--beginning to grow.

Oh, the pretty, brave things! through the coldest days, Imprisoned in walls of brown, They never lost heart though the blast shrieked loud, And the sleet and the hail came down, But patiently each wrought her beautiful dress, Or fas.h.i.+oned her beautiful crown; And now they are coming to brighten the world, Still shadowed by Winter's frown; And well may they cheerily laugh, ”Ha! ha!”

In a chorus soft and low, The millions of flowers hid under the ground-- Yes--millions--beginning to grow.

_Anonymous._

THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER

The sun was s.h.i.+ning on the sea, s.h.i.+ning with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright-- And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night.

The moon was s.h.i.+ning sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the day was done-- ”It's very rude of him,” she said, ”To come and spoil the fun!”

The sea was wet as wet could be, The sands were dry as dry.

You could not see a cloud, because No cloud was in the sky: No birds were flying overhead-- There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand: They wept like anything to see Such quant.i.ties of sand: ”If this were only cleared away,”

They said, ”It would be grand!”

”If seven maids with seven mops Swept it for half a year, Do you suppose,” the Walrus said, ”That they could get it clear?”

”I doubt it,” said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear.

”O Oysters, come and walk with us!”

The Walrus did beseech.

”A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, Along the briny beach: We cannot do with more than four, To give a hand to each.”

The eldest Oyster looked at him, But never a word he said: The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head-- Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up, All eager for the treat: Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat-- And this was odd, because, you know, They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them And yet another four; And thick and fast they came at last, And more, and more, and more-- All hopping through the frothy waves, And scrambling to the sh.o.r.e.

The Walrus and the Carpenter Walked on a mile or so, And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low: And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row.

”The time has come,” the Walrus said, ”To talk of many things: Of shoes--and s.h.i.+ps--and sealing-wax-- Of cabbages--and kings-- And why the sea is boiling hot-- And whether pigs have wings.”

”But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried, ”Before we have our chat; For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat!”

”No hurry!” said the Carpenter.

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