The Posy Ring: A Book of Verse for Children. Various

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       Now the Noisy Winds Are Still[D]

      Now the noisy winds are still;

       April's coming up the hill!

       All the spring is in her train,

       Led by shining ranks of rain;

       Pit, pat, patter, clatter,

       Sudden sun, and clatter, patter!—

       First the blue, and then the shower;

       Bursting bud, and smiling flower;

       Brooks set free with tinkling ring;

       Birds too full of song to sing;

       Crisp old leaves astir with pride,

       Where the timid violets hide—

       All things ready with a will—

       April's coming up the hill!

      Mary Mapes Dodge.

       The Wind

      The wind has a language, I would I could learn;

       Sometimes 'tis soothing, and sometimes 'tis stern;

       Sometimes it comes like a low, sweet song,

       And all things grow calm, as the sound floats along;

       And the forest is lulled by the dreamy strain;

       And slumber sinks down on the wandering main; And its crystal arms are folded in rest, And the tall ship sleeps on its heaving breast.

      Letitia Elizabeth Landon.

       The Fountain

      Into the sunshine,

       Full of the light,

       Leaping and flashing

       From morn till night!

       Into the moonlight,

       Whiter than snow,

       Waving so flower-like

       When the winds blow!

       Into the starlight,

       Rushing in spray,

       Happy at midnight,

       Happy by day;

       Ever in motion,

       Blithesome and cheery,

       Still climbing heavenward,

       Never aweary;

       Glad of all weathers;

       Still seeming best,

       Upward or downward;

       Motion thy rest; Full of a nature Nothing can tame, Changed every moment, Ever the same; Ceaseless aspiring, Ceaseless content, Darkness or sunshine Thy element; Glorious fountain! Let my heart be Fresh, changeful, constant, Upward like thee!

      James Russell Lowell.

       The Waterfall

      Tinkle, tinkle! Listen well! Like a fairy silver bell In the distance ringing, Lightly swinging In the air; 'Tis the water in the dell Where the elfin minstrels dwell, Falling in a rainbow sprinkle, Dropping stars that brightly twinkle, Bright and fair, On the darkling pool below, Making music so; 'Tis the water elves who play On their lutes of spray. Tinkle, tinkle! Like a fairy silver bell; Like a pebble in a shell; Tinkle, tinkle! Listen well!

      Frank Dempster Sherman.

       The Voice of the Grass

      Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere;

       By the dusty roadside,

       On the sunny СКАЧАТЬ