A jig, little pig!

A pig dance a jig!

Well, I never before saw a pig dance a jig!

Where are you going to, you little pig?

"I'm going to the fair to run a fine rig!"

A rig, little pig!

A pig run a rig!

Well, I never before saw a pig run a rig!

Where are you going to, you little pig?

"I'm going to the Barber's to buy me a wig!"

A wig, little pig!

A pig in a wig!

Why, whoever before saw a pig in a wig!

THOMAS HOOD

A BOY'S SONG

Where the pools are bright and deep, Where the gray trout lies asleep, Up the river and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hay lies thick and greenest, There to trace the homeward bee, That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the hazel bank is steepest, Where the shadow falls the deepest, Where the cl.u.s.tering nuts fall free, That's the way for Billy and me.

Why the boys should drive away Little sweet maidens from the play, Or love to banter and fight so well, That's the thing I never could tell.

But this I know, I love to play, Through the meadow, among the hay; Up the water and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me.

JAMES HOGG

b.u.t.tERCUPS AND DAISIES

b.u.t.tercups and daisies, Oh, the pretty flowers; Coming ere the spring time, To tell of sunny hours.

While the trees are leafless, While the fields are bare, b.u.t.tercups and daisies Spring up here and there.

Ere the snowdrop peepeth, Ere the crocus bold, Ere the early primrose Opes its paly gold, Somewhere on the sunny bank b.u.t.tercups are bright; Somewhere 'mong the frozen gra.s.s Peeps the daisy white.

Little hardy flowers, Like to children poor, Playing in their st.u.r.dy health By their mother's door, Purple with the north wind, Yet alert and bold; Fearing not, and caring not, Though they be a-cold!

What to them is winter!

What are stormy showers!

b.u.t.tercups and daisies Are these human flowers!

He who gave them hardships And a life of care, Gave them likewise hardy strength And patient hearts to bear.

MARY HOWITT

THE VIOLET

Down in a green and shady bed A modest violet grew; Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, As if to hide from view.

And yet it was a lovely flower, Its color bright and fair; It might have graced a rosy bower Instead of hiding there.

Yet there it was content to bloom, In modest tints arrayed; And there diffused its sweet perfume Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go, This pretty flower to see, That I may also learn to grow In sweet humility.

JANE TAYLOR

IF EVER I SEE

If ever I see, On bush or tree, 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.

And when they can fly In the bright blue sky, They'll warble a song to me; And then if I'm sad It will make me glad To think they are happy and free.

LYDIA MARIA CHILD

THE LITTLE LAND