Now I am stronger, Now I am cool; Heat cannot burn me, My veins are so full."

Little White Lily Smells very sweet; On her head sunshine, Rain at her feet.

Thanks to the sunshine, Thanks to the rain, Little White Lily Is happy again.

GEORGE MACDONALD.

HOW THE LEAVES CAME DOWN.

"How the Leaves Came Down," by Susan Coolidge (1845-), appeals to children because it helps to reconcile them to going to bed. "I go to bed by day" is one of the crosses of childhood.

"I'll tell you how the leaves came down,"

The great Tree to his children said: "You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown, Yes, very sleepy, little Red.

It is quite time to go to bed."

"Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf, "Let us a little longer stay; Dear Father Tree, behold our grief!

'Tis such a very pleasant day, We do not want to go away."

So, for just one more merry day To the great Tree the leaflets clung, Frolicked and danced, and had their way, Upon the autumn breezes swung, Whispering all their sports among--

"Perhaps the great Tree will forget, And let us stay until the spring, If we all beg, and coax, and fret."

But the great Tree did no such thing; He smiled to hear their whispering.

"Come, children, all to bed," he cried; And ere the leaves could urge their prayer, He shook his head, and far and wide, Fluttering and rustling everywhere, Down sped the leaflets through the air.

I saw them; on the ground they lay, Golden and red, a huddled swarm, Waiting till one from far away, White bedclothes heaped upon her arm, Should come to wrap them safe and warm.

The great bare Tree looked down and smiled.

"Good-night, dear little leaves," he said.

And from below each sleepy child Replied, "Good-night," and murmured, "It is _so_ nice to go to bed!"

SUSAN COOLIDGE.

WILLIE WINKIE.

"Wee Willie Winkie," by William Miller (1810-72), is included in this volume out of respect to an eight-year-old child who chose it from among hundreds. We had one poetry hour every week, and he studied and recited it with unabated interest to the end of the year.

Wee Willie Winkie rins through the town, Up-stairs and doon-stairs, in his nicht-gown, Tirlin' at the window, cryin' at the lock, "Are the weans in their bed?--for it's now ten o'clock."

Hey, Willie Winkie! are ye comin' ben?

The cat's singin' gay thrums to the sleepin' hen, The doug's speldered on the floor, and disna gie a cheep; But here's a waukrife laddie that winna fa' asleep.

Onything but sleep, ye rogue! glow'rin' like the moon, Rattlin' in an airn jug wi' an airn spoon, Rumblin' tumblin' roun' about, crowin' like a c.o.c.k, Skirlin' like a kenna-what--wauknin' sleepin' folk.

Hey, Willie Winkie! the wean's in a creel!

Waumblin' aff a body's knee like a vera eel, Ruggin' at the cat's lug, and ravellin' a' her thrums,-- Hey, Willie Winkie!--See, there he comes!

Wearie is the mither that has a storie wean, A wee stumpie stoussie that canna rin his lane, That has a battle aye wi' sleep before he'll close an ee; But a kiss frae aff his rosy lips gies strength anew to me.

WILLIAM MILLER.

THE OWL AND THE p.u.s.s.y-CAT.

"The Owl and the p.u.s.s.y-Cat," by Edward Lear (1812-88), is placed here because I once found that a timid child was much strengthened and developed by learning it. It is a song that appeals to the imagination of children, and they like to sing it.

The Owl and the p.u.s.s.y-Cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat; They took some honey, and plenty of money Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the moon above, And sang to a small guitar, "O lovely p.u.s.s.y! O p.u.s.s.y, my love!

What a beautiful p.u.s.s.y you are,-- You are, What a beautiful p.u.s.s.y you are!"

p.u.s.s.y said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!

How wonderful sweet you sing!

Oh, let us be married,--too long we have tarried,-- But what shall we do for a ring?"

They sailed away for a year and a day To the land where the Bong-tree grows, And there in a wood a piggy-wig stood With a ring in the end of his nose,-- His nose, With a ring in the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?" Said the piggy, "I will,"

So they took it away, and were married next day By the turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined upon mince and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon, And hand in hand on the edge of the sand They danced by the light of the moon,-- The moon, They danced by the light of the moon.

EDWARD LEAR.

WYNKEN, BLYNKEN, AND NOD.

"Wynken, Blynken, and Nod," by Eugene Field (1850-95), pleases children, who are all by nature sailors and adventurers.

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe,-- Sailed on a river of crystal light Into a sea of dew.

"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"

The old moon asked the three.

"We have come to fish for the herring-fish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of silver and gold have we,"

Said Wynken, Blynken, And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe; And the wind that sped them all night long Ruffled the waves of dew; The little stars were the herring-fish That lived in the beautiful sea.

"Now cast your nets wherever you wish,-- Never afeard are we!"

So cried the stars to the fishermen three, Wynken, Blynken, And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw To the stars in the twinkling foam,-- Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, Bringing the fishermen home: 'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed As if it could not be; And some folk thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed Of sailing that beautiful sea; But I shall name you the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, And Nod is a little head, And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies Is a wee one's trundle-bed; So shut your eyes while Mother sings Of wonderful sights that be, And you shall see the beautiful things As you rock on the misty sea Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three, Wynken, Blynken, And Nod.

EUGENE FIELD.

THE DUEL.

"The Duel," by Eugene Field (1850-95), is almost the most popular humorous poem that has come under my notice. In making such a collection as this it is not easy to find poems at once delicate, witty, and graphic. I have taught "The Duel" hundreds of times, and children invariably love it.

The gingham dog and the calico cat Side by side on the table sat; 'Twas half-past twelve, and (what do you think!) Nor one nor t'other had slept a wink!