And when my little prayer is said, How could I cry to go to bed?

--_Jane Taylor_.

{358}

TIME TO GET UP

The c.o.c.k, who soundly sleeps at night, Rises with the morning light; Very loud and shrill he crows; Then the sleeping ploughman knows He must rise and hasten, too, All his morning work to do.

And the little lark does fly To the middle of the sky.

You may hear his merry tune, In the morning very soon; For he does not like to rest Idly in his downy nest.

While the c.o.c.k is crowing shrill, Leave my little bed I will, And I'll rise to hear the lark, Now it is no longer dark.

'T would be a pity there to stay, When 't is bright and pleasant day.

--_Jane Taylor_.

{359}

THE SNOWDROP

Now the spring is coming on, Now the snow and ice are gone, Come, my little snowdrop root, Will you not begin to shoot?

Ah! I see your pretty head Peeping on the flower bed, Looking all so green and gay On this fine and pleasant day.

For the mild south wind doth blow, And hath melted all the snow, And the sun shines out so warm, You need not fear another storm.

So come up, you pretty thing, Just to tell us it is spring, Hanging down your modest head On my pleasant flower bed.

--_Jane Taylor_.

{360}

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Music for "Getting Up"

[End ill.u.s.tration]

{361}

GETTING UP

Now, my baby, ope your eye, For the sun is in the sky, And he's peeping once again Through the frosty windowpane.

Little baby, do not keep Any longer fast asleep.

There now, sit in mother's lap, That she may untie your cap; For the little strings have got Twisted into such a knot.

Yes, you know you've been at play With the bobbin as your lay.

There it comes, now let us see Where your petticoats can be; Oh, they're in the window seat, Folded very smooth and neat; When my baby older grows She shall double up her clothes.

Now one pretty little kiss, For dressing you so nice as this.

But before we go downstairs, Don't forget to say your prayers, For 't is G.o.d who loves to keep Little babies fast asleep.

--_Jane Taylor_.

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A FINE THING

Who am I with n.o.ble face, Shining in a clear blue place?

If to look at me you try, I shall blind your little eye.

When my n.o.ble face I show, Over yonder mountain blue, All the clouds away do ride, And the dusky night beside.

Then the clear wet dews I dry With the look of my bright eye; And the little birds awake, Many a merry tune to make.

Cowslips, then, and harebells blue, And lily-cups their leaves undo; For they shut themselves up tight, All the dark and foggy night.

Then the busy people go, Some to plow, and some to sow; When I leave, their work is done, Guess if I am not the Sun.

--_Jane Taylor_.

{363}{364}

[Ill.u.s.tration]

MADONNA AND CHILD By Georg Papperitz [End ill.u.s.tration]

{365}

A PRETTY THING

Who am I that shines so bright With my pretty yellow light, Peeping through your curtains gray?

Tell me, little girl, I pray.

When the sun is gone, I rise In the very silent skies; And a cloud or two doth skim Round about my silver rim.

All the little stars do seem Hidden by my brighter beam; And among them I do ride, Like a queen in all her pride.

Then the reaper goes along, Singing forth a merry song, While I light the shaking leaves And the yellow harvest sheaves.

Little girl, consider well, Who this simple tale doth tell; And I think you'll guess it soon, For I only am the Moon.

--_Ann Taylor_.

{366}

THE SHEEP

Lazy sheep, pray tell me why In the pleasant fields you lie, Eating gra.s.s or daisies white, From the morning till the night?

Everything can something do, But what kind of use are you?