The Children's Garland from the Best Poets.

by Various.

PREFACE

This volume will, I hope, be found to contain nearly all the genuine poetry in our language fitted to please children,--of and from the age at which they have usually learned to read,--in common with grown people. A collection on this plan has, I believe, never before been made, although the value of the principle seems clear.

The test applied, in every instance, in the work of selection, has been that of having actually pleased intelligent children; and my object has been to make a book which shall be to them no more nor less than a book of equally good poetry is to intelligent grown persons. The charm of such a book to the latter cla.s.s of readers is rather increased than lessened by the surmised existence in it of an unknown amount of power, meaning and beauty, beyond that which is at once to be seen; and children will not like this volume the less because, though containing little or nothing which will not at once please and amuse them, it also contains much, the full excellence of which they may not as yet be able to understand.

The application of the practical test above mentioned has excluded nearly all verse written expressly for children, and most of the poetry written about children for grown people. Hence, the absence of several well-known pieces, which some persons who examine this volume may be surprised at not finding in it.

I have taken the liberty of omitting portions of a few poems, which would else have been too long or otherwise unsuitable for the collection; and, in a very few instances, I have ventured to subst.i.tute a word or a phrase, when that of the author has made the piece in which it occurs unfit for children's reading. The abbreviations I have been compelled to make in the "Ancient Mariner," in order to bring that poem within the limits of this collection, are so considerable as to require particular mention and apology.

No translations have been inserted but such as, by their originality of style and modification of detail, are ent.i.tled to stand as original poems.

COVENTRY PATMORE.

The Children's Garland from the Best Poets

_THE CHILD AND THE PIPER_

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he, laughing, said to me,

'Pipe a song about a lamb,'

So I piped with merry cheer; 'Piper, pipe that song again,'

So I piped, he wept to hear.

'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe, Sing thy songs of happy cheer.'

So I sang the same again, While he wept with joy to hear.

'Piper, sit thee down and write In a book that all may read.'

So he vanish'd from my sight; And I pluck'd a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen, And I stain'd the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.

_W. Blake_

II

_ON MAY MORNING_

Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.

Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire Mirth and youth and warm desire!

Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.

Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

_J. Milton_

III

_THE APPROACH OF THE FAIRIES_

Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task foredone.

Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the scritch owl, scritching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shroud.

Now it is the time of night That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the churchway paths to glide: And we fairies, that do run, By the triple Hecate's team, From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream, Now are frolic; not a mouse Shall disturb this hallowed house: I am sent with broom before, To sweep the dust behind the door.

Through the house give glimmering light; By the dead and drowsy fire, Every elf and fairy sprite, Hop as light as bird from brier; And this ditty after me, Sing and dance it trippingly.

First rehea.r.s.e this song by rote, To each word a warbling note, Hand in hand, with fairy grace, We will sing, and bless this place.

_W. Shakespeare_

IV

_ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION_

Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove, The linnet, and thrush say 'I love, and I love!'

In the winter they're silent, the wind is so strong; What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud song.

But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, And singing and loving--all come back together.

But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, The green fields below him, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings, and forever sings he, 'I love my Love, and my Love loves me.'

_S. T. Coleridge_

V

_THE BROOK_