Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere; More welcome than the flowers In summer's pleasant hours; The gentle cow is glad, And the merry bird not sad, To see me creeping, creeping everywhere.

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere; My humble song of praise Most joyfully I raise To him at whose command I beautify the land, Creeping, silently creeping everywhere.

Sarah Roberts Boyle.

_The Wind in a Frolic_

The wind one morning sprang up from sleep, Saying, "Now for a frolic! Now for a leap!

Now for a madcap, galloping chase!

I'll make a commotion in every place!"

So it swept with a bustle right through a great town, Creaking the signs, and scattering down Shutters, and whisking, with merciless squalls, Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls.

There never was heard a much l.u.s.tier shout, As the apples and oranges tumbled about; And the urchins that stand with their thievish eyes Forever on watch, ran off with each prize.

Then away to the field it went bl.u.s.tering and humming, And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming.

It plucked by their tails the grave matronly cows, And tossed the colts' manes all about their brows, Till offended at such a familiar salute, They all turned their backs and stood silently mute.

So on it went capering and playing its pranks; Whistling with reeds on the broad river-banks; Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray, Or the traveller grave on the king's highway.

It was not too nice to bustle the bags Of the beggar and flutter his dirty rags.

'Twas so bold that it feared not to play its joke With the doctor's wig and the gentleman's cloak.

Through the forest it roared, and cried gayly, "Now, You st.u.r.dy old oaks, I'll make you bow!"

And it made them bow without more ado, Or it cracked their branches through and through.

Then it rushed like a monster o'er cottage and farm, Striking their inmates with sudden alarm; And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm.

There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their caps, To see if their poultry were free from mishaps; The turkeys they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud, And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd; There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on, Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone.

But the wind had pa.s.sed on, and had met in a lane With a schoolboy, who panted and struggled in vain, For it tossed him, and twirled him, then pa.s.sed, and he stood With his hat in a pool and his shoe in the mud.

William Howitt.

_Clouds_

The sky is full of clouds to-day, And idly to and fro, Like sheep across the pasture, they Across the heavens go.

I hear the wind with merry noise-- Around the housetops sweep, And dream it is the shepherd boys, They're driving home their sheep.

The clouds move faster now; and see!

The west is red and gold.

Each sheep seems hastening to be The first within the fold.

I watch them hurry on until The blue is clear and deep, And dream that far beyond the hill The shepherds fold their sheep.

Then in the sky the trembling stars Like little flowers shine out, While Night puts up the shadow bars, And darkness falls about.

I hear the shepherd wind's good-night-- "Good-night and happy sleep!"

And dream that in the east, all white, Slumber the clouds, the sheep.

Frank Dempster Sherman.

_Signs of Rain_

The hollow winds begin to blow, The clouds look black, the gla.s.s is low, The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep, The spiders from their cobwebs peep: Last night the sun went pale to bed, The moon in halos hid her head; The boding shepherd heaves a sigh, For, see, a rainbow spans the sky: The walls are damp, the ditches smell, Closed is the pink-eyed pimpernel.

Hark how the chairs and tables crack!

Old Betty's joints are on the rack; Loud quack the ducks, the peac.o.c.ks cry, The distant hills are seeming nigh.

How restless are the snorting swine; The busy flies disturb the kine; Low o'er the gra.s.s the swallow wings, The cricket too, how sharp he sings; Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws, Sits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws.

Through the clear stream the fishes rise, And nimbly catch the incautious flies.

The glow-worms, numerous and bright, Illumed the dewy dell last night.

At dusk the squalid toad was seen, Hopping and crawling o'er the green; The whirling wind the dust obeys, And in the rapid eddy plays; The frog has changed his yellow vest, And in a russet coat is dressed.

Though June, the air is cold and still, The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill.

My dog, so altered in his taste, Quits mutton-bones on gra.s.s to feast; And see yon rooks, how odd their flight, They imitate the gliding kite, And seem precipitate to fall, As if they felt the piercing ball.

'Twill surely rain, I see with sorrow, Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow.

Edward Jenner.

_A Sudden Shower_

Barefooted boys scud up the street, Or scurry under sheltering sheds; And school-girl faces, pale and sweet, Gleam from the shawls about their heads.

Doors bang; and mother-voices call From alien homes; and rusty gates Are slammed; and high above it all The thunder grim reverberates.

And then abrupt,--the rain, the rain!

The earth lies gasping; and the eyes Behind the streaming window-panes Smile at the trouble of the skies.

The highway smokes, sharp echoes ring; The cattle bawl and cow-bells clank; And into town comes galloping The farmer's horse, with steaming flank.

The swallow dips beneath the eaves, And flirts his plumes and folds his wings; And under the catawba leaves The caterpillar curls and clings.

The b.u.mble-bee is pelted down The wet stem of the hollyhock; And sullenly in spattered brown The cricket leaps the garden walk.

Within, the baby claps his hands And crows with rapture strange and vague; Without, beneath the rosebush stands A dripping rooster on one leg.

James Whitcomb Riley.