It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.
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Summer fading, winter comes–
Window robins, winter rooks,And the picture story-books.Water now is turned to stoneNurse and I can walk upon;Still we find the flowing brooksIn the picture story-books.All the pretty things put by,Wait upon the children’s eye,Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,In the picture story-books.We may see how all things areSeas and cities, near and far,And the flying…
It is very nice to think
With little children saying graceIn every Christian kind of place.
THE wind is without there and howls in the trees,
Alone by the fireside with elbows on kneesI can number the hours as they pass.Yet now, when to cheer me the crickets begin,And my pipe is just happily lit,Believe me, my friend, tho’ the evening draws in,That not all uncontested I sit.Alone, did I say? O no, nowise aloneWith the Past sitting warm on my…
Smooth it glides upon its travel,
O the clean gravel!O the smooth stream!Sailing blossoms, silver fishes,Pave pools as clear as air–How a child wishesTo live down there!We can see our colored facesFloating on the shaken poolDown in cool places,Dim and very cool;Till a wind or water wrinkle,Dipping marten, plumping trout,Spreads in a twinkleAnd blots all out.See the rings pursue each other;All…
TO all that love the far and blue:
The fleeing corners ye pursue,Nor weary of the vain pursuit;Or whether down the singing stream,Paddle in hand, jocund ye shoot,To splash beside the splashing breamOr anchor by the willow root:Or, bolder, from the narrow shorePut forth, that cedar ark to steer,Among the seabirds and the roarOf the great sea, profound and clear;Or, lastly if in…
HERE lies Erotion, whom at six years old
Who shall succeed me in my rural field),To this small spirit annual honours yield!Bright be thy hearth, hale be thy babes, I craveAnd this, in thy green farm, the only grave.