The sun is shining warm again,
The sparrows hopping in the lane
Are brisk and full of cheer.
And that is why we dance and play,
And that is why we sing,
Calling out in voices gay,
We will not go to school to-day
Or learn anything:
It is a happy thing, I say,
To be alive on such a day.
Similar Posts
His arms were round a chest of oaken wood,
An awful weight. After a while he stoodAnd I stole near to him.—His white eyes gleamedAs he peeped secretly about; he laidThe oaken chest upon the ground, then drewA great knife from his belt, and stuck the bladeInto the ground and dug. The clay soon flewIn all directions underneath a tree,And when the hole was…
Come from your bed my drowsy gentleman!
And let the children wash, if wash they can;If not, assist you them, and make them fairAs is the morning and the morning sky,And every tree and bush and bird in air.The sun climbed on the heights three hours ago,He laughed above the hills and they were glad;With bubbled pearl he made the rivers flowAnd…
I thought I heard Him calling. Did you hear
Is dinned with flying noises, and the treeGoes — whisper, whisper, whisper silentlyTill all its whispers spread into the soundOf a dull roar. Lie closer to the ground,The shade is deep and He may pass us by.We are so very small, and His great eye,Customed to starry majesties, may gazeToo wide to spy us hiding…
The night was creeping on the ground;
Until she reached the tree, and thenShe covered it, and sole againAlong the grass beside the wall.I heard the rustle of her shawlAs she threw blackness everywhereUpon the sky and ground and air,And in the room where I was hid:But no matter what she didTo everything that was without,She could not put my candle out.So…
AND then I pressed the shell
And listened well,And straightway like a bellCame low and clearThe slow, sad murmur of the distant seas,Whipped by an icy breezeUpon a shoreWind-swept and desolate.It was a sunless strand that never boreThe footprint of a man,Nor felt the weightSince time beganOf any human quality or stirSave what the dreary winds and waves incur.And in the…
A speck went blowing up against the sky
And broadened. — ‘ It’s a bird,’ said I,And fetched my bow and arrows. It was queer!It grew up from a speck into a blot,And squattered past a cloud; then it flew downAll crumply, and waggled such a lotI thought the thing would fall.–It was a brownOld carpet, where the man was sitting snug,Who, when…