A SUMMER NIGHT Her mist of primroses within her breastTwilight hath folded up, and o'er the west,Seeking remoter valleys long hath gone,Not yet hath come her sister of the dawn.Silence and coolness now the earth enfold:Jewels of glittering green, long mists of gold,Hazes of nebulous silver veil the height,And shake in tremors through the shadowy night.Heard through the stillness, as in whispered words,The wandering God-guided wings of... more...

THE COD-FISHER Where leap the long Atlantic swellsIn foam-streaked stretch of hill and dale,Where shrill the north-wind demon yells,And flings the spindrift down the gale;Where, beaten 'gainst the bending mast,The frozen raindrop clings and cleaves,With steadfast front for calm or blastHis battered schooner rocks and heaves.To same the gain, to some the loss,To each the chance, the risk, the fight:For men must die that men may live—Lord,... more...

In the merry spring time, thus says my song,When the sun shines bright and the days grow long,And the crocuses brilliant, in purple and gold,Bloom in the gardens in numbers untold;When in the fields the grass grows green,And a few early lambs are seen;When daffodils in gaudy gownsLook gay upon the verdant downs,And fair spring flowers of each degreeIn every sheltered nook you see. See image   HOW MANY STICKS GO TO THE NEST OF A... more...

Though flattered by imitators galore Miss Potter's work stands supreme. Her many picture stories should be among the first books owned by children.     Cecily Parsley lived in a pen,And brewed good ale for gentlemen;   Gentlemen came every day,Till Cecily Parsley ran away.   Goosey, goosey, gander,Whither will you wander?Upstairs and downstairs,And in my lady's chamber!   This pig went to market;This... more...

THE KING OF THE CASTLE. A S the lion is called the king of beasts, so the eagle is called the king of birds; but except that it is bigger, stronger, and swifter than other birds, there does not seem much reason for the name. It is a mistake to attribute noble or mean qualities to animals or birds, or to think they can do good or bad actions, when they can only do what God has created them to do, and as their instinct teaches. The most powerful... more...

Child Songs of Cheer UP, LITTLE ONES! A robin redbreast, fluting thereUpon the apple-bough,Is telling all the world how fairAre apple-blossoms now;The honey-dew its sweetness spillsFrom cuckoo-cups, and allThe crocuses and daffodilsAre drest for festival! Such pretty things are to be seen,Such pleasant things to do,The April earth it is so green,The April sky so blue,The path from dawn to even-songSo joyous is to-day,Up, little ones!... more...

GENERAL INTRODUCTION B OOKS are as much a part of the furnishing of a house as tables and chairs, and in the making of a home they belong, not with the luxuries but with the necessities. A bookless house is not a home; for a home affords food and shelter for the mind as well as for the body. It is as great an offence against a child to starve his mind as to starve his body, and there is as much danger of reducing his vitality and putting... more...

FLYING KITES A blustering windy day's just rightFor boys who want to fly a kite;And it affords the greatest joyTo make and use the pretty toy. But Aged Duffers, do not tryA large-sized paper kite to fly;You could not manage tail or string,And ten to one you'd spoil the thing.   BOATS ON THE LAKE A morning full of happiness any boy may findBy sailing boats upon the lake, if he is so inclined;The wind it drives them out to sea, he... more...

The Children of the Night For those that never know the light,The darkness is a sullen thing;And they, the Children of the Night,Seem lost in Fortune's winnowing.But some are strong and some are weak, —And there's the story. House and homeAre shut from countless hearts that seekWorld-refuge that will never come.And if there be no other life,And if there be no other chanceTo weigh their sorrow and their strifeThan in the scales of... more...

I Out of the little chapel I burst  Into the fresh night-air again.Five minutes full, I waited first  In the doorway, to escape the rainThat drove in gusts down the common's centre  At the edge of which the chapel stands,Before I plucked up heart to enter.  Heaven knows how many sorts of handsReached past me, groping for the latchOf the inner door that hung on catchMore obstinate the more they... more...