Not a wild deer is he, but the master's pet, the ponies' friend, many a year.
Stridety stride! Then the deer stands still
And stares with his gentle brown eyes,
As the poor hungry pony tries, all in vain,
To reach where the fragrant hay lies.
Tossety toss! With his great big horns
The deer begins working away;
And he tosses and lifts till at Pony's feet
Is lying the long-wished-for hay!
Munchety munch! Oh, the hay is sweet!
And Pony is happy once more;
And the beautiful deer for his wise, kind deed,
Is loved more than ever before.
FARM VOICES
Pony
I
Here's the farmer with his animals
Here's the drover with his cattle,
Clear the way, oh! clear the way!
Oh! the noisy, noisy creatures,
Listen now to what they say.
The cows are lowing "Moo, moo, moo!"
The sheep are bleating "Baa, baa, baa!"
The pigs are grunting "Ugh, ugh, ugh!"
And the donkey, with the long, long ears,
Says "Hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-haw!"
II
Birds
Here's the farmer with his poultry,
Clear the way, oh! clear the way!
Oh! the noisy, noisy creatures,
Listen now to what they say.
The geese are hissing "Sss,—sss,—sss!"
The hens are calling "Cluck, cluck, cluck!"
The chickens answer "Peep, peep, peep!"
And the rooster, with the gay red comb,
Says "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"
Here's the farmer with his poultry
III
Birds
Everywhere the birds are flying,
Blithe and gay, oh! blithe and gay.
Merrily their notes are ringing,
Listen now to what they say.
The robins warble "Chirrup, chirrup, chirrup!"
The sparrows twitter "Tweet, tweet, tweet!"
The pigeons murmur "Coo, coo, coo!"
And the bobolink, so full of joy,
Sings "Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link!"
Windsor Castle
"BY FAVOR OF THE QUEEN"
Around the walls and towers
Of Windsor, old and gray,
The castle where the noble Queen
Of England loved to stay,
The birds flit gayly through the air
In happy freedom everywhere.
Their nests they build as freely,
Without a thought of fear,
In bush or tree, or castle wall,
All innocently near
To palace pomp and royalty;
For birds know naught of high degree.
The sheltered nooks and crannies
Left in the tower wall
Where loosened stones had fallen out,
The birds loved best of all;
And, joyful, in each vacant space
Their little straw-built nests would place.
Once, when the Queen was absent,
The royal gardener saw
The holes that marred the tower wall,
The hanging bits of straw,
And ordered all made right in haste—
The nests destroyed, the stones replaced.
Then stood the lofty tower
In orderly array;
Its crannies snug, its cosey nooks,
Had vanished quite away;
And homeless roved the twittering throng
Once nesting there with happy song.
But when the royal lady
To Windsor came again,
And viewed with fond affection all
This fair and dear domain,
The tower's silent, smooth expanse
Won from her eyes a troubled glance.
And homeless roved the twittering throng
No birds about the tower?
Their nesting-places filled?
No more those crannies in the wall
Where birds had loved to build?
Such were the questions quick to start
And stir that tender, queenly heart.
Straightway, in loving pity
For all the little birds
Thus routed, homeless, and forlorn,
Came her commanding words,
"The stones must be removed, and then
Nor birds nor nests disturbed again."
So, on the great round tower
Of Windsor, old and gray,
The palace where the noble Queen
Of England loved to stay,
Those nooks and crannies still are seen—
Bird homes "by favor of the Queen."
Ah! 'tis by more than birthright
This good Queen won renown;
Her deeds of love and mercy shone
Far brighter than her crown.
The whole world mourns that good life's end,
And even the birds have lost a friend.
THE PIGEONS
The Pigeons
These are the eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.
This is the nest where the eggs were found
This is the nest where the eggs were found,
The pretty white eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.
This is the pigeon with soft gray breast
This is the pigeon with soft gray breast
Who patiently sat on the loose straw nest,
The nest where the pretty white eggs were found,
Her own little eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.
This is the pigeon-house safe and high
This is the pigeon-house safe and high
(Where never a prowling cat could pry)
Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast
Who patiently sat on the loose straw nest,
The nest where the pretty white eggs were found,
Her own little eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.
This is the barn which the farmer had filled
This is the barn which the farmer had filled
With hay and grain from the fields he had tilled:
The barn near which stood the pigeon-house high
(Where never a prowling cat could pry)
Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast
Who patiently sat on the loose straw nest,
The nest where the pretty white eggs were found,
Her own little eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.
This is the bin full of corn so good
This is the bin full of corn so good
(The little gray pigeon's favorite food).
That was in the barn which the farmer had filled
With hay and grain from the fields he had tilled;
The barn near which stood the pigeon-house high
(Where never a prowling cat could pry)
Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast
Who patiently sat on the loose straw nest,
The nest where the pretty white eggs were found,
Her own little eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.
This is the child so thoughtful and kind
Pigeon-house
This is the child so thoughtful and kind
Who went to the bin the corn to find;
The bin, full of corn so yellow and good
(The little gray pigeon's favorite food).
That was in the barn which the farmer had filled
With hay and grain from the fields he had tilled;
The barn near which was the pigeon-house high
(Where never a prowling cat could pry)
Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast
Who patiently sat on the loose straw nest,
The nest where the pretty white eggs were found,
Her own little eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.
The little gray pigeon came fluttering out
And when the child threw the corn about,
The little gray pigeon came fluttering out
From the door of the pigeon-house safe and high,
And the child heard a faint little cooing cry,—
A sweet little, wee little murmuring sound;
For, instead of the eggs so smooth and round,
(Perhaps the wonderful secret you've guessed)
Two baby pigeons were in the nest!
THE CHILD AND THE PIGEONS
The child and the pigeons
You dear cooing pigeons,
How gladly you fly
O'er hilltop and meadow
And forest trees high,
Far, far away roaming;
—And that too, would I!
But ever, dear pigeons,
When night shades the sky
And home you are coming,
As gladly you fly
To meet with your loved ones;
—And that, too, would I!
Then, cooing together
So fondly, you try
To tell in what pleasures
The day has passed by,
Your every joy sharing;
—And that, too, would I!
WHO GIVES US OUR THANKSGIVING DINNER?
Who gives us our Thanksgiving dinner?
Mother
Cook
On Thanksgiving Day little Dorothy said,
With many a nod of her wise, curly head,
"The cook is as busy as busy can be,
And very good, too, for 'tis easy to see
She gives us our Thanksgiving Dinner."
Father
Butcher
"Oh, no! little Dorothy," answered the cook,
"Just think of the trouble your dear mother took
In planning the dinner and getting for me
The things that I cook; so, 'tis Mother, you see,
Who gives us our Thanksgiving Dinner."
Grocer
Miller
"Of course it is Mother; I ought to have known,"
Said Dorothy then, in a satisfied tone.
But Mother said, smiling, "You are not right yet;
'Tis Father who gives me the money to get
The things for our Thanksgiving Dinner."
But Father said: "I earn the money, 'tis true;
But money alone not a great deal can do.
The butcher, the grocer, whose things we must buy,
Should not be forgotten, for they more than I
Will give us our Thanksgiving Dinner."
Butcher
Farmer
"Oh! isn't it funny?" said Dorothy, then;
"And now, I suppose, if I asked these two men,
The grocer, the butcher, about it, they'd say
It surely is somebody else and not they
Who gives us our Thanksgiving Dinner."
And soon little Dorothy heard with delight
That her guess about grocer and butcher was right.
The grocer said he only kept in his store
What miller and farmer had brought in before
To help for the Thanksgiving Dinner.
The jolly old butcher laughed long and laughed loud,
"My Thanksgiving turkeys do make me feel proud,
And one's for your dinner; but then you must know
The turkeys are raised by the farmer, and so
He gives you your Thanksgiving Dinner."
"Oh, yes! 'tis the farmer; at last I've found out,"
Said Dorothy, then, with a glad little shout.
"The miller must go to the farmer for wheat,
The butcher from him gets the turkeys we eat;
Yes!—he gives our Thanksgiving Dinner."
"But yet all the others had something to do;
The miller and butcher and grocer helped, too.
And then there was Father and Mother and cook.
I never before knew how many it took
To give us our Thanksgiving Dinner."
Who gives us our Thanksgiving dinner?
So said little Dorothy, full of surprise,
And feeling that now she had grown very wise.
But what do you think? Had she found it all out?
Or was there still more she might learn about
Who gives us our Thanksgiving Dinner?
CLOTHES
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Clothes
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We people wear so many things,
Almost the whole creation
It takes our clothing to supply,
For use or decoration.
The fishes dress in shining scales
Of every gorgeous color;
The birds wear pretty feather suits,
Some gayer and some duller.
The cat, the dog, the cow, the horse,
The squirrel and the rabbit,
Wear coats of fur; from small to great,
All have the selfsame habit.
But people wear so many things!
Almost the whole creation
It takes our clothing to supply
For use or decoration.
A flannel jacket from the sheep
Who spared the wool with pleasure:
And from the silkworm ribbons gay.
And every silken treasure.
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Cloths
Animals
A dress from off the cotton plant.
Spun, woven, colored, printed:
A breastpin made of fishes' scales.
All delicately tinted.
Of tortoise-shell my lady's comb.
And many another notion;
Her jewels from the mines are brought.
Her pearls from depths of ocean.
The golden straws from humble field
Are plaited for a bonnet,
The feather-coated ostrich gives
The plumes we place upon it.
From tropic trees the milky sap
Men constantly are getting,
And making into rubber shoes
To save our feet a wetting:
The golden straws from humble field
Shoe
Rubber
While boots and shoes of every sort,
Of thick or thinnest leather,
Are made from skins of animals,
Tanned, cut, and sewed together.
Yes, surely, as I said before,
Almost the whole creation
It takes our clothing to supply,
For use or decoration.
Animals
AT THE POND
A pretty pond there is, all fringed
With trees and flowers gay,
Where many happy creatures live
And many come to play.
The fishes frolic merrily
The fishes frolic merrily
Within its waters cool,
And funny little polliwogs
Live in the shining pool.
And turtles slowly creep
Along the grassy bank the snails
And turtles slowly creep;
The frogs go splashing in and out
With many a sudden leap.
The frogs go splashing in and out
The insects and the merry birds
Its shining surface skim;
And thirsty cows and horses drink
Along its rippling brim.
The insects and the merry birds
The water lilies' fragrant cups
Upon the wavelets lie,
And near them float the stately swans,
With proud necks curving high.
And see! here comes the mother duck
With all her yellow brood;
And here are all the goslings, too,
Behind their mother good.
They hurry, scurry, down the bank
And in the water go.
They dive and splash, and with delight
Go swimming to and fro.
Geese, ducks, and swans all fearless come
And when the children call to them
And throw them bits of bread,
Geese, ducks, and swans all fearless come
And crowd near to be fed.
Oh, yes! the pond's a merry place,
So busy and so gay,
Where many happy creatures live
And many come to play.
Oh, yes! the pond's a merry place
THE BALLAD OF THE BUMPTIOUS BOY
Boy
Be careful!
"Those crackers are lighted! Be careful!
They're going off—don't stand so near!"
But the Bumptious Boy heeded no warning,
And this is what happened. O dear!
But the Bumptious Boy heeded no warning
"The ice is thin," said the Policeman.
"I advise you, my lad, not to go."
But the Bumptious Boy thought he knew better,
And skated off proudly. And so—
And skated off proudly.
"Our donkey will not let you ride him—
He's sure to give you a spill!"
But the Bumptious Boy only pooh-poohed them,
And would not believe them until—
Our donkey will not let you ride him
"Look out there! That branch will not hold you!
Don't try any higher to climb!"
But the Bumptious Boy laughed and climbed higher:
That laugh was his last for some time.
That branch will not hold you!
Then during a long convalescence
The Bumptious Boy thoughtfully thought
Of the painful misfortunes and troubles
That he on himself oft had brought.
The Bumptious Boy thoughtfully thought of the painful misfortunes and troubles
THE NOISY RHYME
The noisy rhyme
Then the white geese all, with their necks stretched long
Oh! the cock was first and he loudly crew,
And his wings he flapped: "Cock a doodle doo!"
Then the big dog barked with a "Bow-wow-wow!"
And "Moo-oo! Moo-oo!" bellowed out the cow.
And the pigs were as noisy as they could be
With their "Umph, umph, umph!" and their "Wee, wee, wee!"
While the lambkins bleated "Ma-a! Ma-a!"
And the sheep replied with a "Ba-a-a!"
Then the white geese all, with their necks stretched long
And their "S-s-s!" joined the noisy throng.
And the sleek old ducks, dressed in green and black,
Added more noise still as they called "Quack! Quack!"
Till she heard 'Peep, peep!' from her chicks again.
But the baby heard all the sounds with glee.
"Cut-cut dah cut-cut! Cut-cut dah cut!" cried
All the hens as they looked at their eggs with pride.
But "Cluck-cluck! Cluck-cluck!" called the old black hen
Till she heard "Peep, peep!" from her chicks again.
What a noise it was!—from the cock that crew,
From the dog, the cow, and the piggies, too,
From the lambs and sheep, from the geese and ducks,
From the chicks and hens with their peeps and clucks!
But the baby heard all the sounds with glee.
The more loud the noise, why! the more pleased he;
And he clapped and shouted and laughed aloud
As he heard the noise of the farmyard crowd.
THE DONKEY'S EARS
Whenever a drive with the donkey I take ...
Whenever a drive with the donkey I take,
I see the big V that his slanting ears make,
And words that begin with a V come to mind,
Describing his conduct, no matter what kind.
... I see the big V that his slanting ears make
If Barney is sulky and stubborn and slow,
Goes poking along or refuses to go,
Or if he is frisky and capers and kicks,
Or upsets the cart, or does other bad tricks,
I say 'tis no wonder he wears a big V,
So Vexing and Vicious a Villain is he!
So Vexing and Vicious a Villain is he!
But when the dear fellow, so pretty and strong,
In meek or gay humor trots nimbly along,
The V seems to stand for the Virtues he shows,
The Vim and Velocity with which he goes—
Our Veteran donkey, more Valued each year,
The Vigorous, Valiant, Vivacious old dear!
Our Veteran donkey, more Valued each year, the Vigorous, Valiant, Vivacious old dear!
Stood Barney, groomed and fed
OLD BARNEY'S LATEST PRANK
One sunny winter morning
The air was crisp and still,
And snow on snow lay drifted deep
On every road and hill.
In cosy stable comfort
Stood Barney, groomed and fed:
But wistful thoughts of out-of-doors
Were in his long-eared head.
"To be a beast of leisure
Is elegant, no doubt,"
Thought Barney, "but it's very dull."
Just then he heard a shout,
A battering and banging,—
Then doors were opened wide,
And madcap Helen and her chum
Rushed noisily inside.
"Where's Barney? Where's the harness?
And where's the Barney sleigh?
See, Minna, here's our donkey dear,
We'll have some fun to-day."
The donkey soon was harnessed,
And loud their laughter rang,
As up into the outgrown sleigh
The jolly comrades sprang.
The sleigh-bells jingled gayly,
And many a compliment
Did Barney get as o'er the snow
At steady pace he went.
"How very good and docile,"
Said Minna, "Barney is!
I never thought he'd settle down,
To be as staid as this!"
"He does seem tame," said Helen,
"It's very strange to think
That he's too old for playing jokes."
(Here Barney gave a wink.)
The sleigh-bells jingled gayly
"But what a day for coasting!
And isn't this a climb?
Just think how we'll spin down the hill—
We'll have the gayest time."
Up, up the hill toiled Barney,
The long, steep, slipp'ry road;
The sleigh with those substantial girls
Was not an easy load.
At last with tugs and straining
He reached the very top,
And Barney to his great delight
Was here allowed to stop.
Here, too, he was unharnessed,
As if to have a rest;
What work the girls had planned for him
Old Barney never guessed.
"He'll follow," said his mistress,
"He loves to follow so.
He'll chase right on behind the sleigh,
As coasting down we go.
"Then when we're at the bottom—"
No more did Barney hear.
They'd let him follow as he liked,
Enough that this was clear.
A push—the sleigh went speeding
Adown the coasting place.
"Come, Barney! Good old fellow! Come!
Come on! You like to chase."
Then nothing loth, old Barney
Behind the coasters ran.
Thought he, "For girls and donkey too.
This is a jolly plan."
Come, Barney! Good old fellow! Come!
"They knew I'd like this scamper;
They're kind, I do declare.
Some children would have coasted down
And left me tied up there."
Full soon they reached the bottom,
The girls and Barney too;
And Barney learned to his dismay,
What now he had to do.
For speedily they hitched him
Into the sleigh, and then
"Aha! old Barney," shouted they,
"Now drag us up again."
In meekness puzzled Barney
Submitted to their will.
Perhaps this time the girls would drive
Right on beyond the hill.
With pulling, tugging, straining,
Once more he reached the top,
But scarcely long enough to breathe
Was he allowed to stop.
The girls with nimble fingers
Unhitched him from the sleigh;
"Come, Barney! Follow us again,"
He heard his mistress say.
Well, following was pleasant,
So, when they made a start,
He scampered after, gay and free,
With mischief in his heart.
Yet when they reached the bottom,
So staid he looked and meek,
That naught seemed farther from his mind
Than joke or prank or freak.
"Oh, this is fun!" said Helen,
"I'll always coast this way;
I hate to trudge back up the hill,
And drag the sled or sleigh."
"Yes, that's the worst of coasting,
That tedious uphill climb;
But Barney saves us all that tug,
Let's coast a long, long time."
They meant to harness Barney,
And start at once uphill;
But Barney thought the time had come
His own plan to fulfil.
So, just before his mistress
The flying rein could seize,
Old Barney gave a sudden leap,
Escaping her with ease.
"Whoa, Barney!" shouted Helen,
When off he clashed, "Whoa, whoa!"
And both the girls chased after him
As fast as they could go.
But Barney sped the faster,
With feet as swift and light,
As if he had grown young again;
Soon he was out of sight.
And as he scampered homeward,
He thought with gleeful mind
Of how he'd turned the joke on them,
The girls he'd left behind.