• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Copyright
 Preface
 Table of Contents
 Main
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: Fresh flowers for children
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00002200/00001
 Material Information
Title: Fresh flowers for children
Physical Description: 176 p., 6 leaves of plates : ill. ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Gordon, Katharine Parker
Billings, Hammatt, 1818-1874 ( Illustrator )
James Munroe and Company ( Publisher )
Thurston, Torry, and Emerson ( Printer )
Publisher: James Munroe and Company
Place of Publication: Boston ;
Cambridge
Manufacturer: Thurston, Torry, and Emerson
Publication Date: 1852
Edition: New ed. / -- with additions.
 Subjects
Subject: Children's poetry, American   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1852   ( lcsh )
Embossed cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1852   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1852
Genre: Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Embossed cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
poetry   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
United States -- Massachusetts -- Cambridge
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by a Mother ; with engravings from designs by Billings.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00002200
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002230652
oclc - 17825433
notis - ALH1015
lccn - 15017171
 Related Items
Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
PALMM Version

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front page 1
        Front page 2
    Frontispiece
        Front page 3
        Front page 4
        Front page 5
    Title Page
        Page i
    Copyright
        Page ii
    Preface
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Table of Contents
        Page v
        Page vi
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Main
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 22
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31a
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 100
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111a
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
    Back Cover
        Page 178
        Page 179
    Spine
        Page 180
Full Text



UiAm r' ,utk.
ME
rr-
Ra.
vivo j





AIR,
ANN
cv,








oil!



R" a W i;



1 A





too











AV



AM;








volt









FX . . .



-,at




44-



log QjAr




Atoll:
.............. . .
. . . .





C .--V.





I '


The Baldwin Library
SUniversity
RBFIo da





















/


)IAW-
/ -


'a
t






y', 9 FLOWESB-8









*) C I` A N Yi












,, 2 c; 4- 1t ,,l, A IA'C NY.






















































































A


1











:- ~-L


,r








FRESH FLOWERS



IO




CHILDREN.




BY

A MOTHER.




Wft) fng~Wantgs from btDignws b uBilinpgs.



NEW EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS.




BOSTON AND CAMBRIDGE:
JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY.
MDCCCLII.


'

























Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by
JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.





















BOSTON:
THURETON, TORBY, AND EMERSON, PRNTERB.














PREFACE.



THE author of this little book would assure her

youthful readers, that the songs and ballads of which

it is composed, all have the charm of truth.

They were written on various occasions for the

amusement and instruction of her own children, whom
they so much interested, that she was induced to give

them a wider range, hoping that many young hearts

might receive from them the same pleasant influ-

ences.

The first edition being exhausted, earnest and re-

peated requests have been made for another edition,

which is now presented with some additional poems.


BosToN, DEXEMB:R, 1851.






















CONTENTS.


THE DROP OF WATER .
LOV .
I HAVE BEEN TO RIDE
SONG. TO THE STARS
THE DEAD SNOW-BIRDS .
SONG .
HYMN .
THE DISCONTENTED CHILD
THE CHILD WHO LOVED THE SKY
TRUTH .
SONG OF THE FLOWERS .
DARKNESS .
THE FIRST DAY OF THE WEEK .
WHAT A LITTLE GIRL SHOULD BE
PRAYER .


9
15
17
19
91
9 .2
94
S 25
28
99
30
S34
36
S 37
38








CONTENTS.


THE ANGELS 40
To THE MOON 42
WHAT IS IT MAKES ME HAPPIEST 44
FRED 45
NURSERY SONG 46
THE STORM 48
MY FATHER 51
HYMN FOR THE SABBATH 52
THE NAME 53
HELEN'S KITTEN 54
THE SNOW 56
MY MOTHER 57
HYMN 59
GEORGE AND ROVER 60
THE PET LAMB 68
MY ROBIN 73
THE SOUTH WIND 81
MARY's DREAM P3
THE CHILDHOOD OF JESUS 87
SPRING THOUGHTS 89
MORNING HYMN .. 91
EVENING HYMN 93
TH SUNSET 95
DISOBEDIENCE .. 98
LETTER FROM AN INFANT, TO HIR COUSIN OF THE
SAME AGE .. 109







CONTENTS.


vii


Tias BIRTH-DAY 105
"BLESSED ARE THE PURE IN HEART, FOR THEY
SHALL SEE GOD 107
THE LITTLE BOY waO TOLD A LIE 10
THE LITTLE FISHERMAN 110
HYMN 114
GOOD NIGHT, LITTLE STAR 115
HYMN FOR THE DEAD .. 116
RHYMES Or ADVICE 118
HYMN 190
"THEN WERE THERE BROUGHT UNTO HIM LITTLE
CHILDREN" 19
M. H. W., AGED Two MONTHS 15
THE FOUNTAIN 197
THE SISTERS 130
THE FOREST TREES 13 I
A TALK AMONG THE FLOWERS 133
To HELEN JOSEPHINE 138
To ARIANA 140
HEAVEN 149
CHILDREN IN HEAVEN 144
A JOURNAL IN RHYME 146
NED. A SKETCH 15i
To Ji 159
To FRANK .. 162
THE ABSENT CHILDREN 164







viii CONTENTS.

Ta SORRnowFU GOOD NIGHT 1
MEMORIES 167
Tai THIRD BIRTH-DA 170
TH SEVERED CURLS 17
CHILDHOOD'S HOURS 174















FRESH FLOWERS.


THE DROP OF WATER.

I AM a drop of water; pray look at me,
For I have been over the land and the sea.
I am small, but I'm clear as a gem, and as pure;
I'm bright as a diamond, and worth more, I'm
sure.
Shall I tell you my life ? It will teach you that all
Can aid and be useful, though ever so small.
I was born on'a flower, a bright drop of dew,
I heightened its fragrance and brightened its hue;
Then the sun caught me up in the high blue air,
To help make a cloud that was floating there;
1







THE DROP OF WATER.


I added myself to its feathery train,
Never once thinking of falling in rain.
We were swept along by the evening breeze,
That was cooling the earth and waving the trees,
Hiding the moon and the stars in our flight,
And gathering and blackening throughout the
night.
Then the wind, like a banner, our cloud unfurled,
And we came down in rain-drops upon the
world.
I sunk in the earth, to its deepest springs,
And 0, I could tell you of hidden things,
That are ever at work, where no human eyes
Can look down upon these busy mysteries.
It was then that I met with a thousand rills,
That are running and trickling within the hills,
And I mingled myself with my kindred there,
In the cold, dark earth; but I 'd nothing to fear;
I knew, though in shadow and darkness then,
I should soon appear in the sunshine again;
And in wandering through the treasures, that hide
In the earth's dark bosom, I'm purified,


10







THE DROP OF WATER.


And made more fit to dwell with the flowers,
And glide through the wild-wood in sunny
hours.
Then I joined myself to a stream, that had
found
Its serpentine way from under the ground.
We met with a brook, that was dashing along,
Cheered by the sun and the wild-bird's song.
Onward we went in our gladness together,
Pleased by the daylight and sweet summer wea-
ther.
As each drop passed on, we knew we were
giving
Greenness and beauty to all things living.
The grass waved towards us, the flowers grew
bright,
And the trees bent over us in their delight.
Sweet was the music we gave to them all,
As we glided o'er pebbles and rocks in our fall.
And thus we rejoiced, till we came to a river;
Then parted in sadness, alas!. and forever.
Still onward I swept, feeling very sublime,
Yet hoping to aid and assist all the time.


11






THE DROP OF WATER.


I made myself useful, by helping to bear
The boats and the vessels that came to us there.
And as through the forests and cities we passed,
I felt that o'er all was my influence cast.
I aided in giving cool air and soft showers,
I helped to give moisture to land, trees and
flowers.
The moon poured upon us her light from afar,
And how happy I was to reflect a bright star.
And thus in our majesty, onward we rolled,
Till we came to the ocean, so grand and so bold.
I was only a drop, but I knew it was made
Of drops just like me, so I felt not afraid;
And I rushed on with others to help form a wave,
That was trying a boat-full of people to save.
We wafted them on, toward a friendly shore,
Then dashed ourselves down with a terrible roar;
And I found myself low in the coral caves,
Where sea-monsters bask, deep under the waves.
Ever moving and restless I came up again,
And foaming, I fear that I dared to be vain.
Sometimes I was green, sometimes I was white
And sometimes I sparkled like stars in the night.


12







THE DROP OF WATER.


Then when the fair sky, with cerulean hue,
Hung cloudlessly o'er me, my color was blue.
I was beauty itself, in my various forms,
In calm and in sunshine, in darkness and storms.
Around me was grandeur and greatness and might,
In the depth of the sea, or the billowy height.
I made part of this grandeur, this marvel sub-
lime,
That has ever rolled on, and will roll through all
time;
And I wished I might never be destined to fill
A lowlier station in fountain or rill.
But alas for my vanity! soon did my fate
Teach me, "Peace will not always be found
with the great;"
Now foaming and raging and tossed o'er the main,
I sighed to be lowly and gentle again.
In such constant motion, and never at rest,
I wept for the vale and the brook I loved best.
Then the sun in his pity, drew me to the sky,
And again has a cloud let me fall from on high,
And here from this rose who received me in love,
I would wish in my happiness never to move,


13







14 THE DROP OF WATER.

But dwell in her bosom, and strengthen and aid,
And cherish her leaves, lest the heat make them
fade.
Now after this story we both need repose,
I leave you to think, while I hide in my rose.















LOVE.


"MY Father, what is Love ?" said a fair child,
As she looked in the face of him she thought
Could tell her all things, "tell me, what is Love ?"

"It is a principle, my child, that should be sought,
And cherished in the heart, even as we cherish
life.
'T is an unfailing guide to all that's right.
If you would pray for blessings, pray for love.
It teaches us to bear with others' faults,
And if we're injured, injure not again.
If Willie break your playthings, bear it well,
And speak to him in love, and he with grief
Will lay them at your feet. It teaches us
Forgiveness, patience, hope. If unkind words






LOVE.


Are given you at school, or wrongly you're
accused,
If you have prayed for love, then it will come
With healing on its wings, and you'll forgive
With kindness the offender, and make better,
hearts
That otherwise would look on you with hate.
For Love has a creating power, and those we love
Will love us back again. Love has no limit,
And it will extend, far as the mind can think,
The thoughts can reach. It asks for peace and
happiness
For all; the rich, the poor, the wicked and the
good.
It leads us to seek out the sorrowful,
To weep with those who weep," and to rejoice
With those who do rejoice, and pour the balm
Of peace into the heart of wretchedness and sin.
It leads us up to heaven; for Love is heaven's air
And element and light; and all in heaven is Love.


16













I HAVE BEEN TO RIDE.

I HAVE been to ride,
By my father's side;
I could ride forever
By that clear river,
When the morning breeze
Waves the leafy trees;
Where the birds are'singing,
The sweet flowers springing,
And the sun is bright,
As if shade nor blight
Could in coldness come
To their blessed home.

But my father says,
That the river's ways
Will be filled with frost,
And the leaves be lost







I HAVE BEEN TO RIDE.


From the beautiful trees,
And the gentle breeze
Will stir them no more;
That the wind's wild roar
Will wither the flowers,
And the sunny hours
Will be clouded, and shade
O'er all will be laid.

Yet a land there is,
Where the balmy breeze
Waves unwithering trees;
Birds of Paradise are
Making melody there
To the sweet flowers,
Yet fairer than ours;
And they never will fade,
For there is no shade;
But all is made bright
By the Fountain of Light,
And there the pure River
Of Life flows forever.














SONG OF THE STARS.


SILENT stars! do you look down
From your high and azure throne ?
Earth's mild beauties do you see,
Mountain, river, rock and tree?
Do you hear the various sounds,
With which our rolling world abounds ?
The wandering wind of many tones;
When loud it roars, when low it moans?
Do you hear its music sweet,
As its breath the young leaves meet,
Gliding o'er the clustering vine,
Sweeping through the shadowy pine?
O! its voices are to me
Sweeter than all minstrelsy!
Silent stars! I do not know
Why I always love you so.






20 SONG OF THE STARS.

Beaming down so pure and fair
Through the clear and tranquil air,
That I feel you are my friends;
And your light a quiet sends
To my young and loving heart,
That I would not have depart.
On me does your beauty shine
With a harmony divine,
Like the music of a voice,
Bidding me worship and rejoice.




































































16SR7



%16.

Ail


I





~c rm
















THE DEAD SNOW-BIRDS.


THE winter's sun shone bright and clear,
The sky was dressed in blue,
The earth had put her mantle on
That morning, white and new.

How quietly the snow had come,
And powdered every tree;
The little snow-birds left their home,
Chirping with joy and glee.

They flew into a garden fair,
Nor thought of harm or dread:
A sudden sound convulsed the air-
The little birds are dead!







THE DEAD SNOW-BIRDS.


Their happy chirping now is still,
Their pretty heads droop low;
Their little wings are folded close,
Their feet are cold as snow.


Poor little birds! just now you sung,
And floated in the air,
And pecked the snow, and seemed so glad,
To see it fresh and fair.


But now you cannot sing again,
And never can you fly.
My pretty birds! you left your woods,
And came to us to die.














SONG.


THE bee is buzzing round and round,
Making its low and humming sound,
Kissing the honey from the flowers,
Made bright and gay by summer showers;
Resting on beds of mignionette,
Or hiding with the violet.

But if the power were given to me
To be a busy, humming bee,
I'd spread my wings and float away,
Far from the garden bright and gay,
And seek the meadow and the glade,
Or wing me to the wild-wood's shade.

Of all the flowers to be caressed,
I love the simple wild-flower best.






HYMN.


I 'd find the brightest in the land,
Just as it fell from nature's hand,
And choose the fairest one that grows.
Is it the violet, or the rose ?




HYMN.

WHEN thou prayest, angel forms
Gather round thee from the skies,
Hope and Trust and Joy and Love,
Leading thee to Paradise.

Pray, then, dear and gentle child,
Bring the angels near to thee;
When thou leav'st thy home on earth,
Then an angel thou shalt be.


24

















THE DISCONTENTED CHILD.


"THE gloomy clouds hang over us,
There 's not a spot of blue;
I know a storm is coming on,
O dear, what shall I do!

" I am so disappointed now,
I cannot go to walk;
I shall not see dear Anna Dale,
Or hear her laugh and talk.

"Mamma, I wish I was a bird,
How quickly I would fly
Above the earth, above the clouds,
Into the sunny sky.






TIE DISCONTENTED CHILD.


"And looking down upon the world,
How sweetly I would sing!
I 'd float along so happily,
Forever on the wing.

I wish I were a little bird,
I am not happy here.
Pray, dear Mamma, a story tell,
Your little girl to cheer."


Her mother gravely said to her;
"I'll tell you of a child,
Who had a kind and gentle heart,
A temper, sweet and mild.

" She had a pleasant, happy home,
And health to make her glad;
Playthings, and books, and pictures too.
This little creature had.


" A father's and a mother's love,
Shone round her night and day,


6)







THE DISCONTENTED CHILD.

In health or sickness, or in sleep,
In study or in play.


SBlessings of every kind were hers,
That are to childhood given;
And, above all the rest, she had
A Father kind, in heaven.


SAnd yet this little silly child,
Perhaps you may have heard,
Rejected all this happiness,
And wished she was a bird."













THE CHILD WHO LOVED THE SKY.


I KNEW a little girl who loved the sky,
In all its changes and variety.
In a fair garden would she sit for hours
On a green bank, among the grass and flowers;
And upward look into the air so blue,
Admiring its clear depths and azure hue.
She loved it in its misty morning dress,
And in its evening robes of gorgeousness.
The fair young moon was like a friend to her,
As it sunk downward with the evening star.
She with delight beheld the rising cloud,
And saw the flash, and heard the thunder loud;
And she would watch it in its majesty,
As it came darkly rolling o'er the sky.
But, best of all, she loved the sky of night,
When the still stars came forth in troops so bright.







TRUTH.


And all the brightest she would fondly name
For friends she loved the best, when evening
came.
She named one for her Mother, and that star
Was ever to her a sweet comforter,
For soon upon her Mother's grave it shone.
And now, though years have fled, and time has
gone,
And childish fancies all away have passed,
Yet will this sweet remembrance always last.
And that pale star is dearer than the rest,
Because it bore the name of her who loved her
best.




TRUTH.
DIAMONDS are glittering and bright and rare,
Truth is the diamond that I would wear:
Stars shine with light that is fairer than day,
Truth is the star that shall lighten my way.


29















SONG OF THE FLOWERS.


A CHILD was in the garden gay,
Alone amid the flowers, at play.
He loved the flowers; to him they grew
Like friends and lovers, for but few
Companions had this little child,
And they his lonely hours beguiled.
At last in weariness he laid
Himself to sleep in the cool shade,
And brightest dreams came floating o'er
The sleeping child; each darling flower
Poured forth such music sweet and clear,
He listened with a charmed ear.

Earth is a pleasant home for us,
And God has placed us here,


















































































































'c 0 'C


'-.- : ')/''


c~'-V
3- IEl~iFr/~CC~

)


~E*c '
L_
~







SONG OF THE FLOWERS.


In beauty and in loveliness,
Our gentle boy to cheer.
We live beneath this suny sky,
To bless him ere we fade and die.

Let us unfold to him sweet thoughts,
To him bright lessons give,
That he may follow wisdom's light,
And learn the way to live;
And so fulfil his destiny,
Ere he like us shall fade and die.


The queen-like Rose shall teach him love;
For unto all she sends
Her beauty, color, fragrance forth,
Alike to foes and friends;
And thus his kindly deeds must bless
All in his path with happiness.

Of time, so quickly passing, speaks
The frail Anemone;
The everlasting Amaranth
Tells of eternity.


31






SONG OF THE FLOWERS.


The two so linked but by a breath,
Thus teaching him of life in death.

The Lily's leaves of spotless white,
Of purity shall sing;
And the blue, lowly Violet
Is like an angel's wing,
Lifting the humble soul above,
To regions fair of light and love.


And Mignionette, the darling flower,
Pours forth its fragrant breath,
Even as it droops and fades away,
Like unto love in death.
And thus may his affections rest,
Ever with those who love him best.


We are a book of many leaves,
That tells of sacred things;
And every little plant that grows,
Its secret lesson brings.
All those who seek to learn of us,
We humbly teach, and teaching, bless.


43







SONG OF THE FLOWERS. 33

Who is arrayed so glorious ?
And who hath us arrayed?
He, who created this fair child,
The simple lily made.
We are his brothers, sisters, friends,
For o'er us the same Father bends.

















DARKNESS.


I'M glad it is not always light,
And that the day with garment bright,
Gently leaves us, as the night
Falls in beauty o'er us.

If evening shadows never came,
And darkness had not yet a name,
And all things round us looked the same,
Shining still before us,

The fairest and the loveliest sky,
Our wearied eyes would never see
The stars in their bright harmony,
Still their high watch keeping;







DARKNESS.


Nor the sweet moon, whose silver beams
Are lighting forests, hills and streams,
And even brightening our dreams,
All the while we 're sleeping.


Darkness revealeth wondrous things,
And with her awe and thought she brings,
As she her mantle o'er us flings,
Like a curtain closing.


Darkness! thy coming shall be dear,
Thy gloomy hue I will not fear,
But of thy uses love to hear,
Beneath thy shade reposing.
















THE FIRST DAY OF THE WEEK.


I ALWAYS wish the sun to shine,
The day be fair and clear,
And not a cloud to stain the sky,
Or dim the atmosphere.

I love to have it silent too,
Without a sound or voice,
Save notes of praise from little birds,
That carol and rejoice ;

Or the low wind among the leaves,
Or a clear running brook,
Or any other sound that comes
From nature's music book.







WHAT A LITTLE GIRL SHOULD BE.


O holy is this blessed day!
Let not a thought or word
Of sin bedim its purity;
But let us worship God.





WHAT A LITTLE GIRL SHOULD BE.


MILD, yet brave and noble-hearted,
Saying pleasant cheerful words,
Sweet and loving, self-forgetful,
Glad and joyous as the birds.


Useful, true, and willing always,
Helping the distressed to bear
All their sorrows, thereby sending
Blessed sunshine every where.


37

















PRAYER,


WHEN the morning, fair and bright,
Comes to cheer me with its light,
I will wake and thankfully
Ask a blessing for the day.


When I am wrong, and know I've been
Tempted to the path of sin,
I will kneel, and look to Heaven,
And pray to have that sin forgiven.


When I am happy, good and glad,
And nothing comes to make me sad,
I shall love to thank and bless
God, for all my happiness.







A PRAYER.


When I see the setting sun,
And the starry night comes on,
Father! I will pray to be
Kept, and blessed, and loved by Thee.




A PRAYER.


DIRECT and guide me Lord always,
O bless me in my work and play,
And let me never go astray.


Fill thou my heart with truth divine,
Let gentleness and love be mine,
And make me a true child of thine.


39
















THE ANGELS.


"0 WHERE are the angels, mother?
Say, where do their bright forms rest?
Like us do they love each other,
Are they always happy and blessed ?"

This said a sweet child one evening,
As he lay in peace on his bed;
And his mother said, "They are hovering,
I hope, round my dear boy's head.


"The angels are ever around us,
To guide, and to keep, and to aid;
Myriads of spirits surround us,
Whom God in his goodness has made.






THE ANGELS. 41

SIn heaven they worship and praise Him,
All clothed in their robes of light;
They ever are happy and sinless,
And crowned with a glory bright."











4















TO THE MOON.


PALE and cold are your beams, fair moon,
As they are falling on my bed,
I can look you in the face, sweet moon,
Without even raising my head.


Your form is a lovely crescent now,
Very soon its beauty will change,
As among the crowds of stars you go,
And away through the clouds you range.


I do not delight in your full, round face,
Nor your broad and shining glare,
But sweet is your present form of grace,
And your light so soft and fair.







TO THE MOON. 43

I wonder, as on the city you shine,
And peep in at our windows so bright,
If you really look on its houses fine,
And its children asleep for the night.


I love to watch your way in the sky,
As behind the church you sink,
It minds me of shining paths on high,
And it always leads me to think.
















WHAT IS IT MAKES ME HAPPIEST?


WHAT is it makes me happiest ?
Is it my last new play?
Is it my bounding ball, or hoop
I follow every day ?


Is it my puzzles or my blocks?
My pleasant solitaire ?
My dolls, my kitten, or my books,
My flowers fresh and fair ?


What is it makes me happiest ?
It is not one of these;
Yet they are treasures dear to me,
And never fail to please.






FRED.


0, it is looks and tones of love,
From those I love the best,
That follow me when I do right;
These make me happiest!





FRED.

Do you know I'm alone ? No creature save Fred,
And he, darling baby, asleep in his bed;
As he now lies before me, his dark eyes shut close,
A smile on his lip, on his cheek the blush-rose,
I wonder what visions disturb his repose;
There's no cloud or shadow to darken his brow,
'T is sunshine, bright sunshine, that blesses him
now.
How innocent must be the thoughts that now
pass
Through his tiny mind,-may they ever be thus!


45















NURSERY SONG.


I SHALL be glad when evening comes,
Papa I then shall see;
And he will take me in his arms,
And seat me on his knee.


The sunset sky he'll show me,
And evening's brightest star;
I tried to blow it out one night -
0 then, how laughed Papa!


He'll tell me pretty stories,
And mend my last new toy,
And wonder why I broke it;
A careless little boy!






NURSERY SONG. 47

If I am good, he'll kiss me,
And hear me say my prayers,
And bid me then a kind good night,
Before he goes down stairs.















THE STORM.


SEE the white clouds,
How fast they fly
Over the face
Of the clear blue sky.


They pass the sun,
And now they are bright,
Shining like gold,
In his burning light.


O there are more clouds!
Compe, look again;
They are dark and black
With the bursting rain.






THE STORMB.


And now the white clouds,
The sky of blue,
And the dazzling sun,
With its golden hue,


Are hid by the storm;
And the wind blows loud,
As the rain-drops pour
From the gloomy cloud.


It makes me think,
When my face is bright
With pleasure and smiles,
And my heart is light,


How often the cloud
Of ill-humor appears,
And changes the smile
To frowns and to tears.


49






50 THE STORM

And now I believe,
That never again,
Will my sunny smiles
Be turned to rain.


But I will be good,
And do what is right;
I then shall be smiling
And happy and bright.















MY FATHER.


I BOUND to meet my father,
When his coming step I hear,
For every look and smile of his,
To me are very dear.


'T is joy for me to love him,
And never make him sad,
He always speaks so kindly,
When I am good and glad.


I will always try to please him,
And be amiable and mild;
And he will kiss me then, and say,
I am his darling child.















HYMN FOR THE SABBATH.


I WILL keep the Sabbath holy,
The day of sacred rest!
The brightest day of all the week,
The day I love the best.


I will keep the Sabbath holy,
It is the Saviour's day!
By quietness and meekness too,
By ceasing from my play.


I will keep the Sabbath holy,
The day so still and fair!
By kindly thoughts, and words of love,
By worship and by prayer.







THE NAME.


The Saviour looks from heaven,
And listens when I pray;
He loves all little children,
Who keep the Sabbath day.




THE NAME.

)DARLIN little baby-brother,
What name shall I choose for you?
William, Edward, John or Jamie,
Frank I like, and Henry too.
Which will you like best, I wonder,
Which sound sweetest when I call?
Charles is charming, so is George, but
Frank I fancy more than all.
6
















HELEN'S KITTEN.


WITH glossy, downy, jetty skin,
And eyes of blue, of frolic mien,
A roguish look, and playful.ways,
Whose grace one's kindness all repays;


A form of roundness, tiny feet,
That pat along its friends to meet,
Its pretty neck it loves to show,
Decked with a spot as white as snow;


A voice of music sweet and new,
When for mamma it murmurs mew!"
Yet from her kiss will wildly start,
It has so frolicsome a heart.







HELEN'S KITTEN. 55

All these rare beauties do belong
To our sweet kitten; but this song
Is most unworthy in her praise,
She has so many cunning ways.














THE SNOW.


0 PRAY take your eyes from off your book,
And come to the window, mamma, and look.
See the big snow-flakes, how fast they fall,
0 how I wish I could catch them all!
How many it takes to make up a storm,
And they all are of different size and form.
Some look like a star, and some like a flower,
And some like a cloud, and all like a shower;
But prettier far than a shower of rain,
So pure and white, without blemish or stain.
And 0 how quiet and noiseless they come,
As fast as they can from their lofty home,
Busily clothing the face of the ground,
And giving it beauty without any sound.
I leave you, mamma, for away I must go,
To play with the silent, the beautiful snow.
















MY MOTHER.


My Mother! My kind Mother!
I hear thy gentle voice,
It always makes my little heart
Beat gladly and rejoice.


When I am ill, it comes to me,
And kindly soothes my pain;
And when I sleep, then in my dreams,
It sweetly comes again.


It always makes me happy,
Whene'er I hear its tone,
I know it is the voice of love,
From a heart that is my own.
5






MY MOTHER.

My Mother! My dear Mother!
0 may I never be
Unkind, or disobedient,
In any way, to thee.















HYMN.


LORD, I am ill! a little child!
O! make me gentle, make me mild,
And let me patient be;
Help me to bear the pain I feel,
And heal me, if it be thy will,
That I may follow thee.


If thou dost wish for me in heaven,
If thou hast all my sins forgiven,
Then let me love to die;
For I shall then an angel be,
Loving to praise and worship thee,
Beyond the clear blue sky.















GEORGE AND ROVER.


GEORGE was a good and pleasant child,
He loved each living thing;
The cows and lambs, the trees and flowers,
The birds upon the wing.


But more than all, he liked his dog;
And dearly Rover loved
To follow George in all his walks,
And play where'er he roved.


He was a shaggy dog, and large;
His color, it was black,
Except a ring of snowy white,
He wore around his neck.







GEORGE AND ROVER.


And George's favorite walk was by
A river bright and clear,
And when his dog was with him there,
His mother had no fear.


She knew if he should fall therein,
Rover her boy would save;
For Rover loved his master well,
And Rover loved the wave.


And George would stand upon the bridge,
Above the waters deep,
And throw a broken bough below,
And down would Rover leap.


It was a charming picture all,
For any one to see;
The bridge, that spanned the river's banks,
The river, wild and free.


61







GEORGE AND ROVER.


The happy boy, the playful dog,
Dashing the waters bright,
The hill, the school-house and the trees,
Were all a pleasant sight.


And Rover liked to play at home,
And often he would run
And chase the sheep and lambs about,
And bark at them for fun.


And then the lambs all gleefully
Would chase him too in play,
And he would roll upon the grass,
And frolic; so would they.


And often, on a summer's night,
When sunset shades had come,
George took his dog and went to find
The cows, and drive them home.


^62







GEORGE AND ROVER.


The pasture, where they daily went
To breakfast and to dine,
Was large and green, a sunny place,
Where grass grew sweet and fine.


And through it ran a little brook,
Where oft the cows would drink,
And lay them down upon the flowers,
That grew upon the brink.


They like to lie beneath the trees,
All shaded by the boughs,
Whene'er the noontide heat came on -
And they were happy cows.


And oft at night, when George would come,
Quite weary with his race,
The cows would be among the oaks,
In a far distant place.






GEORGE AND ROVER.


Then he would wait, and Rover call;
Away would Rover go,
And leave his master at the gate,
With nothing there to do.


With dignity, he 'd seek the cows,
And make them walk before,
Nor stop till he had got them safe,
Beside the cottage door.


Yet often would they linger near
The nice green tufts of grass,
And vainly try to get a bite,
As they along would pass.


But Rover would not suffer them
To lounge and idle there,
He gave them gentle hints, that they
Were all beneath his care.


64







GEORGE AND ROVER.


And Rover was eccentric too;
Puss was his dearest friend;
Sometimes in weariness he 'd lay,
And all his paws extend.


Then puss would run and lay her down,
And fondly lean her head
Upon his breast, and go to sleep,
Delighted with her bed.


And Rover was a friend to all
That lived about the farm;
He took good care of hens and pigs,
And never did them harm.


And every day when it was time
For them to eat their food,
He always went to find them all,
In kind and gentle mood.


65






GEORGE AND ROVER.


And many other useful things,
Would faithful Rover do;
No wonder George was kind to him,
And always loved him so.


Poor Rover! His was a sad fate! One morn-
ing his young master, seeing him lay dull and
sleepy in the sun, called him to come and play.
Instead of bounding toward him as usual, he
scarcely noticed his calls or caresses. But
George persisted in rousing him, and was kindly
patting his head, when he sprang suddenly and
caught George's hand in his mouth, and bit him
severely, covering it, at the same time, with a
white froth. George cried out with astonish-
ment and pain. Fortunately, the dog's teeth
did not pierce the skin. If they had, fatal
and dreadful consequences must have followed.
Deep purple marks were to be seen for several
days after the bite, on George's hand. Rover
was taken and secured in the barn, and dis-
covered such violent and decided signs of hydro-


66







GEORGE AND ROVER.


phobia, that it was thought best to have him
shot. Poor George was inconsolable at the
thought, but his father told him it was far better
to put an end to his existence, than to suffer him
to live in agony and endanger the lives of all the
neighborhood. So Rover, the sagacious and
affectionate Rover, was shot. He was lamented
by all the family.
One of George's chosen resorts with Rover,
was a grove of oaks where sprang a clear and
beautiful fountain. It was a pleasant and shady
spot, and there George made Rover's grave; and
many lonely and sad hours has he spent there
since, thinking of his lost and faithful dog.


67















THE PET LAMB.


ONE chilly morning in the spring,
When all was still and calm,
George listened, for he thought he heard
The bleating of a lamb.


Rover was with him at the time;
'T was plain he heard it too,
He looked so earnest, pricked his ears,
As dogs will always do.


'T was not the usual tone of lambs,
But sorrowful and weak;
And George ran quickly to the fold,
The moaning one to seek.







THE PET LAMB.


There stood a little shivering lamb,
Close where his mother laid;
She could not hear her lambkin cry,
Alas, for she was dead!


George took the poor, forsaken thing,
And bade him fear no harm,
And carried him into the house,
And tried to make him warm.


He gave him nice sweet milk to eat,
And told him to be good;
And Rover gave him kindly looks,
While Georgie gave him food.


At last the lamb laid down to sleep,
And Rover by him kept,
And watched him close, as if he feared
Some danger, while he slept.


69







THE PET LAMB.


And what the little guileless lamb,
As he slept sweetly there,
Was dreaming of, we cannot tell--
Perhaps of his mamma.


And when he woke, he was refreshed,
And soon began to play,
And trustingly in George's hands,
His little head would lay.


And Georgie loved him very much,
He was so mild and tame,
And kept him from the meadows damp,
Till summer breezes came.


He followed him within the house,
About the garden too,
And round his white and woolly neck,
George tied a ribbon blue.


70







THE PET LAMB.


And when into the grassy field
They sent him far away,
Thinking he 'd like with other lambs,
To frisk about and play,


He seemed so sad and sorrowful,
With melancholy air,
That Rover would beside him stay
To make him happy there.


But soon as Rover turned to go,
And homeward bend his way,
The lamb would look at him and bleat,
And beg him still to stay.



Then he would follow Rover home,
And seem in ecstasy,
When George caressed and patted him,
As full of joy as he.


71






THE PET LAMB.


And time went on, and I could tell
How fast the lambkin grew,
And that he still continued fond
Of George and Rover too.


And in the pleasant summer time,
They were together hours,
In field and meadow, by the brook,
Among the grass and flowers.


My story's done. May you be like
The lamb, so meek and mild,
As grateful and affectionate;
A pure and spotless child.


72
















MY ROBIN.


I WILL tell you of my robin;
A pretty bird was he,
As gay and full of mirthfulness,
As any bird could be.

Perhaps his plumage was not gay,
As some fine birds are dressed,
But then his eyes were bright as stars,
And red his downy breast.


Upon my shoulder he would sit,
And hop around my feet;
Confiding and affectionate,
He from my hand would eat.
6







MY ROBIN.


As soon as the bright morning dawned,
His song you'd always hear,
And then at night, his vesper hymn,
So musical and clear.

He filled the house with melody,
He filled my heart with glee,
He was a plaything, and a pet,
A happiness to me.

But O, I lost my gentle bird!
His fate was dark and sad;
I wept for hours, and felt as if
I never could be glad.


I always shall remember him,
While thought and memory last;
He is one of my bright pictures
Of a childhood that has passed.


74







MY ROBIN.


One pleasant summer's day, I went to ride
with my Uncle Robert. As we were passing
through a wood where

Wild birds were singing,
And sweet flowers were springing,"

my uncle stopped his horse that he might hear
more distinctly the various voices that came from
the forest. While we sat listening to these sweet
sounds, we saw a little bird fall from a tree quite
near us. It was a young robin making its first
attempt to fly; the mother-bird was flutteriug
round, trying to teach it, I suppose ; but the
little one had not strength, and it fell to the
ground. O, I wish I had that dear little bird,"
said I. "Just step out of the chaise and get it,"
said my uncle. Quick, quick, before Ranger
comes." Ranger was a dog, who always accom-
panied us on our drives, running on before the
horse, sometimes suddenly disappearing in the
woods, and then as suddenly bounding along the
road again. I often envied Ranger the liberty
he had of going just where he chose.


75







MY ROBIN.


My uncle thought I should not be quick
enough, and springing from the chaise himself,
caught the bird, just as Ranger came up, and put
it safely into my hands. Poor Robin! How
frightened he was, and how I pitied him! I
held him as gently as I could, and as soon as we
reached home, my uncle purchased me a cage,
and Bobbie was lord of his own mansion. A
most undesirable situation for a bird. I very
well knew that they like to fly through the pure
blue air, upward and downward, and make the
forest ring with their clear sweet voices, and I
wonder now, how I could have been so thought-
less and so selfish as to deprive a wild bird of its
freedom.
Bobbie seemed lonely at first, but he never
refused food and water, and he soon became so
tame and confiding that he would eat from my
hand. We often opened the door of his cage,
and let him hop about the room, and peck
crumbs from the breakfast table. He had no
opportunity of hearing the notes of other birds,


76







MY ROBIN.


so my uncle thought he would teach him to
sing. He whistled to him every day, then Bob
would whistle and imitate his notes correctly.
At last Bob learned to whistle the tune of
Yankee Doodle, and a part of another tune. I
do not remember how long he was in becoming
so accomplished, but I remember that he did
become so, and he was the wonder of the
neighborhood, and the delight of my heart.
I had another pet; it was Bessie the cat. One
of my favorite amusements had been to play with
and tease poor Bessie. I did not mean to tease
her, but very young children rarely play with a
cat without hurting her sometimes. Bessie was
not beautiful; she was gray, and very long and
thin, with yellow eyes that looked kindly upon
me. She had a sedate face and manner, and
rarely condescended to play herself, though she
so willingly allowed me to use her as a plaything.
But she was old, and I was young, and that
made the difference in our tastes. Yet there
were times when she was as animated as cat


77







MY ROBIN.


could be. If she heard a mysterious sound like
the nibbling of a mouse, or the stealthy footstep
of a rat, who was more excited than Bess! In
the garden, too, she would look longingly after
the birds, and in the house she became Bobbie's
declared enemy. Once with extended claws she
sprung upon his cage, and so frightened him,
that we feared he would die. One day we
thought we had lost him; by some means the
door of the cage came open, and he flew forth
into the garden. Upward he soared, delighted
with his new power, then he rested upon a
spreading elm, and sung Yankee Doodle. We
called him by all tender and endearing names,
sweet Bobbie! pretty Bobbie! dear Bobbie! but
he regarded us from afar with a most indepen-
dent air. Then my uncle whistled all the
familiar notes they had so often whistled to-
gether, and beseechingly held out his hands.
Bobbie seemed to hesitate, but at last an irresist-
ible impulse brought him down to us, and he
alighted in all love and faith on my uncle's fore-


78







MY ROBIN.


finger. It was a glad moment for us all. Dear
Bobbie! how I loved him. I dread to tell his
fate.
After this he lived on happily enough, seem-
ing as contented with his narrow wiry abode,
as he did before he soared into the regions of
freedom. Bessie was still a favorite, and allowed
me my usual liberties with her ears and tail,
without a murmur. One night I left Bobbie
fast asleep, with

"His head under his wing,
Poor thing! "

and in the morning when I went to his cage, I
found it empty. In alarm I hurried from the
room, and in the passage leading to the garden
I saw on the floor a bird's wing and several
feathers scattered along; they were Bobbie's!
I sat down and cried bitterly. Bessie came
along and rubbed against me. 0 Bessie, did
you do this?" said I; she looked innocently in
my face, and walked away.


79






MY ROBIN.


During the night, by some unknown means,
she had gained access to his cage, and had killed
him. He was dead. My beautiful bird, who
had sung to me, and loved me, and made me
happy. My uncle tried to console me, but he
felt the loss of Bobbie nearly as much as myself.
What remained of Bobbie I took to the garden,
and under a cherry-tree, from which I had often
gathered cherries for him, I buried the wing and
the feathers.
Bessie was punished by unkind words from
all, and it was long before she found the house
a pleasant home; but we forgave her, because
we knew she was not aware of the extent of
her offence. I never loved her quite so well
again; how could I? She seemed to forget all
about it, and lived on unconcerned for years,
growing more and more stupid and dull every
day, till at last she died comfortably and peace-
fully of old age.


80
















THE SOUTH WIND.


SOUTH wind softly blowing,
Balmy is thy breath,
Gentle as a spirit,
Stealing o'er the earth.

Thou hast passed o'er flowers,
Blooming in the spring,
Bearing with thee odors
On thy cloudy wing.

Of green fields thou mind'st me,
Of the forest tree;
Of all buds and blossoms,
Talkest thou to me.






THE SOUTH WIND.


Dim the stars are shining;
Softly o'er the air
Floats a misty vapor,
Telling thou art there,

Bathing all things living,
That thou breathest on;
Making low, sweet music,
With thy gentle tone.


South wind! I do love thee,
For thou bring'st to me
Music, beauty, gladness;
And I welcome thee.


82
















MARY'S DREAM.


I WILL sit by you, my mother,
And tell you of a dream,
That to your darling Mary,
Last night so sweetly came.


I was sitting by the rose-bush,
And thinking of its flowers;
And how with little Emma,
I had played by it for hours.

I was thinking of the day she died,
And of the rose-bud fair,
I laid within her little hand,
And left to wither there.






MARY'S DREAM.


And then there shone around me,
A pale and holy light;
I wondered why I was so glad,
And why it was so bright.

And soon amid the brightness
I saw an angel-child;
She gave me such a look of love,
And beautifillly smiled.

And then I knew 'twas Emma,
All clothed in robes of white;
Her words, they were all music,
Her form seemed made of light.

She said in tones of melody,
Sweet sister, do not fear;
I come to you, my Mary,
To comfort and to cheer.

"To tell you words of beauty,
Of my new and glorious home,


84







MARY'S DREAM.


Where roses never fade or droop,
Where shade can never come.

"I am ever round you, Mary,
With these celestial flowers;
I lay them in your pathway,
I hang them on your bowers.

"You cannot see their beauty now,
But they will joy impart,
And keep unkind and sinful thoughts
Away from Mary's heart.

SThe brightest in my wreath is Truth,
The sweetest is called Love,
The fairest is Humility,
Fresh from the fields above.

" O, it is dear and sweet to me,
To minister to you;
To weave you fair immortal crowns,
Of blossoms bright and true.


85






MARY'S DREAM.


"To be the winged messenger
Of blessings from afar;
To guide and aid you in all good,
Till you an angel are.


"And then to bear you up to heaven,
All glorious and bright,
And lead you to the feet of HIM,
The fountain of all light."

And saying this, she sweetly smiled,
And faded from my view.
I woke, and found it was a dream;
Yet O, it must be true!

My mother, I am not alone!
I know a form of light,
A blessed guardian angel
Is round me day and night.


S6

















THE CHILDHOOD OF JESUS.


IN the green fields of Palestine,
By its fountains and its rills,
And by the sacred Jordan's stream,
And o'er the vine-clad hills
Once lived and roved the fairest child
That ever blessed the earth;
The happiest, the holiest,
That e'er had human birth.


How beautiful his childhood was!
Harmless and undefiled;
O, dear to his young mother's heart
Was this pure, sinless child!






THE CHILDHOOD OF JESUS.

Kindly in all his deeds and words,
And gentle as the dove;
Obedient, affectionate,
His very soul was Love.

O, is it not a blessed thought,
Children of human birth!
That once the Saviour was a child,
And lived upon the earth?
















SPRING THOUGHTS.


THE Spring, the Spring, the joyous Spring!
Myriads of beauties does it bring!
Things, gladdening to heart and eye,
Above us and around us lie.


The tinted cloud, the gentle shower,
The leafy bud, the springing flower,
The birds with notes so sweet and glad,
The little streams in sunshine clad;


They all come forth as from the dead,
As soon as Winter's ice has fled,
Filling the world with music sweet,
As all their sounds together meet.






90 SPRING THOUGHTS.

Like childhood is the sunny spring,
As new, as fresh, as sweet a thing,
With buds of hope and destiny;
Some are to blossom, some to die.















MORNING HYMN.


THE morning shines, the sun is up,
The birds are singing forth their glee;
All things are fresh and full of hope,
Willing to worship God with me.


Creator of the glorious earth!
The sun, the cloud, the morning sky;
Who givest all things life and birth,
And liftest up my heart on high!


I come with many thanks to thee,
For peace and safety through the night;
Thy wing of love overshadowed me,
I sweetly slept till morning light.







MORNING HYMN.

I am a weak and sinful child,
0! keep and aid me through the day;
Make me obedient, lowly, mild,
Nor let my soul be led astray.


Bless me, my Father! Keep and bless
All whom I love, and all who live;
Make us to know and feel thy grace,
And unto us thy spirit give.
















EVENING HYMN.


To all that I love, good-night, good-night!
For I know, by the day's departing light,
That I must away to sleep;
On my pillow, I'll lay me down to rest,
For the sun has hidden himself in the west,
The stars are beginning to peep.


And now I will kneel by the side of my bed,
And clasp my hands, and bow my head,
And remember that God is near;
For the child that earnestly loves to pray,
And seek for his care, at the close of the day,
He is ever ready to hear.




University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs