The child's illustrated poetry book

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Pāgina 12 - BETWEEN the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations, That is known as the Children's Hour. I hear in the chamber above me The patter of little feet, The sound of a door that is opened, And voices soft and sweet.
Pāgina 29 - Little drops of water, Little grains of sand Make the mighty ocean, And the pleasant land.
Pāgina 21 - WHATEVER brawls disturb the street, There should be peace at home; Where sisters dwell and brothers meet Quarrels should never come. Birds in their little nests agree ; And 'tis a shameful sight, When children of one family Fall out, and chide, and fight.
Pāgina 21 - DOGS DELIGHT to bark and bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight. For 'tis their nature too. But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes.
Pāgina 104 - What does little birdie say In her nest at peep of day ? Let me fly, says little birdie, Mother, let me fly away. Birdie, rest a little longer, Till the little wings are stronger. So she rests a little longer, Then she flies away. What does little baby say, In her bed at peep of day ? Baby says, like little birdie, Let me rise and fly away.
Pāgina 13 - They climb up into my turret O'er the arms and back of my chair; If I try to escape, they surround me; They seem to be everywhere. They almost devour me with kisses, Their arms about me entwine, Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen In his mouse- Tower on the Rhine!
Pāgina 37 - TWINKLE, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are, Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky.
Pāgina 72 - Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep : If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Pāgina 13 - Such an old moustache as I am Is not a match for you all ! I have you fast in my fortress, And will not let you depart, But put you down into the dungeon In the round-tower of my heart.
Pāgina 13 - WHENE'ER I take my walks abroad, How many poor I see ! What shall I render to my God For all his gifts to me ? Not more than others I deserve, Yet God has given me more ; For I have food, while others starve, Or beg from door to door.

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