Alas, that the longest hill Must end in a vale; but still, Henry Charles Beeching [1859 PLAYGROUNDS In summer I am very glad We children are so small, That men can't see at all. They don't know much about the moss They never lie and play among They walk about a long way off; But, when the snow is on the ground I wish that I were very tall, High up above the trees. Laurence Alma-Tadema [18 "WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND?" WHO has seen the wind? Neither I nor you: But when the leaves hang trembling, The wind is passing through. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I: But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is passing by. Christina Georgina Rossetti [1830-1894] The Wind's Song 123 THE WIND'S SONG O WINDS that blow across the sea, You sing to flowers and trees and birds The roses nod to hear you sing; You never tell me anything Of father's ship so far away. Its masts are taller than the trees; With wings spread out it flies so fast It leaves the waves all white with foam. Just whisper to me, blowing past, If you have seen it sailing home. I feel your breath upon my cheek, My father's coming home, you'd say, The winds sing songs where'er they roam; With wondrous things from foreign lands. Gabriel Setoun [1861 THE PIPER ON THE HILL A CHILD'S SONG THERE sits a piper on the hill Who pipes the livelong day, And when he pipes both loud and shrill, The frightened people say: "The wind, the wind is blowing up 'Tis rising to a gale." The women hurry to the shore To watch some distant sail. The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind, But when he pipes all sweet and low, I hear the merry women go With laughter, loud and shrill: They gather on the meadow-land The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind, Is blowing south to-day. And in the morn, when winter comes, To keep the piper warm, The little Angels shake their wings To make a feather storm: "The snow, the snow has come at last!" The happy children call, And "ring around" they dance in glee, The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind, But when at night the piper plays, Because God's windows open wide The pretty tune to hear; The Wind and the Moon And when each crowding spirit looks, From its star window-pane, A watching mother may behold Her little child again. The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind, May blow her home again. Dora Sigerson Shorter [18 THE WIND AND THE MOON SAID the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out; You stare In the air Like a ghost in a chair, Always looking what I am about I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out." The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon. So, deep On a heap Of clouds to sleep, Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon, He turned in his bed; she was there again! On high In the sky, With her one ghost eye, The Moon shone white and alive and plain. The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dimn. "With my sledge, And my wedge, I have knocked off her edge! If only I blow right fierce and grim, The creature will soon be dimmer than dim.” 125 He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread. "One puff More 's enough To blow her to snuff! One good puff more where the last was bred, He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone. Nowhere Was a moonbeam bare; Far off and harmless the shy stars shone- The Wind he took to his revels once more; On down, In town, Like a merry-mad clown, He leaped and halloed with whistle and roar"What's that?" The glimmering thread once more! He flew in a rage-he danced and blew; But in vain Was the pain Of his bursting brain; For still the broader the Moon-scrap grew, Slowly she grew-till she filled the night, And shone On her throne In the sky alone, A matchless, wonderful silvery light, Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I! Good faith! I blew her to death First blew her away right out of the sky- |