the home book of verse-1-第32节
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Miss Goldfinch came next； in her satin gown；
And shaking her feathery flounces down；
With much expression and feeling sung
Some 〃Oh's〃 and 〃Ah's〃 in a foreign tongue；
While to give the affair a classic tone；
Miss Katydid rendered a song of her own；
In which each line closed as it had begun；
With some wonderful deed which she had done。
Then the Misses Sparrow； so prim and set；
Twittered and chirped through a long duet；
And poor little Wren； who tried with a will；
But who couldn't tell 〃Heber〃 from 〃Ortonville；〃
Unconscious of sarcasm； piped away
And courtesied low o'er a huge bouquet
Of crimson clover…heads； culled by the dozen；
By some brown…coated； plebeian cousin。
But you should have heard the red Robin sing
His English ballad； 〃Come； beautiful Spring！〃
And Master Owlet's melodious tune；
〃O； meet me under the silvery moon！〃
Then； as flighty Miss Humming…bird didn't care
To sing for the high and mighty Glendare；
The close of the evening's performance fell
To the fair young Nightingale； Mademoiselle。
Ah！ the wealth of each wonderful note
That came from the depths of her tiny throat！
She carolled； she trilled； and she held her breath；
Till she seemed to hang at the point of death：
She ran the chromatics through every key；
And ended triumphant on upper C；
Airing the graces her mother had taught her
In a manner quite worthy of Madame's daughter。
But his lordship glared down the leafy aisle
With never so much as a nod or smile；
Till； out in the shade of a blackberry thicket；
He all of a sudden spied little Miss Cricket；
And； roused from his gloom； like an angry bat；
He sternly demanded； 〃Who is that？〃
〃Miss Cricket； my lord； may it please you so；
A charity scholar … ahem！ … you know …
Quite worthy； of course； but we couldn't bring〃 …
Thundered His Mightiness； 〃Let her sing！〃
The Nightingale opened her little eyes
Extremely wide in her blank surprise；
But catching a glimpse of his lordship's rage；
Led little Miss Cricket upon the stage；
Where she modestly sang； in her simple measures；
Of 〃Home； sweet Home；〃 and its humble pleasures。
And the lord of Glendare cried out in his glee；
〃This little Miss Cricket shall sing for me！〃
Of course； of comment there was no need；
But the world said； 〃Really！〃 and 〃Ah； indeed！〃
Yet； notwithstanding； we find it true
As his lordship does will the neighbors do；
So this is the way； as the legends tell；
In the very beginning it befell
That the Crickets came； in the evening's gloom；
To sing at our hearths of 〃Home； sweet Home。〃
Emma Huntington Nason ＇1845…1921＇
THE SINGING…LESSON
A nightingale made a mistake；
She sang a few notes out of tune；
Her heart was ready to break；
And she hid away from the moon。
She wrung her claws； poor thing！
But was far too proud to weep；
She tucked her head under her wing；
And pretended to be asleep。
A lark； arm in arm with a thrush；
Came sauntering up to the place；
The nightingale felt herself blush；
Though feathers hid her face。
She knew they had heard her song；
She felt them snicker and sneer；
She thought that life was too long；
And wished she could skip a year。
〃Oh； Nightingale；〃 cooed a dove …
〃Oh； Nightingale； what's the use？
You bird of beauty and love；
Why behave like a goose？
Don't skulk away from our sight；
Like a common； contemptible fowl；
You bird of joy and delight；
Why behave like an owl？
〃Only think of all you have done；
Only think of all you can do；
A false note is really fun
From such a bird as you！
Lift up your proud little crest；
Open your musical beak；
Other birds have to do their best …
You need only to speak。〃
The nightingale shyly took
Her head from under her wing；
And； giving the dove a look；
Straightway began to sing。
There was never a bird could pass；
The night was divinely calm；
And the people stood on the grass
To hear that wonderful psalm。
The nightingale did not care；
She only sang to the skies；
Her song ascended there；
And there she fixed her eyes。
The people that stood below
She knew but little about；
And this tale has a moral； I know；
If you'll try to find it out。
Jean Ingelow ＇1820…1897＇
CHANTICLEER
Of all the birds from East to West
That tuneful are and dear；
I love that farmyard bird the best；
They call him Chanticleer。
Gold plume and copper plume；
Comb of scarlet gay；
'Tis he that scatters night and gloom；
And whistles back the day！
He is the sun's brave herald
That； ringing his blithe horn；
Calls round a world dew…pearled
The heavenly airs of morn。
O clear gold； shrill and bold！
He calls through creeping mist
The mountains from the night and cold
To rose and amethyst。
He sets the birds to singing；
And calls the flowers to rise；
The morning cometh； bringing
Sweet sleep to heavy eyes。
Gold plume and silver plume；
Comb of coral gay；
'Tis he packs off the night and gloom；
And summons home the day！
Black fear he sends it flying；
Black care he drives afar；
And creeping shadows sighing
Before the morning star。
The birds of all the forest
Have dear and pleasant cheer；
But yet I hold the rarest
The farmyard Chanticleer。
Red cock or black cock；
Gold cock or white；
The flower of all the feathered flock；
He whistles back the light！
Katherine Tynan Hinkson ＇1861…1931＇
〃WHAT DOES LITTLE BIRDIE SAY？〃
From 〃Sea Dreams〃
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。
Baby； sleep a little longer；
Till the little limbs are stronger；
If she sleeps a little longer；
Baby too shall fly away。
Alfred Tennyson ＇1809…1892＇
NURSE'S SONG
When the voices of children are heard on the green
And laughing is heard on the hill；
My heart is at rest within my breast；
And everything else is still。
〃Then come home； my children； the sun is gone down；
And the dews of the night arise；
Come； come； leave off play； and let us away
Till the morning appears in the skies。〃
〃No； no； let us play； for it is yet day；
And we cannot go to sleep；
Besides in the sky the little birds fly；
And the hills are all covered with sheep。〃
〃Well； well； go and play till the light fades away；
And then go home to bed。〃
The little ones leaped and shouted and laughed；
And all the hills echoed。
William Blake ＇1757…1827＇
JACK FROST
The door was shut； as doors should be；
Before you went to bed last night；
Yet Jack Frost has got in； you see；
And left your window silver white。
He must have waited till you slept；
And not a single word he spoke；
But pencilled o'er the panes and crept
Away again before you woke。
And now you cannot see the hills
Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane；
But there are fairer things than these
His fingers traced on every pane。
Rocks and castles towering high；
Hills and dales； and streams and fields；
And knights in armor riding by；
With nodding plumes and shining shields。
And here are little boats； and there
Big ships with sails spread to the breeze；
And yonder； palm trees waving fair
On islands set in silver seas。
And butterflies with gauzy wings；
And herds of cows and flocks of sheep；
And fruit and flowers and all the things
You see when you are sound asleep。
For creeping softly underneath
The door when all the lights are out；
Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe；
And knows the things you think about。
He paints them on the window pane
In fairy lines with frozen steam；
And when you wake you see again
The lovely things you saw in dream。
Gabriel Setoun ＇1861…
OCTOBER'S PARTY
October gave a party；
The leaves by hundreds came …
The Chestnuts； Oaks； and Maples；
And leaves of every name。
The Sunshine spread a carpet；
And everything was grand；
Miss Weather led the dancing；
Professor Wind the band。
The Chestnuts came in yellow；
The Oaks in crimson dressed；
The lovely Misses Maple
In scarlet looked their best；
All balanced to their partners；
And gaily fluttered by；
The sight was like a rainbow
New fallen from the sky。
Then； in the rustic hollow；
At hide…and…seek they played；
The party closed at sundown；
And everybody stayed。
Professor Wind played louder；
They flew along the ground；
And then the party ended
In jolly 〃hands around。〃
George Cooper ＇1840…1927＇
THE SHEPHERD
How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot！
From the morn to the evening he strays；
He shall foll
