the home book of verse-1-第33节
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How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot！
From the morn to the evening he strays；
He shall follow his sheep all the day；
And his tongue shall be filled with praise。
For he hears the lamb's innocent call；
And he hears the ewe's tender reply；
He is watchful； while they are in peace；
For they know when their Shepherd is nigh。
William Blake ＇1757…1827＇
NIKOLINA
O tell me； little children； have you seen her …
The tiny maid from Norway； Nikolina？
O； her eyes are blue as cornflowers； mid the corn；
And her cheeks are rosy red as skies of morn！
Nikolina！ swift she turns if any call her；
As she stands among the poppies； hardly taller；
Breaking off their scarlet cups for you；
With spikes of slender larkspur； burning blue。
In her little garden many a flower is growing …
Red； gold； and purple in the soft wind blowing；
But the child that stands amid the blossoms gay
Is sweeter； quainter； brighter e'en than they。
Celia Thaxter ＇1835…1894＇
LITTLE GUSTAVA
Little Gustava sits in the sun；
Safe in the porch； and the little drops run
From the icicles under the eaves so fast；
For the bright spring sun shines warm at last；
And glad is little Gustava。
She wears a quaint little scarlet cap；
And a little green bowl she holds in her lap；
Filled with bread and milk to the brim；
And a wreath of marigolds round the rim：
〃Ha！ ha！〃 laughs little Gustava。
Up comes her little gray coaxing cat
With her little pink nose； and she mews； 〃What's that？〃
Gustava feeds her； … she begs for more；
And a little brown hen walks in at the door：
〃Good day！〃 cries little Gustava。
She scatters crumbs for the little brown hen。
There comes a rush and a flutter； and then
Down fly her little white doves so sweet；
With their snowy wings and crimson feet：
〃Welcome！〃 cries little Gustava。
So dainty and eager they pick up the crumbs。
But who is this through the doorway comes？
Little Scotch terrier； little dog Rags；
Looks in her face； and his funny tail wags：
〃Ha！ ha！〃 laughs little Gustava。
〃You want some breakfast too？〃 and down
She sets her bowl on the brick floor brown；
And little dog Rags drinks up her milk；
While she strokes his shaggy locks like silk：
〃Dear Rags！〃 says little Gustava。
Waiting without stood sparrow and crow；
Cooling their feet in the melting snow：
〃Won't you come in； good folk？〃 she cried。
But they were too bashful； and stood outside
Though 〃Pray come in！〃 cried Gustava。
So the last she threw them； and knelt on the mat
With doves and biddy and dog and cat。
And her mother came to the open house…door：
〃Dear little daughter； I bring you some more。
My merry little Gustava！〃
Kitty and terrier； biddy and doves；
All things harmless Gustava loves。
The shy； kind creatures 'tis joy to feed；
And oh； her breakfast is sweet indeed
To happy little Gustava！
Celia Thaxter ＇1835…1894＇
PRINCE TATTERS
Little Prince Tatters has lost his cap！
Over the hedge he threw it；
Into the river it fell 〃kerslap！〃
Stupid old thing to do it！
Now Mother may sigh and Nurse may fume
For the gay little cap with its eagle plume。
〃One cannot be thinking all day of such matters！
Trifles are trifles！〃 says little Prince Tatters。
Little Prince Tatters has lost his coat！
Playing； he did not need it；
〃Left it right there； by the nanny…goat；
And nobody never seed it！〃
Now Mother and Nurse may search till night
For the little new coat with its buttons bright；
But … 〃Coat…sleeves or shirt…sleeves； how little it matters！
Trifles are trifles！〃 says little Prince Tatters。
Little Prince Tatters has LOST HIS BALL！
Rolled away down the street！
Somebody'll have to find it； that's all；
Before he can sleep or eat。
Now raise the neighborhood； quickly； do！
And send for the crier and constable too！
〃Trifles are trifles； but serious matters；
They must be seen to；〃 says little Prince Tatters。
Laura E。 Richards ＇1850…
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
My mother bore me in the southern wild；
And I am black； but oh； my soul is white！
White as an angel is the English child；
But I am black； as if bereaved of light。
My mother taught me underneath a tree；
And； sitting down before the heat of day；
She took me on her lap and kissed me；
And； pointing to the East； began to say：
〃Look on the rising sun； … there God does live；
And gives His light； and gives His heat away；
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning； joy in the noonday。
〃And we are put on earth a little space；
That we may learn to bear the beams of love；
And these black bodies and this sunburnt face
Are but a cloud； and like a shady grove。
〃For； when our souls have learned the heat to bear；
The cloud will vanish； we shall hear His voice；
Saying： 'Come out from the grove； My love and care；
And round My golden tent like lambs rejoice。'〃
Thus did my mother say； and kissed me；
And thus I say to little English boy。
When I from black； and he from white cloud free；
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy；
I'll shade him from the heat； till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our Father's knee；
And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair；
And be like him； and he will then love me。
William Blake ＇1757…1827＇
THE BLIND BOY
O say what is that thing called Light；
Which I must ne'er enjoy；
What are the blessings of the sight；
O tell your poor blind boy！
You talk of wondrous things you see；
You say the sun shines bright；
I feel him warm； but how can he；
Or make it day or night？
My day or night myself I make
Whene'er I sleep or play；
And could I ever keep awake
With me 'twere always day。
With heavy sighs I often hear
You mourn my hapless woe；
But sure with patience I can bear
A loss I ne'er can know。
Then let not what I cannot have
My cheer of mind destroy：
Whilst thus I sing； I am a king；
Although a poor blind boy。
Colley Cibber ＇1671…1757＇
BUNCHES OF GRAPES
〃Bunches of grapes；〃 says Timothy；
〃Pomegranates pink；〃 says Elaine；
〃A junket of cream and a cranberry tart
For me；〃 says Jane。
〃Love…in…a…mist；〃 says Timothy；
〃Primroses pale；〃 says Elaine；
〃A nosegay of pinks and mignonette
For me；〃 says Jane。
〃Chariots of gold；〃 says Timothy；
〃Silvery wings；〃 says Elaine；
〃A bumpety ride in a wagon of hay
For me；〃 says Jane。
Walter de la Mare ＇1873…
MY SHADOW
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me；
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see。
He is very； very like me from the heels up to the head；
And I see him jump before me； when I jump into my bed。
The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow …
Not at all like proper children； which is always very slow；
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India…rubber ball；
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all。
He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play；
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way。
He stays so close beside me； he's a coward you can see；
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me！
One morning； very early； before the sun was up；
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup；
But my lazy little shadow； like an arrant sleepy…head；
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed。
Robert Louis Stevenson ＇1850…1894＇
THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE
When I was sick and lay a…bed；
I had two pillows at my head；
And all my toys beside me lay
To keep me happy all the day。
And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go；
With different uniforms and drills；
Among the bed…clothes； through the hills；
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets；
Or brought my trees and houses out；
And planted cities all about。
I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow…hill；
And sees before him； dale and plain；
The pleasant land of counterpane。
Robert Louis Stevenson ＇1850…1894＇
THE LAND OF STORY…BOOKS
At evening when the lamp is lit；
Around the fire my parents sit；
They sit at home and talk and sing；
And do not play at anything。
Now； with my little gun； I crawl
All in the dark along the wall；
And follow round the forest track
Away behind the sofa back。
There； in the night； where none can spy；
All in my hunter's camp I lie；
And play at books that I have read
Till it is time to go to bed。
These are the hills； these are the woods；
These are my starry solitudes；
And there the river by whose brink
The roaring lions come to drink。
I see the others far away
As if in firelit camp they lay；
And I； like to an Indian scout；
Around their party prowled about。
So； when my nurse comes in for me；
