The World's Music 127 The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree- You friendly Earth, how far do you go, With the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow, With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles, And people upon you for thousands of miles? Ah! you are so great, and I am so small, A whisper inside me seemed to say, "You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot: You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!". William Brighty Rands [1823-1882] THE WORLD'S MUSIC THE world's a very happy place, Where every child should dance and sing, I waken when the morning's come, The linnets play among the leaves At hide-and-seek, and chirp and sing; The twigs that shake, and boughs that sway; From dawn to dark the old mill-wheel And if you listen to the rain When leaves and birds and bees are dumb, You hear it pattering on the pane Like Andrew beating on his drum. The coals beneath the kettle croon, And clap their hands and dance in glee; And even the kettle hums a tune To tell you when it's time for tea. The world is such a happy place, That children, whether big or small, Should always have a smiling face, And never, never sulk at all. Gabriel Setoun [1861 A BOY'S SONG WHERE the pools are bright and deep, Up the river and over the lea, Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That's the way for Billy and me. Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hazel bank is steepest, Going Down Hill on a Bicycle Why the boys should drive away But this I know, I love to play That's the way for Billy and me. 129. James Hogg [1770-1835] GOING DOWN HILL ON A BICYCLE A BOY'S SONG WITH lifted feet, hands still, Swifter and yet more swift, Till the heart with a mighty lift Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry:"O bird, see; see, bird, I fly. "Is this, is this your joy? Say, heart, is there aught like this Speed slackens now, I float Till, when the wheels scarce crawl, My feet to the treadles fall, 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 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 131 THE WIND'S SONG O WINDS that blow across the sea, And birds about their branches sing. You sing to flowers and trees and birds The roses nod to hear you sing; 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. |