56 AGNES E. MITCHELL 5 10 15 WHEN THE Cows COME HOME 1 With klingle, klangle, klingle, The cows are coming home. Now sweet and clear, and faint and low, Like chimings from some far-off tower, That makes the daisies grow. And old-time friends and twilight plays, When the cows come home. 2 With jingle, jangle, jingle, Soft tones that sweetly mingle, The cows are coming home. Malvine, and Pearl, and Florimel, De Kamp, Redrose, and Gretchen Schell, And clang her silver bell. 5 10 Go-ling, go-lang, golinglelingle, 3 With ringle, rangle, ringle, By twos and threes and single, The same sweet sound of wordless psalm, 4 With a tinkle, tankle, tinkle, A-loitering in the checkered stream, To-link, to-lank, tolinklelinkle, O'er banks with buttercups a-twinkle, And up through Memory's deep ravine Come the brook's old song and its old-time sheen, When the cows come home. 5 With a klingle, klangle, klingle, With a loo-oo, and moo-oo, and jingle, And over there on Merlin Hill, Hear the plaintive cry of the whip-poor-will; And over the silent mill. Ko-ling, ko-lang, kolinglelingle, The cows come slowly home. Of long-gone songs, and flowers, and rain; For dear old times come back again When the cows come home. QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION 1. What sounds and sights is the poet trying to get us to 2. What other bells do the cow- praise. Why is the sound of the cowbells a "word less psalm "? (Stanza 3.) What does it suggest that should make us feel grateful for favors? Can you see the "sheen " or shimmer of the water in the brook? (Stanza 4.) What is the "crescent of the silver queen"? Explain the last four lines of each stanza of the poem. Give special attention to the last four lines of the last stanza. How gently rock yon poplars high With heaven's pale candles stored. JEAN INGELOW Now came still evening on; and twilight gray JOHN MILTON DILLY BAL JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS Joel Chandler Harris was an American story-writer whose books of negro folklore are full of interest and entertainment. These stories, however, did not originate with the man who first wrote them. No one knows who first told these odd stories. Story-teller after story-teller, adding here a little and there a little, made these stories better and better. In the cabins of the cotton field and the canebrake, old and young alike listened with rolling eyes and open mouth to the wonderful way of hare and fox, and bear, buzzard, and terrapin. But for years no one thought of writing out these wonderful stories. One day Mr. Harris wrote down some of the stories which the negroes had told him when he was a little boy on the plantation. People begged for others, and Mr. Harris made book after book, so that there are now several books of the " Uncle Remus " stories. These stories opened up a new and very rich literary field. They are written just as we may think the old Southern negro, Uncle Remus, told them to a little boy. How many other boys and girls have enjoyed these wonderful stories! Mr. Harris occupies the field of negro folk stories almost alone; but he has done much fine work outside of it in short stories of Southern life. "Gabriel Tolliver," the novel from which this selection is taken, is a perfect picture of the brighter side of life in the South in the period following the Civil War. Mr. Harris was born in Georgia, in 1848, and died in 1908. His cozy home was in the beautiful city of Atlanta, Georgia. When asked why he called his home "The Sign of the Wren's Nest," |