5

10

And wouldn't it be nobler

To keep your temper sweet,
And in your heart be thankful
You can walk upon your feet?

And

suppose

the world don't please you,
Nor the way some people do ;
Do you think the whole creation
Will be altered just for you?
And isn't it, my boy or girl,

The wisest, bravest plan,
Whatever comes or doesn't come,
To do the best you can?

15

FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN

AMERICA, 1860

Daisies

At evening when I go to bed
I see the stars shine overhead;
They are the little daisies white
That dot the meadow of the Night.

BED IN SUMMER

And often while I'm dreaming so,
Across the sky the Moon will go;
It is a lady, sweet and fair,

Who comes to gather daisies there.

For, when at morning I arise,

There's not a star left in the skies;

67

She's picked them all and dropped them down

Into the meadows of the town.

5

In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me on the street.

10

15

And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?

The Sun's Travels

5 The sun is not a-bed, when I
At night upon my pillow lie;
Still round the earth his way he takes,
And morning after morning makes.

While here at home, in shining day,
10 We round the sunny garden play,
Each little Indian sleepy-head
Is being kissed and put to bed.

And when at eve I rise from tea, Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea; 15 And all the children in the West Are getting up and being dressed.

SECOND YEAR-SECOND HALF

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

ENGLAND, 1564-1616

Ariel's Song

Where the bee sucks, there suck I:

In a cowslip's bell I lie;

There I couch when owls do cry.

On the bat's back I do fly,

After summer merrily:

Merrily, merrily, shall I live now

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI

ENGLAND, 1830-1894

The Swallow

Fly away, fly away over the sea,

Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done; Come again, come again, come back to me, 10 Bringing the summer and bringing the

sun.

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM

IRELAND, 1828-1889

The Fairies

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,

And white owl's feather.

Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home:
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam ;
Some in the reeds

Of the black mountain lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs,
All night awake.