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70
SONGS FOE CHILDHOOD.
He'll brown his rosy cheeks, And singe his sunny hair,
Staring at the imps
With their castles in the air.
He sees lofty towers
Rising to the moon ; He sees little soldiers
Pulling them all down ; Worlds rushing up and down,
Blazing with a flare-See how he leaps
As they glimmer in the air.
For all so sage he looks,
What can the laddie ken ? He's thinking upon nothing,
Like many mighty men. A wee thing makes us think,
A wee thing makes us stare ; There are more folks than him
Building castles in the air.
Such a night in winter
May well make him cold; His chin upon his chubby hand
Will soon make him old. His brow is smooth and broad�
Oh, pray that busy care Would let the wean alone,
With his castles in the air!
He'll glower at the fire,
And he'll glance at the light, But many sparkling stars
Are swallowed up iu uight; Older eyes than his
Are dazzled by a glare ; Hearts are broken, heads are turned,
With castles in the air.
The lambs play always, they know no better; They are only one times one.
0  moon! in the night I have seen you sailing And shining so round and low ;
You were bright � ah bright! but your light is failing; You are nothing now but a bow.
You moou, have you done something wrong in heaven, That God has hidden your face ?
1  hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven, And shine again in your place.
O velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow, You've powdered your legs with gold!
O brave marsh-mary buds, rich and yellow, Give me your money to hold!
O columbine, open your folded wrapper, Where two twin turtle-doves dwell!
0  cuckoo-pint, toll me the purple clapper That hangs in your clear greeu bell!
And show me the nest with the young ones in it; I will not steal them away:
1  am old! You may trust me, linnet, linnet, I am seven times one to-day.
DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY.
Miss Warner.
Daffy-down-dilly came up in the cold,
Through the brown mold, Although the March breezes blew keen on her face, Although the white snow lay on many a place.
Daffy-down-dilly had heard under ground
The sweet rushing sound Of the streams, as they burst off their white winter
chains; Of the whistliug spring winds, and the pattering
rains.
"Now then," thought Daffy, deep down in her heart,
" It's time I should start!'' So she pushed her soft leaves through the hard
frozen ground, Quite lip to the surface, and then she looked round
SEVEN TIMES ONE. Jean Ingelow.
There's no dew left on the daisies aad clover,
There's no rain left in heaven : I've said my "seven times" over and over,
Seven times one are seven.
I am old, so old I can write a letter; My birthday lessons are done ;







E-Book - An Annotated Compendium of Old Time American Songs by James Alverson III