Part 3

But our brave little rônin was not afraid.

`For his pheasant flew over the castle-wall,

And his ape undid the castle-gate;

`And brave Little Peachling, his dog at heel,

Into the castle then marched in state.

`His little dog snapped at the ogres' heels;

His pheasant picked at their round green

eyes;

`And his ape tweaked away at the ogres' locks,

As only an ape can do when he tries.

`And the little rônin, around him he laid,

With his muramasa so thick and fast,

`That the king of the ogres was prisoner

made;

And the ogres' castle was taken at last.

`Oh, measures of pearls and wedges of gold!

Oh, the jars of musk and the coral-bars,

`Amber and emeralds, tortoise-shells,

And diamonds shining like strings of stars!

`Gold-brocade coats, and wonderful gems

That regulated the green sea-tide!

`It's always the loveliest things in the world

Which the treasure-castles of ogres hide.

`With the treasures, the dog, the pheasant and

ape,

Little Peachling home to his parents ran;

`And the old woodman and his loving wife

Were the happiest couple in all Japan.

A SWING.

|O THEY made her a swing on a gossamer-

tree, on the lowest bough of a gossamer-tree;

And she swung so far, I have heard, she could

see

`The next year's rose and honey-bee, and the

gifts on the next year's Christmas-tree--

`But I fear 'tis a story, O dear me!

THE YOUNGEST TELLS HER STORY.

|YOU think that I can't tell a story--

Just wait--no! 'tisn't 'bout Jack

Mory;

This morning, it was early quite,

I saw a little fairy knight,

With silver boots and silver shield,

A-tramping through the clover-field.

He held a spear that looked like grass,

But 'twas a truly spear of glass;

.r»

A silver bugle at his lips,

He played with tiny finger-tips;

He held a flag o' grass-green silk;

A branch of lilies white as milk;

He held--"How many hands had he?"

You're cruel to make fun of me!

No! I won't tell another bit;

You've lost the sweetest part of it!

A SONG.

|SING a song of a little lass (red blow the

roses, O ),

About a lovely little lass, who was so like a

rose, you know,

(Red blow the roses, 0 ), so very like when

placed together,

They only told her from a rose because she

bloomed in winter weather.

HER PROOF.

|SHE lifted her finger with gesture slow:

`"'Tis true, for certain and sure, I know,

And I think when I say so you ought to be-

lieve--

_They kneel in their stalls on Christmas Eve._

"The red one, the white one, the speckled

and brown,

When the clock strikes twelve, will all kneel

down;

And it happens so every Christmas Eve,

--Well, I'll tell you this, if you _won't_ believe:

"Once, ages and ages ago it was,

I thought I would see for myself, because

I doubted a little, just like you,

Whether or no the story was true;

"And so one Christmas Eve I staid

Awake till twelve--Oh, I was afraid!

The wind was a-blowing, and no moon shone,

But I went to the stable myself, alone.

"And when I had slid the big doors back

I couldn't go in, it was so black;

But--solemn and true--I do declare

_I heard the cows when they knelt down!_ There!"

ROSALINDA'S LAMB.

|THE Princess Rosalinda's lamb-

Silken is his fleece, they say,

And he feeds on pinks alway.

Round his neck's a golden band,

"Rosalinda" 's on it writ,

And a padlock fastens it.

Oh! of pinks he is so sweet,

And he has such dainty feet--

The Princess Rosalinda's lamb!

If you find him, you who read,

And him to his mistress lead,

Rich reward she offers you:

Lovely china mug of blue,

i

Coral beads, a turquoise ring,

Silver bangles--anything

That you choose to have in mind;

Ah, you're lucky if you find

Princess Rosalinda's lamb!

THE BABY'S REVERY.

|AN exquisite little maiden

With a head like a golden flower,

`She soberly stood at the window

In the still, white twilight hour.

`"Of what are you thinking, sweetheart?

She was such a little child,

`She could not answer the question;

She only dimpled and smiled.

`But I wondered, as she frolicked,

Her mystic revery o'er,

`Was she a rose-shade less a child

Than she had been before?

`Was she pausing, as a rose-bud

Seems pausing while it grows?

`Had I caught the blooming minute

Of a little human rose?

A SILLY BOY.

|O, A little boy sailed in a sugar-bowl,

with silver spoons for oars,

And his hold was full of sugar, the French-

man's tea to sweeten;

But when he safely moored his craft beside

those foreign shores--

Alas, that silly little boy, his cargo he had

eaten!

A PRETTY AMBITION.

|THE mackerel-man drives down the street,

With mackerel to sell,

`A-calling out with lusty shout:

"Ha-il, Mack-e-rel!"

`When I'm a man I mean to drive

A wagon full of posies,

`And sing so sweet to all I meet:

"Hail, Hyacinths and Roses!"

THE SNOWFLAKE TREE.

|THE hawthorn is dead, the rose-leaves

have fled

On the north wind over the sea:

Now the petals will fall that are rarest of all,

Sweetheart, from the Snowflake Tree.

The Tree, it doth stand in that marvellous

land

Whose shore like a sapphire gleams,

Where a crown hangs high in the northern

sky,

Forth raying its golden beams.

It tosses its boughs with their crystalling

blows;

They crackle and tinkle for glee

When the north wind shrieks round the

awful peaks,

On the shores of the polar sea.

And never a bird its blossoms has stirred,

Or built on its branches a nest;

For the perfume which floats from the blos-

soms' throats

Would freeze the song in its breast.

And my own little bird, were her goldilocks

stirred

By the wind thro' its branches which blows,

With her songs silenced all, forever would fall

Asleep on the silver snows.

But our hearth burns bright, little sweetheart,

to-night,

And we're far from the Snowflake Tree;

Thou canst nestle in bed thy little gold head,

And thy songs shall awaken with thee.

DOROTHY'S DREAM.

|SHE sat on her little wooden stool,

With a wistful, thoughtful face,

`Her blue eyes staring straight ahead

Into the chimney-place

`Where the oaken logs that winter night sent

up a merry blaze.

`"Now, what is the thought, Maid Dorothy,

You think so long, I pray?"

`"Oh, mother! last night I dreamed a dream

About that Christmas Day

`Which they have in the green old England

over the sea, you say.

`And I thought I had hung up a stocking

Right over the chimney there;

`And it was not one of the coarse blue socks

I knit myself to wear--

`But fine and soft; and, on the sides, some silk-

en 'broidery fair.

`"And out of the stocking I pulled a book--

And it was a sin, you'll say--

`But my old 'New England Primer'

I thought I would throw away;

`For it was not a book like this one, but had

covers and pictures gay.

`"And I pulled out a doll with real brown hair

In satins and laces drest--

`Oh! she truly cried, and she closed her eyes

When I laid her down to rest.

`But I made up my mind I would always love

my old poppet the best.

`"Oh! I'm sure that the Governor's lady

Has never one ribbon so fine

`As some in that stocking; of blue and gold

And crimson like elder-wine.

`I could have tied up my hair with them if

they had been really mine.

`"But "--soberly said Maid Dorothy,

A hundred years ago,

`"It was a dream--and dreams of course

By opposites always go;

`And such fine things will never be in this vain

world, I know."

TIGER LILIES.

|HOW keepeth my lady the weeds from

her posies,

All in the gay summer-time!

Why is it the rose-chafer eats not her roses

From the song of the lark till the four-o'clock

closes?

Five fierce lily-tigers in spotted cuirasses

She posteth at each of her green garden-

passes,

And they frighten away the chafers and

grasses,

All in the gay summer-time.

THE ENLIGHTENMENT OF MAMMA.

|O MAMMA dear, just listen!

I ran away, you know;

I saw the grasses glisten,

A-bowing to me so.

The clovers shook their pink heads too--

You wouldn't care I ran away,

If how they did you only knew!

And I was dressed as much as they--

They didn't mind a bit--and Oh,

I saw there, fastened to the grass

With little shiny ropes of glass.

A spider's web! Mamma, you know

You've always said that spiders ate

For breakfast little frightened flies,

For which they long had laid in wait,

A-watching with their cruel eyes--

Well, mamma, in that spider's web-

Somebody told it wrong to you--

There wasn't any fly at all!

Mamma, you will believe it's true;

Everything for breakfast there

Was clover-tops and drops of dew!"

BUTTERFLIES.

|IF we, my deary, were butterflies, with pur-

ple winglets and golden eyes,

We would not adore the roses alway, and no-

body else, on a sunny day.

If we, my baby, were butterflies, with purple

winglets and golden eyes,

Far away, far away, over land or sea, we would

come to the honey we love in thee.

AN OLD MAXIM.

|COME, "Silvertongue," and hear the tale

Of that little girl of yore,

`Who sat up in a straight-

backed chair

With her tiptoes on

the floor,

`And listened to her eld-

ers,

Like a little voiceless

bird:

`Dear little model las-

sie,

Who was seen, but

never heard.

NANNY'S SEARCH.

|O NANNY, my dear little Nanny! and

where have you been to-day?

Y our little coat's old, and the wind blows cold,

and where have you been, I pray?"

"Dear Granny, I've been to the forest to look

for a Christmas-tree--

Santa Claus is so kind, I thought I would find

one growing there wild, maybe,

Full of cakes, with a doll, and candy, and all

for a wee little body like me."

GRANDMOTHER'S STORY.

|NOW hang up your sunbonnet, Marthy,

And get out your patchwork square,

`And sit down here and sew for a while

In your little rocking-chair,

`And hear me tell you a story

Of a little girl I knew,

`Who made a whole quilt of patchwork

When she wasn't as big as you."

DOLLY'S FAN.

|DOLLY had a silken fan,

Crimson, with a feather border,

`And she--Oh! so airily--

Used to sway it from and toward her.

`Dolly, seated in her pew,

Many wondering eyes were scanning;

`Tilting up her dainty chin

Toward the parson, softly fanning.

`Every little girl in church,

--Pity 'tis to tell such folly--

`While the parson preached and prayed,

Tried to fan herself like Dolly!

A PORTRAIT

|WHO is that young and gentle dame who

stands in yonder gilded frame,

Clad in a simple muslin gown whose 'broi-

dered frills hang limply down,

Blue ribbons in her yellow

curls, around her neck a string of pearls--

Her

eyes

blue stars in

ancient gloom, a-seeking you all o'er the room,

As if to call sweet memories to her?--

My grandmother, before I knew her.

CARAWAY.

|PAST the lavender-bed and the parsley,

Close to the wall where the sweet-brier

blows,

Green grows the caraway Grandma planted,

Though scarce one lover to-day it knows.

When dear old Grandma her "meetin' bun-

nit"

Had carefully tied, on the Sabbath Day,

She always put in her best-gown pocket

A generous handful of caraway.

For the dear old soul would grow a-weary

To sit so long in the cushionless pew;

And oft the parson's doctrinal sermon

Would trouble her tender feelings too

And when she had heard so much "election"

That her heart for the others began to bleed,

She sensed the better God's love behind it

By eating a bit of her "meetin' seed."

Solemn and mild upraised to the parson

Was her dear old face on the Sabbath Day;

She drank the sweet there was in the sermon

--The bitter she flavored with caraway.

Though caraway is not fair to look at,

Though you may not fancy its taste indeed,

Yet still it shall grow there down in the garden

Because it was Grandma's "meetin' seed."

TWO LITTLE BIRDS IN BLUE.

|TWO little birdies all in blue

Airily flitted the garden thro'.

`_(Pink blows the brier in summer-weather. )_

`And they could whistle a rondel true

`Which all of the neighbors loved and knew

`_(Pink blows the brier in summer-weather.)_

`Now through the garden the north wind

goes,

`And the bush is bent to the ground with

snows.

`_(Black turns the brier in winter-weather.)_

`Where are the little blue birds--who knows?

`And where, oh where! is the pink brier-rose?

`_(Ahy sweet things come and depart together!)_

A CASTLE IN SPAIN.

|THE draggled lilies were beaten down

As if by a prancing hoof;

`The roses swayed, and the warm rain came,

Like the patter of pearls, on the roof.

`Up in the garret the darling sat

In her little gown of blue,

`With her lily cheeks and her rosebud lips,

And dreamed as she loved to do.

`Bundles of herbs from the rafters hung;

There was many a quaint old chest,

`A cradle of oak, and a spinning-wheel,

In the chimney a swallow's nest.

`The darling she sat in a straight-backed chair,

With her face 'gainst the window-pane,

`Her little hands folded across her lap,

And she builded her Castle in Spain.

`And never a magic palace rose,

In the days of the Moorish kings,

`As fair as the Castle the darling built

From her sweet imaginings.

`Rosy and green were the walls, like the

heart

Of a murmuring ocean-shell;

`There were jewelled spires, and a slender

tower

With a swinging silver bell.

`And up to the gold-hasped door there ran,

On a carven ivory stair,

`The darling herself in rosy silk,

With pearls in her yellow hair.

`Then the beautiful door swung open wide,

And she entered a marble hall

`Where marble nymphs, with golden lamps,

Stood ranged against the wall.

`The darling danced like a puff o' down

Over the marble floor,

`And she gleefully sped from hall to hall,

And opened each golden door;

`And chambers she found whose lofty walls

With jewels were all acrust,

`With windows of pearl, and ivory floors

Scattered over with diamond-dust.

`And oft up a staircase rail she saw

A flowering garland twist,

`With ruby lilies, and roses of gold,

And myrtle of amethyst.

`(The south wind blew; on the garret-roof

Fell faster the summer rain;)

`A wonderful garden the darling found

Around the Castle in Spain:

`Apple-branches all white with flowers,

A hive of stingless bees,

`Robins, with nests of woven gold,

On the boughs of the cherry-trees;

`Lilies as tall as the darling's self,

Of silver and gold and blue,

`Banks of primrose and mignonette,

And violets wet with dew;

`Poppies, with bees asleep in their cups,

Tulips of purple and red,

`Honeysuckles and humming-birds,

Rose-branches over her head;

`A velvet sward in an open space,

A fountain of tinkling pearls;

`And the darling herself in a violet gown,

With hyacinths in her curls,

`With her apron full of roses and pearls,

Singing a song so clear

`That the bees and the yellow butterflies

Came flying round to hear.

`Then the darling danced down a flowery path,

Still singing her song so sweet,

`With hawthorn branches on either hand,

And crocuses under feet.

`And she found a beautiful blue-eyed prince

Asleep in a thicket dim,

`Caught in a bramble-rose which grew

By magic over him.

`Thro' the leaves and roses she scarce could see

His head with its flaxen curls,

`His rosy cheeks, and his velvet coat

With its buttons of milky pearls.

`And the poor little prince, if he chanced to

stir

As he dreamed in his magic sleep,

`Was pierced by a thorn of the bramble-rose--

And the darling began to weep.

`Then a bright tear dropt on the bramble-rose,

And away from the prince it fell,

`And he woke from his sleep--and loud and

sweet

Rang the chimes of the Castle bell!

*****

`The darling sat in her straight-backed chair,

With her soft cheeks flushing red;

`And she sighed, for the prince and the castle

fair

And the roses and pearls had fled.

`She wistfully looked thro' the rain-splashed

pane:

"'Tis a sad and stormy day,

`And not so much as a rose have I brought

From my Castle in Spain away!"

`She did not know as she sat and watched,

The darling, the pattering rain--

`On her soft little cheek she carried a rose,

A rose from her Castle in Spain.

AT THE DREAMLAND GATE.

|THE winds go down in peace, dear child,

The birds are circling o'er the sea;

`The Dreamland gate before thee swings

`With murmur soft as drowsy bee;

Now enter in, dear child, nor fear,

nor fear lest harm should come to thee.

Beyond the gate I cannot go,

But here I'll stand, nor stir away,

While, with the Dreamland children, thou

Shalt frolic till the break of day;

Fear not to enter in, dear child; for close be-

side the gate I'll stay.

And if in Dreamland's lovely woods

Some harmless giant lay in wait,

Some straggler from thy fairy tales,

He'll take to flight disconsolate--

`Just say, "Away! or I will tell my mother

at the Dreamland gate!"

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

|DEAR Nanny in her Christmas hood

With fluffy swansdown round the face,

`Wearing her pretty Christmas gown

And little frill of dainty lace,

`Came with her mother into church, on

Christmas Eve, with timid grace.

`Dear Nanny sat there in her pew,

The Christmas-greens with music stirred,

`The choir sang like a nest of larks,

But never once she caught a word.

For she was singing to herself, and hers was

all the song she heard.

`"My muff, my hood!" dear Nanny sang,

"My coat, my dress, my golden ring,

`My waxen doll, my picture-book,

My stocking full of everything "--

So sang the sober little maid, so softly no one

heard her sing.

`O sweetly carolled forth the choir

Their Christmas songs, and never knew

`How, in her little simple tune

Which after all was just as true,

A-sitting meekly down below dear little

Nanny carolled too.

CROW--WARNINGS.

|NO, it won't rain to-morrow! well, what

if the crows

`From that withered

old cornfield fly,

A-cawing for rain--let them caw, if they

like,

With all of that blue in the sky!

Caw away, you old birds, in your rusty black

cloaks!

I know that you're not speaking true!

There are not enough clouds in the world,

in a night

To cover up all of that blue!

THE OUT-DOORS GIRL.

|SING a song of a queer little girl who lived

all alone in the green out-of-doors:

She made her a necklace of cranberries, and

a gown of the red corn-flowers,

And she made her a beautiful oak-leaf cap,

and a swing of a wild grape-vine;

And merrily-o all day she swung out of shade

into gold sunshine.

THE BEGGAR KING.

"Hark! hark! hark! the dogs do bark!

The Beggars have come to town,

Some in rags, and some in tags,

And some in velvet gowns."

_Old Nursery Rhyme_.

|HALF frantic, down the city streets

The barking dogs they tore;

`The dust it flew, and no man knew

The like of it before.

`The St. Bernard's deep booming bass,

The hound's sepulchral howl,

`The terrier-whelp's staccato yelp,

And the bull-dog's massive growl,

`In chorus sounded thro' the town:

The windows up they went,

`

`Thro' every space a gaping face

Inquiringly was bent.

`The burgher's daughter clean forgot

Her snood of silk and pearls,

`And, full of dread, popped out her head,

With its tumbled yellow curls.

`A rosebud smote her on the lips:

Down went the rattling blind;

`But still the maid, all curious, staid,

And slyly peeped behind.

`A handsome lord, with smiling lips,

Leaned from the opposite tower;

`Two withered hags, in dirt and rags,

Did from their garret glower.

`The tailor left his goose to see,

And got his coat ablaze;

`Three peasant maids, with shining braids,

Looked on in wild amaze.

`The emperor's palace windows high,

All open they were set--

`From the gray stone red jewels shone,

All gold and violet.

`The ladies of the emperor's court

Leaned out with stately grace;

`And each began her peacock fan

To wave before her face.

`"_Hark! hark! hark! the dogs do bark!_"

The emperor left his throne

`At the uproar, and on the floor

He dropped his emerald crown.

`The dogs press round the city-gates,

The guards they wave them back;

`But all in vain, with might and main

Dance round the yelping pack.

`Hark! hark! hark! o'er growl and bark

There sounds a trumpet-call!

`Now, rat-tat-tat; pray, what is' that

Outside the city-wall?

`Airs from the Beggar's Opera

On broken fiddles played;

`On pans they drum and wildly strum,

Filched from a dairy-maid.

`With tenor-whine, and basso-groan,

The chorus is complete;

`And, far and wide, there sounds beside

The tramp of many feet!

`"_Hark! hark! hark! the dogs do bark!_"

Ah, what a horrid din!

`The Beggars wait outside the gate,

And clamor to get in.

`A herald to the emperor rode:

"Save! save the emerald crown!

`For, hark! hark! hark! the dogs do bark!

The Beggars storm the town!"

`The emperor donned his clinking mail,

Called out his royal guard,

`The city-gate, with furious rate,

Went galloping toward.

`A captain with a flag of truce

Thus parleyed on the wall:

`"Why do ye wait outside the gate,

And why so loudly call?"

`He spoke, then eyed them with dismay;

For o'er the valley spread

`The clamoring crowd, and stern and proud

A king rode at their head.

`In mothy ermine he was drest;

As sad a horse he rode,

`With jaunty air, quite _débonnaire_,

As ever man bestrode.

`The Beggars stumped and limped behind,

With wails and whines and moans--

`"_Some in rags, and some in tags_,

_And some in velvet gowns._"

`A great court-beauty's splendid dress

Was there, all soiled and frayed;

`The scarf, once bright, a belted knight

Wore at his accolade;

`A queen's silk hose; a bishop's robe;

A monarch's funeral-pall;

`The shoes, all mud, a prince-o'-the-blood

Had danced in at a ball.

`The Beggars stumped and limped along,

Aping their old-time grace:

`Upon the wind, flew out behind,

Ribbons of silk and lace.

`A wretched company it was

Around the city gate--

`The sour and sad, the sick and bad,

And all disconsolate.

`But in the wretched company

There was one dainty thing:

`A maiden, white as still moonlight,

Who rode beside the king.

`Her hands were full of apple-flowers

Plucked in the country lanes;

`Her little feet, like lilies sweet,

O'erlaced with violet veins,

`Hung down beneath her tattered dress;

A bank of lilies, showed

`Her shoulders fair; her dusky hair

Down to her girdle flowed.

`Up spoke the haughty Beggar King:

"I want no parleying word!

`Bid come to me, right speedily,

The emperor, your Lord!"

`Wide open flew the city-gate!

Out rode the emperor bold;

`His war-horse pranced and lightly danced

Upon his hoofs of gold.

`"What wouldest thou, O Beggar King!

What wouldest thou with me?

`For all the gold the town doth hold

Would not suffice for thee."

`"Beholdest thou my daughter dear,

O emperor! by my side?

`Though wild the rose, it sweetly grows,

And she shall be thy bride,

`"And thou shalt seat her on thy throne

When thou thy troth hast pledged,

`Her beauty grace with gems and lace,

And robes with ermine edged;

`"Or else, on thee, O emperor!

Like locusts we'll come down,

`And naught that's fair or rich or rare

We'll leave within the town!

`"The children all shall lack for food,

And the lords and ladies pine;

`For we will eat your dainties sweet,

And drink your red old wine!

`"Now, what say'st thou, O emperor?--

Wed thou mv daughter dear,

`To-morrow day, by dawning gray,

Thy borders shall be clear."

`The emperor looked upon the maid:

She shyly dropped her head;

`Her apple-flowers fell down in showers,

Her soft white cheeks grew red.

`The emperor loved her at the sight:

"I take your terms!" cried he;

`"Nor wilt thou fear, O maiden dear!

To wed to-night with me?"

`Her long, dark lashes swept her cheek;

A word she could not find,

`For to and fro her thoughts did blow,

Like lilies in a wind.

`She toward him reached her little hand,

Then--drew it back again;

`She smiled and sighed--all satisfied,

He grasped her bridle-rein.

`Then clattered courtiers thro' the street,

Fast ran the folk, I ween,

`And under feet strewed roses sweet,