THE PIPER ON THE HILL A CHILD'S SONG THERE sits a piper on the hill Who pipes the livelong day, And when he pipes both loud and shrill, The frightened people say: "The wind, the wind is blowing up 'Tis rising to a gale." The women hurry to the shore To watch some distant sail. The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind, But when he pipes all sweet and low, The piper on the hill, I hear the merry women go With laughter, loud and shrill: They gather on the meadow-land The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind, Is blowing south to-day. And in the morn, when winter comes, To keep the piper warm, The little Angels shake their wings To make a feather storm: "The snow, the snow has come at last!” The happy children call, And "ring around" they dance in glee, And watch the snowflakes fall. The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind, Has spread a snowy pall. But when at night the piper plays, I have not any fear, Because God's windows open wide The pretty tune to hear; The Wind and the Moon And when each crowding spirit looks, A watching mother may behold Her little child again. The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind, May blow her home again. Dora Sigerson Shorter [18 THE WIND AND THE MOON SAID the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out; You stare In the air Like a ghost in a chair, Always looking what I am about I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out." The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon. So, deep On a heap Of clouds to sleep, Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon, He turned in his bed; she was there again! On high In the sky, With her one ghost eye, The Moon shone white and alive and plain. The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim. "With my sledge, And my wedge, I have knocked off her edge! If only I blow right fierce and grim, The creature will soon be dimmer than dim." 133 He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread. "One puff More 's enough To blow her to snuff! One good puff more where the last was bred, He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone. Nowhere Was a moonbeam bare; Far off and harmless the shy stars shone-- The Wind he took to his revels once more; On down, In town, Like a merry-mad clown, He leaped and halloed with whistle and roar"What's that?" The glimmering thread once more! He flew in a rage-he danced and blew; But in vain Was the pain Of his bursting brain; For still the broader the Moon-scrap grew, Slowly she grew-till she filled the night, And shone On her throne In the sky alone, A matchless, wonderful silvery light, Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I! With my breath, Good faith! I blew her to death First blew her away right out of the sky Then blew her in; what strength have I!" Baby Seed Song But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair; For high In the sky, With her one white eye, Motionless, miles above the air, She had never heard the great Wind blare. 135 George Macdonald [1824-1905] CHILD'S SONG IN SPRING THE silver birch is a dainty lady, She wears a satin gown; The elm tree makes the old churchyard shady, She will not live in town. The English oak is a sturdy fellow, He gets his green coat late; The willow is smart in a suit of yellow, Such a gay green gown God gives the larches- The hazels hold up their arms for arches The chestnut's proud, and the lilac's pretty, But the plane tree's kind to the poor dull city- Edith Nesbit [1858 BABY SEED SONG LITTLE brown brother, oh! little brown brother, Are you awake in the dark? Here we lie cosily, close to each other: Hark to the song of the lark "Waken!" the lark says, "waken and dress you; Put on your green coats and gay, Blue sky will shine on you, sunshine caress you— Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother, I'll be a poppy-all white, like my mother; What! you're a sun-flower? How I shall miss you But I shall send all the bees up to kiss you; Little brown brother, good-bye. Edith Nesbit [1858 LITTLE DANDELION GAY little Dandelion Lights up the meads, Lists to the robin's note Poured from above; Wise little Dandelion Asks not for love. Cold lie the daisy banks Bright hues were seen. True little Dandelion Greeteth the May. Brave little Dandelion! Fast falls the snow, Blithe little Dandelion Meek little Dandelion Groweth more fair, Till dies the amber dew Out from her hair. |