He turns to steer,
And a tinkling laugh salutes his ear,
With other odd sounds: "Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Fol lol! zidzizzle! quee quee! bah! bah!
Fizzigig-giggidy! pshee! sha sha!"
"O ye thieves, ye thieves, ye rascally thieves!"
The good man cries. He turns to his pitcher,
And there, alas, to his horror perceives
That the little folk's mode of making him richer
Has been to pay him with withered leaves!
* * * * *
THE WORLD
"The world is wet," said the little frog;
"What isn't water is mostly bog."
"Oh, not at all!" said the little fly;
"It's full of spiders, and very dry!"
"The world is dark," said the moth polite,
"With ruddy windows and bows of light."
"My poor young friend, you have much to learn:
The world is green," said the swaying fern.
"O listen to me," sang the little lark:
"It's wet and dry, and it's green and dark.
To think that's all would be very wrong;
It's arched with blue, and it's filled with song."
* * * * *
FANCIFUL STORIES
* * * * *
WHITE MAGIC
Blind folks see the fairies,
Oh, better far than we,
Who miss the shining of their wings
Because our eyes are filled with things
We do not wish to see.
Pages:
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709