SINGING

F speckled eggs the birdie sings And nests among the trees; The sailor sings of ropes and things In ships upon the seas.

The children sing in far Japan,
The children sing in Spain;
The organ with the organ man
Is singing in the rain.

MARCHING SONG

RING the comb and play upon it!

BRING

Marching, here we come!

Willie cocks his Highland bonnet,

Johnnie beats the drum.

Mary Jane commands the party,

Peter leads the rear;

Feet in time, alert and hearty,

Each a Grenadier!

All in the most martial manner
Marching double-quick;
While the napkin like a banner
Waves upon the stick!

Here's enough of fame and pillage,

Great commander Jane!

Now that we've been round the village,
Let's go home again.

THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE

WHEN I was sick and lay abed,

WHEN

I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay
To keep me happy all the day.

And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bedclothes, through the hills;

And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.

I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,

And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of Counterpane.

FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE

FASTER than fairies, faster than witches,

Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches; And charging along like troops in a battle, All through the meadows the horses and cattle: All of the sights of the hill and the plain Fly as thick as driving rain;

And ever again, in the wink of an eye,

Painted stations whistle by.

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,

All by himself and gathering brambles;

Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
And there is the green for stringing the daisies
Here is a cart run away in the road,
Lumping along with man and load;
And here is a mill and there is a river:
Each a glimpse and gone forever!

TH

THE COW

'HE friendly cow all red and white,
I love with all my heart:

She gives me cream with all her might,
To eat with apple-tart.

She wanders lowing here and there,

And yet she cannot stray,

All in the pleasant open air,

The pleasant light of day;

And blown by all the winds that pass,
And wet with all the showers,
She walks among the meadow grass
And eats the meadow flowers.

HAPPY THOUGHT

HE world is so full of a number of things,

THE

I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.