Again and once again did I repeat the song:

66

Nay," said I, "more than half to the damsel must belong;

For she looked with such a look, and she spake with such a tone,

That I almost received her heart into my own.

William Wordsworth.

The Kitten, and Falling Leaves

See the kitten on the wall,

Sporting with the leaves that fall,

Withered leaves-one-two-and three

From the lofty elder tree!

Through the calm and frosty air
Of this morning bright and fair,
Eddying round and round they sink
Softly, slowly: one might think
From the motions that are made,
Every little leaf conveyed

Sylph or fairy hither tending,

To this lower world descending,
Each invisible and mute,

In his wavering parachute.

But the kitten, how she starts,

Crouches, stretches, paws and darts!

First at one and then its fellow,
Just as light and just as yellow;
There are many now-now one—
Now they stop and there are none :
What intenseness of desire

In her upward eye of fire!
With a tiger-leap, half-way,
Now she meets the coming prey;

Lets it go as fast and then

Has it in her power again.

Now she works with three or four,

Like an Indian conjuror;

Quick as he in feats of art,

Far beyond in joy of heart.

VI

OTHER LITTLE CHILDREN

If thou couldst know thine own sweetness. O little one, perfect and sweet, Thou wouldst be a child forever ; Completer whilst incomplete.

Francis Turner Palgrave.

01 HER LITTLE CHILDREN

Where Go the Boats?

Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.

It flows along forever

With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating,

Castles of the foam,

Boats of mine a-boating

Where will all come home?

Away down the river,

A hundred miles or more,

Other little children

Shall bring my boats ashore.

Robert Louis Stevenson.

* From “ A Child's Garden of Verses." By permission of Charles

Scribner's Sons.