For Memorizing

THE NEW MOON.

Dear mother, how pretty

The moon looks to-night!
She was never so cunning before;
Her two little horns

Are so sharp and bright,

I hope she'll not grow any more.

If I were up there

With you and my friends,
I'd rock in it nicely, you'd see;
I'd sit in the middle

And hold by both ends;

Oh, what a bright candle 'twould be!.

I would call to the stars
To keep out of the way,

Lest we should rock over their toes;
And then I would rock

Till the dawn of the day,

And see where the pretty moon goes.

And there we would stay

In the beautiful skies,

And through the bright clouds we would roam;
We would see the sun set,

And see the sun rise,

And in the next rainbow come home.

-Mrs. Eliza Lee Follen.

For Memorizing

TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star;
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveler in the dark
Thanks you for your tiny spark;
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.

In the dark blue sky you keep,
Yet often through my window peep;
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright but tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

-Jane Taylor.

For Memorizing

66

66

LULLABY.

Over the cradle the mother hung,

Softly crooning a slumber song:

And these were the simple words she sung
All the evening long:

Cheek or chin, or knuckle or knee

Where shall the baby's dimple be?

Where shall the angel's finger rest

When he comes down to the baby's nest?
Where shall the angel's touch remain

When he awakens my babe again?"

Still as she bent and sang so low,

A murmur into her music broke:

And she paused to hear, for she could but know
The baby's angel spoke.

'Cheek or chin, or knuckle or knee,

Where shall the baby's dimple be?

Where shall my finger fall and rest

When I come down to the baby's nest?
Where shall my finger touch remain.
When I awaken your babe again?"

Silent the mother sat and dwelt
Long in the sweet delay of choice
And then by her baby's side she knelt,
And sang with a pleasant voice:

For Memorizing

"Not on the limb, O angel dear!

For the charm with its youth will disappear;
Not on the cheek shall the dimple be,

For the harboring smile will fade and flee;
But touch thou the chin with an impress deep,
And my baby the angel's seal shall keep."

-J. G. Holland.

ALL THINGS BEAUTIFUL.

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colors,
He made their tiny wings.

The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The morning, and the sunset
That lighteth up the sky.

The tall trees in the greenwood,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,

He made them every one.