Louisa May Alcott

"'Y' are the maiden posies, And so graced, To be placed

We mourn the loss of our little pet, And sigh o'er her hapless fate, For never more by the fire she'll sit,

"A little bird I am, Shut from the fields of air, And in my cage I sit and sing

A little grey curl from my father's head I find unburned on the hearth, And give it a place in my diary here,

Queen of my tub, I merrily sing, While the white foam rises high, And sturdily wash and rinse and wring,

Like Bunyan's pilgrim with his pack, Forth went the dreaming youth To seek, to find, and make his own

'"And if your Nancy frowns, my lad, And scorns a jacket blue, Just hoist your sails for other ports,

"Beds to the front of them, Beds to the right of them, Beds to the left of them,

'The puir auld folk at home, ye mind, Are frail and failing sair; And weel I ken they'd miss me, lad,

Brighter shone the golden shadows; On the cool wind softly came The low, sweet tones of happy flowers,

"Chevalita, Pretty cretr, I do love her

"In China there lived a little man, His name was Chingery Wangery Chan." "His legs were short, his feet were small,

In a quiet, pleasant meadow, Beneath a summer sky, Where green old trees their branches waved,

"Dear Grif, Here is a whiff Of beautiful spring flowers;

"Don't drive me away, But hear what I say: Bad men want the gold;

The moonlight fades from flower and tree, And the stars dim one by one; The tale is told, the song is sung,

"We are sending you, dear flowers, Forth alone to die, Where your gentle sisters may not weep

"For myself alone, I would not be Ambitious in my wish; but, for you, I would be trebled twenty times myself;

I am the monarch of the Sea, The ruler of the Queen's Navee,-- When at anchor here I ride,

Love comes to all soon or late, And maketh gay or sad; For every bird will find its mate,

"So he took up his bow, And he feathered his arrow, And said, 'I will shoot

"J'avais une colombe blanche, J'avais un blanc petit pigeon, Tous deux volaient, de branche en branche,

From our happy home Through the world we roam One week in all the year,

"Gingerbread, Go to the head. Your task is done;

"Gingerbread, Go to the head. Your task is done;

'Give me freshening breeze, my boys, A white and swelling sail, A ship that cuts the dashing waves,

"He prayeth best who loveth best All things, both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us,

He that is down need fear no fall, He that is low no pride. He that is humble ever shall

'"Healfast, healfast, ye hero wounds; O knight, be quickly strong! Beloved strife

"Hello! hello! Come down below,-- It's lovely and cool

"Here is the bracelet For good little May To wear on her arm

"Here's a nut, there's a nut; Hide it quick away, In a hole, under leaves,

Hither, hither, from thy home, Airy sprite, I bid thee come! Born of roses, fed on dew,

"I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty; I woke, and found that life was duty. Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?

"I wish I had a quiet tomb, Beside a little rill; Where birds, and bees, and butterflies,

"I write about the butterfly, It is a pretty thing; And flies about like the birds,

Four little chests all in a row, Dim with dust, and worn by time, All fashioned and filled, long ago,

"Bright shines the summer sun, Soft is the summer air; Gayly the wood-birds sing,

'"Listening to celestial lays, Bending thy unclouded gaze On the pure and living light,

"Little drops of water, Little drains of sand, Mate a might okum (ocean),

The moon had climbed the eastern hill Which rises o'er the sands of Dee, And from its highest summit shed

"Awake! awake! for the earliest gleam Of golden sunlight shines On the rippling waves, that brightly flow

My bonnie flower, with truest joy Thy welcome face I see, The world grows brighter to my eyes,

Sitting patient in the shadow Till the blessed light shall come, A serene and saintly presence

A little kingdom I possess, Where thoughts and feelings dwell; And very hard I find the task

"Nearer, my God, to thee, E'en though a cross it be That raiseth me,

"Not a sparrow falleth but its God doth know, Just as when his mandate lays a monarch low; Not a leaflet moveth, but its God doth see,

"Now hark, little May, If you want to do right, Under your pillow

"O lion, grand, Come over the sand, And help me now, I pray!

'Oh my heart is sad and weary Everywhere I roam, Longing for the old plantation

"Oh, have you e'er heard of Kate Kearney? She lives on the banks of Killarney; From the glance of her eye,

'Oh, Peggy was a jolly lass, Ye heave ho, boys, ye heave ho! She never grudged her Jack a glass,

"Oh, Timballoo! how happy we are, We live in a sieve and a crockery jar! And all night long, in the starlight pale,

"Quee, quee! Wait and see: You were good to me;

"Rock a bye, babies, Your cradle hangs high; Soft down your pillow,

"Rosy, my dear, Don't cry,--I'm here To help you all I can.

"No, no, come and fly Through the sunny sky, Or honey sip

"Splash, dash! Rumble and crash! Here come the beavers gay;

"Summer days are over, Summer work is done; Harvests have been gathered

"Sweet are the flowers of life, Swept o'er my happy days at home; Sweet are the flowers of life

"Sweet! Sweet! Come, come and eat, Dear little girls

"Sweet! Sweet! Come, come and eat, Dear little girls

Sweet, sweet days are passing O'er my happy home. Passing on swift wings through the valley of life.

'Sweetest of maidens, oh, how can I tell The love that transfigures the whole earth to me? The longing that causes my bosom to swell,

'Tell the dear old body This day I cannot run, For the pots are boiling over

"What shall little children bring On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day? What shall little children bring

Two Yankee maids of simple mien, And earnest, high endeavour, Come sailing to the land of France,

There grew a fragrant rose-tree where the brook flows, With two little tender buds, and one full rose; When the sun went down to his bed in the west,

God bless you, dear Queen Bess! May nothing you dismay, But health and peace and happiness

They saw again the crocus bloom, And, leaning from that lofty room, Sir Launcelot with face of gloom

'Oh, were I a heliotrope, I would play poet, And blow a breeze of fragrance

"There are no flowers in the fields, No green leaves on the tree, No columbines, no violets,

"To one who teaches me The sweetness and the beauty Of doing faithfully

In high Olympus' sacred shade A gift Minerva wrought For her beloved philosopher

"Welcome, maids of honor, You do bring In the spring,

"Welcome, mighty chief, once more Welcome to this grateful shore; Now no mercenary foe

"When it comes night, We put out the light. Some blow with a puff,

"Work, neighbor, work! Do not stop to play; Wander far and wide,