But all of the things that belong to the day Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way; And flowers and children close their eyes Till up in the morning the sun shall arise. [Illustration: _"She shines on thieves on the garden wall."_] [Illustration: _"O what a place for play."_] THE HAYLOFT Through all the pleasant meadow-side The grass grew shoulder-high, Till the shining scythes went far and wide And cut it down to dry. These green and sweetly smelling crops They led in wagons home; And they piled them here in mountain-tops For mountaineers to roam. Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail, Mount Eagle and Mount High;-- The mice that in these mountains dwell, No happier are than I! O what a joy to clamber there, O what a place for play, With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air, The happy hills of hay! [Illustration: _"Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!"_] FAREWELL TO THE FARM The coach is at the door at last; The eager children, mounting fast And kissing hands, in chorus sing: Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! To house and garden, field and lawn, The meadow-gates we swang upon, To pump and stable, tree and swing, Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! And fare you well for evermore, O ladder at the hayloft door, O hayloft where the cobwebs cling, Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! Crack goes the whip, and off we go; The trees and houses smaller grow; Last, round the woody turn we swing: Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! [Illustration] [Illustration] A THOUGHT. It is very nice to think The world is full of meat and drink, With little children saying grace In every Christian kind of place. [Illustration] SINGING Of 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. [Illustration] NORTH-WEST PASSAGE GOOD NIGHT When the bright lamp is carried in, The sunless hours again begin; O'er all without, in field and lane, The haunted night returns again. Now we behold the embers flee About the firelit hearth; and see Our faces painted as we pass, Like pictures, on the window-glass. Must we to bed indeed? Well then, Let us arise and go like men, And face with an undaunted tread The long black passage up to bed. Farewell, O brother, sister, sire! O pleasant party round the fire! The songs you sing, the tales you tell, Till far to-morrow, fare ye well! [Illustration] [Illustration: _"The wicked shadows coming, tramp, tramp, tramp."_] II. SHADOW MARCH