Cousin Hatty's Hymns and Twilight Stories — John Shaqi
Cousin Hatty's Hymns and Twilight Stories
Religion
Cousin Hatty's Hymns and Twilight Stories
Children's poetry; Hymns; Religious poetry, American -- Juvenile literature
"And ever may my darling Kate
A trusting spirit bear,
And, when one cherished hope has fled,
Yet find another there."
[Illustration]
SPRING.
[Illustration]
I am coming, I am coming,
With my carpet soft and green;
I have spread it o'er the common,
And a prettier ne'er was seen.
Soon I'll spangle it with clover,
And the dandelions bright;
You shall pick them in your aprons,
Yellow, red, and snowy white.
I am coming, and the tree-tops,
That all winter were so bare,
You shall see, with small leaves covered,
Wave their branches in the air.
I am coming! Little children,
Can you tell me who am I?
If not, you will soon remember,
For I'm just now passing by.
[Illustration]
SUMMER.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Letter T.]
Tis Summer, I know by the blue of the sky;
By the trees' deeper green, as beneath them I lie;
And more than all these, by the lovely wild rose
That now in the woodland its pink blossom shows.
Now ring the sharp scythes of the mowers all day,
And they spread to the air the sweet-scented hay;
They pile up the wagon ere daylight is done,
And singing come home with the set of the sun.
I feel the warm west wind fan gently my cheek
As I sit on the grass, far too happy to speak;
And then in the twilight I see the faint spark
Of the fire-fly, flitting alone in the dark.
Oh! long happy days, when 'tis full of delight
To roam in the meadows from morning till night!
Oh! summer, sweet summer! glide slowly away,
For I love in your warmth and your fragrance to stay.
[Illustration]
AUTUMN.
[Illustration]
Here's the purple aster,
And the golden-rod,
And the blue fringed gentian,
By the meadow sod.
And the scarlet cardinal
Grows beside the brook,
And the yellow sunflower
In some sheltered nook.
Maple boughs are covered
With their foliage red,
And the withered elm leaves
On the ground lie dead.
And within the orchard,
Heavy-laden trees
Shower down the apples,
With each passing breeze.
So by these we know thee,
Lovely autumn time,
With thy deep blue heavens,
And thy snowy rime.
And we gladly greet thee,
With thy colors gay,
Though thou tell'st us summer
Hence hath fled away.
WINTER.
[Illustration]
With my breath so keen and chilling,
I have stripped the branches bare;
And my snow-flakes white are filling,
Feather-like, the frosty air.
Coming o'er the lofty mountains,
There I left a robe of white;
I have locked the sparkling fountains,
I have chained the river bright.
O'er the quiet valley winging,
There I left my traces, too;
Hark! the merry sleigh-bells ringing,
With their music call on you.
I have come! The school-boy shouting,
Joyfully brings out his sled;
He has seen me, nothing doubting,
As across the fields he sped.
I have come; but shall I find you
Better than the former year?
If you've cast your faults behind you,
I shall gladly greet you here.
[Illustration]
"GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD."
[Illustration: Letter G.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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