And one day I heard it; Shall I tell you when? I lay on the grass to read, And I heard it then.
Everything was pleasant; Bright the sun did shine; Dew lay in the flowers’ eyes, Heavy sleep in mine;

So I gently shut them; Soon they opened wide; For I heard the grasses talk Fast on every side!

This is what they talked about: “Oh, what pleasant weather! Lift your heads up to the sun, Nod and wave together!

“We’re so glad that we are grass, Cool and soft and green; Oh, how sad the earth would look If no grass were seen!
“And we love the summer warm, But, oh, dear! oh, dear! What will little grasses do When winter cold is here?
“How the wind will whistle Round about our heads! Oh it’s very hard to have No covers on our beds!”
Then the wise red-rose bush Tall, and rough and old, Shook his head, and kindly said, “You will not be cold,
“For God sends a blanket warm For every blade of grass, Soft and light, and white as wool; Not a blade He’ll pass!”
“What’s the blanket made of? Quick! we want to know!” “Why, my dears,” the rose-bush said, “God’s blanket is the snow.” --_J. S._
Wash-wash-you-cat, Now this side, now that! Wash-wash-you-cat, Keep clean and grow fat!
Four lit-tle ears, And eight lit-tle paws, Two small nos-es, And for-ty sharp claws,
Give moth-er’s tongue A great deal to do. So hush! keep still, And I’ll sing to you:
_Purr-r! purr-r! In a sil-ver house, Moth-er once saw A lit-tle white mouse,_
_Soft white fur, And lit-tle pink eyes, So round and plump, And so ver-y wise._
Wash-wash-you-cat, Now hold up your chin.
Me-ow! don’t you scratch-- To scratch is a sin.
Me-ow! Me-ow! You _bad_ lit-tle cat, You mustn’t bite; Moth-er won’t stand that!
Purr-r! purr-r! Now shut up your eyes; Moth-er will make You some cat-nip pies.
Purr-r! purr-r! Lit-tle balls of fur, Purr-r! purr-r! Lie still, and don’t stir.
Wash-wash-you-cat, Lit-tle balls of fur! Wash-wash-you-cat, Purr-r! purr-r!
“I, I, I,” Some little people cry: “I won’t, I can’t, I shall, I shan’t--” Oh, what a naughty I;
“I, I, I,” Now hear them passing by: “I han’t, I be, I are, I see--” Oh, what a naughty I.
A gay lit-tle bird That want-ed some fun Flew in and light-ed On the ba-by’s bun.
He pecked at a cur-rant, He sipped from the cup, Then hopped on the loaf, And thus piped up:





