`At last she had driven the sheep all out;
`Then she carefully shut the five-barred gate;
`And little Boy Blue, with his curly pate,
`Oh, what is that rustling amongst the corn?
`Oh! little Boy Blue, come blow your horn!
`The little boy stirred--then slept again.
`"Ho! Buttercup! Buttercup! out of the corn!
`She drove them all out and shut the gate;
`Then little Boy Blue, with his curly pate,
`Still troubled by nothing like cows or sheep,
`She spied, 'neath the hay-stack, fast asleep.
`"H ow the little curls shine on his pretty head!
`"He ought to remember my father's sheep,
`But he looks so lovely there, fast asleep--
`The sheep are all safe, and I'll never tell! "
`Then she kept on her way thro' the fragrant
`And she sang her sweet little song again.
`When the sun was scarcely a half-hour high,
`And rubbing his blue eyes, dim with sleep,
`Slowly home he drove the cows and sheep;
`With never a thought in his pretty head;
`And he lived till his bonny gold hair was gray.
|SHE, a little serious lassie still believing all
Blowing, every feathered seedlet floats out
She has gayly trotted home, and--flung the
|I WILL sing for you, dearie, a song that I
Of a ruby-eyed thrush, of a silver-tailed
`And sang to a queen in a palace of snow.
`The thrush's wing-feathers were jewel and
At her palace window the queen would stay
`So pinky and fair with her curly gold hair;
`You want the queen in her palace of snow,
`And the ruby-eyed thrush, the silver-tailed
`Who sat on a spray of a dry willow-bush?
`Ah, you will love butter, day out and in, for
And you shall have butter so good and sweet.
`For the buttercup says my love will love but-
ter, and the buttercup's saying will come
`All laden with cargoes of beautiful dreams,
`"The stars, they are swimming like golden
`"Like an arrow of light down the milky way,
`With its crimson sails puffed out with wind,
`"And the child whom his mother has kissed
`The worst and the ugliest dream in the fleet
`"Rose-leaves round the window, they rustle
`The rose-bud babies and all the flowers--
`"Grass waves o'er the sparrow asleep in her
`And the echoes have died from the clouds
`"White doves are asleep in the tall bell-tower;
`Catch the loveliest dreams in the poppy-fleet,
`"Is the Prince asleep? I would like to see;