Kites On High!

 Kites On High!
by Robert Louis Stevenson

I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the grass.
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all.
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

O you, that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child then me?
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

The Popular Poplar Tree.

The Popular Poplar Tree.

by Blanche Willis Howard. 

When the great wind sets things whirling 

And rattles the window-panes,

And blows the dust in giants

And dragons tossing their manes;

When the willows have waves like water,

And the children are shouting with glee;

When the pines are alive and the larches,

Then hurrah for you and me,

In the tip o' the top o' the top o' the tip of

the popular poplar tree!

Don't talk about Jack and the Beanstalk

He did not climb half so high!

And Alice in all her travels

Was never so near the sky!

Only the swallow, a-skimming

The storm-cloud over the lea,

Knows how it feels to be flying-

When the gust come strong and free-

In the tip o' the top o' the top o' the tip of

the popular poplar tree!

The Happy Wind

The Happy Wind

by Ninette M. Isowater

A Happy little southern wind

Went wandering away;

It was the dearest little wind

That ever went astray.

It touched the city's outer edge,

Then swiftly turned aside,

For it had heard that little winds,

Caught by the hot streets, died.

It wend along a country lane,

And through the meadows fair; 

It lifted up a horse's mane,

And stirred a baby's hair.

It lingered in a quiet place

Where tall, fair lilies grow;

When moon drew near, it hid itself

Where pines stand in a row.

It slept until the shadows turned,

Then, dancing, went its way;

No other little wind that blew

Had such a pleasant day.

The Train by C. H. Crandall

The Train

by C. H. Crandall

Hark!

It comes!

It hums!

With ear to ground

I catch the sound,

The warning courier-roar

That runs along before.

The pulsing, struggling, now is clearer!

The hillsides echo "nearer, nearer,"

Till like a drove of rushing, trampling

cattle,

With dust and wind and clang and 

Shriek and rattle,

Passes the cyclops of the train!

I see a fair face at the pane,--

Like a piano string

The rails, unburdened, sing;

The white smoke flies

Up to the skies;

The sound 

Is drowned--

Hark!

A Summer Snowstorm!

A SUMMER SNOW STORM

 

It's snowing hard as it can snow

The ground is almost white

And all our pretty orchard grass 

Is hidden out of sight.

The wind is blowing from the south,

And coming good and strong,

You'd never think a southern wind

Would bring the snow along!

The sun is shining warm and bright

The flowers bloom in throngs

The birds are flying to and fro,

And singing happy songs.

And if upon their feathers soft

The snowy flakes should fall,

They shake them off and sing some more,

And never mind at all!

The flowers, too, don't care a bit,

It only makes them grow

Because, you see, this summer storm

Is apple-blossom snow!

By E. S. T.