And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its color bright and fair;
It might have graced a rosy bower
Instead of hiding there.

Yet there it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;
And there diffused its sweet perfume
Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go,
This pretty flower to see,
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility.

JANE TAYLOR

If ever I see,
On bush or tree,
Young birds in their pretty nest,
I must not in play,
Steal the birds away,
To grieve their mother's breast

My mother, I know,
Would sorrow so.
Should I be stolen away;
So I'll speak to the birds
In my softest words,
Nor hurt 'them in my play.

And when they can fly
In the bright blue sky,
They'll warble a song to me;
And then if I'm sad
It will make me glad
To think they are happy and free.

LYDIA MARIA CHILD (1802-1880

"Will you walk a little faster ?" said a whiting to a snail,
"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.

See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance !
They are waiting on the shingle-will you come and join the dance ?

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will
you join the dance ?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't
you join the dance ?

"You can really have no notion how delight-
ful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the
lobsters, out to sea!"

But the snail.replied, "Too far, too far!" and
gave a look askance--
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he
would not join the dance.

Would not, could not, would not, could not,
would not join the dance,
Would not, could not, would not, could not,
could not join the dance.

"What matters it how far we go ?" his scaly
friend replied,
"There is another shore, you know, upon the
other side.

The further off from England the nearer is to
France--
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will
you join the dance ?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't
you join the dance ?"

LEWIS CARROLL (1832-1898)

Where the pools are bright and deep,
Where the gray trout lies asleep,
Up the river and o'er the lea,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the blackbird sings the latest,
Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,
Where the nestlings chirp and flee,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the mowers mow the cleanest,
Where the hay lies thick and greenest,
There to trace the homeward bee,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the hazel bank is steepest,
Where the shadow falls the deepest,
Where the clustering nuts fall free,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Why the boys should drive away
Little sweet maidens from the play,
Or love to banter and fight so well,
That's the thing I never could tell.

But this I know, I love to play,
Through the meadow, among the hay;
Up the water and o'er the lea,
That's the way for Billy and me.

James Hogg (1770-1835