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Title: Under Blue Skies: Verses & Pictures

Author: Sarah Jeannette Lathbury Brigham

Release date: June 14, 2016 [eBook #52329]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Richard Tonsing, Juliet Sutherland and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER BLUE SKIES: VERSES & PICTURES *** 




 Transcriber's Note:


  The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.





UNDER BLUE SKIES







JULIUS BIEN & CO. LITH.


















Under
 Blue
 Skies.








Verses &


Pictures


By


S. J. Brigham


Worthington Co.


747 BWAY. N. Y.













UNDER BLUE SKIES.
 (Frontispiece)










Under blue skies


Daffodils dance, and the Oriole flies,


Bright, golden butterflies float on the breeze


Over the clover with brown honey-bees;


Daisies and buttercups, slender and tall,


Nod to the roses that cover the wall,


Under blue skies.






Under blue skies,


Every day brings us a sweeter surprise,


Blooming of flowers and singing of birds,


Words without song, and song without words;


A world of bright children, all happy and gay,


In sunshine and shadow, at work and at play.














Copyright, 1886, by S. J. Brigham, N. Y.










Contents.










UNDER BLUE SKIES.


LITTLE NEIGHBORS.


STUDY-HOUR.


THE LETTER.


DAFFY DIL AND JONNY QUIL.


CAMPING SONG.


THE FAMILY DRIVE.


SILENT VOICES. I. DAISIES.


SILENT VOICES. II. BLUE-EYED GRASS.


SILENT VOICES. III. CLOSING FLOWERS.


DANDELION.


SWEET GRASS.


THE MULLEIN PATCH.


"TOSSED UP IN A BLANKET."


THE SAND-MAN.


THE LILY POND.


LUNCH TIME.


"WHIRL THE BOAT."


KINDERGARTEN.


THE ORIOLE'S NEST.


THE JUNE-BUG.


CHOCOLATE DROP.




















LITTLE NEIGHBORS.










Birds a-singing in the trees,


Marigolds a-blowing;


Bees a-humming what they please,


Coming and a-going;


Hiding in the hollyhocks,


Swinging on the clover,


Climbing up the Lily-stalks,


Honey running over.






Breath of roses in the air,


Roses are in hiding;


Breezes will not tell us where,—


Winds are not confiding;


Down the walks the children wind,


Through the fence a-peeping;


Like the bees and birds they find


Treasures for the seeking.






Little neighbors, like the birds,


Sing and talk at pleasure;


Like the bees, with honeyed words,


Choose their time and measure;


Like sweet peas they cling and climb,


Here and there and yonder;


All the pleasant summer-time


They visit and they wander.




















STUDY-HOUR.










O hush! you Robin, you sing and swing


In the lilac tree,


And my lessons seem long when I hear your song


So happy and free.






If only the hours had wings, I know


They would flutter away,


Like the bird on the tree, or the velvet bee,


Or the butterfly gay.






But then I know that a maid like me


Has a life to live,


And my heart and my mind has something to find


Before it can give.






O rest you, Robin, a little while


Your voice and your wing!


And then by-and-by dear Robin and I


Will both sing and swing.




















THE LETTER.










"O, wait, little maiden,


With hand letter-laden!


I'll take it one minute,


And please tell me who


You have written it to,


And all that is in it."






"Ah, no!" said the maiden,


"With love it is laden,


No stranger can take it:


I will just tell you this,


It is sealed with a kiss,


And Mamma will break it."

























DAFFY DIL
 AND
 JONNY QUIL.










Said Jonny Quil


to Daffy Dil,


His pretty country cousin:


"Now is our chance


to have a dance,


Your sisters, full a dozen,


Are here in golden


cap and frill;


What say you,


Cousin Daffy Dil?"






Said Daffy Dil


to Jonny Quil,


"To dance would give


us pleasure;


But, then, you know,


the wind must blow,


To beat our time


and measure.


Young April Wind


will be here soon,


And he will whistle


us a tune."




















CAMPING SONG.










O who would live in a cottage close,


Shut in like a captive bird?


I would sooner have a tent like mine,


Within the shade of a fragrant pine,


Where the breaking waves are heard,—


Are heard,


The breaking waves are heard.






The song of winds in the sweet pine tree,


The waters that kiss the shore,


The white-winged sea-bird's mellow cry,


Mingled in one sweet melody,


Steals softly in at my door,—


My door,


Steals in at my open door.






All day I sing and read and sew,


Beneath this sheltering pine,


Kissed by cool breezes from the sea,


And people passing envy me,


And wish for a tent like mine,—


Like mine,


For a cosy tent like mine.




















THE FAMILY DRIVE.










"Heigh, ho!"


Like the wind we go,


For a family drive to Jericho;


The horses dance


And prink and prance,


But who is afraid of the horses, O?






"Heigh, ho!"


O, the daisies grow


Along the wayside to Jericho;


But the horses run


And spoil our fun,


And we cannot pick us a daisy, O.






"Whoa! whoa!!"


Won't you please go slow?


We are going home from Jericho;


All danger past,


We are home at last,


Without a tip or a tumble, O.




















SILENT VOICES.
 I.
 DAISIES.










Hosts of little daisies white


Stand among the grasses,


Greeting with a girlish grace


Every breeze that passes.


Quaint white caps and golden hair,


Tresses green and slender;


With my heart I heard them say


Something very tender—


Saying something to the grass,


Very sweet and tender.















SILENT VOICES.
 II.
 BLUE-EYED GRASS.










Hush—O hush! you wanton winds,


Hush you, while I listen!


In the blue eyes of the grass


Tear-drops seem to glisten.


A shy Daisy leaned that way,


When the winds were blowing;


With my heart I heard him say


Something worth the knowing—


Fondly, to the Daisy say,


Something worth the knowing.




















SILENT VOICES.
 III.
 CLOSING FLOWERS.










When the sun, in red and gold,


Down the West was creeping;


When the bird beneath its wing


Tucked its head for sleeping,


Silently the silken doors


Of the flowers were closing;


Poppies each, with drooping head,


Slowly fell a-dozing.


With my heart, I heard them say,


"Good-night till the morrow:


Here's good-night to all the world


Till the happy morrow."




















DANDELION.










Modest little Dandelion,


Standing in the grass,


Offering her plate of gold


To people as they pass.






If you slight her, soon her tresses


Will be growing gray,


And some antic, frantic wind


Will blow them all away!

























SWEET GRASS.










The sweet grass grows


Where the Daisy blows,


But how sweet grass with its tender grace..


And the Daisy with its winsome face,


Came to live in the same sweet place,


Nobody knows.






The sweet grass grows


Where the Daisy blows,


And under the shade of the tender grass


The children saw some crickets pass;


But why they were all in black, alas!


Nobody knows.






The sweet grass grows


Where the Daisy blows;


The children pulled till their hands were red;


The grasshoppers shook with fear and fled;


But what Sweet Grass to the Daisy said,


Nobody knows.




















THE MULLEIN PATCH.










O Mullein, whisper in my ear


And tell me how you grow,


I was the taller of the two


But one short week ago,


And now, as I on tiptoe stand,


Can scarcely reach you with my hand.






You're growing very lovely, too,


In your pale-green velvet gown;


And golden as a daffodil


Are the flowers in your crown.


So tall and stately! Is it true


That all your neighbors envy you?






The Thistle flushed as the maiden spoke,


And thrust out every thorn;


The Wormwood very bitter grew;


And tossed her head in scorn;


The Teazle and the Burdock tried


To pull the maiden's dress aside.






The Mullein kept the secret well,


And the maiden never knew


That she the only object was


Of envy. And 'tis true


That when she left and said Good-bye!


For sadness they made no reply.




















"TOSSED UP IN A BLANKET."










Toss away, toss away,


Low away, high,


Up in a blanket


To visit the sky;


Lightly she'll swing


In the silver moon,


And bring to her sisters


A star pretty soon.






Toss away, toss away,


High away, low,


Rock her to sleep


In the silver bow;


Toss up a kiss to


The man in the moon,


And bring back another


To us very soon.















THE SAND-MAN.










Have you ever seen the sand-man, old,


Who comes to us every one, I'm told,


With his countless bags of silver sand,


And drops it down with an unseen hand;


And our eyelids very heavy grow,


As off to the land of dreams we go?






He is very shy. I have often tried


To keep my eyelids open wide


And watch for him. But he cheats me so,


And puts me to sleep before I know.


Is he like the wind, do you suppose,


Which is never seen when it comes and goes?






Oh, ho! The sand-man's fun is past,


He has gone to sleep himself at last;


We'll build a fort beside the sea,


And he our prisoner shall be.


He is not the wind with an unseen hand,


But a giant made of silver sand.

























THE
 LILY
 POND.










The wind is fair,


Shall we take a row,


Down to the cove


Where the lilies grow?


Their petals white


To the sun unfold,


Their trembling hearts


Are yellow as gold.


My boat is as safe


As a boat can be;


You need not fear


To go with me.






A fleet of lilies,


So fresh and fair,


Like fairy ships,


Are anchored there.


They rock and dip


With every breeze,


Like real ships


On real seas.


My boat is as safe


As a boat can be;


You need not fear


To go with me.















LUNCH TIME.










The Bees are coming,


I hear them humming


Their pleasant Summer song.


You are late to-day;


Did you lose your way?


We have been waiting long.






My cream-white Clover


Is running over


With honey clear and sweet;


And my Brier-Rose,


As a bee well knows,


Holds something nice to eat.






Come, take your honey,


It costs no money,


The little gift is free;


Come every noon


Through merry June,


And take your lunch with me.




















"WHIRL THE BOAT."










Whirl, whirl,


Each little girl,


Like a gay butterfly over the grass;


Light as a feather,


Whirl they together,


Scaring the little brown birds as they pass.






Spin, spin,


See them begin,


Like two tops gliding over the ground;


Light as a feather,


Spin they together,


Whirling the boat around and around.




















KINDERGARTEN.










This is my class,


I am teacher, you see;


They stand in a row


And listen to me;






And never once


Have I seen them try


To whisper or laugh—


They are very shy.






I sometimes fear


They will never do


The nice little games


When I ask them to:






To keep good time,


To march and to sing,


And to whirl about


In a pretty ring.






But, then, I know


They will always do


Whatever they can


When I ask them to.




















THE ORIOLE'S NEST.










Swing, little hammock, swing high and swing low!


Birdies are sleeping while soft breezes blow;


Papa-bird fastened it well on the bough,


No harm can come to the baby-birds now.






Mother-bird comes with sweet food to the nest.


All the bright feathers aflame on her breast;


Swing, little birdies, be happy to-day,


Soon, I suppose, you will all fly away.






Rock, little hammock, the birdies to sleep,


Then I'll give Dolly a sly little peep;


She will not touch them, the dear little things,


With down on their heads and down on their wings.






Very soon, Dolly, their feathers will grow,


And out of their cradle the birdies will go;


High away, low away, out of our sight,


Off to the wood in a family flight!

























THE JUNE-BUG.










"Buzz, buzz, blundering bug,


Why do you come in June?


The roses are here,


And I greatly fear


You will put them out of tune.






"Buzz, buzz, blundering bug,


Why do you come at night,


With your big black wings?


We are timid things—


You will put us both in a fright."















CHOCOLATE DROP.










There lived beside a certain sea


A humpy, dumpy, brown ba-bee,


Whose length and breadth were just the same,


And what is more, this ba-bee's name


Was Chocolate Drop.






This humpy, dumpy, brown ba-bee


Had a Mamma as brown as she,


Who thought no ba-bee, dark or light,


Was ever half so sweet and bright


As Chocolate Drop.






They say (as strange as it may seem)


That she was made of country cream,


And rolled in something brown and sweet,


Which made this ba-bee so complete


A Chocolate Drop.



















Out on the end of an apple-tree bough


A birdie was singing a song just now,


And when it was ended


The birdie pretended


To say Good-bye,


but he did not


know how!






















TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES




    

  1. Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors.

    
    2. 

  2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.

    
    3.