The lark's on the wing; All's right with the world! ROBERT BROWNING. The Days of the Month. "The Days of the Month" is a useful bit of doggerel that we need all through life. It is anonymous. THIRTY days hath September, April, June, and November; All the rest have thirty-one, Excepting leap-year-that's the time When February's days are twenty-nine. OLD SONG. True Royalty. " "True Royalty" and "Playing Robinson Crusoe' are pleasing stanzas from "The Just So Stories" of Rudyard Kipling (1865-). THERE was never a Queen like Balkis, From here to the wide world's end; But Balkis talked to a butterfly As you would talk to a friend. There was never a King like Solomon, As a man would talk to a man. She was Queen of Sabaea And he was Asia's Lord But they both of 'em talked to butterflies RUDYARD KIPLING. (In "The Just So Stories.") Playing Robinson Crusoe. Pussy can sit by the fire and sing, Pussy can climb a tree, Or play with a silly old cork and string But I like Binkie, my dog, because So, Binkie's the same as the First Friend was Pussy will play Man-Friday till And make her walk on the window-sill And scratches and won't attend. Pussy will rub my knees with her head, But the very minute I go to my bed And there she stays till the morning-light; But Binkie, he snores at my feet all night, RUDYARD KIPLING. (In "The Just So Stories.") My Shadow. "My Shadow," by Robert Louis Stevenson" (1850-94), is one of the most popular short poems extant. I have taught it to a great many very young boys, and not one has ever tried to evade learning it. Older pupils like it equally well. I HAVE a little shadow that goes in and out with me, And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed. The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller like an indiarubber ball, And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all. He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play, And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close beside me, he's a coward, you can see; I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me! One morning, very early, before the sun was up, I rose and found the shining dew on every butter cup; But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy head, Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. Little White Lily. This poem (George Macdonald, 1828-) finds a place in this volume because, as a child, I loved it. It completely filled my heart, and has made every member of the lily family dear to me. George Macdonald's charming book, "At the Back of the North Wind," also was my vonder and delight. LITTLE White Lily Little White Lily Sunshine has fed; Little White Lily Is lifting her head. Little White Lily Said: "It is good Little White Lily's Clothing and food." Little White Lily Dressed like a bride! Shining with whiteness, And crowned beside! Little White Lily Little White Lily To have the nice rain. Now I am stronger, Heat cannot burn me, |