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Read Ebook: Christmas Roses by Lawson Lizzie Mack Robert Ellice
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Ebook has 45 lines and 7047 words, and 1 pages
Christmas Roses
Lizzie Lawson
and
Robert Ellice Mack.
London: Griffith, Farran & Company St. Paul's Churchyard.
I cannot bring thee violets dear, Or cowslips growing wild, Or daisy chain for thee to wear, For thee to wear, my child.
For all the grassy meadows near Are clad with snow, my child; Through all the days of winter drear No ray of sun has smiled.
I plucked this bunch of verses, dear, From out my garden wild, I plucked them in the winter drear For you, my fairest child, Your wet and wintry hours to cheer, They're Christmas Roses, child.
I don't know if by chimney or if by stair he crept, But sure enough he visited the room where Nelly slept. He brought a golden orange, and a monkey red and blue, That climbed a little wooden stick in a way I couldn't do. He hung them in Nell's stocking, and Nan was right, be sure, That Santa Claus loves every one however rich or poor.
And than the next thing that I do I dare say you have guessed; It's to go at once and see him, when I am washed and dressed. And every day I see him I like him more and more, And each day he is bigger than he was the day before.
I feed him in the morning with bran and bits of bread, And every night I take some straw to make his little bed. What with carrots in the morning and turnip-tops for tea, If a bunny can be happy, I'm sure he ought to be.
Then when it's nearly bedtime I go down to his shed, And say 'Good night you Bunny' before I go to bed. I think there's only one thing that would make me happy quite, If I could take my Bunny dear with me to bed at night?"
FATHER'S BOAT.
Sometimes the wind blows wildly, But Nancy, and Mother, and me, We sing a bit of a hymn we know, The hymn for those at sea, Although when we think of Father, We're as near to choke as can be.
To-night the moon will be shining, A sight it will be to see, Father's ship all in silver, A'sail on a silver sea, And Father himself a coming home To Mother and Nancy and me.
Now most of them were five days old, But one, whose age was six-- "Please, ma'am," said he, "I think we're ducks; I don't believe we're chicks!"
A cat and her kits came down on the scene, Five birds flew over the rail; Our hero was caught As quick as a thought, And didn't he alter his tale!
"You've made a mistake, Mister Cat," said he; "You must please let me go, Mister Cat. I'm not at all nice, I don't taste like mice: You'd much better have a young rat." Said the cat, "It's no use, You may be a goose, I'll not let you go for all that."
In their taut and trim little boat they ride Away o'er the bright blue sea, With hands ever ready, And hearts ever steady, Whatever the dangers may be. And a smarter crew will never be found, Though you may search the whole world round.
Sing hie, sing hey, Sing ho, Sing holly, Sing hie for Christmas! Isn't winter jolly?
Sing Jack, Sing Jill, Sing Jo, Sing Polly, Sing hie for Christmas, Mistletoe and Holly.
And they too must be tired dear, The elephants want to go To bed,--if they're much later, They'll all be ill I know, And every well bred camel, Is in bed long ago.
And surely you can see dear, It really isn't right, The little dove's so tired dear, She scarce can stand upright. It does not do to keep them up So very late at night."
What crying? Then I must cry too And I can't bear to punish you; Perhaps my Bunny isn't dead, Perhaps you've only stunned his head.
And though I'm sure you broke his leg, It may be mended with a peg, And though he's very, very, funny, My Bunny's not a real Bunny, And I'll forgive and tell you that, You're my own precious pussy cat."
And they danced a measure light, Danced in very glee. Hand in hand, a pretty sight, Little He and She.
When they ceased his bright eyes fell, Darling must we stay? Can't we dance so happily You and I for aye?
Then she clasped his hand again, Whispered sweet and low, "Dearest, always hand in hand You and I will go."
So they danced with merry feet, E'en in Arcadee, Happier pair you ne'er will meet, Little He and She.
If you put a thing carefully, safely away, You're sure not to find it when wanted next day.
This little airy fleecy wing, That flits across the blue, What message Sweetheart does it bring Of hope or fear to you?
First he kisses the girls with the fairest of curls Then they blush like red roses and each head whirls. In each little eye drops a bit of blue sky, And colors each frock with a wonderful dye.
His breathing I ween is the wonderful sheen, That clothes trees and meadows with loveliest green, The buttercups bold, it need hardly be told, Are gilded by him with the finest of gold.
It is he I suppose who paints the red rose, And the rest of the flowers which every one knows, And the same red will do , For Robin and little Red Riding Hood too.
He's awake it is said when you are abed, For the picture-book doggies and cats must be fed, To the picture-book children some stories he'll tell, And sometimes he'll read them their verses as well.
The moment you open your picture book he Is away out of sight as quick as can be, For fairy law says that a fairy must die The instant he's seen by one human eye.
There are days of silent sadness, Of frost, and snow, and rain, When we fear that summer's gladness Will never come again.
And now our songs are minor key, And now in merry tune; The windward side will change to lee, And January to June.
Day and night the sun is shining, Though he may hide his head; Each cloud has a silver lining, The flowers are asleep not dead.
Every day may have its playtime Made bright by cheerful lays; And life be one long Maytime, A year of golden days.
"I can't shake hands with you," said Nell, "It isn't thought polite, Without an introduction; Besides, no doubt it's spite, It mayn't be true, but still they do, They do say that you--BITE."
No trouble have they, no sorrow-- Their hearts are lighter than air, No fear that a dark to-morrow May bring with it want or care.
God send them each on their pathway Many a wayside flower; And grant, in the evening of lifetime, The joy of the evening hour.
Lithographed and printed by Ernest Nister of Nuremberg.
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