Последний отзыв
очень хорошая книга для студентов и учителей
По всем вопросам обращайтесь на: info@litportal.ru
(©) 2003-2025.
✖
The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 2
Настройки чтения
Размер шрифта
Высота строк
Поля
The grass lay bent behind them.
She washed in the brook, and caught up her crook.
And after her sheep did run
Along the trail that went up the dale
Across the grass in the sun.
She ran with a will, and she came to a hill
That went up steep like a spire;
On its very top the sun seemed to stop,
And burned like a flame of fire.
But now she went slow, for the hill did go
Up steeper as she went higher;
When she reached its crown, the sun was down,
Leaving a trail of fire.
And her sheep were gone, and hope she had none.
For now was no trail behind them.
Yes, there they were! long-tailed and fair!
But to see was not to find them!
Golden in hue, and rosy and blue,
And white as blossom of pears,
Her sheep they did run in the trail of the sun,
As she had been running in theirs!
After the sun like clouds they did run,
But she knew they were her sheep:
She sat down to cry and look up at the sky,
But she cried herself to sleep.
And as she slept the dew down wept,
And the wind did blow from the sky;
And doings strange brought a lovely change:
She woke with a different cry!
Nibble, nibble, crop, without a stop!
A hundred little lambs
Did pluck and eat the grass so sweet
That grew in the trail of their dams!
She gave one look, she caught up her crook,
Wiped away the sleep that did blind her;
And nibble-nibble-crop, without a stop
The lambs came nibbling behind her.
Home, home she came, both tired and lame,
With three times as large a stock;
In a month or more, they'll be sheep as before,
A lovely, long-wooled flock!
But what will she say, if, one fine day,
When they've got their bushiest tails,
Their grown-up game should be just the same,
And again she must follow mere trails?
Never weep, Bo-Peep, though you lose your sheep,
Tears will turn rainbow-laughter!
In the trail of the sun if the mothers did run,
The lambs are sure to run after;
But a day is coming when little feet drumming
Will wake you up to find them—
All the old sheep—how your heart will leap!—
With their big little lambs behind them!
LITTLE BOY BLUE
Little Boy Blue lost his way in a wood—
Sing apples and cherries, roses and honey:
He said, "I would not go back if I could,
It's all so jolly and funny!"
He sang, "This wood is all my own—
Apples and cherries, roses and honey!
Here I will sit, a king on my throne,
All so jolly and funny!"
A little snake crept out of a tree—
Apples and cherries, roses and honey:
"Lie down at my feet, little snake," said he—
All so jolly and funny!
A little bird sang in the tree overhead—
"Apples and cherries, roses and honey:"
"Come and sing your song on my finger," he said,
All so jolly and funny.
Up coiled the snake; the bird came down,
And sang him the song of Birdie Brown.
But little Boy Blue found it tiresome to sit
Though it was on a throne: he would walk a bit!
He took up his horn, and he blew a blast:
"Snake, you go first, and, birdie, come last."
Waves of green snake o'er the yellow leaves went;
The snake led the way, and he knew what he meant:
But by Boy Blue's head, with flutter and dart,
She washed in the brook, and caught up her crook.
And after her sheep did run
Along the trail that went up the dale
Across the grass in the sun.
She ran with a will, and she came to a hill
That went up steep like a spire;
On its very top the sun seemed to stop,
And burned like a flame of fire.
But now she went slow, for the hill did go
Up steeper as she went higher;
When she reached its crown, the sun was down,
Leaving a trail of fire.
And her sheep were gone, and hope she had none.
For now was no trail behind them.
Yes, there they were! long-tailed and fair!
But to see was not to find them!
Golden in hue, and rosy and blue,
And white as blossom of pears,
Her sheep they did run in the trail of the sun,
As she had been running in theirs!
After the sun like clouds they did run,
But she knew they were her sheep:
She sat down to cry and look up at the sky,
But she cried herself to sleep.
And as she slept the dew down wept,
And the wind did blow from the sky;
And doings strange brought a lovely change:
She woke with a different cry!
Nibble, nibble, crop, without a stop!
A hundred little lambs
Did pluck and eat the grass so sweet
That grew in the trail of their dams!
She gave one look, she caught up her crook,
Wiped away the sleep that did blind her;
And nibble-nibble-crop, without a stop
The lambs came nibbling behind her.
Home, home she came, both tired and lame,
With three times as large a stock;
In a month or more, they'll be sheep as before,
A lovely, long-wooled flock!
But what will she say, if, one fine day,
When they've got their bushiest tails,
Their grown-up game should be just the same,
And again she must follow mere trails?
Never weep, Bo-Peep, though you lose your sheep,
Tears will turn rainbow-laughter!
In the trail of the sun if the mothers did run,
The lambs are sure to run after;
But a day is coming when little feet drumming
Will wake you up to find them—
All the old sheep—how your heart will leap!—
With their big little lambs behind them!
LITTLE BOY BLUE
Little Boy Blue lost his way in a wood—
Sing apples and cherries, roses and honey:
He said, "I would not go back if I could,
It's all so jolly and funny!"
He sang, "This wood is all my own—
Apples and cherries, roses and honey!
Here I will sit, a king on my throne,
All so jolly and funny!"
A little snake crept out of a tree—
Apples and cherries, roses and honey:
"Lie down at my feet, little snake," said he—
All so jolly and funny!
A little bird sang in the tree overhead—
"Apples and cherries, roses and honey:"
"Come and sing your song on my finger," he said,
All so jolly and funny.
Up coiled the snake; the bird came down,
And sang him the song of Birdie Brown.
But little Boy Blue found it tiresome to sit
Though it was on a throne: he would walk a bit!
He took up his horn, and he blew a blast:
"Snake, you go first, and, birdie, come last."
Waves of green snake o'er the yellow leaves went;
The snake led the way, and he knew what he meant:
But by Boy Blue's head, with flutter and dart,
Другие электронные книги автора George MacDonald
Последний отзыв
очень хорошая книга для студентов и учителей