Part 1 — GRANDFATHER KNITTING.
Reading edition
BY S. S. CONANT.
Lie quietly, baby grandson, while mother dear is away; Out in the beautiful meadow she's raking the new-mown hay. It's long since I went with the mowers, because I am growing old, And they leave me at home with my knitting, and give me baby to hold. It seems but yesterday, baby, that I was strong and hale, And not a comrade could lead me at swinging the scythe or flail; To wrestle or dance I was always the first upon the ground, And there was not a swifter runner in all the country round. But now I am hardly able to totter across the floor: And instead of mowing the meadow, I sun myself at the door. When I remember my manhood, it's hard to be reconciled To sit at home with my knitting, and tending a little child. And yet we are comrades, baby: at the door of this life you lie, And I at the door am waiting of life beyond the sky. To a brave and hearty manhood your infant frame will grow, And young again I shall waken in the Land to which I go!
A GREENWOOD SCENE.
Who so light of heart as we, Dancing in the greenwood free, Tripping, skipping, to and fro, Laughing, gliding, heel and toe? Mag and Robin, Jack and Nell, Don't you think we polka well? Merry Roger blows a horn, And upon the breezes borne Sounds the summons, "Come and share Fun within the greenwood fair." All the family are here: Father, mother, baby dear. Who so light of heart as we Dancing 'neath the greenwood tree?