SEASONS AND WEATHER

January brings the snow, Makes our feet and fingers glow. February brings the rain, Thaws the frozen lake again. March brings breezes loud and shrill, Stirs the dancing daffodil. April brings the primrose sweet, Scatters daisies at our feet. May brings flocks of pretty lambs, Skipping by their fleecy dams. June brings tulips, lilies, roses, Fills the children’s hands with posies. Hot July brings cooling showers, Apricots and gillyflowers. August brings the sheaves of corn, Then the harvest home is borne. Warm September brings the fruit, Sportsmen then begin to shoot. Fresh October brings the pheasant, Then to gather nuts is pleasant. Dull November brings the blast, Then the leaves are whirling fast. Chill December brings the sleet, Blazing fire and Christmas treat.

The wind one morning sprang up from sleep, Saying, “Now for a frolic! now for a leap! Now for a madcap galloping chase! I’ll make a commotion in every place!” So it swept with a bustle right through a great town, Creaking the signs and scattering down Shutters; and whisking, with merciless squalls, Old women’s bonnets and gingerbread stalls. There never was heard a much lustier shout, As the apples and oranges trundled about; And the urchins, that stand with their thievish eyes For ever on watch, ran off each with a prize. Then away to the field it went blustering and humming, And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming. It plucked by their tails the grave matronly cows, And tossed the colts’ manes all about their brows, Till, offended at such a familiar salute, They all turned their backs, and stood sullenly mute. So on it went, capering and playing its pranks; Whistling with reeds on the broad river’s banks; Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray, Or the traveller grave on the king’s highway. It was not too nice[1] to hustle the bags Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags; ’Twas so bold that it feared not to play its joke With the doctor’s wig, or the gentleman’s cloak. Through the forest it roared, and cried gaily, “Now, You sturdy old oaks, I’ll make you bow!” And it made them bow without more ado, Or it cracked their great branches through and through. Then it rushed like a monster on cottage and farm, Striking their dwellers with sudden alarm; And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm. There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their caps, To see if their poultry were free from mishaps; The turkeys they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud, And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd; There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone. But the wind had passed on, and had met in a lane With a schoolboy, who panted and struggled in vain; For it tossed him and twirled him, then passed, and he stood With his hat in a pool and his shoe in the mud. But away went the wind in its holiday glee, And now it was far on the billowy sea, And the lordly ships felt its staggering blow, And the little boats darted to and fro. But lo! it was night, and it sank to rest, On the sea-bird’s rock in the gleaming West, Laughing to think, in its fearful fun, How little of mischief it had done.

First, April, she with mellow showers Opens the way for early flowers; Then after her comes smiling May, In a more sweet and rich array; Next enters June, and brings us more Gems than those two that went before: Then, lastly, July comes and she More wealth brings in than all those three.

Here’s another day, dear, Here’s the sun again Peeping in his pleasant way Through the window pane. Rise and let him in, dear, Hail him “hip hurray!” Now the fun will all begin. Here’s another day! Down the coppice path, dear, Through the dewy glade, (When the Morning took her bath What a splash she made!) Up the wet wood-way, dear, Under dripping green Run to meet another day, Brightest ever seen. Mushrooms in the field, dear, Show their silver gleam. What a dainty crop they yield Firm as clouted cream, Cool as balls of snow, dear, Sweet and fresh and round! Ere the early dew can go We must clear the ground. Such a lot to do, dear, Such a lot to see! How we ever can get through Fairly puzzles me. Hurry up and out, dear, Then—away! away! In and out and round about, Here’s another day!

Buttercups and daisies— O the pretty flowers! Coming ere the spring-time, To tell of sunny hours. When the trees are leafless; When the fields are bare; Buttercups and daisies Spring up here and there. Welcome, yellow buttercups! Welcome, daisies white! Ye are in my spirit Vision’d, a delight! Coming ere the spring-time, Of sunny hours to tell— Speaking to our hearts of Him Who doeth all things well.

The cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one! Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill; The Plough-boy is whooping anon, anon. There’s joy in the mountains; There’s life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone!

Do you know what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove, The linnet and thrush say “I love and I love!” In the winter they’re silent—the wind is so strong; What it says I don’t know, but it sings a loud song. But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, And singing, and loving, all come back together. But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, The green fields below him, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings, and for ever sings he— “I love my love, and my love loves me!”

First came the primrose, On the bank high, Like a maiden looking forth From the window of a tower When the battle rolls below, So look’d she, And saw the storms go by. Then came the wind-flower In the valley left behind, As a wounded maiden, pale With purple streaks of woe, When the battle has roll’d by Wanders to and fro, So tottered she, Dishevell’d in the wind. Then came the daisies, On the first of May, Like a banner’d show’s advance While the crowd runs by the way, With ten thousand flowers about them they came trooping through the fields. As a happy people come, So came they, As a happy people come When the war has roll’d away, With dance and tabor, pipe and drum, And all make holiday. Then came the cowslip, Like a dancer in the fair, She spread her little mat of green, And on it danced she. With a fillet bound about her brow, A fillet round her happy brow, A golden fillet round her brow, And rubies in her hair.

Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird’s throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live in the sun, Seeking the food he eats, And pleas’d with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.

At early dawn through London you must go Until you come where long black hedgerows grow, With pink buds pearl’d, with here and there a tree, And gates and stiles; and watch good country folk; And scent the spicy smoke Of wither’d weeds that burn where gardens be; And in a ditch perhaps a primrose see. The rooks shall stalk the plough, larks mount the skies, Blackbirds and speckled thrushes sing aloud, Hid in the warm white cloud Mantling the thorn, and far away shall rise The milky low of cows and farm-yard cries. From windy heavens the climbing sun shall shine, And February greet you like a maid In russet cloak array’d; And you shall take her for your mistress fine, And pluck a crocus for her valentine.

Here in the country’s heart Where the grass is green, Life is the same sweet life As it e’er hath been Trust in a God still lives, And the bell at morn Floats with a thought of God O’er the rising corn. God comes down in the rain, And the crop grows tall— This is the country faith, And the best of all.

“Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste To the Butterfly’s Ball and the Grasshopper’s Feast; The Trumpeter, Gadfly, has summoned the crew, And the revels are now only waiting for you.” So said little Robert, and pacing along, His merry Companions came forth in a throng, And on the smooth Grass by the side of a Wood, Beneath a broad oak that for ages had stood, Saw the Children of Earth and the Tenants of Air For an Evening’s Amusement together repair. And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black, Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back. And there was the Gnat and the Dragon-fly too, With all their Relations, green, orange and blue. And there came the Moth, with his plumage of down, And the Hornet in jacket of yellow and brown; Who with him the Wasp, his companion, did bring, But they promised that evening to lay by their sting. And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his hole, And brought to the feast his blind Brother, the Mole, And the Snail, with his horns peeping out of his shell, Came from a great distance, the length of an ell. A Mushroom their Table, and on it was laid A water-dock leaf, which a table-cloth made. The Viands were various, to each of their taste, And the Bee brought her honey to crown the Repast. Then close on his haunches, so solemn and wise, The Frog from a corner look’d up to the skies; And the Squirrel, well pleased such diversions to see, Mounted high overhead and look’d down from a tree. Then out came the Spider, with finger so fine, To show his dexterity on the tight-line. From one branch to another his cobwebs he slung, Then quick as an arrow he darted along. But just in the middle—oh! shocking to tell, From his rope, in an instant, poor Harlequin fell. Yet he touched not the ground, but with talons outspread, Hung suspended in air, at the end of a thread. Then the Grasshopper came, with a jerk and a spring, Very long was his leg, though but short was his Wing; He took but three leaps, and was soon out of sight, Then chirp’d his own praises the rest of the night. With step so majestic the Snail did advance, And promised the Gazers a Minuet to dance; But they all laughed so loud that he pulled in his head, And went in his own little chamber to bed. Then as Evening gave way to the shadows of Night, Their Watchman, the Glowworm, came out with a light. “Then home let us hasten, while yet we can see, For no Watchman is waiting for you and for me.” So said little Robert, and pacing along, His merry Companions return’d in a throng.