The Crane Reader, Книги 2

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Crane, 1902
 

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Стр. 51 - Come to me, O ye children ! And whisper in my ear What the birds and the winds are singing In your sunny atmosphere. For what are all our contrivings, And the wisdom of our books, When compared with your caresses, And the gladness of your looks ? Ye are better than all the ballads That ever were sung or said ; For ye are living poems, And all the rest are dead.
Стр. 50 - Ah ! what would the world be to us If the children were no more? We should dread the desert behind us Worse than the dark before.
Стр. 119 - THERE'S no dew left on the daisies and - clover, There's no rain left in heaven : I've said my "seven times" over and over, Seven times one are seven. I am old, so old, I can write a letter ; My birthday lessons are done; The lambs play always, they know no better ; They are only one times one.
Стр. 156 - You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot: You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!
Стр. 156 - With the wheat fields that nod, and the rivers that flow? With cities and gardens, and cliffs, and isles, And people upon you for thousands of miles?
Стр. 129 - You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown, Yes, very sleepy, little Red. It is quite time to go to bed." "Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf, "Let us a little longer stay; Dear Father Tree, behold our grief! Tis such a very pleasant day, We do not want to go away.
Стр. 36 - Where did you get your eyes so blue ? " " Out of the sky as I came through." " What makes the light in them sparkle and spin ? " " Some of the starry spikes left in." " Where did you get that little tear ? " " I found it waiting when I got here.
Стр. 49 - COME to me, O ye children ! For I hear you at your play, And the questions that perplexed me Have vanished quite away. Ye open the eastern windows, That look towards the sun, Where thoughts are singing swallows And the brooks of morning run.
Стр. 110 - O! don't you wish that you were me? You have seen the scarlet trees And the lions over seas; You have eaten ostrich eggs, And turned the turtles off their legs. Such a life is very fine, But it's not so nice as mine: You must often, as you trod, Have wearied not to be abroad. You have curious things to eat, I am fed on proper meat; You must dwell beyond the foam, But I am safe and live at home.
Стр. 129 - Perhaps the great Tree will forget And let us stay until the spring, If we all beg and coax and fret." But the great Tree did no such thing; He smiled to hear their whispering. "Come, children all, to bed...

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