Читать книгу Our Little Tot's Own Book of Pretty Pictures, Charming Stories, and Pleasing Rhymes and Jingles онлайн

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So do they prove that heavenly love

Doth every path illume!

How stilly, yet how sadly,

When summer fleeteth by,

And their sweet work of life is done,

They fall and wither, one by one,

And undistinguish’d lie:

So warning all that Pride must fall,

And fairest forms must die!

How stilly, yet how surely,

They all will come again,

In life and glory multiplied,

To bless the ground wherein they died,

And long have darkly lain:—

So we may know, e’en here below,

Death has no lasting reign!

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We had a merry playmate in a little brook that ran down through the sunny meadows! It slipped and slid over little mossy pebbles and called to us, “Follow, follow, follow!” in the sweetest little voice in the world!

Sometimes, I would kneel down on the little low bank, and bend my head down close, and ask, “Where are you going, little brook?”

It would splash a cool drop of spray in my face, and run on calling, “Follow, follow, follow!” just as before.