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A RIVER VALLEY.
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Down the mountain comes the river,
Swift as arrow from the quiver, Over rocks in cascades falling, Making noise and roar appalling. Waterfalls in sunlight gleaming, Leaving rocks and boulders streaming, Over precipices pouring, On and on for ever roaring. Salmon up the falls go leaping, On the rocks are leeches creeping, Swallows here and there are gliding, Chasing flies and fishes hiding, Watching in it their reflection. River shows it to perfection! In this manner, onward ever, Flows the river, stopping never. |
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W. HUGHES.
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THE FAIRY AND THE SWAN.
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A dainty little sprite landed down one morning bright
By a streamlet and began to slake her thirst; But a naughty wicked swan drove away the little one For he wanted to be able to drink first. The little fairy ran, and soon met a little man, Who was dressed in green and had a tiny book, The little fairy told how the swan has been so bold As to drive her from the fairies' only brook. The little dwarf then took, and looked through his tiny book, And at last he told to her a magic spell; The ground began to shake, and the earth began to quake, And a hole was formed beneath them like a well. The little dwarf then told the shiv'ring fairy to be bold, And hand in hand they jumped down this deep hole. They fell on something soft in what appeared to be a loft, Where other dwarfs were working heart and soul. With a clash and a clang, the unearthly echoes rang, And the little green dwarfs lined up one by one, With the fairy at their head they advanced with measured tread Arrayed in armour to attack the swan. The wicked swan and the fairy smiled again, And were able now in peace to take a drink The fairy, feeling gay, immediately fled away, And now she's gone to Fairyland, I think. |
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W. HUGHES.
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