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Roads
by
Rachel
Field
A road might lead to anywhere--
To harbor towns and quays,
Or a witches pointed house
Hidden by bristly trees.
It might lead past the tailor's door,
Where he sews with needle and thread,
Or by
Miss Pim the milliner's,
With her hats for every head.
It might be a road to a great dark cave
With treasure and gold piled high,
Or a road with mountain tied to its ends,
Blue humped against the sky.
Oh, a road might lead you anywhere--
To Mexico or Maine.
But then, it might just fool you, and--
Lead you back home again!
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The Unseen Playmate
By
Robert Louis Stevenson
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HOME
TableOf
Contents
VOL1 |
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When children are playing alone on the green,
In comes the playmate that never was seen.
When children are happy and lonely and good,
The Friend of the Children comes out of the wood.
Nobody heard him, and nobody saw,
His is a picture you never could draw,
But he's sure to be present, abroad or at home,
When children are happy and playing alone.
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TableOf
Contents
VOLII
Guest
Book
Index
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He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass,
He sings when you tinkle the musical glass;
Whene'er you are happy and cannot tell why,
The Friend of the Children is sure to be by!
He loves to be little, he hates to be big,
'T is he that inhabits the caves that you dig;
'T is he when you play with your soldiers of tin
That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win.
'T is he, when at night you go off to your bed,
Bids you go to sleep and not trouble your head;
For wherever they're lying, in cupboard or shelf,
'T is he will take care of your playthings himself!
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