"Now, don't you go till I come," he said, Oh! the years are many, the years are long, Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand, Awaiting the touch of a little hand, The smile of a little face; And they wonder, as waiting the long years through What has become of our Little Boy Blue, WYNKEN, BLYNKEN, AND NOD Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe, Sailed on a river of crystal light Into a sea of dew. "Where are you going, and what do you wish?" The old moon asked the three. "We have come to fish for the herring-fish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of silver and gold have we," Said Wynken, The old moon laughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe; The little stars were the herring-fish That lived in the beautiful sea. "Now cast your nets wherever you wish,— Never afeard are we!" So cried the stars to the fishermen three, Wynken, And Nod. All night long their nets they threw To the stars in the twinkling foam, Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, 'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed As if it could not be; And some folk thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed Of sailing that beautiful sea; But I shall name you the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies So shut your eyes while Mother sings Of wonderful sights that be, And you shall see the beautiful things As you rock on the misty sea Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three,— Wynken, Blynken, 6. Edwin Markham (1852- ), now engaged in editorial work in New York City, was born in Oregon and spent his early life as a teacher in California, where he wrote his poem The Man with the Hoe. This is considered one of the great songs of labor. THE MAN WITH THE HOE (Written after seeing the painting by Millet) God made man in His own image, in the image of God made He him.-Genesis. Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans And on his back the burden of the world. Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave To trace the stars and search the heavens for power; Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns There is no shape more terrible than this More tongued with censure of the world's blind greedMore filled with signs and portents for the soul— More fraught with menace to the universe. What gulfs between him and the seraphim! Cries protest to the Judges of the World, O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, Is this the handiwork you give to God, This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched? Give back the upward looking and the light; O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, Read John Vance Cheney's The Man with the Hoe. A Reply. 7. James Whitcomb Riley (1853- ), a journalist living in Indianapolis, is popularly known as "the Hoosier Poet." His verses in the dialect of the Indiana farmer are widely read and loved. He is pre-eminently the poet of the common people. THE OLD MAN AND JIM1 Old man never had much to say— And Jim was the wildest boy he had, And the old man jes' wrapped up in him! Er twice in my life,—and first time was And all 'at I heerd the old man say Was, jes' as we turned to start away, 1 From Poems Here at Home, by James Whitcomb Riley, copyright 1903. Used by special permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company. "Well, good-by, Jim: Take keer of yourse'f!" 'Peared like he was more satisfied Jes' lookin' at Jim And likin' him all to hisse'f-like, see? The old man come and stood round in the way And down at the deepot a-heerin' him say,"Well, good-by, Jim: Take keer of yourse'f!" Never was nothin' about the farm Disting'ished Jim; Neighbors all ust to wonder why The old man 'peared wrapped up in him: Bored through his thigh, and carried the flag And take keer of hisse'f!" Jim come home jes' long enough To take the whim 'At he'd like to go back in the calvery- |