THE ROYAL READERS 2: LESSON 39

Do you know the little wood-mouse,
That pretty little thing
That sits among the forest leaves,
Beside the forest spring?

Its fur is as red as the chestnut,
And it is small and slim;
It leads a life most innocent
Within the forest dim.

Tis a timid, gentle creature,
And seldom comes in sight;
It has a long and wiry tail,
And eyes both black and bright.

It makes its nest of soft dry moss,
In a hole so deep and strong;
And there it sleeps secure and worm,
The dreary winter long.

And though it keeps no almanac,
It knows when flowers are springing;
And waketh to its summer life
When nightingales are singing.

Upon the boughs the squirrel sits,
The wood-mouse plays below;
And plenty of food its finds itself
Where the beech and chestnut grow.

In the hedge-sparrow's nest it sits,
When its summer brood it fled,
And picks the berries from the bough
Of the hawthorn overhead.

I saw a little wood-mouse once,
Like Oberon in his hall,
With the green green moss beneath his feet,
Sit under a mushroom tall.

I saw him sit, and his dinner eat,
All under the forest tree;
His dinner of chestnut ripe and red,
And he ate it heartily.

I wish you could have seen him there!
It did my spirit good,
To see the small thing God had make
Thus eating in the wood.

I saw that He regardeth them
Those creatures weak and small;
Their table in the wild is spread
By Him who cares for all.

            ---- Mary Howitt