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A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Three by  Ada M. Skinner and Frances Gillespy Wickes

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A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Three
by Ada Skinner
Third volume of A Child's Own Book of Verse, a three-volume set planned for use during the four primary years. This unusually fine collection of poetry was selected with the child's interests in mind. Includes sound rhymes and jingles to appeal to the ear, descriptive poems to create images in the mind's eye, lullabies and lyrics to warm the heart, and story-telling poems to stir the imagination. Attractively illustrated by Maud and Miska Petersham.  Ages 7-10
130 pages $8.95   

 

 

THE OWLET

[7]

When dusk is drowned in drowsy dreams,

And slow the hues of sunset die;

When firefly and moth go by,

And in still streams the new moon seems

Another moon and sky:

Then from the hills there comes a cry,

The owlet's cry:

A shivering voice that sobs and screams,

With terror screams:—


"Who is it, who is it, who-o-o?

Who rides through the dusk and dew,

With a pair of horns,

As thin as thorns,

And face a bubble-blue?—

Who, who, who!

Who is it, who is it, who-o-o?"


When night has dulled the lily's white,

And opened the moonflower's eyes;

When pale mists rise and veil the skies,

And round the height in whispering flight

The night-wind sounds and sighs:

Then in the wood again it cries,

The owlet cries:

[8]

A shivering voice that calls in fright,

In maundering fright:—


"Who is it, who is it, who-o-o?

Who walks with a shuffling shoe

'Mid the gusty trees,

With a face none sees,

And a form as ghostly, too?—

Who, who, who!

Who is it, who is it, who-o-o?"


When midnight leans a listening ear

And tinkles on her insect lutes;

When 'mid the roots the cricket flutes,

And marsh and mere, now far, now near,

A jack o'lantern foots:

Then o'er the pool again it hoots:

The owlet hoots:

A voice that shivers as with fear,

That cries with fear:—


"Who is it, who is it, who-o-o?

Who creeps with his glow-worm crew

Above the mire

With a corpse-like fire,

As only dead men do?—

Who, who, who!

Who is it, who is it, who-o-o?"

—MADISON CAWEIN.





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