He'd rather be a prancing steed,
And have me drive him many a mile,
And often run away.

I like to do as grown folks do.
Our house is full of books.
My sisters gather every night
About the cheery study light.
I often think how wise it looks,
And wish I could stay, too.

So I coax Tommy every day
To read a little while.
I know my M's and N's and P's
And everything, 'way down to Z's.
When Tommy reads I have to smile,
For Tommy just knows A!

HANNAH G. FERNALD.

THE LADY MOON

There's a lady in the moon,
With a floating gown of white;
You can see her very soon,
When mamma turns out the light.

Tis a lady and she smiles
Through my narrow window way,
As she sails on miles and miles,
Making night as fair as day.

ALICE TURNER CURTIS.

THE JOURNEY

Whither away shall the baby ride?
How many miles shall he fare?
Under the trees whose arms spread wide,
Out to the meadow there.

Down by the brook that flows rippling by,
Bordered by moss and fern.
From flower and bird and tree and sky
How many things shall he learn?

Baby'll journey all safe and sound
Out in the world of green,
Traveling over the grassy ground,
Where wild flowers are seen.

Leaves will whisper and birds will trill,
And all things display their charms,
And, when he's journeyed as far as he will,
He'll ride back to mother's arms.

Then, though he thought the green world good,
He'll gladly come back to rest,
And will drowsily feel, as a baby should,
That mother's arms are the best.

ANNIE WILLIS MCCULLOUGH.

PRETENDING

We played we were lost in the wood,
But home was just over the hill.
With only one cooky for food,
We played we were lost in the wood.
We talked just as loud as we could,
The world seemed so big and so still.
We wished we had always been good,
And we said in our hearts, "Now we will."

We gathered fresh grass for our bed,
And then there was nothing to do.
A robin flew over my head
As we gathered fresh grass for our bed.
"He'll cover us up," brother said,
And then he began to boo-hoo,
And home to our mother we fled,
Or, really, I might have cried too.

HANNAH G. FERNALD.

A LITTLE APRIL FOOL

One day in the midst
Of an April shower.
This dear little girl
Was missed for an hour.

And