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So cried the stars to the fishermen three:

Wynken,

Blynken,

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,

Bringing the fishermen home;

'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed

As if it could not be,

And some folks 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 Nod is a little head,

And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is the wee one's trundle-bed.

So shut your eyes while mother sings

Of wonderful sights that be,

And you shall see the beautiful things

As rock in the misty sea,

you

Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:

Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

One blind from birth asked a man who could see: "What color is milk?"

The man who could milk is like white

see replied: "The color of paper." The blind man asked: “This color, then, rustles in the hands like paper?" The man who could see replied: "No; it is white, like white flour." The blind man asked: "Then it is soft and powdery like flour, is it?" The man who could see replied: "No; it is simply white, like a rabbit." The blind man asked: "Then it is downy and soft like a rabbit, is it?" The man who could see replied: "No; white is a color exactly like snow.' The blind man asked: "Then it is cold, like snow, is it?" And in spite of all that the man who could see said the blind man was wholly unable to understand what the color of milk really is. Leo Tolstoy.

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THE TREE

BY BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON

The Tree's early leaf buds were bursting their brown;

"Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down.

"No, leave them alone

Till the blossoms have grown,

Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet

to crown.

The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung; "Shall I take them away?" said the Wind. as he swung.

"No, leave them alone

Till the berries have grown,"

Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung.

The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow; Said the girl: "May I gather thy berries now? "Yes, all thou canst see:

Take them; all are for thee,"

Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low.

THE SKYLARK'S SPURS

BY JEAN INGELOW

I

A fairy once saw a fine young lark sitting in the long grass.

"What is the matter with you?" asked the fairy.

"Oh, I am so unhappy!" replied the poor lark. "I want to build a nest, and I have no wife.'

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Why don't you look for a wife, then?" said the fairy, laughing at him. "Do you expect one to come and look for you? Fly up, and sing a beautiful song in the sky, and then perhaps some pretty bird will hear you.

"If you tell her you will help her to build a nest, and that you will sing to her all day long, she will consent to be your wife."

"If I fly up my feet will be seen," said the lark, ❝and no other bird has feet like mine. My claws are enough to frighten any one, they are so long." "Let me look at your claws," said the fairy. So the lark lifted up one of his feet, which he

had kept hidden in the long grass, lest any one should see it.

"It looks very fierce," said the fairy. "Are you sure you never fight?'

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"No, never," said the lark; "I never fought a battle in my life; yet these claws grow longer and longer. I am so ashamed of their being seen, that I often lie in the grass instead of going up to sing, as I could wish."

"I think, if I were you, I would pull them off," said the fairy.

"That is not an easy thing to do," answered the poor lark. "You can not think how fast

they stick on."

"Well, I am sorry for you," said the fairy. "You would not have wings unless you were going to fly, nor a voice unless you were going to sing; and so you would not have those dreadful spurs unless you were going to fight. If your spurs are not to fight with," continued the fairy, "I should like to know what they are for!"

"I am sure I don't know," his foot and looking at it. up might be willing to mention

said the lark, lifting "But I thought you

among my friends

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