When the glorious sun is set,
    When the grass with dew is wet,
    Then you show your little light,
    Twinkle, twinkle all the night.

    In the dark-blue sky you keep,
    And often through my curtains peep,
    For you never shut your eye,
    Till the sun is in the sky.

    As your bright and tiny spark
    Guides the traveller in the dark,
    Though I know not what you are,
    Twinkle, twinkle, little star!

 Pippa.

“Spring’s at the Morn,” from “Pippa Passes,” by Robert Browning (1812-89), has become a very popular stanza with little folks.  “All’s right with the world” is a cheerful motto for the nursery and schoolroom.

    The year’s at the spring,
    The day’s at the morn;
    Morning’s at seven;
    The hillside’s dew pearled;

    The lark’s on the wing;
    The snail’s on the thorn;
    God’s in His heaven—­
    All’s right with the world!

RobertBrowning.

 The days of the month.

“The Days of the Month” is a useful bit of doggerel that we need all through life.  It is anonymous.

    Thirty days hath September,
    April, June, and November;
    February has twenty-eight alone. 
    All the rest have thirty-one,
    Excepting leap-year—­that’s the time
    When February’s days are twenty-nine.

Oldsong.

 True royalty.

“True Royalty” and “Playing Robinson Crusoe” are pleasing stanzas from
“The Just So Stories” of Rudyard Kipling (1865-).

    There was never a Queen like Balkis,
      From here to the wide world’s end;
    But Balkis talked to a butterfly
      As you would talk to a friend.

    There was never a King like Solomon,
      Not since the world began;
    But Solomon talked to a butterfly
      As a man would talk to a man.

    She was Queen of Sabaea—­
      And he was Asia’s Lord—­
    But they both of ’em talked to butterflies
      When they took their walks abroad.

RUDYARD KIPLING.

 (In “The Just So Stories.”)

 PLAYING ROBINSON CRUSOE.

    Pussy can sit by the fire and sing,
      Pussy can climb a tree,
    Or play with a silly old cork and string
      To ’muse herself, not me. 
    But I like Binkie, my dog, because
      He knows how to behave;
    So, Binkie’s the same as the First Friend was,
      And I am the Man in the Cave.

    Pussy will play Man-Friday till
      It’s time to wet her paw
    And make her walk on the window-sill
      (For the footprint Crusoe saw);
    Then she fluffles her tail and mews,
      And scratches and won’t attend. 
    But Binkie will play whatever I choose,
      And he is my true First Friend.