5

Summer wanes; the children are grown,
Fun and frolic no more he knows,
Robert of Lincoln's a hum-drum drone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes:

Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.

"Bob

Lincoln

lit

tle dame,

is

telling his name:

' link, bob- o' link, Spink, spank, spink;

1. What other birds do you know that are named from their song? 2. What does Robert sing about? Compare "The Brown Thrush." 3. What is his color? 4. Why is his wife called a Quaker? 5. What are his duties soon to be? 6. Where will he go when summer is over? 7. It will interest you to find out who the reedbird of North Carolina and the rice-bird of Louisiana are.

REVIEW QUESTIONS

1. Tell something of the life of Whittier. What pleasures had his Barefoot Boy?

2. What things did you like best in the story of "A Happy Boy"?

3. Who is speaking in "Seven Times One"? What kind of day is it? What pictures did you get when you read it?

4. What lines in "The Brook" are often repeated? Find some lines that remind you of the motion of a brook. What pictures in the poem do you like best?

10

By the flow of the inland river,

Whence the fleets of iron have fled; Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver, Asleep are the ranks of the dead.

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day,

Under the one, the Blue,
Under the other, the Gray.

These in the robings of glory,
Those in the gloom of defeat,

ver,

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY

All of the battle blood gory,

In the dusk of eternity meet:
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day;

Under the laurel, the Blue,

Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours

The desolate mourners go,

Lovingly laden with flowers,

149

5

Alike for the friend and the foe:

10

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day;

Under the roses, the Blue,
Under the lilies, the Gray.

So with an equal splendor

The morning sun rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender,

On the blossoms blooming for all.
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day;

Broidered with gold, the Blue,

Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

15

20

5

10

15

20

So, when the summer calleth,

On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain:
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day;
Wet with the rain, the Blue,,
Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done.

In the storm of years that are fading

No braver battle was won:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the Judgment Day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue,
Under the garlands, the Gray.

No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever

When they laurel the graves of our dead:
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment Day;