Mary Botham Howitt Poems

Will you walk into my parlour?' said the Spider to the Fly,
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
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I love the sunshine everywhere -
In wood, and field, and glen;
I love it in the busy haunts
Of town-imprison'd men.
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D' ye know the little Wood-Mouse,
That pretty little thing,
That sits among the forest leaves,
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Nay, only look what I have found!
A Sparrow's nest upon the ground;
A Sparrow's nest as you may see,
Blown out of yonder old elm tree.
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The humming-bird! the humming-bird!
So fairy-like and bright:
It lives among the sunny flowers,
A creature of delight!
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It is summer! it is summer! how beautiful it looks!
There is sunshine on the old gray hills, and sunshine on the brooks
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Oh! fragrant dwellers of the lea,
When first the wild wood rings
With each sound of vernal minstrelsy,
When fresh the green grass springs!
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There was an old and quiet man,
And by the fire sate he,
'And now,' he said, 'to you I'll tell
A dismal thing, which once befell
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Alas! what secret tears are shed,
What wounded spirits bleed;
What loving hearts are sundered
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Oh the Broom, the yellow Broom,
The ancient poet sung it,
And dear it is on summer days
To lie at rest among it.
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