 GRANDMAJANIS'S POEMS AND STORIES This is a LibriVox recording. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org The Raggedy Man by James Whitcombe Reilly Recording by Janice Greene, Hemingway, South Carolina Oh, the Raggedy Man, he works for Pa, and he's the goodest man ever you saw. He comes to our house every day and waters the horses and feeds them hay. And he opens the shed, and we all just laugh when he drives out our little little wobbly calf. And then, if our hired girl says he can, he milks the cow for Elizabethan. Ain't he an awful good Raggedy Man? Why, the Raggedy Man, he is so good, he splits the kindling and chops the wood, and then he spades in our garden, too, and does most things that boys can't do. He clums to clean up in our big tree and shook an apple down for me, and another and two for Elizabethan, and another and two for the Raggedy Man. Ain't he an awful kind Raggedy Man? And the Raggedy Man, one time, say he picked roast rambos from a orchard tree, and Adam all is roastin' hot, and it's so, too, cause a corn crib got a fire one time and all burned down on the smoot farm about four miles from town. On the smoot farm, yes, and the hired hand that worked there, and then, is the Raggedy Man. Ain't he the beatin'est Raggedy Man? Raggedy, Raggedy, Raggedy Man. The Raggedy Man is so good and kind, he'll be our horsey and haul and mind everything that you make him do, and won't run off, lest you want him to. I driv'd him once way down our lane, and he got scared when it meant to rain, and lest rear'd up and squealed and run, Bert and I away. And it's all in fun, and then he's scared again, and an old tin can. Whoa, yo, run away, Raggedy Man. Raggedy, Raggedy, Raggedy Man. And the Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes and tells him if I be good sometimes, knows about giants and griffins and elves, and the squijakum squeeze that swallows their selves, and white by the pump in our pasture lot, he showed me the hole that the wunxes got. That lives way deep in the ground, and can turn into me, or Elizabeth Ann, or Ma, or Pa, or the Raggedy Man. Ain't he a funny old Raggedy Man? Raggedy, Raggedy, Raggedy Man. And once, when the Raggedy Man come late, and pigs as through the garden gate, he tend like the pigs as bears, and said, oh, bear shooter, shoot him dead, and race and chase him, and they just run when he paint his hoe at him like it's a gun, and go, bang, bang, and then tin he stand and load up his gun again, Raggedy Man. He's an old bear shooter, Raggedy Man. Raggedy, Raggedy, Raggedy Man. And sometimes the Raggedy Man lets on where little prince children and old king's gone to get more money and laugh us there, and robbers that stick everywhere. And then, if we all won't cry for sure, the Raggedy Man, he'll come and explore the castle halls, and steal the gold, and steal us, too, and grab and hold, and pack us off to his old cave. And hey, mouse the cave, oh, the Raggedy Man. Raggedy, Raggedy, Raggedy Man. The Raggedy Man one time when he was making a little bow and hurry for me says, when you're big like your paw is, are you going to keep a fine store like his, and be a rich merchant, and wear fine clothes? Or what are you going to be, goodness knows, and any laugh at Elizabeth Ann? And I says, be going to be a Raggedy Man. I'm just going to be a nice Raggedy Man. Raggedy, Raggedy, Raggedy Man. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Worm by Ralph Virgingren, read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green, Hemingway, South Carolina. When the earth is turned in spring, the worms are fat as anything, and birds come flying all around to eat the worms right off the ground. They like the worms just as much as I like bread and milk and apple pie. And once, when I was very young, I put a worm right on my tongue. I didn't like the taste a bit, and so I didn't swallow it. But oh, it makes my mother squirm because she thinks I ate that worm. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. My Shadow by Robert Louis Stevenson, read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green, Hemingway, South Carolina. I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, and what can be the use of him is more than I can see. He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head, and I see him jump before me when I jump into my bed. The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow, not at all like proper children, which is always very slow, for he sometimes shoots up taller like an India rubber ball, and he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all. He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play, and can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close beside me, he's a coward, you can see. I'd think shame to stick to mercy as that shadow sticks to me. One morning, very early, before the sun was up, I rose and found a shining dew on every buttercup, but my lazy little shadow, like an errant sleepyhead, had stayed at home behind me, and was fast asleep in bed. End of Poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter, read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green, Hemingway, South Carolina. Once upon a time there were four little rabbits, and their names were Flopsie, Mopsie, Cottontail, and Peter. They lived with their mother in a sandbank, underneath the root of a very big fir tree. Now my dear, said old Mrs. Rabbit one morning, you may go into the fields or down the lane, but don't go into Mr. McGregor's garden. Your father had an accident there. He was put in a pie by Mrs. McGregor. Now run along and don't get into mischief. I am going out. Then old Mrs. Rabbit took a basket and her umbrella, and went through the wood to the bakers. She bought a loaf of brown bread and five current buns. Flopsie, Mopsie, and Cottontail, who were good little bunnies, went down the lane to gather blackberries. But Peter, who was very naughty, ran straight away to Mr. McGregor's garden and squeezed under the gate. First he ate some lettuces and some French beans, and then he ate some radishes, and then, feeling rather sick, he went to look for some parsley. But round the end of a cucumber frame, whom should he meet but Mr. McGregor? Mr. McGregor was on his hands and knees planting out young cabbages, but he jumped up and ran after Peter, waving a rake and calling out, Stop! Seeth! Peter was most dreadfully frightened. He rushed all over the garden, for he had forgotten the way back to the gate. He lost one of his shoes among the cabbages, and the other shoe amongst the potatoes. After losing them he ran on four legs and went faster, so that I think he might have gotten away altogether, if he had not, unfortunately, run into a gooseberry net and got caught by the large buttons on his jacket. It was a blue jacket with brass buttons, quite new. Peter gave himself up for lost and shed big tears, but his sobs were overheard by some friendly sparrows, who flew to him in great excitement and implored him to exert himself. Mr. McGregor came up with a sieve, which he intended to pop upon the top of Peter, but Peter wriggled out just in time, leaving his jacket behind him, and rushed into the tool shed and jumped into a can. It would have been a beautiful thing to hide in if it had not had so much water in it. Mr. McGregor was quite sure that Peter was somewhere in the tool shed, perhaps hidden underneath the flower pot. He began to turn them over carefully, looking under each. Presently Peter sneezed. Mr. McGregor was after him in no time, and tried to put his foot upon Peter, who jumped out of a window, upsetting three plants. The window was too small for Mr. McGregor, and he was tired of running after Peter. He went back to his work. Peter sat down to rest. He was out of breath and trembling with fright, and he had not the least idea of which way to go. Also he was very damp with sitting in that can. After a time he began to wonder about, going lippity, lippity, not very fast, and looking all around. He found a door in a wall, but it was locked, and there was no room for a fat little rabbit to squeeze underneath. An old mouse was running in and out over this stone doorstep, carrying peas and beans to her family in the wood. Peter asked her the way to the gate, but she had such a large pee in her mouth that she could not answer. She only shook her head at him. Peter began to cry. Then he tried to find his way straight across the garden, but he became more and more puzzled. Presently he came to a pond where Mr. McGregor filled his water cans. A white cat was staring at some goldfish. She sat very, very still, but now and then the tip of her tail twitched, as if it were alive. Peter thought it best to go away without speaking to her. He had heard about cats from his cousin, Little Benjamin Bunny. He went back towards the tool shed, but suddenly, quite close to him, he heard the noise of a hole. Scritch, scratch, scratch, scratch. Peter scuttered underneath the bushes, but presently, as nothing happened, he came out and climbed upon a wheelbarrow and peeped over. The first thing he saw was Mr. McGregor hoeing onions. His back was turned towards Peter, and beyond him was the gate. Peter got down very quietly off the wheelbarrow, and started running as fast as he could go along a straight walk behind some black current bushes. Mr. McGregor caught sight of him at the corner, but Peter did not care. He slipped underneath the gate and was safe at last in the wood outside the garden. Mr. McGregor hung up the little jacket and the shoes for a scarecrow to frighten the black birds. Peter never stopped running or looked behind him until he got home to the big fir tree. He was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice soft sand on the floor of the rabbit hole and shut his eyes. His mother was busy cooking. She wondered what he had done with his clothes. It was the second little jacket and pair of shoes that Peter had lost in a fortnight. I am sorry to say that Peter was not very well during the evening. His mother put him to bed and made some chamomile tea, and she gave a dose of it to Peter. One tablespoon full to be taken at bedtime. But flopsie, mobsie, and cottontail had bread and milk and blackberries for supper. This recording is in the public domain. The Duel, The Gingham Dog and the Calico Cat by Eugene Field. Red for LibriVox.org by Janice Green, Hemingway, South Carolina. The Gingham Dog and the Calico Cat side by side on the table sat. To us half past twelve, and what do you think? Not one nor to other had slept a wink. The old Dutch clock on the Chinese plate appeared to know as sure as fate there was going to be a terrible spat. I wasn't there. I simply state what was told to me by the Chinese plate. The Gingham Dog went, bow, wow, wow, and the Calico Cat replied, meow. The air was littered an hour or so with bits of gingham and calico, while the old Dutch clock in the chimney place up with its hands before its face, for it always dreaded a family row. Now mind I'm only telling you what the old Dutch clock declares is true. The Chinese plate looked very blue and wailed, oh dear, what shall we do? But the Gingham Dog and the Calico Cat wallowed this way and tumbled that, employing every tooth and claw in the awfulest way you ever saw. And oh how the Gingham and Calico flew. Don't fancy I exaggerate. I got my news from the Chinese plate. Next morning, where the two had sat, they found no trace of dog or cat, and some folks sink into this day that burglar stole that pair away. But the truth about the cat and pup is this, they ate each other up. Now what do you really think of that? The old Dutch clock, it told me so, and that is how I came to know. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. I'm Nobody Who Are You, by Emily Dickinson. Read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green, Hemingway, South Carolina. I'm Nobody Who Are You. Are you nobody too? Then there's a pair of us. Don't tell, they'd advertise you know. How dreary to be somebody. How public, like a frog, to tell your name the live long June to an admiring bog. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. CANT, by Edgar Guest. Read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green, Hemingway, South Carolina. CANT is the worst word that's written or spoken, doing more harm here than slander and lies. On it is many a strong spirit broken, and with it many a good purpose dies. It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each morning, and robs us of courage we need through the day. It rings in our ears like a timely scent warning, and laughs when we falter and fall by the way. CANT is the father of feeble endeavor, the parent of terror and half-hearted work. It weakens the efforts of artisans clever, and makes of the toiler an indolent shirk. It poisons the soul of the man with a vision, it stifles in infancy many a plan. It greets honest toiling with open derision, and mocks at the hopes and the dreams of a man. CANT is a word none should speak without blushing. To utter it should be a symbol of shame. Ambition and courage it daily is crushing. It blights a man's purpose and shortens his aim. Despise it with all of your hatred of error. Refuse it the lodgement it seeks in your brain. Arm against it is a creature of terror, and all that you dream of you some day shall gain. CANT is a word that is foe to ambition, an enemy ambushed to shatter your will. Its prey is forever the man with a mission, and bows but to courage, and patience and skill. Hate it with hatred that's deep and undying, for once it is welcome to a break any man. Whatever the goal you are seeking keep trying, and answer this demon by saying, I can. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Things That Haven't Been Done Before by Edgar Guest Read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green Hemingway, South Carolina The Things That Haven't Been Done Before those are the things to try. Columbus dreamed of an unknown shore at the rim of the far-flung sky, and his heart was bold and his face was strong as he ventured in dangers new, and he paid no heed to the jeering's wrong, or the fears of the doubting crew. The many will follow the beaten track with guideposts on the way. They live and have lived for ages back with a chart for every day. Someone has told them it's safe to go on the road he has traveled o'er, and all that they ever strive to know are the things that were known before. A few strike out without map or chart where never a man has been. From the beaten paths they draw apart to see what no man has seen. There are deeds they hunger alone to do, though battered and bruised and sore, they blaze the path for the many who do nothing not done before. The things that haven't been done before are the tasks worthwhile today. Are you one of the flock that follows, or are you one that shall lead the way? Are you one of the timid souls that quail at the jeers of a doubting crew, or dare you, whether you win or fail, strike out for a goal that's new? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Hemingway, South Carolina And all about was mine, I said, the little sparrows overhead, the little minnows, too. This was the world, and I was king. For me the bees came by to sing. For me the swallows flew. I played there were no deeper seas, nor any wider plains than these, nor other kings than me. At last I heard my mother call out from the house at Evenfall to call me home to tea. And I must rise and leave my dell, and leave my dimpled water well, and leave my heather-blooms. Alas, and as my home I neared, how very big my nurse appeared, how great and cool the rooms. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Walrus and the Carpenter by Lewis Carroll. Read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green, Hemingway, South Carolina. The sun was shining on the sea, shining with all his might. He did his very best to make the billows smooth and bright, and this was odd because it was the middle of the night. The moon was shining sockily because she thought the sun had got no business to be there after the day was done. It's very rude of him, she said, to come and spoil the fun. The sea was wet as wet could be. The sands were dry as dry. You could not see a cloud because no cloud was in the sky. No birds were flying overhead. There were no birds to fly. The Walrus and the Carpenter were walking close at hand. They wept like anything to see such quantities of sand. If this were only cleared away, they said it would be grand. If seven maids with seven mops wept it for half a year, do you suppose, the Walrus said, that they could get it clear? I doubt it, said the Carpenter, and shed a bitter tear. A washer's come and walk with us, the Walrus did beseech. A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, along the briny beach. We cannot do with more than four to give a hand to each. The eldest oyster looked at him, but never a word, he said. The eldest oyster winked his eye, and shook his heavy head, meaning to say he did not choose to leave the oyster bed. Out four young oysters hurried up, all eager for the treat. Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, their shoes were clean and neat, and this was odd because, you know, they hadn't any feet. Four other oysters followed them, and yet another four, and thick and fast they came at last, and more and more and more, all hopping through the frothy waves and scrambling to the shore. The Walrus and the Carpenter walked on a mile or so, and then they rested on a rock. They were conveniently low, and all the little oysters stood and waited in a row. The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things, of shoes and ships and ceiling wax, of cabbages and kings, and why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings. But wait a bit! The oysters cried before we have our chat. For some of us are out of breath, and all of us are fat. No hurry, said the Carpenter. They thanked him much for that. A loaf of bread, the Walrus said, is what we chiefly need. Pepper and vinegar, besides, are very good indeed. Now, if you're ready, oysters dear, we can begin to feed. But not on us, the oysters cry, turning a little blue. After such kindness, that would be a dismal thing to do. The night is fine, the Walrus said. Do you admire the view? It was so kind of you to come, and you are very nice. The Carpenter said nothing, but cut us another slice. I wish you were not quite so deaf. I've had to ask you twice. It seems a shame, the Walrus said, to play them such a trick, after we've brought them out so far and made them trot so quick. The Carpenter said nothing but, the butter spread too thick. I weep for you, the Walrus said. I deeply sympathize. With sobs and tears he sorted out those of the largest size, holding his pocket handkerchief before his streaming eyes. A oysters said the Carpenter, you've had a pleasant run. Shall we be trotting home again? But answer came there none. And this was scarcely odd, because they'd eaten every one. End of poem This poem is in the public domain. The Owl and the Pussycat by Edward Lear Read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green, Hemingway, South Carolina The owl and the pussycat went to sea in a beautiful pea-green boat. They took some honey and plenty of money wrapped up in a five-pound note. The owl looked up to the stars above and sang to a small guitar. Oh lovely pussy, oh pussy, my love, what a beautiful pussy you are. You are, you are, what a beautiful pussy you are. Pussy said to the owl, you elegant fowl, how charmingly sweet you sing. Oh, let us be married too long we have tarried, but what shall we do for a ring? They sailed away for a year and a day to the land where the bong-tree grows. And there in a wood a piggy-wig stood with a ring on the end of his nose, his nose, his nose, with a ring on the end of his nose. Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shelling your ring? Said the piggy, I will. So they took it away and were married next day by the turkey who lives on the hill. They dined on mints and slices of quints which they ate with a runcible spoon. And hand in hand on the edge of the sand they danced by the light of the moon. The moon, the moon, they danced by the light of the moon. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. There was once a velveteen rabbit and in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy as that rabbit should be. His coat was spotted brown and white. He had real thread whiskers and his ears were lined with pink sateen. On Christmas morning when he sat wedged in the top of the boy s stocking with a sprig of holly between his paws the effect was charming. There were other things in the stocking nuts and oranges and a toy engine and chocolate almonds and a clockwork mouse. But the rabbit was quite the best of all. For at least two hours the boy loved him and then aunts and uncles came to dinner and there was a great rustling of tissue paper and unwrapping of parcels and in the excitement of looking at all the new presents the velveteen rabbit was forgotten. For a long time he lived in the toy cupboard or on the nursery floor and no one thought very much about him. He was naturally shy and being only made of velveteen some of the more expensive toys quite snubbed him. The mechanical toys were very superior and looked down upon everyone else. They were full of modern ideas and pretended they were real. The model boat who had lived through two seasons and lost most of his paint caught the tone from them and never missed an opportunity of referring to his rigging in technical terms. The rabbit could not claim to be a model of anything for he didn't know that real rabbits existed. He thought they were all stuffed with sawdust like himself and he understood that sawdust was quite out of date and should never be mentioned in modern circles. Even Timothy the jointed wooden lion who was made by the disabled soldiers and should have had broader views put on ears and pretended he was connected with government. Between them all the poor little rabbit was made to feel himself very insignificant and commonplace and the only person who was kind to him at all was the skin horse. The skin horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrived to boast and swagger and by and by break their mainsprings and pass away and he knew that they were only toys and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful and only those play things that are old and wise and experienced like the skin horse understand all about it. What is real? asked the rabbit one day when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender before Nana came to tidy the room. Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick out handle? Real isn't how you are made said the skin horse. It's a thing that happens to you when a child loves you for a long, long time not just to play with but really loves you then you become real. Does it hurt? asked the rabbit. Sometimes said the skin horse for he was always truthful. When you were real you don't mind being hurt. Does it happen all at once like being wound up? he asked. Or bit by bit. It doesn't happen all at once said the skin horse. You become it takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily or have sharp edges or who have to be carefully capped. Generally by the time you are real most of your hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all because once you are real you can't be ugly except to the people who don't understand. I suppose you were real said the rabbit and then he wished he had not said it for he thought the skin horse might be sensitive but the skin horse only smiled. The boy's uncle made me real he said that was a great many years ago but once you are real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always. The rabbit sighed. He thought it would be a long time before this magic called real happened to him. He longed to become real to know what it felt like and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad. He wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him. There was a person called Nana who ruled the nursery. Sometimes she took no notice of the place things lying about and sometimes for no reason whatever she went swooping about like a great wind and hustled them away in the cupboards. She called this tidying up and the play things all hated it especially the tin ones. The rabbit didn't mind it so much for wherever he was thrown he came down soft. One evening when the boy was going to bed he couldn't find the china dog that always slept with him. Nana was in a hurry and it was too much trouble to hunt for china dogs at bedtime so she simply looked about her and seeing that the toy cupboard door stood open she made a swoop. Here she said take your old bunny he'll do to sleep with you and she dragged the rabbit out by one ear and put him into the boy's arms. That night and for many nights after the velveteen rabbit slept in the boy's bed. At first he found it rather uncomfortable for the boy hugged him very tight and sometimes he rolled over on him and sometimes he pushed him so far under the pillow that the rabbit could scarcely breathe and he missed two those long moonlit hours in the nursery when all the house was silent and his talks with the skin horse but very soon he grew to like it for the boy used to talk to him and made nice tunnels for him under the bed clothes that he said were like the burrows the real rabbits lived in and they had splendid games together in whispers when Nana had gone away to her supper and left the night light burning on the mantelpiece and when the boy dropped off to sleep the rabbit would snuggle down close under his little warm chin and dream with the boy's hands clasped close round him all night long and so time went on and the little rabbit was very happy so happy that he never noticed how his beautiful velveteen fur was getting shabbier and shabbier and his tail coming unsewn and all the pink rubbed off his nose where the boy had kissed him spring came and they had long days in the garden for wherever the boy went the rabbit went too he had rides in the wheelbarrow and picnics on the grass and lovely fairy huts built for him under the raspberry canes behind the flower border and once when the boy was called away suddenly to go out to tea the rabbit was left on the lawn until long after dusk and Nana had to come and look for him with the candle because the boy couldn't go to sleep unless he was there he was wet through with the dew and quite earthy from diving into the burrows the boy had made for him in the flower bed and Nana grumbled as she rubbed him off with the corner of her apron you must have your old bunny she said fancy all that fuss for a toy the boy sat up in bed and stretched out his hands give me my bunny he said you mustn't say that he isn't a toy he's real when the little rabbit heard that he was happy for he knew that what the skin horse had said was true at last the nursery magic had happened to him and he was a toy no longer he was real the boy himself had said it that night he was almost too happy to sleep and so much love stirred in his little sawdust heart that it almost burst and into his boot-button eyes that had long ago lost their polish there came a look of wisdom and beauty so that even Nana noticed it next morning when she picked him up and said I declare if that old bunny hasn't got quite a knowing expression that was a wonderful summer near the house where they lived there was a wood and in the long june evening the boy liked to go there after tea to play he took the velveteen rabbit with him and before he wandered off to pick flowers or play at brigands among the trees he always made the rabbit a little nest somewhere among the bracken where he would be quite cozy for he was a kind-hearted little boy and he liked bunny to be comfortable one evening while the rabbit was lying there alone watching the ants that ran to and fro between his velvet paws in the grass he saw two strange beings creep out of the tall bracken near him they were rabbits like himself but quite furry and brand new they must have been very well made for their seams didn't show at all and they changed shape in a queer way when they moved one minute they were long and thin and the next minute fat and bunchy instead of always staying the same like he did their feet padded softly on the ground and they crept quite close to him twitching their noses while the rabbit steered hard to see which side the clockwork stuck out for he knew that people who jump generally have something to wind them up but he couldn't see it they were evidently a new kind of rabbit altogether they stared at him and the little rabbit stared back and all the time their noses twitched why don't you get up and play with us one of them asked I don't feel like it said the rabbit for he didn't want to explain that he had no clockwork oh said the furry rabbit it's as easy as anything and he gave a big hop sideways and stood on his hind legs I don't believe you can he said I can said the little rabbit I can jump higher than anything he meant when the boy threw him but of course he didn't want to say so can you hop on your hind legs ask the furry rabbit that was a dreadful question for the velveteen rabbit had no hind legs at all the back of him was made all in one piece like a pin cushion he sat still in the bracken and hoped that the other rabbits wouldn't notice I don't want to he said again but the wild rabbits have very sharp eyes and this one stretched out its neck and looked he hasn't got any hind legs he called out fancy a rabbit without any hind legs and he began to laugh I have cried the little rabbit I have got hind legs I am sitting on them then stretch them out and show me like this said the wild rabbit and he began to whirl around and dance till the little rabbit got quite dizzy I don't like dancing he said I'd rather sit still but all the while he was longing to dance for a funny new tickly feeling ran through him and he felt he would give anything in the world to be able to jump about like these rabbits did the strange rabbit stopped dancing and came quite close he came so close this time that his long whiskers brushed the velveteen rabbit's ear and then he wrinkled his nose suddenly and flattened his ears and jumped backward he doesn't smell right he exclaimed he isn't a rabbit at all he isn't real I am real said the little rabbit I am real the boy said so and he nearly began to cry just then there was a sound of footsteps and the boy ran past near them and with a stamp of feet and a flash of white tails the two strange rabbits disappeared come back and play with me called the little rabbit oh do come back I know I am real but there was no answer only the little ants ran to and fro and the bracken swayed gently where the two strangers had passed the velveteen rabbit was all alone oh dear he thought why did they run away like that why couldn't they stop and talk to me for a long time he lay very still watching the bracken and hoping that they would come back but they never returned and presently the sun sank lower and the little white moths fluttered out and the boy came and carried him home weeks passed and the little rabbit grew very old and shabby but the boy loved him just as much he loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off and the pink lining to his ears turned gray and his brown spots faded he even began to lose his shape and he scarcely looked like a rabbit anymore except to the boy to him he was always beautiful and that was all that the little rabbit cared about he didn't mind how he looked to other people because the nursery magic had made him real and when you are real shabbiness doesn't matter and then one day the boy was ill his face grew very flushed and he talked in his sleep and his little body was so hot that it burned the rabbit when he held him close strange people came and went in the nursery and the light burned all night and through it all the little velveteen rabbit lay there hidden from sight under the bed clothes and he never stirred for he was afraid that if they found him someone might take him away and he knew that the boy needed him it was a long weary time for the boy was too ill to play and the little rabbit found it rather dull with nothing to do all day long but he snuggled down patiently and looked forward to the time when the boy should be well again and they would go out in the garden amongst the flowers and the butterflies and play splendid games in the raspberry thicket like they used to all sorts of delightful things he planned and while the boy lay half asleep he crept up close to the pillow and whispered them in his ear and presently the fever turned and the boy got better he was able to sit up in bed and look at picture books while the little rabbit cuddled close at his side and one day they let him get up and dress it was a bright sunny morning and the window stood wide open they had carried the boy out onto the balcony wrapped in a shawl and the little rabbit leg tangled up among the bedclothes thinking the boy was going to the seaside tomorrow everything was arranged and now it only remained to carry out the doctor's orders they talked about it all while the little rabbit lay under the bedclothes with just his head peeping out and listened the room was to be disinfected and all the books and toys that the boy had played with in bed must be burned her raw thought the little rabbit tomorrow we shall go to the seaside for the boy had often talked of the seaside and he wanted very much to see the big waves coming in and the tiny crabs and the sandcastles just then Nana caught sight of him how about his old bunny she asked that said the doctor why it's a massive scarlet fever germs burn it at once what nonsense get him a new one he mustn't have that anymore and so the little rabbit was put into a sack with the old picture books and a lot of rubbish and carried out to the end of the garden behind the fowl house that was a fine place to make a bonfire only the gardener was too busy just then to attend to it he had the potatoes to dig and the green peas to gather but next morning he promised to come quite early and burn the whole lot that night the boy slept in a different bedroom and he had a new bunny to sleep with him it was a splendid bunny all white plush with real glass eyes but the boy was too excited to care very much about it for tomorrow he was going to the seaside and that in itself was such a wonderful thing that he could think of nothing else and while the boy was asleep dreaming of the seaside the little rabbit lay among the old picture books in the corner behind the fowl house and he felt very lonely the sack had been left untied and so by wriggling a bit he was able to get his head through the opening and look out he was shivering a little for he had always been used to sleeping in a proper bed and by this time his coat had worn so thin and threadbare from a hugging that it was no longer any protection to him nearby he could see the thicket of raspberry canes growing tall and close like a tropical jungle in whose shadow he had played with the boy on bygone mornings he thought of those long sunlit hours in the garden how happy they were and a great sadness came over him he seemed to see them all pass before him each more beautiful than the other the fairy huts in the flower bed the quiet evenings in the wood when he lay in the bracken and the little ants ran over his paws the wonderful day when he first knew that he was real he thought of the skin horse so wise and gentle and all that he had told him of what use was it to be loved and lose one's beauty and become real if it all ended like this and a tear a real tear trickled down his little shabby velvet nose and fell to the ground and then a strange thing happened for where the tear had fallen a flower grew out of the ground a mysterious flower not at all like any that grew in the garden it had slender green leaves the color of emeralds and in the center of the leaves a blossom like a golden cup it was so beautiful that the little rabbit forgot to cry and just lay there watching it and presently the blossom opened and out of it there stepped a fairy she was quite the loveliest fairy in the whole world her dress was of pearl and dew drops and there were flowers round her neck and in her hair and her face was like the most perfect flower of all and she came close to the little rabbit and gathered him up in her arms and kissed him on his velveteen nose that was all damp from crying little rabbit she said don't you know who I am the rabbit looked up at her and it seemed to him that he had seen her face before but he couldn't think where I am the nursery magic fairy, she said I take care of all the placings that the children have loved when they are old and worn out and the children don't need them anymore then I come and take them away with me and turn them into real wasn't I real before, asked the little rabbit you were real to the boy, the fairy said because he loved you now you shall be real to every one and she held the little rabbit close in her arms and flew with him into the wood it was light now for the moon had risen all the forest was beautiful and the fronds of the bracken shone like frosted silver in the open glade between the tree trunks the wild rabbits danced with their shadows on the velvet grass but when they saw the fairy they all stopped dancing and stood round in a ring to stare at her I've brought you a new playfellow, the fairy said you must be very kind to him and teach him all he needs to know in rabbit land for he is going to live with you forever and ever and she kissed the little rabbit again and put him down on the grass run and play little rabbit, she said but the little rabbit sat quite still for a moment and never moved for when he saw all the wild rabbits dancing around him he suddenly remembered about his hind legs and he didn't want them to see that he was made all in one piece he did not know that when the fairy kissed him that last time she had changed him all together and he might have sat there a long time too shy to move if just then something hadn't tickled his nose and before he thought what he was doing he lifted his hind toe to scratch it and he found that he actually had hind legs instead of dingy velveteen he had brown fur soft and shiny his ears twitched by themselves and his whiskers were so long that they brushed the grass he gave one leap and the joy of using those hind legs was so great that he went springing about the turf on them jumping sideways and whirling around as the others did and he grew so excited that when at last he did stop to look for the fairy she had gone he was a real rabbit at last at home with the other rabbits autumn passed and winter and in the spring when the days grew warm and sunny the boy went out to play in the wood behind the house and while he was playing two rabbits crept out from the bracken and peeped at him one of them was brown all over but the other had strange markings under his fur as though long ago he had been spotted and the spot still showed through and about his little soft nose and his round black eyes there was something familiar so that the boy thought to himself why he looks just like my old bunny that was lost when I had scarlet fever but he never knew that it really was his own bunny come back to look at the child who had first helped him to be real end of story this recording is in the public domain the kind old man by James Whitcomb Riley read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green Hemingway, South Carolina the kind old man the mild old man who smiled on the boys at play dreaming for chance of his own glad use when he was as blithe and gay and the larger urchin tossed a ball and the lesser held the bat so the kindly old man's eyes were blurred he could even notice that but suddenly he was shocked to hear words I dare not write and he hastened in his kindly way to curb them as he might and he said, you naughty boy with a ball for shame and then you boy with a bat quack him over the head if he calls you that again the kind old man the mild old man who gazed on the boys at play dreaming for chance of his own wild youth when he was as tough as they end of poem this recording is in the public domain only a dad by Edgar Guest read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green Hemingway, South Carolina only a dad was a tired face coming home from the daily race bringing little of gold or fame to show how well he has played the game but glad in his heart that his own rejoice to see him come and to hear his voice only a dad was a brute of four one of ten million men or more plodding along in the daily strife bearing the whips and the scorns of life with never a whimper of pain or hate for the sake of those who at home await only a dad neither rich nor proud merely one of the surging crowd toiling, striving from day to day facing whatever may come his way silent whenever the harsh condemn and bearing it all for the love of them only a dad but he gives his all to smooth the way for his children small doing with courage stern and grim the deeds that his father did for him this is the line that for him I pin only a dad but the best of men end of poem this recording is in the public domain what a baby costs by Edgar Guest read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green Hemingway, South Carolina how much do babies cost said he the other night upon my knee and then I said they cost a lot a lot of watching by a cot a lot of sleepless hours and care a lot of heartache and despair a lot of fear and trying dread and sometimes many tears are shed in payment for our baby small but every one is worth it all for babies people have to pay a heavy price from day to day there is no way to get one cheap why sometimes when they're fast asleep you have to get up in the night and go and see that they're all right but what they cost in constant care and worry does not have compare with what they bring of joy and bliss you'd pay much more for just a kiss who buys a baby has to pay a portion of the bill each day he has to give his time and thought until the little one he's bought he has to stand a lot of pain inside his heart and not complain and pay with lonely days and sad for all the happy hours he's had all this a baby costs and yet his smile is worth it all you bet end of poem this recording is in the public domain the wind by Robert Louis Stevenson read from LibriVox.org by Janice Green South Carolina I saw you toss the kites on high and blow the birds about the sky and all around I heard you pass like lady's skirts across the grass a wind blowing all day long a wind that sings so loud a song I saw the different things you did but always you yourself you hid I felt you push I heard you call I could not see yourself at all a wind a blowing all day long a wind that sings so loud a song oh you that are so strong and cold oh blower are you young or old are you a beast a field and tree or just a stronger child a wind a blowing all day long a wind that sings so loud a song end of poem this recording is in the public domain at the seaside by Robert Louis Stevenson read from LibriVox.org by Janice Green Hemingway South Carolina when I was down beside the sea a wooden spade they gave to me to dig the sandy shore my holes were hollow like a cup in every hole the sea came up till it could hold no more end of poem this recording is in the public domain Winkin, Blinkin and Nod by Eugene Field read from LibriVox.org by Janice Green Hemingway South Carolina Winkin, Blinkin and Nod one night sailed off in a wooden shoe sailed on a river of crystal light into a sea of dew where are you going and what do you wish the old moon asked the three we have come to fish for the herring fish that live in this beautiful sea nets of silver and gold have we said Winkin, Blinkin and Nod the old moon laughed and sang a song as they rocked in the wooden shoe and the wind that sped them all night long ruffled the waves of dew the little stars were the herring fish that lived in the beautiful sea now cast your nets wherever you wish never feared are we so cried the stars to the fishermen three Winkin, Blinkin 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 fisherman home twas all so pretty a sail it seemed as if it could not be and some folks thought twas a dream they dreamed of sailing that beautiful sea but I shall name you the fisherman three Winkin, Blinkin and Nod Winkin and Blinkin are two little eyes and Nod is a little head and the wooden shoe that sailed the skies is a wee one's trundle bed so shut your eyes and your mother sings of wonderful sights that be and you shall see the beautiful things as you rock in the misty sea where the old shoe rocked the fisherman three Winkin, Blinkin and Nod end of poem this recording is in the public domain bed in summer by Robert Louis Stevenson red for LibriVox.org by Janice Green South Carolina in winter I get up at night and dress by yellow candlelight in summer quite the other way I have to go to bed by day I have to go to bed and see the birds still hopping on the tree or hear the grown-up people's feet still going past me in the street and does it not seem hard to you when all the sky is clear and blue and I should like so much to play to have to go to bed by day end of poem this recording is in the public domain my bed is a boat by Robert Louis Stevenson red for LibriVox.org by Janice Green Hemingway, South Carolina my bed is like a little boat nurse helps me in when I embark she girds me in my sailors coat and starts me in the dark at night I go on board and say good night to all my friends on shore I shut my eyes and sail away and see and hear no more and sometimes things to bed I take as prudent sailors have to do perhaps a slice of wedding cake perhaps a toy or two all night across the dark we steer but when the day returns at last safe in my room beside the pier I find my vessel fast end of poem this recording is in the public domain Little Orphan Annie by James Whitcombe Riley red for LibriVox.org by Janice Green Hemingway, South Carolina inscribed with all faith and affection to all the little children the happy ones and sad ones the sober and the silent ones the boisterous and the glad ones the good ones yes the good ones too and all the lovely bad ones Little Orphan Annie's come to our house to stay and wash the cups and saucers up and brush the crumbs away and shoe the chickens off the porch and dust the hearth and sweep and make the fire and bake the bread and earn her board and keep and all us other children and all us other children when the supper things is done we set around the kitchen fire and has the mostest fun a listening to the witch tales that Annie tells about and the goblins that get ya if you don't watch out once there was a little boy wouldn't say his prayers and when he went to bed at night away upstairs his mammy heard him holler and when they tear the kivers down he wasn't there at all and they seeked him in the rafter room and cubby-hole and press and seeked him up the chimney flew and everywhere as I guess but all they ever found was this his pants and roundabout and the goblins will get ya if you don't watch out and one time a little girl at all is laughing grin and make fun of everyone in all her blood and kin and once when they was company and old folks was there she mocked them and shocked them and said she didn't care and just as she kicked her heels and turned to run and hide there was two great big black things astanding by her side and they snatched her through the ceiling for she knowed what she's about and the goblins will get ya if you don't watch out a little orphan Danny says when the blaze is blue and the lamp wicks sputters and the wind goes woo and you hear the crickets quit and the moon is gray and the lightning bugs in do is all squinched away you better mind your parents and your teachers fond and dear and churri stomach loves you and dry the orphans and heaps of poor and needy ones that clusters all about or the goblins will get ya if you don't watch out end of poem this recording is in the public domain the creation by James Weldon Johnson read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green Hemingway, South Carolina and God stepped out on space and he looked around and said I'm lonely I'll make me a world and as far as the eye of God could see darkness covered everything blacker than a hundred midnight down in a cypress swamp then God smiled and the light broke and the darkness rolled up on one side and the light stood shining on the other and God said that's good then God reached out and took the light in his hands and God rolled the light around in his hands until he made the sun and he set that sun ablazing in the heavens and the light that was left from making the sun God gathered it up in a shining ball and flung it against the darkness spangling the night with the moon and stars then down between the darkness and the light he hurled the world and God said that's good then God himself stepped down and the sun was on his right hand and the moon was on his left the stars were clustered about his head and the earth was under his feet and God walked and where he trod his footsteps hollowed the valleys out and bulged the mountains up and he stopped and looked and saw that the earth was hot and barren so God stepped over to the edge of the world and he spat out the seven seas he batted his eyes and the lightnings flashed he clapped his hands and the thunders rolled and the waters above the earth came down the cooling waters came down then the green grass sprouted and the little red flowers blossomed the pine tree pointed his finger to the sky and the oak spread out his arms the lakes cuddled down in the hollows of the ground and the rivers ran down to the sea and God smiled again and the rainbow appeared and curled itself around his shoulder then God raised his arm and he waved his hand over the sea and over the land and he said bring forth bring forth and quicker than God could drop his hand fishes and fowls and beasts and birds swam the rivers and the seas roamed the forest and the woods and split the air with their wings and God said that's good then God walked around and God looked around and he had made he looked at his son and he looked at his moon and he looked at his little stars he looked on his world with all its living things and God said I'm lonely still then God sat down on the side of a hill where he could think by a deep wide river he sat down with his head in his hands God thought and thought till he thought I'll make me a man up from the bed of the river God scooped a clay and by the bank of the river he kneeled him down and there the great God Almighty who lit the sun and fixed it in the sky who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night who rounded the earth in the middle of his hand this great God like a mammy bending over her baby kneeled down in the dust toiling over a lump of clay till he shaped it in his own image then into it he blew the breath of life and man became a living soul Amen End of poem This recording is in the public domain Psalm 139 Read for LibriVox.org by Janice Green Hemingway, South Carolina To the Chief Musician a Psalm of David O Lord, Thou hast searched me and known me Thou knowest my down-sitting and my uprising Thou understandest my thought Thou are off Thou compassest my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways For there is not a word in my tongue but lo, O Lord, Thou knowest it all together Thou hast beset me behind and before and laid thine hand upon me Such knowledge is too wonderful for me. It is high I cannot attain unto it Whither shall I go and whither shall I flee from thy presence If I send up into heaven Thou art there If I make my bed in hell Behold, Thou art there If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea Even there thy hand shall lead me and thy right hand shall hold me If I say Surely the darkness shall cover me Even the night shall be light about me Yea, the darkness hideeth not from thee but the night shineth as the day The darkness and the light are both alike to thee For Thou hast possessed my reins Thou hast covered me in my mother's womb I will praise thee for I am fearfully and wonderfully made Marvelous are thy works and that my soul knoweth right well My substance was not hid from thee when I was made in secret and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth Thine eyes did see my substance yet being unperfect and in thy book all my members were written which in continuance were fashioned when as yet there was none of them How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God How great is the sum of them If I should count them they are more in number than the sand When I awake I am still with thee Surely thou wilt slay the wicked, O God Depart from me, therefore ye bloody men for they speak against thee wickedly and thine enemies take thy name in vain Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate thee and am not I grieved with those that rise up against thee I hate them with perfect hatred I count them mine enemies Search me, O God and know my heart Try me and know my thoughts and see if there be any wicked way in me and lead me in the way everlasting