Waiting At The Window

by A.A. Milne

These are my two drops of rain
Waiting on the window-pane. 

I am waiting here to see
Which the winning one will be. 

Both of them have different names.
One is John and one is James.

All the best and all the worst
Comes from which of them is first.

James has just begun to ooze.
He’s the one I want to lose.

John is waiting to begin.
He’s the one I want to win.

James is going slowly on.
Something sort of sticks to John.

John is moving off at last.
James is going pretty fast.

John is rushing down the pane.
James is going slow again.

James has met a sort of smear.
John is getting very near.

Is he going fast enough?
(James has found a piece of fluff.)

John has quickly hurried by.
(James was talking to a fly.)

John is there, and John has won! 
Look! I told you! Here’s the sun!

Autumn—The Fall of the Leaf

  by: S. Moore

Summer’s lovely meadows green,
Sylvan shades and fairy bowers,
Dewy dawns and eves serene,
Balmy air and pretty flowers,—
All these sweets will soon be gone,
Fading, dying one by one.


Autumn breathes a colder breath,
Warning us of winter’s chill—
Nature passes on to death,
Beautiful in dying still,—
Cheeks aglowing in decay,
Blushing as they fade away.


Could there be a grander sight,
Than our forests’ rainbow tints,
Glancing, changing in the light,
Fairer far than colour’d prints,—
Surely death cannot be grief,
To that rosy maple leaf.


Emblem of my fleeting days,
Verdant, change, frail and brief,—
O! that as my strength decays,
I may show the maple leaf—
Fair in every passing stage,
Still more beautiful in age.