THE BROWNIES AT THE SEASIDE. |
ithin a forest dark and wide,
Some distance from the ocean side,
A band of Brownies played around
On mossy stone or grassy mound,
Or, climbing through the branching tree,
Performed their antics wild and free.
|
When one, arising in his place
With sparkling eyes and beaming face
Soon won attention from the rest,
And thus the listening throng addressed:
"For years and years, through heat and cold,
Our home has been this forest old;
The saplings which we used to bend
Now like a schooner's masts ascend. | Yet here we live, content to ride
A springing bough with childish pride,
Content to bathe in brook or bog
Along with lizard, leech, and frog;
We're far behind the age you'll find
If once you note the human kind.
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The modern youths no longer lave
Their limbs beneath the muddy wave
Of meadow pool or village pond,
But seek the ocean far beyond. If pleasure in the sea is found
Not offered by the streams around,
The Brownie band at once should haste These unfamiliar joys to taste;
No torch nor lantern's ray we'll need
To show our path o'er dewy mead,
The ponds and pitfalls in the swale,
The open ditch, the slivered rail,
The poison vine and thistle high
Show clear before the Brownie's
eye."
—Next evening, as their plan
they'd laid,
The band soon gathered in the
shade.
All clustered like a swarm of
bees
They darted from the sheltering
trees;
And straight across the country wide
Began their journey to the tide.
And when they neared the beach at last,—
The stout, the lean, the slow, the fast,—
| 'T was hard to say, of all the lot,
Who foremost reached the famous spot. "And now," said one with active mind.
"What proper garments can we find?
In bathing costume, as you know,
The people in the ocean go."
Another spoke, "For such demands,
The building large that yonder stands,
Off they go As one can see on passing by,
Is full of garments clean and dry.
There every fashion, loose or tight,
We may secure with labor light."
Though Brownies never carry keys,
They find an entrance where they please;
And never do they chuckle more
Than when some miser bars his door;
For well they know that, spite of locks,
Of rings and staples, bolts and blocks,
Were they inclined to play such prank
He'd find at morn an empty bank.
So now the crafty Brownie crew
Soon brought the bathing-suits to view;
Some, working on the inner side,
The waiting throng without supplied.—
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'Twas busy work, as may be guessed,
Before the band was fully dressed;
Some still had cloth enough to lend,
Though shortened up at either end;
Sortie ran about to find a pin,
While others rolled, and puckered in,
| Brownie and crab | And made the best of what they found,
However strange it hung around.
Then, when a boat was manned with care
To watch for daring swimmers there,— | Caught by crab | Lest some should venture, over-bold,
And fall a prey to cramp and cold,—
A few began from piers to leap
And plunge at once in water deep,
But more to shiver, shrink, and shout
| As step by step they ventured out;
While others were content to stay
In shallow surf, to duck and play
Along the lines that people laid
To give the weak and timid aid. It was a sight one should behold,
When o'er the crowd the breakers rolled;—
One took a header through the wave,
One floated like a chip or stave,
While others there, at every plunge,
Were taking water like a sponge.
| Brownie policeman chasing | | Caught by the hand | But while the surf they tumbled through,
They reckoned moments as they flew,
And kept in mind their homeward race
Before the sun should show his face.
|
At the shore For sad and painful is the fate
Of those who roam abroad too late;
And well may Brownies bear in mind
The hills and vales they leave behind,
When far from native haunts they run,
As oft they do, in quest of fun. But, ere they turned to leave the strand,
They made a vow with lifted hand
That every year, when summer's glow
Had warmed the ocean spread below,
They'd journey far from grove and glen
To sport in rolling surf again.
| Policeman looking at mess |
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