Morning-Glories, And Other Stories. Louisa May Alcott

      Morning-Glories

       and other stories

      LOUISA MAY ALCOTT

      

      

      

      

      

       Morning-Glories, L. May Alcott

       Jazzybee Verlag Jürgen Beck

       86450 Altenmünster, Loschberg 9

       Deutschland

      

       ISBN: 9783849658939

      

       www.jazzybee-verlag.de

       [email protected]

      

      

      CONTENTS:

       A SONG FOR A CHRISTMAS TREE.. 1

       MORNING-GLORIES. 2

       THE ROSE FAMILY. 15

       SHADOW-CHILDREN. 40

       POPPY'S PRANKS. 50

       WHAT THE SWALLOWS DID. 61

       LITTLE GULLIVER. 69

       THE WHALE'S STORY. 76

       GOLDFIN AND SILVERTAIL. 83

       A STRANGE ISLAND. 89

       PEEP! PEEP! PEEP! 97

       FANCY'S FRIEND. 99

       THE NAUTILUS. 113

       FAIRY FIREFLY. 115

      A SONG FOR A CHRISTMAS TREE

       Cold and wintry is the sky,

       Bitter winds go whistling by,

       Orchard boughs are bare and dry,

      Yet here stands a fruitful tree.

       Household fairies kind and dear,

       With loving magic none need fear,

       Bade it rise and blossom here,

      Little friends, for you and me.

       Come and gather as they fall,

       Shining gifts for great and small;

       Santa Claus remembers all

      When he comes with goodies piled.

       Corn and candy, apples red,

       Sugar horses, gingerbread,

       Babies who are never fed,

      Are hanging here for every child.

       Shake the boughs and down they come,

       Better fruit than peach or plum,

       'T is our little harvest home;

      For though frosts the flowers kill,

       Though birds depart and squirrels sleep,

       Though snows may gather cold and deep,

       Little folk their sunshine keep,

      And mother-love makes summer still.

       Gathered in a smiling ring,

       Lightly dance and gayly sing,

       Still at heart remembering

      The sweet story all should know,

       Of the little Child whose birth

       Has made this day throughout the earth

       A festival for childish mirth,

      Since that first Christmas long ago.

      MORNING-GLORIES.

      WHAT'S that?"—and Daisy sat up in her little bed to listen; for she had never heard a sound like it before.

      It was very early, and the house was still. The sun was just rising, and the morning-glories at the window were turning; their blue and purple cups to catch the welcome light. The sky was full of rosy clouds; dew shone like diamonds on the waving grass, and the birds were singing as they only sing at dawn. But softer, sweeter than any bird-voice was the delicate music which Daisy heard. So airy and gay was the sound, it seemed impossible to lie still with that fairy dancing-tune echoing through the room. Out of bed scrambled Daisy, her sleepy eyes opening wider and wider with surprise and pleasure as she listened and wondered.

      "Where is it?" she said, popping her head out of the window. The morning-glories only danced lightly on their stems, the robins chirped shrilly in the garden below, and the wind gave Daisy a kiss; but none of them answered her, and still the lovely music sounded close beside her.

      "It's a new kind of bird, perhaps; or maybe it's a fairy hidden somewhere. Oh, if it is, how splendid it will be!" cried Daisy; and she began to look carefully in all the colored cups, under the leaves of the woodbine, and in the wren's-nest close by. There was neither fairy nor bird to be seen; and Daisy stood wondering, when a voice cried out from below,—

      "Why, little nightcap, what brings you out of your bed so early?"

      "O Aunt Wee! do you hear it,—that pretty music playing somewhere near? I can't find it; but I think it's a fairy, don't you?" said Daisy, looking down at the young lady standing in the garden with her hands full of roses.

      Aunt Wee listened, smiled, and shook her head.

      "Don't you remember you said last night that you thought the world a very stupid, grown-up place, because there were no giants and fairies in it now? Well, perhaps there are fairies, and they are going to show themselves to you, if you watch well."

      Daisy clapped her hands, and danced about on her little bare feet; for, of all things in the world, she most wanted to see a fairy.

      "What must I do to find them. Aunt Wee?" she cried, popping out her head again with her cap half off, and her curly hair blowing in the wind.

      "Why, you see, they frolic all night, and go to sleep at dawn; so we must get up very early, if we want to catch the elves awake. They are such delicate, fly-away little things, and we are so big and clumsy, we shall have to look carefully, and perhaps hunt a long time before we find even one," replied Aunt Wee, very gravely.

      "Mamma says I'm quick at finding