NOW, Harry, don't fear,
I will carry you, dear:
So keep very quiet and steady:
The brook is not wide,
Nor swift is the tide:
Now, for it, my pet--are you ready?
So over the stones we will go,
With step very careful and slow.
I never have slipped
As o'er them I tripped;
But then I had nothing to carry:
Now I must take heed,
The more haste, the worse speed;
For I bear in my arms little Harry:
So over the stones we will go,
With step very careful and slow.
Almost every bird
That ever I heard,
On the bank there seems now to be singing;
And I smell the sweet hay
From the field by the way;
The wind all its odor is bringing:
So over the stones we will go,
With step very careful and slow.
[Illustration]