Into the sunshine,
Full of the light,
Leaping and flashing
From morn till night.
Into the moonlight,
Whiter than snow,
Waving so flower-like
When the winds blow.
Into the star-light
Rushing in spray,
Happy at midnight,
Happy by day.
The true poetry of these lines will not appeal to him in the beginning, but the cadence of the lines will, and they will become fixed in his mind. The beauty of the poems will he his in later years.
As soon as a child is old enough to follow the thread of a simple story, fables and folk-lore will lead him into the realm of the world's earliest literature. These are the stories which delighted the race in its childhood, and they have delighted childhood in all succeeding generations. These old fables are so familiar that they are incorporated into our everyday conversation. How often do we refer to "The Hare and the Tortoise," to the "Dog in the Manger," or to "The Goose That Laid the Golden Egg?" How
