large/7359/spc134_1408_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc134_hayloft_w_64kb_0
large/7359/spc134_1408_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc134_hayloft_w_64kb
English
7359
Oh, what a joy to clamber there, Oh, what a place for play, With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air, The happy hills of hay! OH WHAT A JOY TO CLAMBER THERE O WHAT A PLACE OR PLAY WITH SWEET THE DIM THE DUSTY AIR THE HAPPY HILLS OF HAY
d then, A blood-red orange, sets again. Before the stars have left the skies, At morning in the dark I rise; And shivering in my nakedness, By the cold candle, bathe and dress. Close by the jolly fire I sit To warm my frozen bones a bit; Or with a reindeer-sled, explore The colder countries round the door. When to go out, my nurse doth wrap Me in my comforter and cap; The cold wind burns my face, and blows Its frosty pepper up my nose. Black are my steps on silver sod; Thick blows my frosty breath abroad; And tree and house, and hill and lake, Are frosted like a wedding-cake. [Pg 48] THE HAYLOFT Through all the pleasant meadow-side The grass grew shoulder-high, Till the shining scythes went far and wide And cut it down to dry. Those green and sweetly smelling crops They led in waggons home; And they piled them here in mountain tops For mountaineers to roam. Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail, Mount Eagle and Mount High;— The mice that in these mountains dwell, No happier are than I!  THE HAY LOFT BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON RED FOR LIVER ROCK STOT ORG BY WILLIE THROUGH ALL THE PLEASANT MEADOW SIDES THE GRASS GREW SHOULDER HIGH TILL THE SHINING SIDES WENT FAR AND WIDE AND CUT IT DOWN TO DRY THESE GREEN SWEETLY SMELLING COUGH THEY LED IN WAGON'S HOME AND THEY PILED THEM HERE ON MOUNTAIN TOPS THE MOUNTAINEERS TO ROME HEARS MOUNT CLEAR MOUNT RUSTY NAIL MOUNT EAGLE MOUNT HIGH THE MICE THAT IN THE MOUNTAIN DWELL NO HAPPIER THAN I
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