Literature and Art 167 



Lesson 1 08 



RED RIDING HOOD 



ON the wide lawn the snow lay deep, 

 Ridged o'er with many a drifted heap ; 

 The wind that through the pine-trees sung 

 The naked elm-boughs tossed and swung ; 

 While, through the window, frosty-starred, 

 Against the sunset purple barred, 

 We saw the somber crow flap by, 

 The hawk's gray fleck along the sky, 

 The crested blue- jay flitting swift, 

 The squirrel poising on the drift, 

 Erect, alert, his broad gray tail 

 Set to the north wind like a sail. 



It came to pass, our little lass, 

 With flattened face against the glass, 

 And eyes in which the tender dew 

 Of pity shone, stood gazing through 

 The narrow space her rosy lips 

 Had melted from the frost's eclipse: 

 "Oh, see," she cried, "the poor blue-jays! 

 What is it that the black crow says? 

 The squirrel lifts his little legs 



