 | The white dove, and Other Poems for Children |  |
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The Baby.
Harry Gray is flying kite on the front pavement—Charlie Vaux comes along beating hoop—Harry stops Charlie to tell him the news.
We've got a baby!—I should like you to come
Just to see the baby that we have at home:
Oh it is such a baby! with the bluest little eyes,
And its mouth! you should only see its mouth when it cries!
Then it has such a hand!—like mine, only smaller,
And it cannot walk yet, and our Ponto is taller!
It has the queerest little feet—with the funniest little toes,
And something which papa declares will grow into a nose.
I saw it this morning—how it sucked its little thumb!
Oh it is such a baby!—now do, Charlie, come.
Mother says you may see it, if you will not make a noise;
Just wait till nurse has gone down stairs, you know she hates us boys.
Just to see the baby that we have at home:
Oh it is such a baby! with the bluest little eyes,
And its mouth! you should only see its mouth when it cries!
Then it has such a hand!—like mine, only smaller,
And it cannot walk yet, and our Ponto is taller!
It has the queerest little feet—with the funniest little toes,
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I saw it this morning—how it sucked its little thumb!
Oh it is such a baby!—now do, Charlie, come.
Mother says you may see it, if you will not make a noise;
Just wait till nurse has gone down stairs, you know she hates us boys.
Did you ever have a baby? we have had our's a week,
Nurse says it soon will talk—but I never heard it speak.
And what is strange, they let it cry, and scream, just when it pleases,
And the more it cries, it seems to me, the less mamma it teases.
I know they make me creep about, as quiet as a mouse,
I tell you what, it's something—a baby in the house!
In ma's own room I scarcely dare to run across the floor,
Its “do be still,” or “Harry hush,” or else “do shut the door.”
I don't like nurse—she's always there—and says, “Now, Harry, go,”
Because I want to kiss mamma—but I should like to know
If she is not as much my ma, now, as a month ago!
She lets the baby have its way—blesses its little eyes—
Coaxes and pets it all the more, the more it screams and cries.
But it is just reversed with me!—I know if I should take
Such airs on me as baby does, the moment it's awake,
I should be sure to find myself in bed an hour too soon,
Or have my hobby-horse locked up and kept an afternoon.
Nurse says it soon will talk—but I never heard it speak.
And what is strange, they let it cry, and scream, just when it pleases,
And the more it cries, it seems to me, the less mamma it teases.
I know they make me creep about, as quiet as a mouse,
I tell you what, it's something—a baby in the house!
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Its “do be still,” or “Harry hush,” or else “do shut the door.”
I don't like nurse—she's always there—and says, “Now, Harry, go,”
Because I want to kiss mamma—but I should like to know
If she is not as much my ma, now, as a month ago!
She lets the baby have its way—blesses its little eyes—
Coaxes and pets it all the more, the more it screams and cries.
But it is just reversed with me!—I know if I should take
Such airs on me as baby does, the moment it's awake,
I should be sure to find myself in bed an hour too soon,
Or have my hobby-horse locked up and kept an afternoon.
127
You have a brother? what of that, wait till you have a sister!
I wish you had been at our house, the first time that I kissed her!
Such a warm little mouth!—standing wide open so,
A boy's no great things—I'm one—I ought to know!
I'm glad she's a girl—I know all my toys
Would last as long again, but for rough little boys!
But its well you have one, since you can't have the other,
Though I would not change my sister for any little brother.
Perhaps a boy-baby is better than no baby at all,
But our baby's a girl—did you hear father call?
There he is, over yonder—just crossing the street,
We can go up stairs with him. Oh, Charlie, wipe your feet!
For nurse looks at footmarks with a frown as black as thunder,
And mutters to herself, “What are mats for, I wonder.”
Now you must not make a noise—please, Charlie don't forget—
Papa can let us in—I am his boy yet!
I wish you had been at our house, the first time that I kissed her!
Such a warm little mouth!—standing wide open so,
A boy's no great things—I'm one—I ought to know!
I'm glad she's a girl—I know all my toys
Would last as long again, but for rough little boys!
But its well you have one, since you can't have the other,
Though I would not change my sister for any little brother.
Perhaps a boy-baby is better than no baby at all,
But our baby's a girl—did you hear father call?
There he is, over yonder—just crossing the street,
We can go up stairs with him. Oh, Charlie, wipe your feet!
128
And mutters to herself, “What are mats for, I wonder.”
Now you must not make a noise—please, Charlie don't forget—
Papa can let us in—I am his boy yet!
| The white dove, and Other Poems for Children | |