Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold :: :: University of Virginia Library

Tiny toddling
And waddling
Unclassified “Stumps,”
There is no one resembling that form,
Like a storm
In a tea cup, excepting perhaps her doll “Dumps;”
Though past mistress of talking
She's prentice at walking,
Explorer of pavements and dust in the street,
With a talent for tumbles
Devoid of all grumbles,
Which makes her though dirty surpassingly sweet.

Pretty hustling
And bustling
Impertinent “Stumps”
Goes careering full tilt with her tread
Right ahead,

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And indifferent still to the cruelest bumps;
What are warnings of mothers
Or watchings of brothers,
To babies of two who can never stop still?
Like a steam-engine puffing,
And heedless of cuffing
And counsels, she follows her own wayward will.

Ragged, restless
And nestless,
Adventuring “Stumps,”
Better known far away from her kin
Than within
In the home where she finds less affection than thumps;
In the miriest quarter,
Like ducks in the water
She paddles and rolls as none better can do,
And returns from her study
Deliciously muddy,
Half-frockless, all fearless, with only one shoe.

Rough and rambling
And scrambling
Ineffable “Stumps”—
I often admire her at play
On my way,
Like a new dear wee monster just hatched with wild jumps;
She is perfectly charming,
Though somewhat alarming
When tacked on to my coat tails and greedy of pence;
But she looks brown and beautiful,
Gaily undutiful,
All naked nature, without one pretence.