Catoninetales A Domestic Epic: By Hattie Brown: A young lady of colour lately deceased at the age of 14 [i.e. W. J. Linton] |
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| 5. | MARGARET |
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 | Catoninetales |  |
39
MARGARET
The next time our Kok Robyn died,
It fell upon this wise,—
A foolish thing, but children's deeds,
They need not much surprize:
The biggest baby may not know
The reason of its sighs.
Men are but children of a larger growth,
And groaning an accomplishment of both.
It fell upon this wise,—
A foolish thing, but children's deeds,
They need not much surprize:
The biggest baby may not know
The reason of its sighs.
Men are but children of a larger growth,
And groaning an accomplishment of both.
A gentle girl was Margaret,
Yet sturdy therewithal:
No lass was nimbler on her pegs,
And, good in Spring or Fall,
She liked fair weather courtesies
And didn't mind a squall.
Upon our back-door step this happy child
Sat with a lunch in hand and eating smiled.
Yet sturdy therewithal:
No lass was nimbler on her pegs,
And, good in Spring or Fall,
She liked fair weather courtesies
And didn't mind a squall.
Upon our back-door step this happy child
Sat with a lunch in hand and eating smiled.
Our rare red Margaret! her cheeks
Like tips o' the daisy-flower,
Our Pearl of girls, with divers gifts
Of loveliness and power:
Her smiles were like a morn of May,
Her tears an April shower,—
Of May and April in those steady climes
Where months return at their expected times.
Like tips o' the daisy-flower,
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Of loveliness and power:
Her smiles were like a morn of May,
Her tears an April shower,—
Of May and April in those steady climes
Where months return at their expected times.
It was the pleasant time of Spring,
With Summer coming fast;
The frogs were all a-caroling,
Old Winter gone aghast:
Though frogs sing well he better likes
The song of a Nor-east blast.
De gustibus non est—I'd rather hark
To a full bull-frog chorus, after dark.
With Summer coming fast;
The frogs were all a-caroling,
Old Winter gone aghast:
Though frogs sing well he better likes
The song of a Nor-east blast.
De gustibus non est—I'd rather hark
To a full bull-frog chorus, after dark.
A chunk of thickly-butter'd bread
She held in either hand,
The butter under,—'tis a thing
That children understand;
And our Kok Robyn went and came
At the dear child's command,
Well pleased to share his lady's humble fare.
'Twas partly with that purpose he was there.
She held in either hand,
The butter under,—'tis a thing
That children understand;
And our Kok Robyn went and came
At the dear child's command,
Well pleased to share his lady's humble fare.
'Twas partly with that purpose he was there.
Now Meg, though not a miller's girl
Nor Trulliber at all,
Did like her bread and butter and,
When chanced so to befall,
A puff of jam. Her appetite
Was certainly—not small.
She gave a solid magnum to the Cat;
But he Tom-like was not content with that.
Nor Trulliber at all,
Did like her bread and butter and,
When chanced so to befall,
A puff of jam. Her appetite
Was certainly—not small.
She gave a solid magnum to the Cat;
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And as he ate she would him chide,
With “Daddy! why is this?
You've been away so long of late
From me, a woeful miss.
For I did miss you, Robyn dear!”
Here she gave Rob a kiss.
“How wet you are, my love! and, dear! your skin
Tastes very salt: my sweet! where have you been?”
With “Daddy! why is this?
You've been away so long of late
From me, a woeful miss.
For I did miss you, Robyn dear!”
Here she gave Rob a kiss.
“How wet you are, my love! and, dear! your skin
Tastes very salt: my sweet! where have you been?”
She spoke but truth: much had she grieved
For Robyn, lost of late,—
For she had loved him from his birth,
In his most kittenish state.
The fourth abduction of her dear
Had left her desolate.
She spoke as mothers do when their lost heirs
Come home escaped from drowning unawares,
For Robyn, lost of late,—
For she had loved him from his birth,
In his most kittenish state.
The fourth abduction of her dear
Had left her desolate.
She spoke as mothers do when their lost heirs
Come home escaped from drowning unawares,
Scolding to hide her pride of heart,
For she on him had spread
Love butter-like; he calmly lick'd
The butter from her bread.
“O Robyn! you are naughty, Sir!
Get off my lap!” she said,
And push'd him off; he coming to the ground
Chevied his barr'd tail for a moment round,
For she on him had spread
Love butter-like; he calmly lick'd
The butter from her bread.
“O Robyn! you are naughty, Sir!
Get off my lap!” she said,
And push'd him off; he coming to the ground
Chevied his barr'd tail for a moment round,
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Then stroll'd away, displeased, in scorn
Of bread and mistress' wrath.
Near by the ash-barrel stood, in which
He jump'd, and quickly hath
Pick'd out a fish-bone. Will he take
Again a fishward path?
I can not tell you what kind 'twas of bone:
Perhaps the name to him was not unknown.
Of bread and mistress' wrath.
Near by the ash-barrel stood, in which
He jump'd, and quickly hath
Pick'd out a fish-bone. Will he take
Again a fishward path?
I can not tell you what kind 'twas of bone:
Perhaps the name to him was not unknown.
I said that he was Margaret's pet:
In youth, even now not old,
She'd bear him in her pinafore,
Or wrap him from the cold
In her warm cloak: but little chance
Of straying from that fold.
Yet he would stray, the Irish Scripture says—
Skedaddle, scattering on many ways.
In youth, even now not old,
She'd bear him in her pinafore,
Or wrap him from the cold
In her warm cloak: but little chance
Of straying from that fold.
Yet he would stray, the Irish Scripture says—
Skedaddle, scattering on many ways.
So pretty was it in that time
To see the child-like Puss
Chasing his shadow and racing like
Some little human cuss,
Frisking about so frolicsome.
It was great fun to us,
The elder children, but to Margery
It was a play she never tired to see.
To see the child-like Puss
Chasing his shadow and racing like
Some little human cuss,
Frisking about so frolicsome.
It was great fun to us,
The elder children, but to Margery
It was a play she never tired to see.
For him she'd drag the ball of thread—
'Twas mostly worsted, drew
For him an imitation mouse,
Or made the kit leap through
Her guardian hands; and many a trick
The merry playmates knew.
He was her brother, lover, and her child;
And he then young was also love-beguiled.
'Twas mostly worsted, drew
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Or made the kit leap through
Her guardian hands; and many a trick
The merry playmates knew.
He was her brother, lover, and her child;
And he then young was also love-beguiled.
It was her wont to watch the birds:
The thrush's scarlet throat
Pleased her, and of his namesake she
Had learn'd the fate by rote,
Indeed by heart, and of Jane Wren
To Robyn so devote:
So she unto her favourite gave the name
Of Kok Robyn, and this one is the same.
The thrush's scarlet throat
Pleased her, and of his namesake she
Had learn'd the fate by rote,
Indeed by heart, and of Jane Wren
To Robyn so devote:
So she unto her favourite gave the name
Of Kok Robyn, and this one is the same.
What ails him now? thinks Margaret.
Upon the grass he lies.
What strange reflections doth he make?
How opalesque his eyes!
And from his mouth projects a bone
Which with forepaws he tries
To wrench away. Alas! the bone is stuck
Too fast. O woe for her poor Robyn's luck.
Upon the grass he lies.
What strange reflections doth he make?
How opalesque his eyes!
And from his mouth projects a bone
Which with forepaws he tries
To wrench away. Alas! the bone is stuck
Too fast. O woe for her poor Robyn's luck.
Her end of bread and butter dropt,
One rush into the house,
A scream, a real Spring burst of tears,
And then her head falls souse
Into her marveling mother's lap.
No little cat-scared mouse
E'er faster ran than she from fear of Rob,
And scarce could speak for interpose of sob
One rush into the house,
A scream, a real Spring burst of tears,
And then her head falls souse
Into her marveling mother's lap.
No little cat-scared mouse
E'er faster ran than she from fear of Rob,
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That shook her. But at last between
Her sobs came out one word:
“Rob,” sob, then “Rob,” then sob: in this
Same order they occurr'd.
'Twas quite a while ere any one
The true adventure heard.
Then we went out and found him lying there,
Dead, choked, with all his legs like telegraph poles in the air.
Her sobs came out one word:
“Rob,” sob, then “Rob,” then sob: in this
Same order they occurr'd.
'Twas quite a while ere any one
The true adventure heard.
Then we went out and found him lying there,
Dead, choked, with all his legs like telegraph poles in the air.
Nothing is gain'd by sighs, my dear!
Musing to Meg I said.
Though you were twice as big, I fear,
The Cat were no less dead.
These things remain among the queer;
And now it's time for bed.
So I choked off the choked one's little mourner,
And happily swung my taile to Finis Corner.
Musing to Meg I said.
Though you were twice as big, I fear,
The Cat were no less dead.
These things remain among the queer;
And now it's time for bed.
So I choked off the choked one's little mourner,
And happily swung my taile to Finis Corner.
| Catoninetales | |