 | Short poems for short people |  |
BRAVE RESOLVES.
Well, Katy, so you've come to spend the day, dear?
Let me put your cloak and bonnet on the bed.
A very pretty bonnet, by the way, dear;
I think that your complexion favors red.
Let me put your cloak and bonnet on the bed.
A very pretty bonnet, by the way, dear;
I think that your complexion favors red.
And, Katy, now for twelve delightful kisses,
The heartiest and warmest you can show:
No need, of course, to mention, love, that this is
My birthday, since you knew it long ago.
The heartiest and warmest you can show:
No need, of course, to mention, love, that this is
My birthday, since you knew it long ago.
How time is slipping, Katy! Have you ever
Really thought what grown-up girls we are, we two?
I wonder if we ought appear more clever,
And act a little less as children do.
Really thought what grown-up girls we are, we two?
I wonder if we ought appear more clever,
And act a little less as children do.
82
I 've somehow been reflecting on it, lately.
Suppose we make a promise, you and I,
Hereafter, dear, to care not quite so greatly
For games and toys and candy. Shall we try?
Suppose we make a promise, you and I,
Hereafter, dear, to care not quite so greatly
For games and toys and candy. Shall we try?
I see you 've brought your doll with you. How pleasant,
If only there was mine to play with, too!
I 've asked Mamma to keep it—for the present.
Perhaps you don't believe me, but it 's true.
If only there was mine to play with, too!
I 've asked Mamma to keep it—for the present.
Perhaps you don't believe me, but it 's true.
Yes, dolls, you know are certainly not suited
To girls that in a year will be thirteen.
O what a cunning cap, all trimmed and fluted!
Why, Katy, she 's a perfect little queen!
To girls that in a year will be thirteen.
O what a cunning cap, all trimmed and fluted!
Why, Katy, she 's a perfect little queen!
I fear it 's rather stupid work, this trying
To seem so very dignified and cold.
It almost makes a body feel like crying
And wishing she were young instead of old.
To seem so very dignified and cold.
It almost makes a body feel like crying
And wishing she were young instead of old.
My birthday might have been so nice and jolly
And now there 's hardly anything to do.
I 've half a mind to ask Mamma for Dolly
Just this one single morning. Would n't you?
And now there 's hardly anything to do.
I 've half a mind to ask Mamma for Dolly
Just this one single morning. Would n't you?
| Short poems for short people | |