A little book of tribune verse A number of hitherto uncollected poems, grave and gay |
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Poems of Childhood.
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21
Poems of Childhood.
JOHNNY'S TEAM.
I think of all the galloping,
The trotting, fast and hard,
That I have seen in town or park,
On track or boulevard,
The trotting, fast and hard,
That I have seen in town or park,
On track or boulevard,
No horses ever pawed the air,
Or plunged about and ran,
Taking the bit between their teeth,
As those of Johnny's can.
Or plunged about and ran,
Taking the bit between their teeth,
As those of Johnny's can.
What color are they? sorrel? roan?
Chestnut, or dapple grey?
Excuse me, but 'tis difficult
To know just what to say.
Chestnut, or dapple grey?
Excuse me, but 'tis difficult
To know just what to say.
I'm not enough a horseman to
Have learned their phrases yet;
But one, I think, is yellow blonde,
The other a brunette.
Have learned their phrases yet;
But one, I think, is yellow blonde,
The other a brunette.
22
Where is their stable? do they have
A manger and a stall?
One has his room with Johnny, one
Rooms just across the hall.
A manger and a stall?
One has his room with Johnny, one
Rooms just across the hall.
They're not such very patient steeds,
For both are apt to cry;
I heard them, too, today at lunch,
Quarrel about their pie.
For both are apt to cry;
I heard them, too, today at lunch,
Quarrel about their pie.
But still, they're very spirited,
To neigh and prance and run,
And make for Johnny, when he drives,
Plenty of work and fun.
To neigh and prance and run,
And make for Johnny, when he drives,
Plenty of work and fun.
October 16th, 1881.
23
THE TRUANT.
It was a bright and genial day,
When, tempted by the open gate
And by a little truant mate,
Our Baby Willie ran away;
And prompted by each varying fear,
Impelled by agonized alarm
That he, perchance, might come to harm,
We hunted for him far and near.
When, tempted by the open gate
And by a little truant mate,
Our Baby Willie ran away;
And prompted by each varying fear,
Impelled by agonized alarm
That he, perchance, might come to harm,
We hunted for him far and near.
Yet all in vain his baby name
We called and called with no reply,
Till with the sunset in the sky,
Back to his home the baby came.
Poor, tired child, how glad he crept
Into his mother's arms and said,
“I'm glad I'm home, le's do to bed!”
And oh, how peacefully he slept.
We called and called with no reply,
Till with the sunset in the sky,
Back to his home the baby came.
Poor, tired child, how glad he crept
Into his mother's arms and said,
“I'm glad I'm home, le's do to bed!”
And oh, how peacefully he slept.
“Glad I am home!” It is the cry
That many a weary wanderer gives,
When tired of the life he lives
He turns him to the wall to die.
And as I to my joyous breast
Took back my truant child that day,
So will the arms that live for aye
Receive each truant soul to rest.
That many a weary wanderer gives,
When tired of the life he lives
He turns him to the wall to die.
And as I to my joyous breast
Took back my truant child that day,
So will the arms that live for aye
Receive each truant soul to rest.
(Attributed to) Major Bowels.
December 8th, 1881.
24
WE RUNNED AWAY.
Two little rascally darlings they stood,
Hand clasped in hand and eyes full of glee,
Stock still in the midst of the crowded street,
Naughty as ever children could be.
Hand clasped in hand and eyes full of glee,
Stock still in the midst of the crowded street,
Naughty as ever children could be.
Horses to right of them, horses to left,
Men hurrying breathless to and fro,
Nobody stopping to wonder at them,
Nobody there with a right to know.
Men hurrying breathless to and fro,
Nobody stopping to wonder at them,
Nobody there with a right to know.
Oh, what a chance for a full truant joy!
Earth holds no other equal delight,
Hark! it is over, a shriek fills the air,
A woman's face flashes, pallid white.
Earth holds no other equal delight,
Hark! it is over, a shriek fills the air,
A woman's face flashes, pallid white.
“O Babies! whose are you? How came you here?”
The busy street halts aghast at bay;
Serene smile the infants, as heavenly clear
They both speak together: “We runned away!”
The busy street halts aghast at bay;
Serene smile the infants, as heavenly clear
They both speak together: “We runned away!”
The crowd and the bustle swayed on again,
The babies are safe and had lost their fun;
And we, who saw, felt a secret pain,
Half envy, of what the babies had done.
The babies are safe and had lost their fun;
And we, who saw, felt a secret pain,
Half envy, of what the babies had done.
And said in our hearts, alack! if we tell
The truth, and the whole truth, we must say,
We never get now so good a time
As we used to have when “we runned away.”
The truth, and the whole truth, we must say,
We never get now so good a time
As we used to have when “we runned away.”
December 27th, 1882.
25
THE FOUNDLING.
A little child upon the ground,
Chilled by the storm and crying sore,
With humble raiment covered o'er,
One blustering winter's morn was found.
None knew from whence or how he came,
That little stranger all forlorn,
Deserted on that cruel morn,
None knew the little foundling's name.
Chilled by the storm and crying sore,
With humble raiment covered o'er,
One blustering winter's morn was found.
None knew from whence or how he came,
That little stranger all forlorn,
Deserted on that cruel morn,
None knew the little foundling's name.
Kind people heard the piteous cry,
Perhaps 'twas God that ope'd their ears,
They dried the little suff'rers tears,
And wrapped his limbs in garments dry.
Withal he dies, and now forgot,
He sleeps within the churchyard green,
No name, no sign has e'er been seen
Upon the stone that marks the spot.
Perhaps 'twas God that ope'd their ears,
They dried the little suff'rers tears,
And wrapped his limbs in garments dry.
Withal he dies, and now forgot,
He sleeps within the churchyard green,
No name, no sign has e'er been seen
Upon the stone that marks the spot.
But wild flowers nestled all around,
The birds sing sweetly overhead,
The little children love to spread
Their tributes o'er the tiny mound.
If there be aught of heavenly love,
O what a mockery is fame,
A little soul without a name
May find a biding place above.
The birds sing sweetly overhead,
The little children love to spread
Their tributes o'er the tiny mound.
If there be aught of heavenly love,
O what a mockery is fame,
A little soul without a name
May find a biding place above.
February 20th, 1882.
26
BA-BY FAY FER-NY.
What is this with blue
Lit-tle shoes, so new,
Cun-ning lit-tle feet,
Trot-ting down the street,
What will Ma-ma say?
Baby 's run a-way,
Ba-by Fay Fer-ny.
Lit-tle shoes, so new,
Cun-ning lit-tle feet,
Trot-ting down the street,
What will Ma-ma say?
Baby 's run a-way,
Ba-by Fay Fer-ny.
Calls a boy, “Hal-lo!
See here, lit-tle pop-pet show,
Come with me!” “No, no,
Ba-by's do-in' do
Ba-by's own self!” Fast
Round the corner passed
Ba-by Fay Fer-ny.
See here, lit-tle pop-pet show,
Come with me!” “No, no,
Ba-by's do-in' do
Ba-by's own self!” Fast
Round the corner passed
Ba-by Fay Fer-ny.
Stops a great big man,
Hur-ry-ing all he can,
“Here! what's this! my!
Drop-ped down from the sky?
Some-bod-ys to blame.
Baby, what 's your name?”
“Ba-by Fay Fer-ny.”
Hur-ry-ing all he can,
“Here! what's this! my!
Drop-ped down from the sky?
Some-bod-ys to blame.
Baby, what 's your name?”
“Ba-by Fay Fer-ny.”
27
“Where you go-ing? say!”
“Day-day.” “What's that, hey?
See the Ba-by fidg-et!
What d'you want, you midg-et?”
“Piece of butter-bed,
Sugy on it, 'lasses on it,
Jam on it,” said
Ba-by Fay Fer-ny.
“Day-day.” “What's that, hey?
See the Ba-by fidg-et!
What d'you want, you midg-et?”
“Piece of butter-bed,
Sugy on it, 'lasses on it,
Jam on it,” said
Ba-by Fay Fer-ny.
People pause to see,
Ladies, one, two, three,
A po-lice-man, too;
But no one that knew
Whence the ba-by came;
“What's your pa-pa's name?”
“Pa-pa Fay Fer-ny.”
Ladies, one, two, three,
A po-lice-man, too;
But no one that knew
Whence the ba-by came;
“What's your pa-pa's name?”
“Pa-pa Fay Fer-ny.”
Comes a breath-less maid,
“Oh, dear! I'm afraid
Ba-by's lost and gone,
Ba-by Fer-gu-son!
No, there, down the street!
O, you naughty, sweet
Ba-by Fay Fer-ny!”
“Oh, dear! I'm afraid
Ba-by's lost and gone,
Ba-by Fer-gu-son!
No, there, down the street!
O, you naughty, sweet
Ba-by Fay Fer-ny!”
September 18th, 1881.
28
BABY-LAND.
How many miles to Baby-land?
Any one can tell,
Up one flight,
To your right,
Please to ring the bell.
Any one can tell,
Up one flight,
To your right,
Please to ring the bell.
What can you see in Baby-land?
Little folks in white;
Downy heads,
Cradle beds,
Faces pure and bright.
Little folks in white;
Downy heads,
Cradle beds,
Faces pure and bright.
What do they do in Baby-land?
Dream and wake and play;
Laugh and crow,
Shout and grow,
Jolly times have they.
Dream and wake and play;
Laugh and crow,
Shout and grow,
Jolly times have they.
What do they say in Baby-land?
Why, the oddest things;
Might as well
Try to tell
What the birdie sings.
Why, the oddest things;
Might as well
Try to tell
What the birdie sings.
Who is Queen of Baby-land?
Mother, kind and sweet;
And her love
Born above,
Guides the little feet.
Mother, kind and sweet;
And her love
Born above,
Guides the little feet.
March 19th, 1882.
29
A TRIP TO TOY-LAND.
And how do you get to Toy-land?
To all little people the joy-land?
Just follow your nose
And go on tip-toes,
It's only a minute to Toy-land.
To all little people the joy-land?
Just follow your nose
And go on tip-toes,
It's only a minute to Toy-land.
And oh! but it's gay in Toy-land,
This bright, merry, girl-and-boy-land,
And woolly dogs white
That never will bite
You'll meet on the highways in Toy-land.
This bright, merry, girl-and-boy-land,
And woolly dogs white
That never will bite
You'll meet on the highways in Toy-land.
Society's fine, in Toy-land,
The dollies all think it a joy-land,
And folks in the ark
Stay out after dark
And tin soldiers regulate Toy-land.
The dollies all think it a joy-land,
And folks in the ark
Stay out after dark
And tin soldiers regulate Toy-land.
There's fun all the year, in Toy-land,
To sorrow 'twas ever a coy-land;
And steamers are run,
And steam cars, for fun,
They're wound up with keys down in Toy-land.
To sorrow 'twas ever a coy-land;
And steamers are run,
And steam cars, for fun,
They're wound up with keys down in Toy-land.
30
Bold jumping-jacks thrive in Toy-land;
Fine castles adorn this joy-land;
And bright are the dreams
And sunny the beams
That gladden the faces in Toy-land.
Fine castles adorn this joy-land;
And bright are the dreams
And sunny the beams
That gladden the faces in Toy-land.
How long do you live in Toy-land?
This bright, merry, girl-and-boy-land?
A few days, at best,
We stay as a guest,
Then good-bye, forever, to Toy-land!
This bright, merry, girl-and-boy-land?
A few days, at best,
We stay as a guest,
Then good-bye, forever, to Toy-land!
31
WEE BABIES.
Babies short and babies tall,Babies big and babies small,
Blue-eyed babies, babies fair,
Brown-eyed babies with lots of hair,
Babies so tiny they can't sit up,
Babies that drink from a silver cup,
Babies that coo and babies that creep,
Babies that only can eat and sleep,
Babies that laugh and babies that talk,
Babies quite big enough to walk,
Dimpled fingers and dimpled feet,
What in the world is half so sweet
As babies that jump, laugh, cry and crawl,
Eat, sleep, talk, walk, creep, coo and all
Wee Babies?
(Attributed to) Gov. F. W. Pitkin.
November 28th, 1882.
32
BABY BOBBY.
I know a house so full of noise,You'd think a regiment of boys,
From early morn till close of day,
Were busy with their romping play,
And yet, I'm ready to declare,
There is but one small youngster there.
A little, golden headed chap,
Who used to think his mother's lap
The nicest place that e'er could be
Until he grew so big that he
Was 'most a man, and learned what fun
It is to shout, and jump and run.
This restless, noisy little elf
Has learned, alas! to think himself
Too old in mother's arms to sleep;
Yet his blue eyes he cannot keep
From hiding 'neath their lids so white
And, climbing on the sofa's height,
He snuggles down, forgets his play
And into dreamland sails away;
And then it is that mamma knows
Why the whole house so silent grows.
October 13th, 1881.
33
PEEK-A-BOO.
Now, where's the baby gone?
All gone away,
Underneath the handkerchief,
Sweet little May.
Baby's eyes are big and blue,
Almost I see them through,
While we're playing peek-a-boo,
May and I.
All gone away,
Underneath the handkerchief,
Sweet little May.
Baby's eyes are big and blue,
Almost I see them through,
While we're playing peek-a-boo,
May and I.
Something stirs the corner white!
Out creep the ringlets bright!
Baby's lips of rosebud hue
Bubble o'er with laughter, too,
While we're playing peek-a-boo,
May and I.
Out creep the ringlets bright!
Baby's lips of rosebud hue
Bubble o'er with laughter, too,
While we're playing peek-a-boo,
May and I.
October 16th, 1881.
34
BABY BROTHER.
See my baby brother,
Sitting in mamma's lap;
He's just getting ready
To take a little nap.
Sitting in mamma's lap;
He's just getting ready
To take a little nap.
But before in dreamland
My baby brother goes,
I want to count his fingers
And see his chubby toes.
My baby brother goes,
I want to count his fingers
And see his chubby toes.
Mamma, can't you make him
Just talk and laugh again,
So we can find the dimple
In his sweet cheeks and chin?
Just talk and laugh again,
So we can find the dimple
In his sweet cheeks and chin?
Now he talks a little,
And laughs—come quick and see
My baby brother's dimples,
As cunning as can be!
And laughs—come quick and see
My baby brother's dimples,
As cunning as can be!
His eyes shine like diamonds
When he looks up so glad,
O, he's the dearest brother
A sister ever had.
When he looks up so glad,
O, he's the dearest brother
A sister ever had.
The angels love our baby,
He is so very fair;
And so they came and kissed him
And left the dimples there.
He is so very fair;
And so they came and kissed him
And left the dimples there.
January 25th, 1882.
35
A FUNNY LITTLE BOY.
A funny little chin,
A funny little nose,
A funny little grin,
Ten funny little toes.
Two funny little eyes,
And funny little hands,
How funnily he tries
To give his wee commands.
A funny little nose,
A funny little grin,
Ten funny little toes.
Two funny little eyes,
And funny little hands,
How funnily he tries
To give his wee commands.
A funny little chat
With funny little bees,
A funny little cat
And funny toads and trees,
A funny little dress,
A funny laugh of joy,
May heaven ever bless
My funny little boy.
With funny little bees,
A funny little cat
And funny toads and trees,
A funny little dress,
A funny laugh of joy,
May heaven ever bless
My funny little boy.
A funny little sigh,
A funny little head,
That funnily will try
To miss the time for bed.
A funny little peep
From funny eyes that gleam,
A funny little sleep,
A funny little dream.
A funny little head,
That funnily will try
To miss the time for bed.
A funny little peep
From funny eyes that gleam,
A funny little sleep,
A funny little dream.
December 4th, 1881.
36
LAST YEAR'S DOLL.
I'm only a last year's doll!
I thought I was lovely and fair—
But alas for the cheeks that were rosy,
Alas, for the once-flowing hair!
I'm sure that my back is broken,
For it hurts me when I rise!
Oh, I'd cry for every sorrow,
But I've lost out both my eyes.
I thought I was lovely and fair—
But alas for the cheeks that were rosy,
Alas, for the once-flowing hair!
I'm sure that my back is broken,
For it hurts me when I rise!
Oh, I'd cry for every sorrow,
But I've lost out both my eyes.
In comes my pretty mistress,
With my rival in her arms,
A fine young miss, most surely,
Arrayed in her borrowed charms!
My dress and my slippers, too,
But sadder, oh, sadder than all,
She's won the dear love I have lost,
For I'm only a last year's doll.
With my rival in her arms,
A fine young miss, most surely,
Arrayed in her borrowed charms!
My dress and my slippers, too,
But sadder, oh, sadder than all,
She's won the dear love I have lost,
For I'm only a last year's doll.
Oh, pity me, hearts that are tender,
I'm lonely and battered and bruised,
I'm tucked out of sight in the closet,
Forgotten, despised and abused!
I'm only a last year's doll,
Alone with my troubled heart,
Sweet mistress, still I love thee,
Inconstant though thou art.
I'm lonely and battered and bruised,
I'm tucked out of sight in the closet,
Forgotten, despised and abused!
I'm only a last year's doll,
Alone with my troubled heart,
Sweet mistress, still I love thee,
Inconstant though thou art.
February 12th, 1882.
37
DOLLS AT SCHOOL.
Ding, dong, Dolly! School is in,
Hark! the lessons now begin;
Keep all the pupils there,
Dollies nice and neat and fair,
Fat and lean, short and tall,
In a row against the wall,
Lots of little teachers, too,
Come to show them what to do.
Hark! the lessons now begin;
Keep all the pupils there,
Dollies nice and neat and fair,
Fat and lean, short and tall,
In a row against the wall,
Lots of little teachers, too,
Come to show them what to do.
“Now, Miss Wax, turn out your toes,
Tell us how you spoiled your nose;
Miss Rag, pray, for once, sit straight,
How came you to be so late?
Do, Miss China, sit down, dear;
Papa dolls, don't act so queer.”
One, when squeezed, could say, “Mam-ma!”
Smartest in the class by far.
Tell us how you spoiled your nose;
Miss Rag, pray, for once, sit straight,
How came you to be so late?
Do, Miss China, sit down, dear;
Papa dolls, don't act so queer.”
One, when squeezed, could say, “Mam-ma!”
Smartest in the class by far.
Some will graduate next fall,
Others are almost too small,
Does your dolly ever go?
Terms are very cheap, you know,
Better take her there at once,
Who would want a doll a dunce?
“Time is up”! the teachers shout,
Ding, dong, dolly! school is out.
Others are almost too small,
Does your dolly ever go?
Terms are very cheap, you know,
Better take her there at once,
Who would want a doll a dunce?
“Time is up”! the teachers shout,
Ding, dong, dolly! school is out.
September 25th, 1881.
38
A WORD TO ROVER.
“Now Rover, do you hear me, sir?
I am ashamed of you;
I want you just to understand
Such conduct will not do.
I am ashamed of you;
I want you just to understand
Such conduct will not do.
“I saw you bark and prance about
At that poor little kit
When Nannie brought a little milk,
And she was drinking it.
At that poor little kit
When Nannie brought a little milk,
And she was drinking it.
“You drove the cunning little thing,
So white and soft as silk,
Way up into the apple tree,
Then you drank up the milk.
So white and soft as silk,
Way up into the apple tree,
Then you drank up the milk.
“You acted like a coward, sir!
What would you think if I,
A great big boy, should tease and make
My little sister cry?
What would you think if I,
A great big boy, should tease and make
My little sister cry?
“Now I shall give to pussy cat
Your supper, by and by,
And if you do the like again
I'll know the reason why.”
Your supper, by and by,
And if you do the like again
I'll know the reason why.”
February 19th, 1882.
39
THE OLD COW.
Tinkle, tinkle, a bell I hear,
Ringing softly and drawing near,
'Tis the gentle cow returning home
From the pasture lands where she likes to roam,
Ringing softly and drawing near,
'Tis the gentle cow returning home
From the pasture lands where she likes to roam,
Where she feeds on the grasses, fresh and sweet,
And drinks from the pond where the streamlets meet
And strolls at noon under shady trees,
Catching a cooler breath in the breeze.
And drinks from the pond where the streamlets meet
And strolls at noon under shady trees,
Catching a cooler breath in the breeze.
Tinkle, tinkle! her bell rings out,
While all day long she wanders about;
But when the sun is low in the west,
She is glad to come back to the barn and rest
While all day long she wanders about;
But when the sun is low in the west,
She is glad to come back to the barn and rest
September 17th, 1882.
40
HOW THE SHEEP FOUND BO-PEEP.
Little Bo-peep awoke from her sleep,
Her eyes opened wide and wider,
For she found herself seated on the grass
With an old sheep standing beside her.
Her eyes opened wide and wider,
For she found herself seated on the grass
With an old sheep standing beside her.
“Little Bo-peep,” said the good, old sheep,
“How glad I am we've found you!
“Here we are—rams and sheep and lambs—
“All flocking up around you.”
“How glad I am we've found you!
“Here we are—rams and sheep and lambs—
“All flocking up around you.”
“You blessed sheep,” said little Bo-peep,
“I've been worried to death about you.”
“We've been searching for you,” said the good old sheep,
“We wouldn't go home without you.”
“I've been worried to death about you.”
“We've been searching for you,” said the good old sheep,
“We wouldn't go home without you.”
October 30th, 1881.
41
CLOVER-TOP AND THISTLE-DOWN.
Clover-top sighed when the wind sang sweet,
Dropping the thistle-down at her feet;
“Oh, dear me, never a day
Can I roam at my will, but ever, alway,
In this tiresome meadow must ever stay!”
Dropping the thistle-down at her feet;
“Oh, dear me, never a day
Can I roam at my will, but ever, alway,
In this tiresome meadow must ever stay!”
Thistle-down floated, then sunk into rest,
Only to rise at the breezes' behest,
Hither and yon, on the wings of the air,
Tired little sprite, so dainty and fair,
“Oh, to just stop,” she sighed, “anywhere.”
Only to rise at the breezes' behest,
Hither and yon, on the wings of the air,
Tired little sprite, so dainty and fair,
“Oh, to just stop,” she sighed, “anywhere.”
Honey-bees swarmed to thistle and clover,
Sweet little toiling ones, over and over
A work-a-day song they cheerily sing:
“Look up, dear hearts, and what the days bring,
Bless God for it all—yes—everything!”
Sweet little toiling ones, over and over
A work-a-day song they cheerily sing:
“Look up, dear hearts, and what the days bring,
Bless God for it all—yes—everything!”
October 16th, 1881.
42
OUTSIDE MY WINDOW.
Five little pigeons perched on the barn roof,
Watching the corn in the hen yard below;
Close around the white cat is hiding,
Hoping to catch them if down they should go.
Watching the corn in the hen yard below;
Close around the white cat is hiding,
Hoping to catch them if down they should go.
All of a sudden I open my window,
With a whiz and a burr the pigeons are gone,
Pussy darts off round the house in a twinkling,
And the little white chickens eat up all the corn!
With a whiz and a burr the pigeons are gone,
Pussy darts off round the house in a twinkling,
And the little white chickens eat up all the corn!
November 27th, 1881.
43
THE WREN'S NEST.
“Come, come, Mrs. Brownie,” says young Mr. Wren,
“'Tis time to be building our nest;
For the winter has gone, the spring blossoms have come,
And the trees in green beauty are dressed,
Dressed, dressed,
And the trees in green beauty are dressed.”
“'Tis time to be building our nest;
For the winter has gone, the spring blossoms have come,
And the trees in green beauty are dressed,
Dressed, dressed,
And the trees in green beauty are dressed.”
“O, where shall we build it, my dear little wife,
O where shall we build it?” says he—
“In the sweet woodbine bower, in the rose by the door,
Or way up in the old apple tree,
Tree, tree—
Or way up in the old apple tree?”
O where shall we build it?” says he—
“In the sweet woodbine bower, in the rose by the door,
Or way up in the old apple tree,
Tree, tree—
Or way up in the old apple tree?”
“From woodbine,” says Brownie, “My dear Mr. Wren,
The Sparrows would drive us away,
In the rose by the door cats would eat us I'm sure,
Let us build in the apple tree, pray,
Pray, pray,
Let us build in the apple tree pray.”
The Sparrows would drive us away,
In the rose by the door cats would eat us I'm sure,
Let us build in the apple tree, pray,
Pray, pray,
Let us build in the apple tree pray.”
44
So away up in the old apple tree,
Mr. Wren built Brownie's nest,
And 'tis there she sits now, in the white blossomed bough,
With the baby birds under her breast,
Breast, breast,
With the baby birds under her breast.
Mr. Wren built Brownie's nest,
And 'tis there she sits now, in the white blossomed bough,
With the baby birds under her breast,
Breast, breast,
With the baby birds under her breast.
September 11th, 1881.
45
AUNT ELEANOR'S DIAMONDS.
Aunt Eleanor wears such diamonds!
Shiny and gay and grand,
Some on her neck and some in her hair,
And some on her pretty hand.
One day I asked my mamma
Why she never wore them, too;
She laughed and said, as she kissed my eyes,
“My jewels are here, bright blue.
Shiny and gay and grand,
Some on her neck and some in her hair,
And some on her pretty hand.
One day I asked my mamma
Why she never wore them, too;
She laughed and said, as she kissed my eyes,
“My jewels are here, bright blue.
“They laugh and dance and beam and smile,
So lovely all the day,
And never like Aunt Eleanor's go
In a velvet box to stay.
Hers are prisoned in bands of gold,
But mine are free as air,
Set in a bonny, dimpled face
And shadowed with shining hair!”
So lovely all the day,
And never like Aunt Eleanor's go
In a velvet box to stay.
Hers are prisoned in bands of gold,
But mine are free as air,
Set in a bonny, dimpled face
And shadowed with shining hair!”
November 27th, 1881.
46
THE TWINS.
Do you know our Peter and Polly,
So pretty, so plump and so jolly?
One with merry blue eyes and lips like a cherry,
And one with dark hair and cheeks brown as a berry?
Then this is our Peter and Polly!
So pretty, so plump and so jolly?
One with merry blue eyes and lips like a cherry,
And one with dark hair and cheeks brown as a berry?
Then this is our Peter and Polly!
Do you know our Polly and Peter?
One a little and one a great eater,
One with jews-harp and whistle and hammer
Just making a houseful of clamor;
And one with her dollie, and stories,
And lapful of blue morning glories?
Then this is our Polly and Peter!
One a little and one a great eater,
One with jews-harp and whistle and hammer
Just making a houseful of clamor;
And one with her dollie, and stories,
And lapful of blue morning glories?
Then this is our Polly and Peter!
November 27th, 1881.
47
OUT DOOR AND IN.
Five little chickens,
Wasn't it fun,
When their mother called them,
To see them all run?
Out in the garden path
She scratched up a bug!
Wasn't it fun,
When their mother called them,
To see them all run?
Out in the garden path
She scratched up a bug!
Fluffy-down caught it first
And gave a big tug,
Yellow-back and Top-knot
Each seized a wing;
Two ran with all their might
But never found a thing.
And gave a big tug,
Yellow-back and Top-knot
Each seized a wing;
Two ran with all their might
But never found a thing.
September 11th, 1881.
48
MARY AND MARTHA.
Mary and Martha were two girls
The only children Mamma had,
Martha was always very good,
But Mary was always very bad.
The only children Mamma had,
Martha was always very good,
But Mary was always very bad.
One morning as they were at play,
A tiger cat came crawling up,
And said, “Now, Martha, run away,
While I upon your sister sup.”
A tiger cat came crawling up,
And said, “Now, Martha, run away,
While I upon your sister sup.”
Now Martha hurried homeward, while
A royal feast the tiger had,
“Aha,” he murmured with a smile,
I'd eaten her, if she'd been bad!”
A royal feast the tiger had,
“Aha,” he murmured with a smile,
I'd eaten her, if she'd been bad!”
49
TWO LITTLE BEARS.
Two little cub-bears,
Frisky and strong,
Hair brown and shaggy,
Claws sharp and long.
Frisky and strong,
Hair brown and shaggy,
Claws sharp and long.
Two little cub-bears
In a child's breast,
Fawn-like and gentle,
Bringing us rest.
In a child's breast,
Fawn-like and gentle,
Bringing us rest.
In the green grass rolling,
Snapping their jaws,
Now standing upright,
Licking their paws;
Snapping their jaws,
Now standing upright,
Licking their paws;
Why how can that be?
Not strange you stare,
Where was there ever
A gentle bear?
Not strange you stare,
Where was there ever
A gentle bear?
Two little cub-bears
In a child's breast,
Called bear and forbear,
They bring us rest.
In a child's breast,
Called bear and forbear,
They bring us rest.
August 28th, 1881.
50
HUSH-A-BY BABY.
Hush-a-by baby; as the birds fly,
We are off to the island of Lullaby;
I am the Captain, you are the crew,
And the cradle, I guess, is our birch bark canoe;
We'll drift away from the work-day shore
For a thousand long leagues or more,
Till we reach the strand where happy dreams wait,
Whether we're early or whether we're late.
We are off to the island of Lullaby;
I am the Captain, you are the crew,
And the cradle, I guess, is our birch bark canoe;
We'll drift away from the work-day shore
For a thousand long leagues or more,
Till we reach the strand where happy dreams wait,
Whether we're early or whether we're late.
Hush-a-by, baby; as the birds fly
Let us make the snug harbor of Lullaby.
Some little folks are far on the way;
Some have put in at Wide-awake Bay;
Others, I fear, are long overdue;
Don't let this happen, my darling, to you;
Let us steer for the coast where happy dreams wait,
Whether we're early or whether we're late.
Let us make the snug harbor of Lullaby.
Some little folks are far on the way;
Some have put in at Wide-awake Bay;
Others, I fear, are long overdue;
Don't let this happen, my darling, to you;
Let us steer for the coast where happy dreams wait,
Whether we're early or whether we're late.
November 13th, 1881.
51
BABY AND I.
Baby and I, in the twilight sweet,
Hearing the weary birds repeat
Cheery good-nights, from tree to tree,
Dearest of all day's comfort see;
For weary, too,
We kiss and coo,
He gives up all his world for me.
Hearing the weary birds repeat
Cheery good-nights, from tree to tree,
Dearest of all day's comfort see;
For weary, too,
We kiss and coo,
He gives up all his world for me.
Baby and I, in the twilight glow,
Watching the branches to and fro,
Waving good-nights to the golden west,
Welcome the hour we love the best;
We rock and sing,
Till sleep we bring,
Who folds him in her downy nest.
Watching the branches to and fro,
Waving good-nights to the golden west,
Welcome the hour we love the best;
We rock and sing,
Till sleep we bring,
Who folds him in her downy nest.
Lingering still in the twilight grey,
After the radiance fades away,
I watch my darling, so still, so fair,
With thankful heart that to my care,
For happiness
No words express,
Awhile God trusts a gift so dear.
After the radiance fades away,
I watch my darling, so still, so fair,
With thankful heart that to my care,
For happiness
No words express,
Awhile God trusts a gift so dear.
52
As in his little bed I place
My babe, in all his slumbering grace,
Heaven's starry lamps are lit on high,
One, angel borne, now flashes by,
And by their light
Through all the night,
Celestial watchers will be nigh.
My babe, in all his slumbering grace,
Heaven's starry lamps are lit on high,
One, angel borne, now flashes by,
And by their light
Through all the night,
Celestial watchers will be nigh.
October 30th, 1881.
53
COLIC.
Baby and I in the weary night
Are taking a walk for his delight;
I drowsily stumble o'er stool and chair
And clasp the babe with a grim despair,
For he's got the colic
And paregoric
Don't seem to ease my squalling heir.
Are taking a walk for his delight;
I drowsily stumble o'er stool and chair
And clasp the babe with a grim despair,
For he's got the colic
And paregoric
Don't seem to ease my squalling heir.
Baby and I with the morning grey,
Are griping and squalling and walking away;
The fire's gone out and I nearly freeze;
There's a smell of peppermint on the breeze;
Then Mamma wakes
And baby takes
And says, “Now cook the breakfast, please!”
Are griping and squalling and walking away;
The fire's gone out and I nearly freeze;
There's a smell of peppermint on the breeze;
Then Mamma wakes
And baby takes
And says, “Now cook the breakfast, please!”
November 21st, 1881.
54
A HUSHABY SONG.
Come, tender babe, and on this breast
Thy silken, golden ringlets rest;
Shut up thine eyes, those limpid eyes,
As blue, as sunny as the skies;
Hush, hush thy sobbing, go to sleep,
While angels o'er thee vigils keep.
Thy silken, golden ringlets rest;
Shut up thine eyes, those limpid eyes,
As blue, as sunny as the skies;
Hush, hush thy sobbing, go to sleep,
While angels o'er thee vigils keep.
He sleeps, my darling baby boy,
My life, my hope, my sweetest joy!
How like a budding, blushing rose
His tiny mouth, now in repose!
How white his chubby, dimpled fists,
How plump and creased his baby wrists!
His little neck, how soft and sleek,
His chubby legs, how childish weak!
How sweet to gaze on baby's face
And dream of future manhood days.
My life, my hope, my sweetest joy!
How like a budding, blushing rose
His tiny mouth, now in repose!
How white his chubby, dimpled fists,
How plump and creased his baby wrists!
His little neck, how soft and sleek,
His chubby legs, how childish weak!
How sweet to gaze on baby's face
And dream of future manhood days.
Who knows but in the time to be
His form shall grace the gallows tree?
Then shall his eyes so pure and bright
Be veiled by cap as black as night;
Then shall his tiny hands, alack!
Be strapped behind his sturdy back!
Then shall his chubby legs be bound
With cruel hempen cords around,
Then shall his neck so white and fair,
By brutal hands be laid all bare,
A ruthless noose adjusted here
Below his tiny, shell-like ear!
His form shall grace the gallows tree?
Then shall his eyes so pure and bright
Be veiled by cap as black as night;
Then shall his tiny hands, alack!
Be strapped behind his sturdy back!
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With cruel hempen cords around,
Then shall his neck so white and fair,
By brutal hands be laid all bare,
A ruthless noose adjusted here
Below his tiny, shell-like ear!
How sweet to gaze on baby's face
And dream of future manhood days!
And dream of future manhood days!
56
A LULLABY.
Go, little darling, go,Nid nodding to Bye-low;
The snow white sheep
Are fast asleep
In such a pretty row,
All in the sweet Bye-low;
Then go, my darling, go.
September 11th, 1881.
57
BABY'S COLD.
Back from off his fevered templesBrush his struggling locks of gold,
Hear his deep stentorious breathing,
Little darling's caught a cold.
Hasten, get the soapstone heated,
Place it at his chubby toes,
Speed thee for the mutton tallow,
Grease the little darling's nose.
January 19th, 1883.
58
LITTLE GOLD HEAD.
The little Gold Head was so “put out,”
Though none but herself knew what about,
That she sat on the door steps a while to pout,
Oh, greedy little Gold Head!
Though none but herself knew what about,
That she sat on the door steps a while to pout,
Oh, greedy little Gold Head!
“I had one tart, but I wanted two,
So I'll run away, that's what I'll do!”
And she found White-wool in the meadow dew
Cropping the clover red.
So I'll run away, that's what I'll do!”
And she found White-wool in the meadow dew
Cropping the clover red.
The two were friends, and glad to meet,
She cried, “Nan-nan, is the clover sweet?
And can you have all you want to eat?”
“Ba-a ba-a—!” he said.
She cried, “Nan-nan, is the clover sweet?
And can you have all you want to eat?”
“Ba-a ba-a—!” he said.
September 18th, 1881.
59
TAKING CARE OF KITTY.
They brushed the clothes, they beat the clothes,
One sunny April day—
Their winter clothes I mean—and then
They packed them all away
In paper boxes tied around,
With very strongest strings,
First freely sprinkling them with some
Tobacco dust and camphor gum.
One sunny April day—
Their winter clothes I mean—and then
They packed them all away
In paper boxes tied around,
With very strongest strings,
First freely sprinkling them with some
Tobacco dust and camphor gum.
And when their labor done they took
Their tea and toasted bread,
“Why, where is kitty?” some one asked,
And “I know,” Lulu said;
“She's in my dollies' biggest trunk;
I brushed and beated her;
There can't not any moths I dess,
Det into her nice fur.
She scratched my fingers when I put
The camphor stuff about,
Div me some toast that's buttered froo.”
They left it all to her and flew
To get poor kitty out.
Their tea and toasted bread,
“Why, where is kitty?” some one asked,
And “I know,” Lulu said;
“She's in my dollies' biggest trunk;
I brushed and beated her;
There can't not any moths I dess,
Det into her nice fur.
She scratched my fingers when I put
The camphor stuff about,
Div me some toast that's buttered froo.”
They left it all to her and flew
To get poor kitty out.
August 7th, 1881.
60
THE AWFUL FATE OF LITTLE JIM.
Children hear this dreadful story
Of a little boy named Jim,
That upon this day, Thanksgiving,
You may warning take of him.
Jim sat down to eat his dinner
On a bright Thanksgiving day,
Nor for bib nor even blessing
Would the little fellow stay.
Of a little boy named Jim,
That upon this day, Thanksgiving,
You may warning take of him.
Jim sat down to eat his dinner
On a bright Thanksgiving day,
Nor for bib nor even blessing
Would the little fellow stay.
“James,” his mother gently warned him,
“James, you musn't eat too much,
These are very hearty victuals,
All these turkeys, quails and such;”
Jim paid no attention to her,
Save to give a passing frown,
He was too entirely busy
Putting all the good things down.
“James, you musn't eat too much,
These are very hearty victuals,
All these turkeys, quails and such;”
Jim paid no attention to her,
Save to give a passing frown,
He was too entirely busy
Putting all the good things down.
Venison, partridge, quail and rabbit,
Sardines, lobster, chicken pie,
Down his little gullet vanished
In the twinkling of an eye.
“Look a'here, my son,” said Papa,
“You have eaten quite enough,
You'll be sick if you continue
To fill up on this 'ere stuff.”
Sardines, lobster, chicken pie,
Down his little gullet vanished
In the twinkling of an eye.
“Look a'here, my son,” said Papa,
“You have eaten quite enough,
You'll be sick if you continue
To fill up on this 'ere stuff.”
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All in vain; his headstrong hopeful
Would not listen unto him,
But continued eating, eating.
Naughty, naughty little Jim;
Bigger, bigger grows his stomach,
Filled with cakes and pies and meat,
Rounder, fuller, tighter, plumper,
Still he did not cease to eat.
Would not listen unto him,
But continued eating, eating.
Naughty, naughty little Jim;
Bigger, bigger grows his stomach,
Filled with cakes and pies and meat,
Rounder, fuller, tighter, plumper,
Still he did not cease to eat.
Last of all the round plum pudding;
Jim was looking very pale,
“James, my dear,” his Ma protested,
“Something you must surely ail;”
Jim rolled up his little eyeballs,
Put one hand upon his head
And the other on his stomach,
“I am feeling sick,” he said.
Jim was looking very pale,
“James, my dear,” his Ma protested,
“Something you must surely ail;”
Jim rolled up his little eyeballs,
Put one hand upon his head
And the other on his stomach,
“I am feeling sick,” he said.
Papa hastened for the doctor,
Mamma shrieked and tore her hair,
All too late to save poor Jimmy,
He had climbed the golden stair;
For there came a loud explosion,
Rending Jimmy all asunder,
Nevermore his form was witnessed,
He had bursted all to thunder.
Mamma shrieked and tore her hair,
All too late to save poor Jimmy,
He had climbed the golden stair;
For there came a loud explosion,
Rending Jimmy all asunder,
Nevermore his form was witnessed,
He had bursted all to thunder.
Six men worked a week with brushes
Ere enough of James was found
To adorn a modest corner
In the family burying ground.
So to-day, dear little children,
Ere your appetite inflames
You to eat more than you ought to,
Think, oh! think of little James.
Ere enough of James was found
To adorn a modest corner
In the family burying ground.
So to-day, dear little children,
Ere your appetite inflames
You to eat more than you ought to,
Think, oh! think of little James.
November 30th, 1882.
62
ELLEN MAY.
A sweet and interesting child
Whose name was Ellen May,
Met with a most untimely fate
A week ago today.
And, though we shudder to relate,
It happened in this way.
Whose name was Ellen May,
Met with a most untimely fate
A week ago today.
And, though we shudder to relate,
It happened in this way.
The air was fresh and balmy like,
The sun shone clear and bright,
When little Ellen asked her ma
If she with Bettie White
Could on the sidewalk play, and ma
Informed her that she might.
The sun shone clear and bright,
When little Ellen asked her ma
If she with Bettie White
Could on the sidewalk play, and ma
Informed her that she might.
Her mother for the nonce forgot
Her all accustomed care,
Deceived, alas! by glowing rays
And by the balmy air,
So little Ellen May went out
And did not rubbers wear.
Her all accustomed care,
Deceived, alas! by glowing rays
And by the balmy air,
So little Ellen May went out
And did not rubbers wear.
Then played they on the sidewalk there,
Did little Nell and Bet,
And running to and fro in sport
They all too soon did get
Their pinafores besplashed with mud,
Their shoes all soaking wet.
Did little Nell and Bet,
And running to and fro in sport
They all too soon did get
Their pinafores besplashed with mud,
Their shoes all soaking wet.
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Now Bettie White was strong and hale
As any child might be,
She romped and played the livelong day,
From ev'ry ailment free;
But Ellen May was fragile like,
Quite delicate was she.
As any child might be,
She romped and played the livelong day,
From ev'ry ailment free;
But Ellen May was fragile like,
Quite delicate was she.
And so that night while Betsy slept,
Poor Ellen gave a whoop
That made the very rafters ring
And roused the family group,
And Mamma, springing, wildly shrieked
“My baby's got the croup!”
Poor Ellen gave a whoop
That made the very rafters ring
And roused the family group,
And Mamma, springing, wildly shrieked
“My baby's got the croup!”
In vain the doctor's sage advice,
In vain the patent pills,
In vain the guileful castor oil,
In vain the dose of squills,
Poor Ellen upward turned her toes
And ceased from mortal ills.
In vain the patent pills,
In vain the guileful castor oil,
In vain the dose of squills,
Poor Ellen upward turned her toes
And ceased from mortal ills.
And so is told the tearful fate
Of little Ellen May,
Who, had she put her rubbers on
When she went out to play
That mild December afternoon,
Might be alive today.
Of little Ellen May,
Who, had she put her rubbers on
When she went out to play
That mild December afternoon,
Might be alive today.
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APPLE BLOSSOMS.
Our little Tom to the orchard strayed,
Where bloomed the blossoms upon each limb,
One little blossom bent down where he played
And breathed a fragrant kiss to him.
Where bloomed the blossoms upon each limb,
One little blossom bent down where he played
And breathed a fragrant kiss to him.
Our little Tom smiled a cunning smile
And merrily shook his curly head,
“I'll tackle you, blossom, after a while
When you grow to be an apple,” he said.
And merrily shook his curly head,
“I'll tackle you, blossom, after a while
When you grow to be an apple,” he said.
The blossom remarked, “'Tis a cold, cold day
When boys like you get away with me,”
But the boy went carelessly on his way
While the blossom chuckled with fiendish glee.
When boys like you get away with me,”
But the boy went carelessly on his way
While the blossom chuckled with fiendish glee.
The days passed on and the weeks passed on,
And the blossom into an apple grew,
When along came Tom and gobbled it down,
Skin, stem and core and the green seeds too.
And the blossom into an apple grew,
When along came Tom and gobbled it down,
Skin, stem and core and the green seeds too.
Our little Tommy has angel wings
And he flops around in the golden sky;
It's to be presumed he sweetly sings
Of apple blossoms in the By and By.
And he flops around in the golden sky;
It's to be presumed he sweetly sings
Of apple blossoms in the By and By.
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THE SWIMMING BOY.
A little boy went out to swim
And took a cake of soap with him
And slimed each supple little limb.
And took a cake of soap with him
And slimed each supple little limb.
And when he on the bank arove
One long last downward look he gove
And then into the water dove.
One long last downward look he gove
And then into the water dove.
And trying to regain the top
In vain, alas! he tried to flop,
He went so fast he couldn't stop;
In vain, alas! he tried to flop,
He went so fast he couldn't stop;
His limbs were soaped from heel to hip
He couldn't get a half-way grip,
For, every time he tried, he'd slip.
He couldn't get a half-way grip,
For, every time he tried, he'd slip.
The water no resistance gave
And so beneath the murky wave
He found a wet untimely grave.
And so beneath the murky wave
He found a wet untimely grave.
With thrilling, thundering, thumping thud
He struck the misty, moisty mud,
And turtles fattened on his blood.
He struck the misty, moisty mud,
And turtles fattened on his blood.
We dedicate this little hymn
To little boys of supple limb
Who soap themselves before they swim.
To little boys of supple limb
Who soap themselves before they swim.
(Attributed to) Col. John Arkins.
November 27th, 1882.
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THE AWFUL BUGABOO.
There was an awful Bugaboo,
Whose eyes were red and hair was Blue;
His teeth were Long and Sharp and White,
And he went Prowling 'round at night.
Whose eyes were red and hair was Blue;
His teeth were Long and Sharp and White,
And he went Prowling 'round at night.
A little girl was Tucked in Bed,
A pretty Night Cap on her Head;
Her mamma heard her Pleading say,
“Oh, do not take the Lamp away!”
A pretty Night Cap on her Head;
Her mamma heard her Pleading say,
“Oh, do not take the Lamp away!”
But mamma took away the Lamp
And oh, the Room was Dark and Damp;
The little girl was scared to Death,
She did not Dare to draw her Breath.
And oh, the Room was Dark and Damp;
The little girl was scared to Death,
She did not Dare to draw her Breath.
And all at once the Bugaboo
Came rattling down the Chimney Flue;
He perched upon the little Bed,
And Scratched the girl until she Bled.
Came rattling down the Chimney Flue;
He perched upon the little Bed,
And Scratched the girl until she Bled.
He drank the Blood and Scratched again,
The little Girl cried out in Vain,
He picked Her up and Off he Flew,
This Naughty, Naughty Bugaboo!
The little Girl cried out in Vain,
He picked Her up and Off he Flew,
This Naughty, Naughty Bugaboo!
So, children, when in Bed tonight,
Don't let them Take away the Light,
Or else the awful Bugaboo
May come and Fly away with you!
Don't let them Take away the Light,
Or else the awful Bugaboo
May come and Fly away with you!
December 19th, 1881.
67
THE MOUNTAIN LION.
I am a mountain lion free,And I roam the mountain side,
I grit my teeth in savage glee,
And my chops with gore are dyed;
I live on little babies fat
Which from their homes I steal,
I love to crunch each toothsome brat,
And hear his dying squeal!
February 6th, 1883.
68
THE GOOD BOY AND THE BAD.
There was a worthy little boyWhose name was Willie Hood;
He was as poor as poor can be,
But he was very good.
There was another little boy
Whose name was Jonas Ladd;
And though his father reeked with wealth,
The boy was very bad.
When Christmas came and Santa Claus
Went hovering about,
Bad Jonas got his full of truck,
Good Willie went without.
November 23d, 1882.
69
A CHRISTMAS WISH.
I'd like a stocking made for a giant,
And a meeting house full of toys,
Then I'd go out in a happy hunt
For the poor little girls and boys;
Up the street and down the street,
And across and over the town,
I'd search and find them every one,
Before the sun went down.
And a meeting house full of toys,
Then I'd go out in a happy hunt
For the poor little girls and boys;
Up the street and down the street,
And across and over the town,
I'd search and find them every one,
Before the sun went down.
One would want a new jack-knife
Sharp enough to cut;
One would long for a doll with hair,
And eyes that open and shut;
One would ask for a china set
With dishes all to her mind;
One would wish a Noah's ark
With beasts of every kind.
Sharp enough to cut;
One would long for a doll with hair,
And eyes that open and shut;
One would ask for a china set
With dishes all to her mind;
One would wish a Noah's ark
With beasts of every kind.
Some would like a doll's cook-stove
And a little toy wash tub;
Some would prefer a little drum,
For a noisy rub-a-dub-dub;
Some would wish for a story book,
And some for a set of blocks;
Some would be wild with happiness
Over a new tool-box.
And a little toy wash tub;
Some would prefer a little drum,
For a noisy rub-a-dub-dub;
Some would wish for a story book,
And some for a set of blocks;
Some would be wild with happiness
Over a new tool-box.
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And some would rather have little shoes,
And other things warm to wear;
For many children are very poor
And the winter is hard to bear;
I'd buy soft flannels for little frocks,
And a thousand stockings or so,
And the jolliest little coats and cloaks
To keep out the frost and snow.
And other things warm to wear;
For many children are very poor
And the winter is hard to bear;
I'd buy soft flannels for little frocks,
And a thousand stockings or so,
And the jolliest little coats and cloaks
To keep out the frost and snow.
I'd load a wagon with caramels
And candy of every kind,
And buy all the almond and pecan nuts
And taffy that I could find;
And barrels and barrels of oranges
I'd scatter right in the way,
So the children would find them the very first thing
When they wake on Christmas day.
And candy of every kind,
And buy all the almond and pecan nuts
And taffy that I could find;
And barrels and barrels of oranges
I'd scatter right in the way,
So the children would find them the very first thing
When they wake on Christmas day.
71
MY LADY.
My lady's eyes are bright and blue,
Her hair is soft and golden,
Her voice is sweeter than the coo
Of turtle doves when turtles woo.
Her bright smile would embolden
The faintest lover. More than this
She often clambers for a kiss.
Her hair is soft and golden,
Her voice is sweeter than the coo
Of turtle doves when turtles woo.
Her bright smile would embolden
The faintest lover. More than this
She often clambers for a kiss.
Her little hands are soft and fat,
Her elbows have a dimple,
Her dress is quite superb; a hat
And snowy feather, think of that!
And yet her tastes are simple;
Red cape, blue sash, blue skirt, and blue's
The color of her funny shoes.
Her elbows have a dimple,
Her dress is quite superb; a hat
And snowy feather, think of that!
And yet her tastes are simple;
Red cape, blue sash, blue skirt, and blue's
The color of her funny shoes.
My lady is not coy,
Upon my lap already
She'll often sit; and to my joy
She calls me “Fy,” or “my dear boy,”
(She can't quite manage “Teddy,”)
Around my neck her arms she'll fold,
And yet—you couldn't call her bold!
Upon my lap already
She'll often sit; and to my joy
She calls me “Fy,” or “my dear boy,”
(She can't quite manage “Teddy,”)
Around my neck her arms she'll fold,
And yet—you couldn't call her bold!
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She says that she will be my wife
When I'm inclined to marry,
How sweet, how sweet she'll make my life!
I have no fear of wedded strife;
Then wherefore should I tarry?
Well, if the truth must here be told,
My lady's only three years old.
When I'm inclined to marry,
How sweet, how sweet she'll make my life!
I have no fear of wedded strife;
Then wherefore should I tarry?
Well, if the truth must here be told,
My lady's only three years old.
September 25th, 1881.
73
MAMMA'S VALENTINE.
Baby came toddling up to my knee,
His chubby features all aglow,
“Dess I'se doin' to be 'oor beau,
See what oo' dot from me!”
A valentine from my baby boy!
A crumpled sheet and a homely scrawl,
In a baby hand—that was all—
Yet it filled my heart with joy.
His chubby features all aglow,
“Dess I'se doin' to be 'oor beau,
See what oo' dot from me!”
A valentine from my baby boy!
A crumpled sheet and a homely scrawl,
In a baby hand—that was all—
Yet it filled my heart with joy.
Broken my heart and white my hair,
And my mother eyes are used to weep,
My little boy is fast asleep
In the churchyard over there.
What shall be mamma's valentine?
The spirit touch of the baby hand,
A baby voice from the spirit land,
Singing a song divine.
And my mother eyes are used to weep,
My little boy is fast asleep
In the churchyard over there.
What shall be mamma's valentine?
The spirit touch of the baby hand,
A baby voice from the spirit land,
Singing a song divine.
February 14th, 1883.
74
LITTLE FLO.
Yaas, that was many years ago
This glorious September,
Ah, though my hair is white as snow,
How well I kin remember
The hopes, the fright, the joy, the fears,
That early autumn mornin',
The tremblin' and the burnin' tears,
While baby was a bornin'.
This glorious September,
Ah, though my hair is white as snow,
How well I kin remember
The hopes, the fright, the joy, the fears,
That early autumn mornin',
The tremblin' and the burnin' tears,
While baby was a bornin'.
She was in thar, an' I outside,
Whar I could hear her cryin',
I felt like I could go and hide,
I swar 'twas wuss nor dyin',
To think that I, I hadn't sand,
With all my pride and scornin',
Ter hold her leettle tremblin' hand,
While baby was a bornin'.
Whar I could hear her cryin',
I felt like I could go and hide,
I swar 'twas wuss nor dyin',
To think that I, I hadn't sand,
With all my pride and scornin',
Ter hold her leettle tremblin' hand,
While baby was a bornin'.
I looked up at the blazin' sun,
Ah, as the clock struck seven,
I thought I seen a little one,
Come sailin' down from Heaven.
And then I heern a feeble cry,
I knew the tiny warnin'
It seemed to come straight from the sky,
Ah, baby was a bornin'.
Ah, as the clock struck seven,
I thought I seen a little one,
Come sailin' down from Heaven.
And then I heern a feeble cry,
I knew the tiny warnin'
It seemed to come straight from the sky,
Ah, baby was a bornin'.
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She was the fust,—'twas years ago,
And yet she is the dearest,
An' to my heart my little Flo
Seems, somehow, allus nearest.
I guess it must ha' been cos I,
That dre'ful autumn mornin',
Stood at the door and heern the cry
Of little baby bornin'.
And yet she is the dearest,
An' to my heart my little Flo
Seems, somehow, allus nearest.
I guess it must ha' been cos I,
That dre'ful autumn mornin',
Stood at the door and heern the cry
Of little baby bornin'.
May 29th, 1882.
76
THE PRAYER.
Long years have passed since that sweet time
When first I breathed upon the air
My simple little baby prayer,
A prayer with earnestness sublime;
Since first my mother clasped my hands
And bade me e'er I went to sleep,
Pray God my little soul to keep,
Take me to dwell in heav'nly lands.
When first I breathed upon the air
My simple little baby prayer,
A prayer with earnestness sublime;
Since first my mother clasped my hands
And bade me e'er I went to sleep,
Pray God my little soul to keep,
Take me to dwell in heav'nly lands.
And now the years on years have fled,
And tho' the mother's passed away
And tho' my head be bowed and grey,
The little prayer that I then said
Comes floating back on angel wing
As if, upon the other shore,
A little child had lisped it o'er
For God's own messengers to bring.
And tho' the mother's passed away
And tho' my head be bowed and grey,
The little prayer that I then said
Comes floating back on angel wing
As if, upon the other shore,
A little child had lisped it o'er
For God's own messengers to bring.
January 27th, 1882.
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