 | [Poems by Dodge in] St. Nicholas book of verse |  |
58
GREAT EXPECTATIONS
Ev'ry little grape, dear, that clings unto a vine,Expects some day to ripen its little drop of wine.
Ev'ry little girl, I think, expects in time to be
Exactly like her own mama—as grand and sweet and free!
Ev'ry little boy who has a pocket of his own,
Expects to be the biggest man the world has ever known.
Ev'ry little piggy-wig that makes its little wail,
Expects to be a great, big pig with a very curly tail.
Ev'ry little lambkin, too, that frisks upon the green,
Expects to be the finest sheep that ever yet was seen.
Ev'ry little baby-colt expects to be a horse;
Ev'ry little pup expects to be a dog, of course.
Ev'ry little kitten pet, so tender and so nice,
Expects to be a grown-up cat and live on rats and mice.
Ev'ry little fluffy chick, in downy yellow drest,
Expects some day to crow and strut, or cackle at its best.
Ev'ry little baby-bird that peeps from out its nest,
Expects some day to cross the sky from glowing east to west.
59
Provided nothing happens, dear, to hinder or prevent.
82
POOR JACK-IN-THE-BOX
Frighten the children, do I? Pop with too sudden a jump?Well, how do you think I felt, all shut in there in a lump?
And didn't I get a shock when the lid came down on my head?
And if you were squeezed up and locked in, would n't you get ugly and red?
If you think I'm so dreadful, my friend, suppose you just try it yourself;
Let someone shut you in a box, and set you away on a shelf—
And then, when the lid is unhooked, if you don't leap out with a whack,
And look like a fright when you spring, I'll give in, or my name is n't Jack.
129
THE ELF AND THE SPIDER
Perched on a stool of the fairy style,
An elf-boy worked with a mischievous smile.
“That careless spider!” said he, “to leave
To leave his web unfinished! But I can sew:
I'll spin, or sew, or darn, or weave—
Whatever they call it—so none will know
That his spidership did n't complete it himself,
Or I'm a very mistaken young elf!”
An elf-boy worked with a mischievous smile.
“That careless spider!” said he, “to leave
To leave his web unfinished! But I can sew:
I'll spin, or sew, or darn, or weave—
Whatever they call it—so none will know
That his spidership did n't complete it himself,
Or I'm a very mistaken young elf!”
Well, the wee sprite sewed, or wove, or spun,
Plying his brier and gossamer thread;
And, quick as a ripple, the web, all done,
Was softly swaying against his head
As he laughed and nodded in joyful pride.
Ho! ho! it's done!
Ha! ha! what fun!
And then he felt himself slowly slide—
Slide and tumble—stool and all—
In the prettiest sort of a fairy fall!
Up he jumped, as light as air;
But oh, what a sight,
What a sorry plight—
The web was caught in his sunny hair!
When, presto! on sudden invisible track,
That horrible spider came lumbering back:
“Who's been at my web? What ho! Come on!”
And he knotted for a fight,
The horrid fright!
But the elf was gone—
Poor, frightened fay!
Nothing was seen but a tattered sheen,
Trailing and shining upon the green.
But all that night with dainty care,
An elf sat tugging away at his hair.
And 't is whispered in Elf-land to this day
That any spider under the sun
May go and leave his web undone,
With its filmy thread-end swinging free
Or tied to the tip of a distant tree
With never a fear that elfin-men
Will meddle with spider-work again.
Plying his brier and gossamer thread;
And, quick as a ripple, the web, all done,
Was softly swaying against his head
As he laughed and nodded in joyful pride.
Ho! ho! it's done!
Ha! ha! what fun!
And then he felt himself slowly slide—
Slide and tumble—stool and all—
In the prettiest sort of a fairy fall!
Up he jumped, as light as air;
But oh, what a sight,
What a sorry plight—
130
When, presto! on sudden invisible track,
That horrible spider came lumbering back:
“Who's been at my web? What ho! Come on!”
And he knotted for a fight,
The horrid fright!
But the elf was gone—
Poor, frightened fay!
Nothing was seen but a tattered sheen,
Trailing and shining upon the green.
But all that night with dainty care,
An elf sat tugging away at his hair.
And 't is whispered in Elf-land to this day
That any spider under the sun
May go and leave his web undone,
With its filmy thread-end swinging free
Or tied to the tip of a distant tree
With never a fear that elfin-men
Will meddle with spider-work again.
141
THE BEES THAT WENT TO THE SKY
Buzzy Buzz, Wuzzy Fuzz, Dippetty Flop,
All flew up to the cherry-tree top.
“Pooh!” said Buzzy Buzz, “this is n't high!
Let 's keep on till we get to the sky.”
All flew up to the cherry-tree top.
“Pooh!” said Buzzy Buzz, “this is n't high!
Let 's keep on till we get to the sky.”
Upward they went, and they never would stop—
Buzzy Buzz, Wuzzy Fuzz, Dippetty Flop;
“Ah, how jolly!” they started to say—
When ev'ry one of them fainted away!
Buzzy Buzz, Wuzzy Fuzz, Dippetty Flop;
“Ah, how jolly!” they started to say—
When ev'ry one of them fainted away!
The next they knew they were down on the ground,
Three dizzy bumble-bees, frightened but sound;
Never a mortal had heard them drop—
Buzzy Buzz, Wuzzy Fuzz, Dippetty Flop.
Three dizzy bumble-bees, frightened but sound;
Never a mortal had heard them drop—
Buzzy Buzz, Wuzzy Fuzz, Dippetty Flop.
142
Humbled and tumbled, and dusty and lamed,
Would n't you think they 'd have been quite ashamed?
But “No, sir,” they buzzed, “it was n't a fall;
We only came down from the sky, that is all.”
Would n't you think they 'd have been quite ashamed?
But “No, sir,” they buzzed, “it was n't a fall;
We only came down from the sky, that is all.”
And now, whenever you see three bees
Buzzing and pitching about by your knees,
You'll know, by their never once venturing high,
They 're the very same bees that flew up to the sky!
Buzzing and pitching about by your knees,
You'll know, by their never once venturing high,
They 're the very same bees that flew up to the sky!
THE PAMPERED POODLE
There was once a little poodle, who so lost his self-respect
That his honest tail refused to do his wagging.
“For in truth”—the tail explanified—“I cannot but object
To the petting he submits to, and the nagging.
That his honest tail refused to do his wagging.
“For in truth”—the tail explanified—“I cannot but object
To the petting he submits to, and the nagging.
“I scorn to wag for any dog who cannot gnaw a bone
Without whining for a nurse to come and chop it,
And who sits all day, be-ribboned, like a puppet on a throne,
And I'll never wag again if he don't stop it.
Without whining for a nurse to come and chop it,
And who sits all day, be-ribboned, like a puppet on a throne,
And I'll never wag again if he don't stop it.
“What with bibs, and bows, and baskets, and mummery forlorn,
And laziness, and nonsense, he 's a noodle!
And, now you know my reasons, can you wonder that I scorn
To wag for so ridiculous a poodle!”
And laziness, and nonsense, he 's a noodle!
And, now you know my reasons, can you wonder that I scorn
To wag for so ridiculous a poodle!”
144
THE FROG, THE CRAB, AND THE LIMPSEY EEL
A frog, a crab, and a limpsy eelAgreed to run a race.
The frog leaped so far he lost his way,
And tumbled on his face.
The crab went well, but quite forgot
To go ahead as he went,
And so crawled backward every step,
On winning the race intent.
And the limpsy eel, he curled and curled,
And waved to left and right,
Till the crab came backing the other way,
And the frog jumped past them quite.
But when last I looked, the limpsy eel
Was curling himself apace,
The frog had tangled his two hind legs,
And the crab had won the race!
203
AN OCEAN NOTION
Were I old Neptune's son, you'd seeHow soon the waves would bow to me;
And how the fish would gather 'round,
And wag their tails with joy profound.
I 'd bid the sea-gulls tidings bring
Of sunny lands where larks do sing;
I 'd roam the icebergs wild, and find
A summer suited to my mind;
Or in the Gulf Stream warm I 'd play
So long as winter chose to stay;
I 'd turn the billows inside out;
Play leap-frog with the water spout;
Swing on the cable, out of sight,
Or leap with dolphins to the light.
All this I 'd do, and more beside,
Were I old Neptune's joy and pride.
His wreathèd horn I 'd lightly blow,
And swing his trident to and fro;
And when I tired of ocean's roar,
I 'd take a little turn on shore.
If Father feared to trust on land
His fine aquatic four-in-hand,
Why, what of that? I 'd laugh and go
Upon a charger sure and slow—
My turtle-steed so fine and grand
Ready for trip on sea or land.
Ah, but I 'd have right lordly fun,
If I were only Neptune's son!
209
NORTHERLY
When the wind is east, they say,We may have a rainy day;
210
Waving fields have little rest.
Warm and soft it is, we know,
When the southern breezes blow;
But this north wind puzzles me—
Who knows what the weather'll be!
247
THE BLOOM OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE
At night we planted the Christmas Tree
In the pretty home, all secretly;
All secretly, though merry of heart,
With many a whisper, many a start.
(For children who 'd scorn to make believe
May not sleep soundly on Christmas Eve.)
In the pretty home, all secretly;
All secretly, though merry of heart,
With many a whisper, many a start.
(For children who 'd scorn to make believe
May not sleep soundly on Christmas Eve.)
And then the tree began to bloom,
Filling with beauty the conscious room.
The branches curved in perfect poise,
Laden with wonders that men call “toys,”
Blooming and ripening (and still no noise),
Until we merry folk stole away
To rest and dream till dawn of day.
Filling with beauty the conscious room.
The branches curved in perfect poise,
Laden with wonders that men call “toys,”
Blooming and ripening (and still no noise),
Until we merry folk stole away
To rest and dream till dawn of day.
In the morning the world was a girl and a boy,
The universe only their shouts of joy,
Till every branch and bough had bent
To yield the treasure the Christ-child sent.
And then—and then—the children flew
Into our arms, as children do,
And whispered, over and over again,
That oldest, newest, sweetest refrain,
“I love you! I love you! Yes, I love you!”
And hugged and scrambled, as children do.
And we said in our hearts, all secretly:
“This is the bloom of the Christmas Tree!”
The universe only their shouts of joy,
Till every branch and bough had bent
To yield the treasure the Christ-child sent.
And then—and then—the children flew
Into our arms, as children do,
And whispered, over and over again,
That oldest, newest, sweetest refrain,
“I love you! I love you! Yes, I love you!”
And hugged and scrambled, as children do.
248
“This is the bloom of the Christmas Tree!”
| [Poems by Dodge in] St. Nicholas book of verse | |