A JOLLY BOOK
How can they put in black and whiteWhat little children think at night,When lights are out and prayers are said,And you are all tucked up in bed?
Such funny dreams go dancing throughYour head, of things nobody knew,Or saw, or ever half believes!—They're all inside these singing leaves.
And little children laugh and goA-ring-a-round-a-rosy-O;And birds sing gay—you'd almost thinkYou listened to a bobolink.
Look at the pictures, one by one!The rhymes are only half the fun.It laughs and bubbles like a brook—My pretty, jolly jingle-book!MR. TONGUE
A little red man in a little red houseWith gates of ivory!He might stay there, as still as a mouse,And nobody could see;But talk he will, and laugh he will,At everything you do;And come to the door and peep, untilI know his name—don't you?KISSES
"Here's a kiss for every year,And here is one to grow on!"Father says and mother saysAnd auntie says, and so on.
"Here's a pat and there's a pat!"If growing comes of kisses,I know how one girl found a wayTo grow as big as this is!THE TRIALS OF TRAVEL
Boohoo, boohoo, boohoo, boohoo!My mother says I can't take SueAnd Grace and Maud and ClarabelAnd Ruth and Beth and sweet Estelle,Unless I pack them with our things.Oh dear! oh dear! my heart it wringsTo put them in that hot, dark place,With paper wrapped around each face.I'm sure they all would suffocateOr meet some other dreadful fate.I'd gladly take them on my armAnd keep them safe from every harm,But mother says that that won't do;She draws the line at more than two.I'd like to know what she would sayTo sending me packed in a tray.
REBECCA DEMING MOORE.THE QUARREL
The Wooden Dog and the China CatFace to face in the doll-house sat,And they picked a quarrel that grew and grew,Because they had nothing else to do.Said the dog, "I really would like to hearWhy you never stir nor frisk nor purr,But sit like a mummy there."
Up spoke in a temper the china puss,Glad of an opening for a fuss:"Dear Mr. Puppy, I can't recallThat I ever heard you bark at all.Your bark is a wooden bark, 'tis true,But as to that," said the China Cat,"My mew is a china mew."
So they bristled and quarreled, more and more,Till the baby came creeping across the floor.He took the cat by his whiskers frail,He grasped the dog by his wooden tail,And banged them together—and after thatLeft them, a wiser Wooden DogAnd a sadder China Cat.
Now, children, just between you and me,Don't you think in the future they will agree?
NANCY BYRD TURNER.MY PLAYMATES
When Willie comes to visit meWe play menagerie.He says, "Pretend that you're a lamb,And I'll a lion be."Then he begins to growl and roarAnd make a dreadful noise.I don't mind much when he goes home;It's hard to play with boys.
When Julia comes to visit meI am her waiting maid,While she's a lady, grand and stern.Of her I'm 'most afraid.She sends me for my mother's hat,Then takes her nicest skirt,And trails it all around the houseUntil it's full of dirt....