I said, "When will the summer come?
Mamma, is it not late?"
She smiled, and answered. "By-and-by;
Be patient, child, and wait."
I asked papa if he would buy
A new wax doll for me.
He pinched my cheek, and said, "Not now;
Be patient, and I'll see."
"Nurse, tell me when my dear rose-bush
A blossom red will bear."
"Oh, by-and-by, my dear. Don't fret.
Come, let me brush your hair."
"When shall I grow so tall, papa,
That I can reach your head?"
"Quite soon enough, my little one;
Wait patiently," he said.
"Dear me!" I thought; "they all say 'Wait.'
I'll put my dolls away.
And go and sit upon the stairs
As long as I can stay."
Now I have waited patiently
For hours and hours and hours,
And yet the dear doll has not come,
The summer, nor the flowers.
I have not grown a single bit,
And now I know it's late.
I'm going up to tell mamma
It does no good to wait.