Little Miss Meddlesome
Scattering crumbs,
Into the library
Noisily comes--
Twirls off her apron,
Tilts open some books,
And into a work-basket
Rummaging, looks.
Out goes the spools spinning
Over the floor,
Beeswax and needle-case
Stepped out before;
She tosses the tape-rule
And plays with the floss,
And says to herself,
"Now won't mamma be cross!"
Little Miss Meddlesome
Climbs to the shelf,
Since no-one is looking,
And mischievous elf,
Pulls down the fine vases,
The cuckoo-clock stops,
And sprinkles the carpet
With damaging drops.
She turns over the ottoman,
Frightens the bird,
And sees that the chairs
In a medley are stirred;
Then creeps on the sofa,
And, all in a heap,
Drops out of her
Frolicsome mischief asleep.
But here comes the nurse,
Who is shaking her head,
And frowns at the mischief
Asleep on her bed.
But let's hope when Miss Meddlesome's
Slumber is o'er,
She may wake from good dreams
And do mischief no more.