Her some fancy work to do,
Which a half-a-dozen dimes
Sure would bring;--so, many times
Elzie made her fingers fly
Neat and nice to form the "tie."
Now our Elzie, large and fine,
Looks like twelve, though only nine--
And the "tie" when quite complete,
Was so small, though choice and neat,
That it could not be denied,
Elzie was not satisfied.
So she shook her curly head,
As with curious smile she said:
"If I were a _little_ girl,
Like Nannette or Cousin Pearl,
This wee 'tie' might then appear
Just the thing,--but now, I fear,
Looking at the 'tie' and me,
We shall seem to disagree.--
{263}
Now, Mamma, don't answer quick;
Stop and think,--my snowy Dick
At the Fair might win some pence,
By his wise obedience;
And his pretty winsome ways
Being shown through all the days;--
And, dear Mamma, then I should
Feel I'd done the best I could."
Quickly Mamma took the thought,
And a royal cage was brought;
Cushion made of scarlet bright,--
For our Dicky, pure and white,
Thus was wont to perch and sit,--
And a collar blue we fit
To his neck, when loyal, true,
He presents red, white, and blue.
So the cage is placed within
A sly corner, free from din,
And with tickets five cents each,
Elzie sought her end to reach.
{264}
"Handsome Dick! weight fifteen pounds"--
Whispers Elzie on her rounds;
"What is 'Handsome Dick'?" they say;
"Come and see, please,--step this way;"
And once seen they're glad to tell
Others of white Dick, as well;--
For the cat, as knowing now
He must make his courtliest bow.
{265}
Did his best to help along
Elzie's plan, the friends among.
Upon his cushion he would stand,
Or sit, as Elzie might command;
Then down upon his blanket lie
And be wrapped up like baby-bye;
Would lap his milk, or dainty, sip,
And shake his pretty under-lip,
Thus showing teeth as white as pearl,--
Then round and round would quickly whirl,
Till each one seeing, cheerful, said:
"For that five cents I'm sure we're paid."
Thus the three days passing by,
Which the Fair must occupy--
Dollars ten--ah, yes! and more,
Elzie holds within her store!
Dues for cage and tickets met,
And the _ten_ is Elzie's yet,--
Which unto the Fair she gave
With an air so joyful-grave,
That it seemed a spirit bright,
Nestled in her heart so light;--
And a happier child than she,
We may never hope to see.
{266}
_BESSIE'S KISSES._
Kisses, kisses, raining, raining,
On her lips, her cheeks, her brow,
Till she, wearied, "Daughter, darling,
Mamma's had enough for now."
"Ah! but Bessie has so many!"--
Naught the pretty prattler daunts;
Mamma pleading, baby shouting,
"Ah! but Bessie's more'n she wants."
{267}
_THE DINNER-POT._
The homeliest things are highest worth,
The dinner-pot's a treasure
Compared with diamonds, chains and rings,
Which serve alone for pleasure;--
Enwreathe the dinner-pot with flame,
And fill it with love's mixings,
And it possesses charms beyond
All gold or fancy fixings.
And then, our bony frame-work, too,
So stiff and hard and homely,
Will serve when plumpness all is gone,
And lost is all that's comely.
Fling beauty, grace and sweetness round,
Festoon your lives with flowers,
But ne'er forget that plainest things
Are life's most precious dowers.
{268}
_NANNY'S PLAY._
Our Nanny helped her mother
In many a childish way,--
She picked up chips to feed the fire,
And "played that it was play."
She loved the hens and chickens
And fed them day by day,
And dubbed them each with quaintest name,
And this was always play.
She hunted through the big barn
For hens' nests in the hay,
And fetched the eggs right carefully,
And this again was play.
She donned her mother's dust-cap
And danced about so gay,
And planned how she would house-keep,
And this was "truly play."
{269}
With basin full of water
She scrubbed the door one day,
And splashed about till mother dear
Must work instead of play.
{270}
With brush and broom a-sweeping
She fluttered like a fay;
The broken cup soon told her
'Twas anything but play.
{271}
She romped around the hay-field
And shook the new-mown hay,
And with her baby-rake she gleaned
The meadow for her play.
She ran to pick the berries
That ripened by the way,
And with her basket full to brim
This was the best of play.
So many things, so many,
Far more than I can say,
Our Nanny in her childhood
Has "played that it was play."
{272}
_NANNY'S LESSONS._
Our Nanny was but four years old
When mother said, "My love,
Your needle learn with skill to use,
It will a blessing prove."
So Nanny learned to "overhand,"
And "hem" so fine and neat,
To "backstitch," "run," and many a join
That she could scarce repeat.
{273}
She learned to "catch-stitch" and to "cross,"
To "patch" and "darn," as well,
To "gather," "plait," "box-plait" and "side,"
To "feather-stitch" and "fell."
She sewed the buttons fast, and "worked
The buttonholes" so neat,
That many an eld accomplishes
With less success, the feat.
"Be sure your thread is smooth and strong,
A goodly knot or two,
A double stitch for first, and then
A fastening sure when through;
"And thus your seams will never rip,
Your sewing never wear,--
Like buttons loose and hooks awry,--
A slip-shod, shiftless air."
All this and more her mother taught,
And Nanny conned it o'er
Till she was versed in all the arts
That point the seamster's lore.
{274}
{275}
Her ninth birthday, and mother said
"You're old enough to care
For all your clothing now, my child,
Except the best you wear.
"And here, within this little chest,
And in this drawer wide,
You'll keep them ranged so neat and nice,
Whatever may betide.
"A place for this, a place for that,
Each garment grouped aright,
That you may lay your little hand
Upon it, day or night.
"No garment must be laid within,
Except it ready be,
To don and wear, for thus you spare
Us trouble, you and me."
And Nanny, pleased with mother's trust,
Accepted it with pride,
And, in her heart, the lessons learned
Forevermore abide.
{276}
_NANNY'S RIDE._
Our Nanny oft in fancy
Soared up, the earth above,
And sailed the great air-ocean
With skylark or with dove.
And in this fashion musing,
One sunny summer's day,
Half-watching mother mending
And baby-brother play,
Without a word of warning
The old umbrella came,
Opened upside down before her,
And whispered soft her name.
{277}
"Come, Nanny you've been longing
For a ride, and now's your time:
Jump in,--be quick! And careful, too,
For I'm o'erpast my prime."
So, springing in, she sat there
As happy as you please,
And through the open window,
Was borne upon the breeze.
The sparrows eyed her keenly,
The doves left off their cooing,
And children, cause they couldn't go,
Set up a grand boo-hoo-ing.
She bobbed against a clothes-line,
And all the wash went flying; {278}
The good dame cried, "A witch! a witch!
The saints forefend my drying."
And next she got entangled
In the telegraphic wires;
And when she jerked away from them,
She bumped against the spires.
She hit the tallest chimneys,
And set the smoke a-curling,
Then knocked a flag-pole all awry,
The stars and stripes a-whirling.
Now, far beyond the city,
With mountains in her face,
An eagle pounced to catch her,
But she quickly won the race.
{279}
Within a mountain cavelet,
Two baby-bears so young,
Smiled on her as she passed them,
And greetings to her flung.
She heard the thunder rolling.
And saw the lightning's glare,
From clouds away beneath her,
While 'round her all was fair.
{280}
{281}
She met a cherub driving
A brace of butterflies,
While dancing on a gorgeous one,
Away in wonder-skies.
She saw an angel lighting
The stars up one by one,
As he balanced on a cloudlet
That was left behind the sun.
She heard angelic music,
Far up, the blue along,
And knew 'twas Mary crooning o'er
Her first sweet cradle-song.
{282}
She saw such wondrous pictures,
So beautiful and grand,
Such skyscapes and such cloudscapes,
Such waterscapes and land.
But now the fluttering insects
All round her plainly told
That she was nearing Mother Earth
Far o'er the daisy-wold;
And startled at the distance
From home, the baby screaming
And mother still a-mending there,
Told Nanny she'd been dreaming.
{283}
_THE RACE._
A hop, a skip, and a gambol,
A run, a tumble, a scramble,
An up-and-a-going,
A laughing-and-crowing,
A weal-and-a-woe-ing,--
Yes, a race for a ball
Or a toy we may call,
This race that is human,--
For child, man, or woman,
Tis one and the same,
A mysterious game
That is played by us all,
And we each get a fall;
And so many it may be
That forever a baby
We feel in the race
For a name and a place.
{284}
_OUR KENNETH._
Written for our pet, as indicative of what he _should be_ but _is not_.
Know ye our little black-eyed boy?
His name is Kenney Stone;
Now listen, for he always speaks
In such a gentle tone.
He never says "I will!" "I wi'n't!"
He's never rough nor rude,
But always bows with, "Thank you; please;"
And tries to be so good.
Our Kenneth never kicks nor strikes,
Nor makes an ugly face;
He never slides down banisters,
Nor puts things out of place.
He never says a naughty word,
Nor tells a big, big story!
O, no, nor even a little one,
To make us all so sorry.
{285}
{286}
Our Kenneth is a gentleman,
He will not scratch nor bite;
He never speaks to any child,
A word that is not right.
Our Kenneth never slams the doors
Nor stamps along the halls;
He goes away when he is told,
And comes when mamma calls.
Our Kenneth, everybody loves,
Because he's so polite,
Our darling little black-eyed boy,
Our Kenney Stone so bright.
{287}
_TO MY TEN-YEARS-OLD._
On thy cheek the roses lie;
Lilies, on thy forehead fair;
Violets blue, in each bright eye,
Sunbeams, in thy golden hair.
Pearls, within thy coral lips,
Ears and nostrils, crystal-clear,
Dainty, sea-shell finger tips,
Form, a sylph might love to wear.
Yet no beauty, thou, my child,
Save as filled with inward grace;
Save a spirit, undefiled,
Warm thy heart and wreathe thy face.
{288}
_DARE TO SAY NO._
Dear children, you are sometimes led
To sorrow, sin, and woe, {289}
Because you have not courage quite,
And dare not answer, No.
When playmates tell you this, or that
Is "very nice to do,"
See first what mamma says, or if
You think 'tis wrong, say No.
Be always gentle, but be firm.
And wheresoe'er you go,
If you are asked to do what's wrong,
Don't fear to answer, No.
False friends may laugh and sneer at you.
Temptations round you flow,
But prove yourself both brave and true,
And firmly tell them, No.
Sometimes a thing that's not a sin,
You might be asked to do,--
But when you think it is not best,
Don't yield, but answer, No.
True friends will honor you the more,
Ah, yes, and false ones too,
When they have learned you're not afraid
To stand and answer, No.
{290}
And when temptations rise within,
And plead to "come," or "go,"
And do a wrong for "_just this once_"
Be sure you answer, No.
For when you once have done a Wrong,
The Right receives a blow,--
And Wrong will triumph easier now,
So haste and answer, No.
There's many a little boy and girl,
And man and woman too,
Have gone to ruin and to death
For want of saying, No!
So, young or old, or great or small,
Don't fail, whate'er you do,
To stand for Right and nobly dare
To speak an honest No.
{291}
_ASK MOTHER._
Yes, my darling, when you question,
I will answer, simple, plain,
Just the Truth;--and when playmate
Tells you anything again,
Come to Mother, she will tell you,
Yes, and tell you always true,
For she knows what's low and sinful,
And what's right and wrong for you.
_TELL MOTHER._
'Tis wrong, my dear, to do a thing
That mother must not know;
And when your playmates, old or young,
Shall tell you thus to do,
Leave them at once, and quickly come
To your dear Mother's side,
And tell her,--for she'll know what's wrong,
And she will be your guide.
{292}
_DON'T TELL A LIE._
Don't tell a lie, dear children,
No matter what you do,-- {292}
Own up and be a hero,
Right honest, brave, and true.
You'd better have a whipping
Each day than tell a lie,--
No, not a "white one," even,
They lead to blackest dye.
The rod but hurts your body,
While lies deform your soul;--
Don't mind the present smarting,
Keep the spirit pure and whole.
But I am sure that mamma
And papa, too, will try
To help you children tell the Truth,
Nor drive you to a lie.
They will not punish harshly,
Nor when they're angry, quite;
Nor promise, and then fail to do,--
But always lead you right.
{294}
_LITTLE MOSES._
In the Talmud you will find it,--
In the quaint and curious lore
Of the ancient priests, or Rabbins,
Whom the people bowed before;
Find the story of an infant
Sitting on the kingly knee;
"Little Moses," Pharaoh calls him,--
Crowing loud in baby glee.
{295}
And the banqueters were cheering,
When the infant with a spring,
Reached and caught the crown that rested
Upon Pharaoh's head, as king.
Caught the crown, and quickly placed it
On his own unwitting head;
But the king and all his princes,
In the deed a meaning read.
Then spake Balaam, the magician,
"Not because the child is young,
Hath he done this thing unknowing;--
He hath mocked thee, he hath flung
"In thy face thy kindly dealings;
Such hath ever been the way
Of his people; a usurper--
Let his blood be spilled this day."
But the winsome baby-fingers
Toying with the kingly beard,
Won the edict: "Call the judges;
Let their counselings be heard."
{296}
So the judges and the wise men
Came with Jethro, Midian's priest,
Who, with wish to save young Moses,
Thus his majesty addressed:
"If it to the king be pleasing,
Fetch two plates, and we will hold
Them before the babe, a-brimming,
One with fire, and one with gold.
"If the child shall grasp the golden,
He hath done this knowingly;
He will trample on thy statutes;
For thine honor he must die.
"But if he shall grasp the other,
Know, O King, he knoweth nought
Of a royal crown or scepter,--
And his life with fire is bought."
These wise words, the king approving,
Plate of fire and plate of gold,
Courtiers brought, and screams of anguish,
Soon the childish choosing told.
{297}
For he, baby-like, had thrust it
In his mouth; and though he flung
Quick the coal, he ever after
Spake with slow and stammering tongue.
[Footnote: Exodus IV:10]
* * * * *
Charming 'tis to see
Children who agree;
Chaste, and choice, and cheery,
Chiming in so merry,
Childlike, ever;
Churlish, never.
Championing the good;
Challenging the rude;
Chary as the dove;
Chief in Jesus' love.
{298}
_THE CHILDREN'S RAILROAD._
Old Time has built a Railroad,
On which you children speed
To a land of light and plenty,
Or a land of darksome need;
And soon you'll come to a meadow,
Where two tracks mark the way,
But they'll run close up alongside
For many and many a day.
And one is strewn with roses,
While one looks bleak and bare,
With now and then a berry-bush,
And a violet here and there;--
{299}
On one you'll find companions
Who but for pleasure seek,
While friends along the other,
Will words of wisdom speak.
Be careful in your choosing,
For if you take the _Right_,
You will travel in the shadow
Of the Rock that shields at night;
'T will lead through greenest pastures
Where softest brooklets flow,
And land you at a Station
That is full of cheer and glow.
{300}
On the other track, the roses
Are backed by sharpest thorns;
While berries always nourish,
And the violet but adorns;--
You will stumble into sluices,
And what is worse than all,
Your self-respect and conscience
Grow weak with every fall.
Yes, if you choose the other
That looks so bright and gay,
You'll find the bridges broken,
And the road-bed washed away;
And when you near the Station,
You'll switch to a fearful leap,
That will hurl you into darkness,
And bury you in the deep.
But those who choose the Right one
Grow manly, womanly, true;
God's love-light shines upon them,
And falls as heavenly dew;--
They grieve at your wild folly,
And will gladly help you back,
If at any curve or turning
You seek the trusty track.
{301}
But ah! the scars you're wearing,
From thorns that pierced you sore,-- {302}
And the ditches in which you've fallen,
That were strewn with roses o'er;--
And the joys you've lost, unnumbered,
That spring from good deeds done;
And the fruits you've missed, unmeasured,
That by others have been won.
Though friends may be indulgent,
And loved ones even forget,
Yourself can never banish
The memories that beset.
You will wish you had never traveled
The way that leads to death;
You will wish you had never reveled
In the viper's venomed breath.
So beware which track you follow;
And again I say, beware!
The _False_ is strewn with roses,--
The _True_ looks bleak and bare;
But this, 't is plain, is only
That youthful, artless eyes
Are open to show and glamour,
But see not deep nor wise,
{303}
To Truth then, children, listen,
And cultivate the seed
That in your hearts God planted,
To serve your every need;--
Yes, heed the voice within you,
And follow it all the way,
For it will help you choose the road
That leads to endless day.
{304}
_THE PHOEBE'S NEST IN THE OLD WELL-WHEEL._
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," why, 'tis a little bird,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," singing the pretty word;
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," brown feathers cover him,
Gray breast, with blackish stripes scattered all over him.
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," here comes his little mate,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," both on the garden gate,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," loving now they trill,
Planning to build a nest in the old well-wheel.
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," now the nest is begun;
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," now it is nearly done;
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," how will the birdies feel,
When the egg is dropped down, with turn of the wheel.
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," children are sorry now,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," birds are all a-worry now,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," laying eggs day by day,
While the turn of the wheel ever drops them away.
{305}
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," never the lesson learned,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," year by year they returned,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," building persistently,
Where the turn of the wheel dropped the eggs all away.
Phoe-be, phoe-be, yet not in vain you wrought,
Phoe-be, phoe-be, for, by your folly taught,
Phoe-be, phoe-be, children plan so to build,
That no eggs may be lost by the turn of life's wheel.
{306}
_MABEL'S SNOW-FEATHERS._
Listen, children, while I tell you
What our merry Mabel said
When she saw the feathery snow-flakes
Tumbling down about her head.
Clapping hands and dancing gaily,
"Mamma, mamma, come and see!
Come and see the feathers, mamma,
Soft and white as they can be!"
{307}
Standing then a moment, pondering
As it were, whence came the snow,
Little face so wise and thoughtful,
Mabel cried: "Oh, now I know,
"There are lots of eider ducklets
Up in Heaven, above the blue,
And they're dropping off their feathers,--
And such downy feathers, too!
"See them frolic with each other;
See them kiss as fast they fly;
See them make believe they are going to,
Then go gaily flitting by.
"See them on the Spruce and Balsam,
Pile up little soft, fat hands;
See their many plump, white cushions;
See them wave their fairy wands.
"See the showers of flying feathers
Whisking 'round in merry moods;
See, the telegraph their perch is,--
Oh, I'm sure they're almost birds!"
{308}
Now she fancies she can hear them
Whisper of their ducklet birth;--
Hear their soft and wean-y quacklings,
As they tumble down to earth.
Now she listens for the jingle
Of the sleigh-bells they will bring;
Now she sees the flying horses,
Prancing gaily at their ring.
Lovely are these fleecy feathers,
Dainty in each rare device;
All unlike our ducklet feathers,--
White and soft, but cold as ice.
{309}
Yet they cover, warmly cover
Mother Earth so bleak and brown;
Cover her with feathery mantles,
Comforters of eider-down.
{310}
_FOREST TREES._
Children, have you seen the budding
Of the trees in valleys low?
Have you watched it creeping, creeping
Up the mountain, soft and slow?
Weaving there a plush-like mantle,
Brownish, grayish, red-dish green,
Changing, changing, daily, hourly,
Till it smiles in emerald sheen?
Have you watched the shades so varied,
From the graceful, little white birch,
Faint and tender, to the balsam's
Evergreen, so dark and rich?
Have you seen the quaint mosaics
Gracing all the mountain-sides,
Where they, mingling, intertwining,
Sway like softest mid-air tides?
{311}
Have you seen the autumn frostings
Spread on all the leafage bright,
Frostings of the rarest colors,
Red and yellow, dark and light?
Have you seen the glory painted
On the mountain, valley, hill,
When the landscape all illumined,
Blazons forth His taste and skill?
Have you seen the foliage dropping,
Tender cling, as loth to leave
Mother-trees that taught them deftly,
All their warp and woof to weave?
Have you seen the leafless branches
Tossing wildly 'gainst the blue?
Have you seen the soft gray beauty
Of their wintry garments' hue?
Have you thought the resurrection
Seen in Nature year by year,
Is a symbol of our rising
In a higher, holier sphere?
Children, ye are buds maturing;
Make your autumn rich and grand,
That your winter be a passage
Through the gates to Glory-land.
{312}
_CHILDHOOD FANCIES._
The twilight gray is falling,
Now list and you shall hear
The footsteps of the sylphid fays,--
This is their hour of cheer.
List to the gentle patter
On each wee blade of grass,
As it is bent, and back again,
Whene'er the fairies pass.
{313}
Upon the tips of grasses
They cross the meadows, lawn,
And laugh and dance and play and sing,
From twilight hour till dawn.
They light their myriad lanterns,
And hang them in the arch
Of blue that canopies o'erhead,
And by their light they march.
They sometimes miss a fairy,
And take a lantern down
To search for her, and mortals say;
"A fire-fly flits around."
On leaves they hang their diamonds,
Their pearls in every flower;
Their gauzy veils upon the grass,
They spread for fairy bower.
Their slender wings are hanging
On every shrub, across;
Their seats are dainty cushion-beds
Of green and springy moss.
{314}
Their shrubbery of coral
Is gray and scarlet-tipped;
Their hair upon the maize is hung
Each Summer, when 'tis clipped.
The mushroom forms their table,
Their dishes, acorn cups;
The ant-hills are their barracks high;
Their cannon, "hemlock pops."
Their scarfs of plush are lying
On ripening grape and peach;
Their sea-shells 'neath the apple trees,
Each Spring bestrew their beach.
They paint the leaves in Autumn;
They make a tiny rink
Of every puddle, fen, and dike,
And skate from nave to brink.
They brown the nuts in forests,
The burrs they open wide;
They lure the feathers from the clouds.
And pile them up, to slide.
{315}
They build along the way-side
Their fairy palisades,--
The "hoar-frost" some have christened it,--
And hold West Point parades.
They sketch upon the windows
Such pictures as no power
Of man can ever execute,
And on them pearl-dust shower.
{316}
All these and myriad fancies
That never can be told,
My childhood days so new and sweet,
In memory infold.
But mother softly whispers,
"Tis not the Fays, my dears,
Tis old Dame Nature's song of songs,
The 'Music of the Spheres.'
"List ever for it, children,
Twill bring you close to God;
Each sound but echoes Him who made,
Each motion is His nod."
* * * * *
"Waste not, want not," be your motto,--
Little things bring weal or woe;
Save the odds and ends, my children,
Some one wants them, if not you.
{317}
_LIZZIE AND THE ANGELS._
Little Lizzie, thoughtful, earnest,
Springing up at break of day,
Thinks she heard the angels whisper
Softly, as she knelt to pray.
{318}
"Yes, they whispered to me, mamma,
And they told me lots of things,--
And they said, 'O Lizzie, Lizzie,
'Tis your temper trouble brings!'
"Then they said: You, child, can never
Be a woman good and true,
If you let your fiery temper
And your own will govern you;
And they told me 'even Jesus
Said, 'Thy will, not mine, be done,'
And that if I grew up wilful,
All my life I can but mourn.
And they told me, too, dear mamma,
That if I were called to die,
I could not be glad in heaven,
For no heaven in me would lie.
Now, what shall I do, dear mamma,
That I may be good and true?
How shall I my temper govern,
And my wicked will subdue?"
"Lizzie, darling, if you listen,
You will hear a voice within, {319}
That will tell you every moment,
What is Right, and what is Sin.
But you must not disobey it,
Or it will grow faint and weak;
You must watch to catch its whispers,
Hurry when you hear it speak.
{320}