This is the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the maiden all forlorn,

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the man all tattered and torn,

That kissed the maiden all forlorn,

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the priest all shaven and shorn,

That married the man all tattered and torn,

That kissed the maiden all forlorn,

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cock that crowed in the morn,

That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,

That married the man all tattered and torn,

That kissed the maiden all forlorn,

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the farmer sowing his corn,

That kept the cock that crowed in the morn,

That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,

That married the man all tattered and torn,

That kissed the maiden all forlorn,

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the key of the kingdom.

In that kingdom there is a city.

In that city there is a town.

In that town there is a street.

In that street there is a lane.

In that lane there is a yard.

In that yard there is a house.

In that house there is a room.

In that room there is a bed.

In that bed there is a basket.

In that basket there are some flowers.

Flowers in the basket, basket in the bed, bed in the room, etc., etc.

_Tree on the Hill_

On yonder hill there stands a tree;

Tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

And on the tree there was a branch;

Branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

And on the branch there was a nest;

Nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the

hill stood still.

And in the nest there was an egg;

Egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on

the hill, and the hill stood still.

And in the egg there was a bird;

Bird in the egg, egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on

the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

And on the bird there was a feather;

Feather on the bird, bird in the egg, egg in the nest, nest on

the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the

hill stood still.

John Ball shot them all.

John Scott made the shot,

But John Ball shot them all.

John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot;

But John Ball shot them all.

John Brammer made the rammer,

And John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot,

But John Ball shot them all.

John Block made the stock,

And John Brammer made the rammer,

And John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot;

But John Ball shot them all.

John Crowder made the powder,

And John Block made the stock,

And John Brammer made the rammer,

And John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot;

But John Ball shot them all.

John Puzzle made the muzzle,

And John Crowder made the powder,

And John Block made the stock,

And John Brammer made the rammer,

And John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot;

But John Ball shot them all.

John Clint made the flint,

And John Puzzle made the muzzle,

And John Crowder made the powder,

And John Block made the stock,

And John Brammer made the rammer,

And John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot;

But John Ball shot them all.

John Patch made the match,

And John Clint made the flint,

And John Puzzle made the muzzle,

And John Crowder made the powder,

And John Block made the stock,

And John Brammer made the rammer,

And John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot;

But John Ball shot them all.

VIII

GUESS-ME-QUICKS

Riddle me, riddle me, riddle me ree,

Perhaps you can tell me what this may be.

In marble walls as white as milk,

Lined with a skin as soft as silk;

Within a fountain crystal clear,

A golden apple doth appear.

No doors there are to this stronghold,

Yet thieves break in and steal the gold.

Thirty white horses upon a red hill,

Now they tramp, now they champ, now they stand still.

Black within and red without;

Four corners round about.

Little Nan Etticoat,

In a white petticoat,

And a red nose;

The longer she stands,

The shorter she grows.

As round as an apple, as deep as a cup,

And all the King's horses can't pull it up.

Long legs, crooked thighs,

Little head, and no eyes.

Higher than a house, higher than a tree,

Oh, whatever can that be?

Down in a dark dungeon I saw a brave knight,

All saddled, all bridled, all fit for the fight.

Gilt was his saddle, and bent was his bow;

Thrice I've told you his name, and yet you don't know.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;

Not all the King's horses, nor all the King's men,

Could set Humpty Dumpty up again.

Elizabeth, Elspeth, Betsy, and Bess,

They all went together to seek a bird's nest.

They found a bird's nest with five eggs in,

They all took one, and left four in.

As soft as silk, as white as milk,

As bitter as gall, a thick wall,

And a green coat covers me all.

As I went through the garden gap,

Whom should I meet but Dick Red-cap!

A stick in his hand, a stone in his throat:

If you'll tell me this riddle, I'll give you a groat.

I went to the wood and got it;

I sat me down and looked at it;

The more I looked at it the less I liked it;

And I brought it home because I couldn't help it.

There was a girl in our town,

Silk an' satin was her gown,

Silk an' satin, gold an' velvet,

Guess her name, three times I've tell'd it.

As I was going to St. Ives

I met a man with seven wives;

Every wife had seven sacks,

Every sack had seven cats,

Every cat had seven kits.

Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,

How many were going to St. Ives?

Two legs sat upon three legs,

With one leg in his lap;

In comes four legs,

And runs away with one leg.

Up jumps two legs,

Catches up three legs,

Throws it after four legs,

And makes him bring back one leg.

As I was going o'er Westminster bridge,

I met with a Westminster scholar;

He pulled off his cap, _an' drew_ off his glove,

And wished me a very good morrow.

What is his name?

Flour of England, fruit of Spain,

Met together in a shower of rain;

Put in a bag tied round with a string,

If you'll tell me this riddle, I'll give you a ring.

I had a little nut tree, nothing would it bear

But a silver nutmeg, and a golden pear.

The King of Spain's daughter came to visit me,

And all was because of my little nut tree.

I skipped over water, I danced over sea,

And all the birds of the air, they couldn't catch me.

There is one that has a head without an eye,

And there's one that has an eye without a head:

You may find the answer if you try;

And when all is said,

Half the answer hangs upon a thread!

Christina G. Rossetti.

_Do You Guess it is I?_

I am a little thing;

I am not very high;

I laugh, dance and sing,

And sometimes I cry.

I have a little head

All covered o'er with hair,

And I hear what is said

With my two ears there.

On my two feet I walk;

I run too with ease;

With my little tongue I talk

Just as much as I please.

I have ten fingers too,

And just so many toes;

Two eyes to see through,

And but one little nose.

I've a mouth full of teeth,

Where my bread and milk go in;

And close by, underneath,

Is my little round chin.

What is this little thing,

Not very, very high,

That can laugh, dance and sing?

Do you guess it is I?

Eliza Lee Follen.

IX

GRANDMOTHER'S WISDOM

He that would thrive

Must rise at five;

He that hath thriven

May lie till seven;

And he that by the plough would thrive,

Himself must either hold or drive.

Cock crows in the morn,

To tell us to rise,

And he who lies late

Will never be wise.

For early to bed,

And early to rise,

Is the way to be healthy

And wealthy and wise.

A swarm of bees in May

Is worth a load of hay;

A swarm of bees in June

Is worth a silver spoon;

A swarm of bees in July

Is not worth a fly.

As the days grow longer

The storms grow stronger.

When the days begin to lengthen

Then the cold begins to strengthen.

A sunshiny shower,

Won't last half an hour.

March winds and April showers

Bring forth May flowers.

Evening red and morning gray

Set the traveller on his way,

But evening gray and morning red,

Bring the rain upon his head.

When Jacky's a very good boy,

He shall have cakes and a custard;

But when he does nothing but cry,

He shall have nothing but mustard.

Rainbow at night

Is the sailor's delight;

Rainbow at morning,

Sailors, take warning.

Thirty days hath September,

April, June, and November;

February has twenty-eight alone,

All the rest have thirty-one,

Excepting leap-year, that's the time

When February's days are twenty-nine.

For every ill beneath the sun

There is a cure or there is none;

If there be one, try to find it;

If there be none, never mind it.

They that wash on Monday

Have all the week to dry;

They that wash on Tuesday

Are not so much awry;

They that wash on Wednesday

Are not so much to blame;

They that wash on Thursday

Wash for very shame;

They that wash on Friday

Wash because of need;

And they that wash on Saturday,

Oh, they are lazy indeed!

Go to bed first,

A golden purse;

Go to bed second,

A golden pheasant;

Go to bed third,

A golden bird.

If you sneeze on Monday, you sneeze for danger;

Sneeze on a Tuesday, kiss a stranger;

Sneeze on a Wednesday, sneeze for a letter;

Sneeze on a Thursday, something better;

Sneeze on a Friday, sneeze for sorrow;

Sneeze on a Saturday, joy to-morrow.

When the wind is in the east,

'Tis good for neither man nor beast;

When the wind is in the north,

The skilful fisher goes not forth;

When the wind is in the south,

It blows the bait in the fishes' mouth;

When the wind is in the west,

Then 'tis at the very best.

Hearts, like doors, will ope with ease

To very, very little keys,

And don't forget that two of these,

Are "I thank you" and "If you please."

If wishes were horses,

Beggars would ride;

If turnips were watches,

I'd wear one by my side.

Cross-patch,

Draw the latch,

Sit by the fire and spin;

Take a cup,

And drink it up,

Then call your neighbors in.

For want of a nail, the shoe was lost;

For want of the shoe, the horse was lost;

For want of the horse, the rider was lost;

For want of the rider, the battle was lost;

For want of the battle, the kingdom was lost;

And all from the want of a horseshoe nail.

Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,

Wednesday's child is full of woe,

Thursday's child has far to go,

Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child works hard for its living,

But the child that is born on the Sabbath day

Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

My Lady Wind, my Lady Wind,

Went round about the house to find

A chink to set her foot in;

She tried the keyhole in the door,

She tried the crevice in the floor,

And drove the chimney soot in.

And then one night when it was dark,

She blew up such a tiny spark

That all the town was bothered;

From it she raised such flame and smoke

That many in great terror woke,

And many more were smothered.

And thus when once, my little dears,

A whisper reaches itching ears--

The same will come, you'll find:

Take my advice, restrain the tongue,

Remember what old nurse has sung

Of busy Lady Wind.

_PART II_

LITTLE PRINCE AND PRINCESS

I

THE PALACE PLAYTIME

_Follow Me!_

Children go

To and fro,

In a merry, pretty row,

Footsteps light,

Faces bright;

'Tis a happy sight,

Swiftly turning round and round,

Never look upon the ground;

Follow me,

Full of glee,

Singing merrily.

Work is done,

Play's begun;

Now we have our laugh and fun;

Happy days,

Pretty plays,

And no naughty ways.

Holding fast each other's hand,

We're a happy little band;

Follow me,

Full of glee,

Singing merrily.

Birds are free;

So are we;

And we live as happily.

Work we do,

Study too,

For we learn "Twice two";

Then we laugh, and dance, and sing,

Gay as larks upon the wing;

Follow me,

Full of glee,

Singing merrily.

Eliza Lee Follen.

_The Baby's Birthday_

Come, Charles, blow the trumpet,

And George, beat the drum,

For this is the baby's birthday!

Little Annie shall sing,

And Jemmy shall dance,

And father the jews-harp will play.

Rad-er-er too tan-da-ro te

Rad-er-er tad-or-er tan do re.

Come toss up the ball,

And spin the hum top;

We'll have a grand frolic to-day;

Let's make some soap bubbles,

And blow them up high,

And see what the baby will say.

Rad-er-er too tan-da-ro te

Rad-er-er tad-or-er tan do re.

We'll play the grand Mufti;

Let's all make a ring;

The tallest the Mufti shall play;

You must look in his face,

And see what he does,

And mind what the Mufti shall say.

Rad-er-er too tan-da-ro te

Rad-er-er tad-or-er tan do re.

And now we'll play soldiers;

All hold up your heads!

Don't you know 'tis the baby's birthday?

You must turn out your toes,

And toss your feet high;

There! this, boys and girls, is the way.

Rad-er-er too tan-da-ro te

Rad-er-er tad-or-er tan do re.

Eliza Lee Follen.

_Counting Out_

Intery, mintery, cutery-corn,

Apple seed and apple thorn;

Wire, brier, limber-lock,

Five geese in a flock,

Sit and sing by a spring,

O-u-t, and in again.

_A Tea-Party_

You see, merry Phillis, that dear little maid,

Has invited Belinda to tea;

Her nice little garden is shaded by trees,--

What pleasanter place could there be?

There's a cake full of plums, there are strawberries too,

And the table is set on the green;

I'm fond of a carpet all daisies and grass,--

Could a prettier picture be seen?

A blackbird (yes, blackbirds delight in warm weather,)

Is flitting from yonder high spray;

He sees the two little ones talking together,--

No wonder the blackbird is gay.

Kate Greenaway.

_Around the World_

In go-cart so tiny

My sister I drew;

And I've promised to draw her

The wide world through.

We have not yet started--

I own it with sorrow--

Because our trip's always

Put off till to-morrow.

Kate Greenaway.

_My Ship and I_[1]

O it's I that am the captain of a tidy little ship,

Of a ship that goes a-sailing on the pond;

And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and all about;

But when I'm a little older, I shall find the secret out

How to send my vessel sailing on beyond.

For I mean to grow as little as the dolly at the helm,

And the dolly I intend to come alive;

And with him beside to help me, it's a-sailing I shall go,

It's a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes blow

And the vessel goes a divie-divie-dive.

O it's then you'll see me sailing through the rushes and the reeds,

And you'll hear the water singing at the prow;

For beside the dolly sailor, I'm to voyage and explore,

To land upon the island where no dolly was before,

And to fire the penny cannon in the bow.

Robert Louis Stevenson.

[Footnote 1: _From "Poems and Ballads," copyright, 1895, 1896, by

Chas. Scribner's Sons._]

_The Feast of the Doll_

In flow'ry Japan, the home of the fan,

The land of the parasol,

Each month has its feast, from greatest to least,

And March is the Feast of the Doll-doll-doll,

And March is the Feast of the Doll.

The wee, slippered maid in gown of brocade,

The baby with shaven poll,

The little brown lad in embroidery clad,

All troop to the Feast of the Doll-doll-doll,

All troop to the Feast of the Doll.

How pleasant 'twould be, 'neath an almond-tree,

In sunshine and perfume to loll,

Forget our own spring, with its wind and its sting,

And sing to the praise of the Doll-doll-doll,

And sing to the praise of the Doll.

Come, sweet Tippytoes, as pink as a rose,

And white as a cotton-boll;

Let us follow the plan of the folk in Japan,

And dance for your Feast, little Doll-doll-doll,

And dance for your Feast, little Doll.

Nora Archibald Smith.

_Cuddle Down, Dolly_

They sent me to bed, dear, so dreadfully early,

I hadn't a moment to talk to my girlie;

But while Nurse is getting her dinner downstairs,

I'll rock you a little and hear you your prayers.

_Cuddle down, dolly,_

_Cuddle down, dear!_

_Here on my shoulder you've nothing to fear._

_That's what Mamma sings to me every night,_

_Cuddle down, dolly dear, shut your eyes tight!_

Not comfor'ble dolly?--or why do you fidget?

You're hurting my shoulder, you troublesome midget!

Perhaps it's that hole that you told me about.

Why, darling, your sawdust is trick-ker-ling out!!

We'll call the good doctor in, right straight away;

This can't be neglected a single more day;

I'll wet my new hankchif and tie it round tight,

'Twill keep you from suffering pains in the night.

I hope you've been good, little dolly, to-day,

Not cross to your nursie, nor rude in your play;

Nor dabbled your feet in those puddles of water

The way you did yesterday, bad little daughter!

* * * * *

Oh, dear! I'm so sleepy--can't hold up my head,

I'll sing one more verse, then I'll creep into bed.

_Cuddle down, dolly,_

_Here on my arm,_

_Nothing shall frighten you, nothing shall harm._

_Cuddle down sweetly, my little pink rose,_

_Good angels come now and guard thy repose._

Kate Douglas Wiggin.

_Playgrounds_

In summer I am very glad

We children are so small,

For we can see a thousand things

That men can't see at all.

They don't know much about the moss

And all the stones they pass:

They never lie and play among

The forests in the grass:

They walk about a long way off;

And, when we're at the sea,

Let father stoop as best he can

He can't find things like me.

But, when the snow is on the ground

And all the puddles freeze,

I wish that I were very tall,

High up above the trees.

Laurence Alma Tadema.

_Keeping Store_

We have bags and bags of whitest down

Out of the milk-weed pods;

We have purple asters in lovely heaps,

And stacks of golden-rods--

We have needles out of the sweet pine woods,

And spools of cobweb thread;

We have bachelors' buttons for dolly's dress,

And hollyhock caps for her head.

Mary F. Butts.

_One and One_[2]

Two little girls are better than one

Two little boys can double the fun,

Two little birds can build a fine nest,

Two little arms can love mother best.

Two little ponies must go to a span;

Two little pockets has my little man;

Two little eyes to open and close,

Two little ears and one little nose,

Two little elbows, dimpled and sweet,

Two little shoes on two little feet,

Two little lips and one little chin,

Two little cheeks with a rose shut in;

Two little shoulders, chubby and strong,

Two little legs running all day long.

Two little prayers does my darling say,

Twice does he kneel by my side each day,--

Two little folded hands, soft and brown,

Two little eyelids cast meekly down,--

And two little angels guard him in bed,

"One at the foot, and one at the head."

Mary Mapes Dodge.

[Footnote 2: _From "Rhymes and Jingles," copyright, 1874, 1904, by

Chas. Scribner's Sons._]

_A Happy Child_

My house is red--a little house,

A happy child am I,

I laugh and play the livelong day,

I hardly ever cry.

I have a tree, a green, green tree,

To shade me from the sun;

And under it I often sit,

When all my work is done.

My little basket I will take,

And trip into the town;

When next I'm there I'll buy some cake,

And spend my bright half-crown.

Kate Greenaway.

II

THE PALACE GARDEN

_The Garden Year_

January brings the snow,

Makes our feet and fingers glow.

February brings the rain,

Thaws the frozen lake again.

March brings breezes, loud and shrill,

To stir the dancing daffodil.

April brings the primrose sweet,

Scatters daisies at our feet.

May brings flocks of pretty lambs,

Skipping by their fleecy dams.

June brings tulips, lilies, roses,

Fills the children's hands with posies.

Hot July brings cooling showers,

Apricots, and gillyflowers.

August brings the sheaves of corn,

Then the harvest home is borne.

Warm September brings the fruit;

Sportsmen then begin to shoot.

Fresh October brings the pheasant;

Then to gather nuts is pleasant.

Dull November brings the blast;

Then the leaves are whirling fast.

Chill December brings the sleet,

Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.

Unknown.

_The Child and the World_

I see a nest in a green elm-tree

With little brown sparrows,--one, two, three!

The elm-tree stretches its branches wide,

And the nest is soft and warm inside.

At morn the sun, so golden bright,

Climbs up to fill the world with light;

It opens the flowers, it wakens me,

And wakens the birdies,--one, two, three.

And leaning out of my window high,

I look far up at the blue, blue sky,

And then far out at the earth so green,

And think it the loveliest ever seen,--

The loveliest world that ever was seen!

But by and by, when the sun is low,

And birds and babies sleepy grow,

I peep again from my window high,

And look at the earth and clouds and sky.

The night dew falls in silent showers,

To cool the hearts of thirsty flowers;

The moon comes out,--the slender thing,

A crescent yet, but soon a ring,--

And brings with her one yellow star;

How small it looks, away so far!

But soon, in the heaven's shining blue,

A thousand twinkle and blink at you,

Like a thousand lamps in the sky so blue.

And hush! a light breeze stirs the tree,

And rocks the birdies,--one, two, three.

What a beautiful cradle, that soft, warm nest!

What a dear little coverlid, mother-bird's breast!

She's hugging them close to her, tight, so tight

That each downy head is hid from sight;

But out from under her sheltering wings

Their bright eyes glisten, the darling things!

I lean far out from my window's height

And say, "Dear, lovely world, good-night!

Good-night, dear, pretty, baby moon!

Your cradle you'll outgrow quite soon,

And then, perhaps, all night you'll shine,

A grown-up lady moon, so fine

And bright that all the stars

Will want to light their lamps from yours.

Sleep sweetly, birdies, never fear,

For God is always watching near!

And you, dear, friendly world above,

The same One holds us in His love;

Both you so great, and I so small,

Are safe,--He sees the sparrows fall,

The dear God watcheth over all!"

Kate Douglas Wiggin.

_The Gravel Path_

Baby mustn't frown,

When she tumbles down;

If the wind should change--Ah me,

What a face her face would be!

Rub away the dirt,

Say she wasn't hurt;

What a world 'twould be--O my,

If all who fell began to cry!

Laurence Alma Tadema.

_A Dewdrop_

Little drop of dew,

Like a gem you are;

I believe that you

Must have been a star.

When the day is bright,

On the grass you lie;

Tell me then, at night

Are you in the sky?

Frank Dempster Sherman.

_Who Has Seen the Wind?_

Who has seen the wind?

Neither I nor you:

But when the leaves hang trembling,

The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I:

But when the trees bow down their heads,

The wind is passing by.

Christina G. Rossetti

_The Wind's Song_

O winds that blow across the sea,

What is the story that you bring?

Leaves clap their hands on every tree

And birds about their branches sing.

You sing to flowers and trees and birds

Your sea-songs over all the land.

Could you not stay and whisper words

A little child might understand?

The roses nod to hear you sing;

But though I listen all the day,

You never tell me anything

Of father's ship so far away.

Its masts are taller than the trees;

Its sails are silver in the sun;

There's not a ship upon the seas

So beautiful as father's one.

With wings spread out it flies so fast

It leaves the waves all white with foam.

Just whisper to me, blowing past,

If you have seen it sailing home.

I feel your breath upon my cheek,

And in my hair, and on my brow.

Dear winds, if you could only speak,

I know what you would tell me now.

My father's coming home, you'd say,

With precious presents, one, two, three;

A shawl for mother, beads for May,

And eggs and shells for Rob and me.

The winds sing songs where'er they roam;

The leaves all clap their little hands;

For father's ship is coming home

With wondrous things from foreign lands.

Gabriel Setoun.

_Who Likes the Rain?_

"I," said the duck. "I call it fun,

For I have my pretty red rubbers on;

They make a little three-toed track,

In the soft, cool mud,--quack! quack!"

"I!" cried the dandelion, "I!

My roots are thirsty, my buds are dry."

And she lifted a towsled yellow head

Out of her green and grassy bed.

"I hope 'twill pour! I hope 'twill pour!"

Purred the tree-toad at his gray bark door,

"For, with a broad leaf for a roof,

I am perfectly weather-proof."

Sang the brook: "I laugh at every drop,

And wish they never need to stop

Till a big, big river I grew to be,

And could find my way to the sea."