And then she will purr,
And thus show her thanks
For my kindness to her;
I'll not pinch her ears,
Nor tread on her paw,
Lest I should provoke her
To use her sharp claw;
I never will vex her,
Nor make her displeased,
For Pussy can't bear
To be worried or teased.
Jane Taylor.
IV
THE PALACE JEST-BOOK
_The Owl and the Eel and the Warming-Pan_
The owl and the eel and the warming-pan,
They went to call on the soap-fat man.
The soap-fat man he was not within:
He'd gone for a ride on his rolling-pin.
So they all came back by the way of the town,
And turned the meeting-house upside down.
Laura E. Richards.
_The Fastidious Serpent_
There was a snake that dwelt in Skye,
Over the misty sea, oh;
He liv'd upon nothing but gooseberry-pie
For breakfast, dinner, and tea, oh.
Now gooseberry-pie--as is very well known--
Over the misty sea, oh,
Is not to be found under every stone,
Nor yet upon every tree, oh.
And being so ill to please with his meat,
Over the misty sea, oh,
The snake had sometimes nothing to eat,
And an angry snake was he, oh.
Then he'd flick his tongue and his head he'd shake,
Over the misty sea, oh,
Crying, "Gooseberry-pie! For goodness' sake
Some gooseberry-pie for me, oh!"
And if gooseberry-pie was not to be had,
Over the misty sea, oh,
He'd twine and twist like an eel gone mad,
Or a worm just stung by a bee, oh.
But though he might shout and wriggle about,
Over the misty sea, oh,
The snake had often to go without
His breakfast, dinner, and tea, oh.
Henry Johnstone.
_Snake Story_
There was a little Serpent and he wouldn't go to school--
Oh, what a naughty little Snake!
He grinn'd and put his tongue out when they said it was the rule--
Ah, what a naughty face to make.
He wriggled off behind a stone and hid himself from sight--
Oh, what a naughty thing to do!
And went to sleep as if it were the middle of the night--
I wouldn't do like that, would you?
He dreamt of stealing linties' eggs and sucking them quite dry--
Oh, what a greedy thing to dream!
And then he dreamt that he had wings and knew the way to fly--
Ah, what a pleasure that would seem!
By came a collie dog and said, "What have we here?
Oh, it's a horrid little Snake!"
He bark'd at him and woke him up and fill'd him full of fear--
Ah, how his heart began to quake!
How the Serpent got away he really didn't know--
Oh, what a dreadful fright he got!
But he hurried all the way to school as hard as he could go,
Dusty and terrified and hot.
As into school he wriggled, they were putting books away--
"Oh," says the master, "is it you?
Stand upon that stool, sir, while the others go to play;
That's what a truant has to do."
Henry Johnstone.
_The Melancholy Pig_
There was a Pig, that sat alone,
Beside a ruined Pump.
By day and night he made his moan:
It would have stirred a heart of stone
To see him wring his hoofs and groan,
Because he could not jump.
Lewis Carroll.
_Hospitality_
Said a Snake to a Frog with a wrinkled skin,
"As I notice, dear, that your dress is thin,
And a rain is coming, I'll take you in."
John B. Tabb.
_Lost_
"_Lock the dairy door!_" Oh, hark, the cock is crowing proudly!
"_Lock the dairy door!_" and all the hens are cackling loudly:
"_Chickle, chackle, chee,_" they cry; "_we haven't got the key,_"
they cry;
"_Chickle, chackle, chee! Oh, dear, wherever can it be!_" they cry.
Up and down the garden walks where all the flowers are blowing,
Out about the golden fields where tall the wheat is growing,
Through the barn and up the road they cackle and they chatter:
Cry the children, "Hear the hens! Why, what can be the matter?"
What scraping and what scratching, what bristling and what hustling;
The cock stands on the fence, the wind his ruddy plumage rustling;
Like a soldier grand he stands, and like a trumpet glorious
Sounds his shout both far and near, imperious and victorious.
But to partlets down below, who cannot find the key, they hear,
"_Lock the dairy door!_" That's all his challenge says to them,
my dear.
Why they had it, how they lost it, must remain a mystery;
I that tell you, never heard the first part of the history.
But if you will listen, dear, next time the cock crows proudly,
"_Lock the dairy door!_" you'll hear him tell the biddies loudly:
"_Chickle, chackle, chee,_" they cry; "_we haven't got the key!_"
they cry;
"_Chickle, chackle, chee! Oh, dear, wherever can it be!_" they cry.
Celia Thaxter.
_Extremes_[6]
I
A little boy once played so loud
That the Thunder, up in a thunder-cloud,
Said, "Since _I_ can't be heard, why, then,
I'll never, never thunder again!"
II
And a little girl once kept so still
That she heard a fly on the window-sill
Whisper and say to a lady-bird,--
"She's the stilliest child I ever heard!"
James Whitcomb Riley.
[Footnote 6: _From "The Book of Joyous Children," copyright 1902, by
Chas. Scribner's Sons._]
_The Dream of a Girl Who Lived at Seven-Oaks_
Seven sweet singing birds up in a tree;
Seven swift sailing-ships white upon the sea;
Seven bright weather-cocks shining in the sun;
Seven slim race-horses ready for a run;
Seven gold butterflies, flitting overhead;
Seven red roses blowing in a garden bed;
Seven white lilies, with honey bees inside them;
Seven round rainbows with clouds to divide them;
Seven pretty little girls with sugar on their lips;
Seven witty little boys, whom everybody tips;
Seven nice fathers, to call little maids joys;
Seven nice mothers, to kiss the little boys;
Seven nights running I dreamt it all plain;
With bread and jam for supper I could dream it all again!
William Brighty Rands.
_The Dream of a Boy Who Lived at Nine-Elms_
Nine grenadiers, with bayonets in their guns;
Nine bakers' baskets, with hot-cross buns;
Nine brown elephants, standing in a row;
Nine new velocipedes, good ones to go;
Nine knickerbocker suits, with buttons all complete;
Nine pair of skates with straps for the feet;
Nine clever conjurors eating hot coals;
Nine sturdy mountaineers leaping on their poles;
Nine little drummer-boys beating on their drums;
Nine fat aldermen sitting on their thumbs;
Nine new knockers to our front door;
Nine new neighbours that I never saw before;
Nine times running I dreamt it all plain;
With bread and cheese for supper I could dream it all again!
William Brighty Rands.
_A Little Boy's Pocket_
Do you know what's in my pottet?
Such a lot of treasures in it!
Listen now while I bedin it:
Such a lot of sings it holds,
And everysin dats in my pottet,
And when, and where, and how I dot it.
First of all, here's in my pottet
A beauty shell, I pit'd it up:
And here's the handle of a tup
That somebody has broked at tea;
The shell's a hole in it, you see:
Nobody knows dat I dot it,
I teep it safe here in my pottet.
And here's my ball too in my pottet,
And here's my pennies, one, two, free,
That Aunty Mary dave to me,
To-morrow day I'll buy a spade,
When I'm out walking with the maid;
I tant put that here in my pottet!
But I can use it when I've dot it.
Here's some more sings in my pottet,
Here's my lead, and here's my string;
And once I had an iron ring,
But through a hole it lost one day,
And this is what I always say--
A hole's the worst sing in a pottet,
Be sure and mend it when you've dot it.
Unknown.
_A. Apple Pie_
a
A was once an apple-pie,
Pidy,
Widy,
Tidy,
Pidy,
Nice insidy,
Apple-pie!
b
B was once a little bear,
Beary,
Wary,
Hairy,
Beary,
Taky caky,
Little bear!
c
C was once a little cake,
Caky,
Baky,
Maky,
Caky,
Taky caky,
Little cake!
d
D was once a little doll,
Dolly,
Molly,
Polly,
Nolly,
Nursy dolly,
Little doll!
e
E was once a little eel,
Eely,
Weely,
Peely,
Eely,
Twirly, tweely,
Little eel!
f
F was once a little fish,
Fishy,
Wishy,
Squishy,
Fishy,
In a dishy,
Little fish!
g
G was once a little goose,
Goosy,
Moosy,
Boosey,
Goosey,
Waddly-woosy,
Little goose!
h
H was once a little hen,
Henny,
Chenny,
Tenny,
Henny,
Eggsy-any,
Little hen?
i
I was once a bottle of ink,
Inky,
Dinky,
Thinky,
Inky,
Blacky minky,
Bottle of ink!
j
J was once a jar of jam,
Jammy,
Mammy,
Clammy,
Jammy,
Sweety, swammy,
Jar of jam!
k
K was once a little kite,
Kity,
Whity,
Flighty,
Kity,
Out of sighty,
Little kite!
l
L was once a little lark,
Larky,
Marky,
Harky,
Larky,
In the parky,
Little lark!
m
M was once a little mouse,
Mousy,
Bousy,
Sousy,
Mousy,
In the housy,
Little mouse!
n
N was once a little needle,
Needly,
Tweedly,
Threedly,
Needly,
Wisky, wheedly,
Little needle!
o
O was once a little owl,
Owly,
Prowly,
Howly,
Owly,
Browny fowly,
Little owl!
p
P was once a little pump,
Pumpy,
Slumpy,
Flumpy,
Pumpy,
Dumpy, thumpy,
Little pump!
q
Q was once a little quail,
Quaily,
Faily,
Daily,
Quaily,
Stumpy-taily,
Little quail!
r
R was once a little rose,
Rosy,
Posy,
Nosy,
Rosy,
Blows-y, grows-y,
Little rose!
s
S was once a little shrimp,
Shrimpy,
Nimpy,
Flimpy,
Shrimpy,
Jumpy, jimpy,
Little shrimp!
t
T was once a little thrush,
Thrushy,
Hushy,
Bushy,
Thrushy,
Flitty, flushy,
Little thrush!
u
U was once a little urn,
Urny,
Burny,
Turny,
Urny,
Bubbly, burny,
Little urn!
v
V was once a little vine,
Viny,
Winy,
Twiny,
Viny,
Twisty-twiny,
Little vine!
w
W was once a whale,
Whaly,
Scaly,
Shaly,
Whaly,
Tumbly-taily,
Mighty whale!
x
X was once a great king Xerxes,
Xerxy,
Perxy,
Turxy,
Xerxy,
Linxy, lurxy,
Great King Xerxes!
y
Y was once a little yew,
Yewdy,
Fewdy,
Crudy,
Yewdy,
Growdy, grewdy,
Little yew!
z
Z was once a piece of zinc,
Tinky,
Winky,
Blinky,
Tinky,
Tinkly minky,
Piece of zinc!
Edward Lear.
_A was an Ant_
A was an ant
Who seldom stood still,
And who made a nice house
In the side of a hill.
a
Nice little ant!
B was a book
With a binding of blue,
And pictures and stories
For me and for you.
b
Nice little book!
C was a cat
Who ran after a rat;
But his courage did fail
When she seized on his tail.
c
Crafty old cat!
D was a duck
With spots on his back,
Who lived in the water,
And always said "Quack!"
d
Dear little duck!
E was an elephant,
Stately and wise:
He had tusks and a trunk,
And two queer little eyes.
e
Oh, what funny small eyes!
F was a fish
Who was caught in a net;
But he got out again,
And is quite alive yet.
f
Lively young fish!
G was a goat
Who was spotted with brown:
When he did not lie still
He walked up and down.
g
Good little goat!
H was a hat
Which was all on one side;
Its crown was too high,
And its brim was too wide.
h
Oh, what a hat!
I was some ice
So white and so nice,
But which nobody tasted;
And so it was wasted.
i
All that good ice!
J was a jackdaw
Who hopped up and down
In the principal street
Of a neighboring town.
j
All through the town!
K was a kite
Which flew out of sight,
Above houses so high,
Quite into the sky.
k
Fly away, kite!
L was a light
Which burned all the night,
And lighted the gloom
Of a very dark room.
l
Useful nice light!
M was a mill
Which stood on a hill,
And turned round and round
With a loud hummy sound.
m
Useful old mill!
N was a net
Which was thrown in the sea
To catch fish for dinner
For you and for me.
n
Nice little net!
O was an orange
So yellow and round:
When it fell off the tree,
It fell down to the ground.
o
Down to the ground!
P was a pig,
Who was not very big;
But his tail was too curly,
And that made him surly.
p
Cross little pig!
Q was a quail
With a very short tail;
And he fed upon corn
In the evening and morn.
q
Quaint little quail!
R was a rabbit,
Who had a bad habit
Of eating the flowers
In gardens and bowers.
r
Naughty fat rabbit!
S was the sugar-tongs,
Nippity-nee,
To take up the sugar
To put in our tea.
s
Nippity-nee!
T was a tortoise,
All yellow and black:
He walked slowly away,
And he never came back.
t
Torty never came back!
U was an urn
All polished and bright,
And full of hot water
At noon and at night.
u
Useful old urn!
V was a villa
Which stood on a hill,
By the side of a river,
And close to a mill.
v
Nice little villa!
W was a whale
With a very long tail,
Whose movements were frantic
Across the Atlantic.
w
Monstrous old whale!
X was King Xerxes,
Who, more than all Turks, is
Renowned for his fashion
Of fury and passion.
x
Angry old Xerxes!
Y was a yew,
Which flourished and grew
By a quiet abode
Near the side of a road.
y
Dark little yew!
Z was some zinc,
So shiny and bright,
Which caused you to wink
In the sun's merry light.
z
Beautiful zinc!
Edward Lear.
_The Table and the Chair_
I
Said the Table to the Chair,
"You can hardly be aware
How I suffer from the heat
And from chilblains on my feet.
If we took a little walk,
We might have a little talk;
Pray let us take the air,"
Said the Table to the Chair.
II
Said the Chair unto the Table,
"Now, you _know_ we are not able:
How foolishly you talk,
When you know we _cannot_ walk!"
Said the Table with a sigh,
"It can do no harm to try.
I've as many legs as you:
Why can't we walk on two?"
III
So they both went slowly down,
And walked about the town
With a cheerful bumpy sound
As they toddled round and round;
And everybody cried,
As they hastened to their side,
"See! the Table and the Chair
Have come out to take the air!"
IV
But in going down an alley,
To a castle in a valley,
They completely lost their way,
And wandered all the day;
Till, to see them safely back,
They paid a Ducky-quack,
And a Beetle, and a Mouse,
Who took them to their house.
V
Then they whispered to each other,
"O delightful little brother,
What a lovely walk we've taken!
Let us dine on beans and bacon."
So the Ducky and the leetle
Browny-Mousy and the Beetle
Dined, and danced upon their heads
Till they toddled to their beds.
Edward Lear.
_Feeding the Fairies_
Fairies, fairies, come and be fed,
Come and be fed like hens and cocks;
Hither and thither with delicate tread,
Flutter around me in fairy flocks.
Come, little fairies, from far and near;
Come, little fairies, I know you can fly;
Who can be dear if _you_ are not dear?
And who is so fond of a fairy as I?
Fairies, fairies, come if you please,
Nod your heads and ruffle your wings,
Marching in order or standing at ease,
Frolicsome fairies are dear little things!
Golden the grain and silver the rice,
Pleasant the crumbs from Mama's own bread,
Currants pick'd out of the pudding are nice--
Fairies, fairies, come and be fed!
Hushaby, oh! hushaby, oh!
Hide by the door--keep very still--
I must be gentle, I must speak low,
Or frighten the fairies I certainly will.
Fairies are easily frighten'd, I know;
They are so small, we must pity their fears.
Hushaby, oh! hushaby, oh!
Coax them and humour them--poor little dears!
Fairies, fairies, why don't you come?
Fairies, fairies, wherefore delay?
In a few minutes I must run home--
Cross little creatures! you know I can't stay!
See how I scatter your beautiful food--
Good little fairies would come when I call;
Fairies, fairies, _won't_ you be good?
What is the use of my speaking at all?
"Two Friends."
_The Fairy_
Oh, who is so merry
As the light-hearted fairy?
He dances and sings
To the sound of his wings,
With a hey, and a heigh, and a ho!
Oh, who is so merry
As the light-hearted fairy?
His nectar he sips
From the primrose's lips,
With a hey, and a heigh, and a ho!
Oh, who is so merry
As the light-hearted fairy?
His night is the noon,
And his sun is the moon,
With a hey, and a heigh, and a ho!
Unknown.
V
THE QUEEN-MOTHER'S COUNSEL
_A Thought_[7]
It is very nice to think
The world is full of meat and drink,
With little children saying grace
In every Christian kind of place.
Robert Louis Stevenson.
[Footnote 7: _From "Poems and Ballads," copyright, 1895, 1896, by
Chas. Scribner's Sons._]
_Inscription for My Little Son's Silver Plate_[8]
When thou dost eat from off this plate,
I charge thee be thou temperate;
Unto thine elders at the board
Do thou sweet reverence accord;
And, though to dignity inclined,
Unto the serving-folk be kind;
Be ever mindful of the poor,
Nor turn them hungry from the door;
And unto God, for health and food
And all that in thy life is good,
Give thou thy heart in gratitude.
Eugene Field.
[Footnote 8: _From "The Book of Joyous Children," copyright, 1902, by
Chas. Scribner's Sons._]
_Praise God_
Praise God for wheat, so white and sweet.
Of which to make our bread!
Praise God for yellow corn, with which
His waiting world is fed!
Praise God for fish and flesh and fowl
He gave to men for food!
Praise God for every creature which
He made and called it good!
Praise God for winter's store of ice,
Praise God for summer's heat!
Praise God for fruit trees bearing seed,
"To you it is for meat!"
Praise God for all the bounty
By which the world is fed!
Praise God, ye children all, to whom
He gives your daily bread!
Unknown.
_The Eyes of God_
God watches o'er us all the day,
At home, at school, and at our play;
And when the sun has left the skies
He watches with a million eyes.
Gabriel Setoun.
_Kindness to Animals_
Little children, never give
Pain to things that feel and live:
Let the gentle robin come
For the crumbs you save at home,--
As his meat you throw along
He'll repay you with a song;
Never hurt the timid hare
Peeping from her green grass lair,
Let her come and sport and play
On the lawn at close of day;
The little lark goes soaring high
To the bright windows of the sky,
Singing as if 'twere always spring,
And fluttering on an untired wing,--
Oh! let him sing his happy song,
Nor do these gentle creatures wrong.
Unknown.
_How Doth the Little Busy Bee_
How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flow'r!
How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labour or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past,
That I may give for ev'ry day
Some good account at last.
Isaac Watts.
_Deeds of Kindness_
Suppose the little cowslip
Should hang its golden cup,
And say, "I'm such a tiny flower,
I'd better not grow up."
How many a weary traveller
Would miss its fragrant smell!
How many a little child would grieve
To lose it from the dell!
Suppose the glistening dewdrop
Upon the grass should say,
"What can a little dewdrop do?
I'd better roll away."
The blade on which it rested,
Before the day was done,
Without a drop to moisten it,
Would wither in the sun.
Suppose the little breezes,
Upon a summer's day,
Should think themselves too small to cool
The traveller on his way:
Who would not miss the smallest
And softest ones that blow,
And think they made a great mistake,
If they were talking so?
How many deeds of kindness
A little child may do,
Although it has so little strength,
And little wisdom too!
It wants a loving spirit,
Much more than strength, to prove
How many things a child may do
For others by its love.
F. P.
_Good Advice_
Seldom "can't,"
Seldom "don't";
Never "shan't,"
Never "won't."
Christina G. Rossetti.
_I'll Try_
Two Robin Redbreasts built their nest
Within a hollow tree;
The hen sat quietly at home,
The cock sang merrily;
And all the little robins said:
"Wee, wee, wee, wee, wee, wee."
One day the sun was warm and bright,
And shining in the sky,
Cock Robin said: "My little dears,
'Tis time you learned to fly";
And all the little young ones said:
"I'll try, I'll try, I'll try."
I know a child, and who she is
I'll tell you by and by,
When mother says "Do this," or "that,"
She says "What for?" and "Why?"
She'd be a better child by far
If she would say "I'll try."
Unknown.
_Clothes_
Although my clothes are fine and gay
They should not make me vain,
For Nurse can take them all away,
And put them on again.
Each flower _grows_ her pretty gown,
So does each little weed,
Their dresses are their very own,
They may be proud indeed!
Abbie Farwell Brown.
_A Music Box_
I am a little Music Box
Wound up and made to go,
And play my little living-tune
The best way that I know.
If I am naughty, cross, or rude
The music will go wrong,
My little works be tangled up,
And spoil the pretty song.
I must be very sweet and good
And happy all the day,
And then the little Music Box
In tune will always play.
Abbie Farwell Brown.
_If Ever I See_
If ever I see,
On bush or tree,
Young birds in their pretty nest,
I must not in play,
Steal the birds away,
To grieve their mother's breast.
My mother, I know,
Would sorrow so,
Should I be stolen away;
So I'll speak to the birds
In my softest words,
Nor hurt them in my play.
And when they can fly
In the bright blue sky,
They'll warble a song to me;
And then if I'm sad
It will make me glad
To think they are happy and free.
Lydia Maria Child.
_Employment_
Who'll come and play with me here under the tree,
My sisters have left me alone;
My sweet little Sparrow, come hither to me,
And play with me while they are gone.
O no, little lady, I can't come, indeed,
I've no time to idle away,
I've got all my dear little children to feed,
And my nest to new cover with hay.
Pretty Bee, do not buzz about over the flower,
But come here and play with me, do:
The Sparrow won't come and stay with me an hour
But stay, pretty Bee--will not you?
O no, little lady, for do not you see,
Those must work who would prosper and thrive,
If I play, they would call me a sad idle bee,
And perhaps turn me out of the hive.
Stop! stop! little Ant--do not run off so fast,
Wait with me a little and play:
I hope I shall find a companion at last,
You are not so busy as they.
O no, little lady, I can't stay with you,
We're not made to play, but to labor:
I always have something or other to do,
If not for myself, for a neighbor.
What then, have they all some employment but me,
Who lie lounging here like a dunce?
O then, like the Ant, and the Sparrow, and Bee,
I'll go to my lesson at once.
Jane Taylor.
_Stitching_
A pocket handkerchief to hem--
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!
How many stitches it will take
Before it's done, I fear.
Yet set a stitch and then a stitch,
And stitch and stitch away,
Till stitch by stitch the hem is done--
And after work is play!
Christina G. Rossetti.
_Learning to Play_
Upon a tall piano stool
I have to sit and play
A stupid finger exercise
For half an hour a day.
They call it "playing," but to me
It's not a bit of fun.
I _play_ when I am out of doors,
Where I can jump and run.
But Mother says the little birds
Who sing so nicely now,
Had first to learn, and practice too,
All sitting on a bough.
And maybe if I practice hard,
Like them, I too, some day,
Shall make the pretty music sound;
Then I shall call it "play."
Abbie Farwell Brown.
_In Trust_[9]
It's coming, boys,
It's almost here;
It's coming, girls,
The grand New Year!
A year to be glad in,
Not to be bad in;
A year to live in,
To gain and give in;
A year for trying,
And not for sighing;
A year for striving
And hearty thriving;
A bright new year.
Oh! hold it dear;
For God who sendeth
He only lendeth.
Mary Mapes Dodge.
[Footnote 9: _From "Rhymes and Jingles," copyright, 1874, 1904, by
Chas. Scribner's Sons._]
VI
THE PALACE BED-TIME
_Watching Angels_
Angels at the foot,
And Angels at the head,
And like a curly little lamb
My pretty babe in bed.
Christina G. Rossetti.
_The Story of Baby's Blanket_
Once a little Baby,
On a sunny day,
Out among the daisies
Took his happy way.
Little lambs were frisking
In the fields so green,
While the fleecy mothers
All at rest were seen.
For a while the Baby
Played and played and played;
Then he sat and rested
In the pleasant shade.
Soon a Sheep came near him,
Growing very bold,
And this wondrous story
To the Baby told:
"Baby's little blanket,
Socks and worsted ball,
Winter cap and mittens,
And his flannels all,
And his pretty afghan
Warm and soft and fine,
Once as wool were growing
On this back of mine!
"And the soft bed blankets,
For his cosey sleep,
These were also given
By his friends, the sheep."
Such the wondrous story
That the Baby heard:
Did he understand it?
Not a single word!
Emilie Poulsson.
_The Story of Baby's Pillow_
These are the Eggs that were put in a nest;
These are the Goslings in yellow down drest.
This is the Farmyard where, living in peace,
All the young Goslings grew up to be Geese.
Here's the Goose family waddling about--
In a procession they always walk out.
This is the Farmer who said, "Every Goose
Now has some feathers on, ready for use."
This is the Farmer's Wife, plucking with care
All of the feathers the Geese can well spare.
This is the Pillow the Merchant displayed:
"Yes, of the finest Goose-feathers 'tis made."
This is the Mother who put on its case,
Laid the wee Pillow away in its place.
This is the Crib with its furnishings white,
This the dear Baby who bids you "Good-night."
Emilie Poulsson.
_The New Moon_
Dear mother, how pretty
The moon looks to-night!
She was never so cunning before;
Her two little horns
Are so sharp and so bright,
I hope she'll not grow any more.
If I were up there
With you and my friends,
I'd rock in it nicely, you see;
I'd sit in the middle
And hold by both ends;
O, what a bright cradle 'twould be!