As Dot sat by the fire one night,

"WINKS"

A BOOK OF RECITATIONS FOR BOYS

"THOUGHTS"

A BOOK OF READINGS FOR THE

GIRLS AND BOYS IN TEENS

BY

ALICE LEWIS RICHARDS

[Illustration: LAILA'S SMILES]

"SMILES"

_A BOOK OF RECITATIONS

FOR GIRLS_

BY

ALICE LEWIS RICHARDS

AKRON, OHIO

1900

COPYRIGHT, 1899

BY

ALICE LEWIS RICHARDS

PREFACE

In writing this little book of recitations it has been the aim of the

author to help fill a long-felt want, namely: A work written especially

for children; with recitations suitable for all occasions, that will

please the children.

Any little girl can find in this book "some piece to speak," from the

time she learns to talk until the time shall arrive for her to lay away

her dollies for other joys that come with later years.

A. L. R.

My daughter, Laila Myrtle,

Though your years are only few,

This book of "Mama's Poems"

I dedicate to you.

Some were written while you slumbered,

Some were written while you played;

Some the Muses brought to mama

While at grandma's you have stayed.

Some were written for your pleasure

"'Cause you always liked to speak,"

So I penned "Only a Sparrow,"

That the moral you might teach.

When you are grown, my daughter,

And back upon your childhood look,

Oh! how sweet will be the memories

Of the writing of this book!

CONTENTS

PAGE

ROBIN'S RETURN 11

PAPA'S BEST GIRL 14

DOES JESUS KNOW 15

LILA'S CONCLUSION 17

EMMA'S IDEAL 20

ALICE'S CHOICE 22

WHAT JANIE THINKS 24

MYRTLE'S LETTER 27

ONLY A SPARROW 29

MAY'S APPLE-TREE 32

TEACHING A LESSON 34

THE LITTLE CRIB BED 38

ROBIN'S FAREWELL 40

THE FOOLISH FLOWERS 43

GRANDPA AND PET 46

WHEN I WAS A BABY 49

DOT'S NEW LEAF 51

DREAMING, SWEETLY DREAMING 53

THE SNOWDROP'S CALL 55

WHEN BROTHER WAS A SISTER 57

WE'RE ONLY LITTLE CHILDREN 61

A DREAM OF EASTER 62

MOTHER ROBIN 64

MABEL GRAY 67

THE NAUGHTY CROW 69

THE BIRDS' GOOD-NIGHT 70

SANTA'S QUEER JOKE 72

LITTLE SUNBEAMS 76

WHERE DO BABIES GO 77

WHEN MY KITTY WAS A KITTEN 80

THE BUSY LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER 82

GRANDMA'S POCKET 84

WHAT GOOD IS A BROTHER 86

MR. HOP-TOAD 89

MINNIE'S SECRET 90

NELLIE'S EASTER EGGS 92

WHEN DOLLY WAS SICK 95

AUNTIE'S PARLOR 98

OFF TO SCHOOL WE GO 100

CLARABEL'S VALENTINE 102

THANKSGIVING AT GRANDMA'S 105

DOLLY DAYS 109

THAT GIGGLE 112

MARION'S LAMENT 113

WHEN I'M A BIG GIRL 114

WHAT THE BELLS SAID 116

WHY 118

BECAUSE 120

HOW HAZEL KEPT HOUSE 122

DROPS OF HONEY 125

WHEN MY DOLLY WENT TO SCHOOL 126

THREE LITTLE KITTENS 128

THE SPIDER'S PARLOR 129

MOTHER GOOSE'S DINNER PARTY 132

OLIVE'S ADVICE 136

THE OLD AND THE NEW 137

PA'S WAYS 139

THE SPIDER AND THE BEE 142

KITTY BELL 143

THE BIRDS' PARTY 145

JANUARY 148

FEBRUARY 149

MARCH 150

APRIL 151

MAY 152

JUNE 153

_Little girls with sunny smiles,

Little girls with happy whiles,

When you through these pages look,

I hope you will enjoy your book._

ROBIN'S RETURN

A robin came one day in spring,

From South he flew with tired wing;

He looked around him then to see

An old familiar cherry-tree.

There grew one by the kitchen door,

Redbreast had seen that one before;

He flew about, then lit up high,

And watched to see some one pass by.

A girl came through the kitchen door,

Her years, I think, just numbered four;

She saw Redbreast, and called to him,

As he perched upon that cherry limb:--

"Oh, sweet robin! When did you come?

Are you hungry? Do you want a crumb?

Are you thirsty? Do you want a drink?

You must be very tired, I think.

"Say, Sir Robin, why don't you sing?

Or don't you know that this is spring?

Where have you been this winter long?

I missed, so much, your little song!"

"I flew about in a sunny clime,

Singing my 'cheer-up!' most the time.

And what did you, my little maid,

While I down South this winter stayed?"

"When Christmas came we had a tree,

And that was nice for Lisle and me;

'Twas hung so full of things all new,

I wish that you had seen it too.

"I got some blocks and he a drum,

I tell you then we had some fun!

We got some dolls and whistles too,

And then we played, and then we blew.

"We got a sled and went to slide;

We went to town and had a ride;

We popped some corn when days were cold,

And ate as much as we could hold.

"One doll got sick and had the croup,

Another coughed with dreadful whoop;

And so, Redbreast, I think you'll see

I've been as busy as I could be.

"And now, Redbreast, where is your mate?

What made her stay down South so late?

Why don't she come to build her nest,

And lay some eggs, and sit and rest?"

"Oh, she'll come soon, and then you'll see

We'll build right here in this same tree,

And here we'll stay till cherries are gone,

And then sing you a parting song."

PAPA'S BEST GIRL

I'm mama's little baby,

I'm grandpa's little lady,

I'm uncle's little trouble,

I'm auntie's little bubble,

But, I'm papa's best girl.

DOES JESUS KNOW?

When the Easter chimes are ringing,

And the church choir gladly singing,

Of that Easter long ago;

When we sing the old, old story,

How He rose from death to glory,

How I wonder! does Jesus know?

When we're singing of His dying,

And our music turns to sighing

O'er His suffering and His woe;

When we're singing of the morrow,

That will never more bring sorrow,

How I wonder! does Jesus know?

When we're singing of the flowers,

And of springtime and the showers

That doth make the grasses grow;

When our songs are all of praises

For the lilies and the daisies,

How I wonder! does Jesus know?

Does He hear us when we're singing?

Does He hear the church bells ringing

As they're swinging to and fro?

Does He hear us when we're praying?

Does He hear what we are saying?

How I wonder! does Jesus know?

Yes, up in that land of glory,

Where no one is ever sorry,

All our heavenly music goes.

So no longer will I wonder

If He hears us way up yonder,

For I'm _sure_ that Jesus _knows_.

LILA'S CONCLUSION

You may talk about old Santa Claus,

With his sleigh and fleeting deer;

You may tell about his furry coat

And the jingling bells you hear.

You may talk about the Christmas trees

Which he loads with lots of toys;

You may tell about the dolls and sleds

That he brings for girls and boys.

You may picture him in story-books.

With a beard that's long and white;

You may paint him when he's going down

Through the chimneys in the night.

You may tell the story o'er and o'er

Just the way 'twas told to you;

And I've listened to it often,

But I've learned it isn't true.

You may write about his pretty deer,

As they climb upon the roofs,

But it's very plain to any one

That they can't climb up with hoofs.

And I know that Santa never went

Down a chimney in the night,

For they all are dark and small around,

And they'd squeeze him awful tight.

If he ever did get into one,

Then he never could get out,

For they picture him in story-books

With a form that's broad and stout.

Then he can't come through the outside doors,

For the bolts and locks are there;

Nor he can't get through the cellar door

To climb the cellar stair.

Nor he never could get over all

This whole world in a night,

To fill the little stockings up,

And get home before it's light.

Then no one ever seems to know

Where the dear old fellow dwells;

And no-one ever saw his sleigh,

Nor heard his jingling bells.

I've looked the maps all through and through,

But his home I cannot find;

So at last I've concluded this:

That he's only "in your mind."

And this pretty little tale you tell

To the babies may be told;

But 'twill hardly do for me to hear,

For I've grown too big and old.

EMMA'S IDEAL

I like to see a handsome boy,

With good and honest face;

The one who has a twinkling eye

And form of manly grace.

I like to see him go to school,

And like to see him play;

But much, I fear, of what he does

Is time just thrown away.

I much admire the little man

Who brings the coal and wood;

And helps his mama when she's tired,

As every good boy should.

I like the boy who never steals

The pie upon the shelf;

And never hunts the cookies up

To eat them all himself.

I like the boy who heeds advice,

And does as he should do;

And so I like the thoughtful lad

Who's good to sister too.

And thus you see my views are plain,

And when I older grow

I sometimes think--I guess--may be--

That I--shall have--a beau.

But he must be the model lad,

Who does not chew nor swear;

And he must be a temperance boy,

Who goes not on a tear.

He must not speak of parents dear,

Regardless of respect;

He must not call them fogies old,

Nor their advice reject.

And so the one that I will take,

And love him as a brother,

Will be the good, old-fashioned boy,

Who always minds his mother.

ALICE'S CHOICE

I'd ruther be a little girl

An' have a lovely doll,

Than be a boy with a pistol toy,

Or have a bat an' ball.

I'd ruther be a little girl,

'Cause they are sweeter far

Than all the boys with all their noise,

No differns who they are.

For little girls is always good,

An' try to do their part;

But boys will shirk their share of work,

An' think they're acting smart.

An' little boys is naughty too,

An' often tease us girls,

About our dresses an' our tresses,

An' pull our pretty curls.

They laugh at us jess 'cause we cry

When we gits hurt at play;

But we don't care,--they do their share

Of cryin' every day.

They calls us little "frady-calves,"

'Cause we's afeard of mice,

An' dogs, an' cats, an' snakes, an' rats,

An' other things not nice.

But we'd ruther all be little girls,

An' let them call us babies,

Than all the boys with pistol toys,

For they don't grow to ladies.

WHAT JANIE THINKS

I'd like to see old Santa Claus

And find out who he really was.

I think 'twould be a pretty sight

To see him coming in the night.

And watch him on the housetops ride,

Then see him down the chimneys glide.

I think it's very, very queer

The way he comes round every year.

For no one ever sees or knows

Just how he comes or how he goes.

And how he can so quiet be,

Is the very strangest part to me.

But Christmas morn, in early dawn,

We're sure to find he's come and gone;

For there upon our Christmas tree

Are toys for brothers and for me.

But not a mark, or not a track,

Does he ever leave when going back.

And so I've wondered many a time

How Santa could the chimney climb.

I think 'twould be a better way

To travel round by light of day;

Than go a-prowling round at night

Like burglars do, to keep from sight.

Then little children all could see

Who their good Santa Claus might be.

And then we'd know, without being told,

If Santa Claus was young or old.

If he was fat, or very thin,

If he had whiskers on his chin.

If he was short or very tall--

Why, girls like us would know it all.

Then how much nicer it would be

For him to come when we could see,

Than always come when we're asleep,

So none of us at him can peep.

I think I'll write him just a line

And say: "Please come some other time;

"For I don't think it looks just right

For you to always come at night."

MYRTLE'S LETTER

I think I will write to old Santa,

And ask for a few little things;

And then I will try to be patient,

And wait to see what he brings.

I'll write him to bring me a dolly,

With eyes of a beautiful brown,

With hair that is all in gold ringlets,

And dressed in a beautiful gown.

I'll ask him to bring me a buggy,

To take my new dolly to ride;

I'll ask for a cunning, swift runner,

So dolly can go out to slide.

I'll write him to bring me a banjo,

A harp, and a cute little drum;

I'll wish for a sweet-toned organ

And a _whole_ big box full of gum.

I want him to bring a wee table,

That is made for girlies like me;

And a set of little blue dishes,

So I can have company to tea.

I'll hint that I need some new dresses,

For mine are all faded and old;

I'll tell him I need some new mittens,

To wear when the weather is cold.

But maybe I'd better stop wishing,

And finish my letter with care,

For fear dear old Santa may fancy

I'm asking for _more_ than _my_ share.

I'll write him my stocking is hanging

Right close to my head, on the wall;

I'll tell him the right way to manage

In case that my stocking's too small.

I'll tell him to look in the corner,

At the foot of the bed, he'll see

A place that I think is just lovely

To fasten a cute little tree.

ONLY A SPARROW

A sparrow flew to my window one day,

And in a bird's way he began there to say:

"Chirp, chirp, little girl, please listen to me

I'm hungry and cold as a sparrow can be!

"I'd like a small crumb or something to eat,

And may I come in and warm my poor feet?

They're almost frozen out here in the snow;

So kind little girl, please do not say no."

I listened to him and then shook my head;

And to that poor sparrow I saucily said:

"Well, Mr. Sparrow, if your story is true,

I don't think I'll trouble myself about you.

"You're a plain-looking bird with a dirty old coat,

And you never once sang a sweet little note

So, Mr. Sparrow, you may just fly along,

For I feed none but birds of beauty and song."

"But think, little girl, were you a bird like me,

And were out in the cold with your home in a tree,

And you came to my house in the cold, deep snow,

Would you think it were kind if I treated you so?

"Would you think it quite right to be twitted that way,

Just because of your coat was not handsome and gay?

Would you think it would be nice if you could not sing

To be counted as naught but a poor useless thing?

"I know I'm not handsome, and my chirp is not sweet,

I know I'm not loved by the most that I meet;

But I'm just as God made me, a plain little bird,

And have, in this world, a right to be heard.

"And the birds of great beauty you like to see,

In the sight of our Maker are no better than me.

So I bid you adieu, my proud little miss,

But some time I pray you will just think of this:

"That kind little deeds by a good little child

So often will tame a nature that's wild.

Then always be kind and never be rude,

And hold to your tongue in an angry mood."

Then he nodded his head and flew far away,

And I saw him no more that cold winter day.

But, oh! how sorry and grieved was I then,

When I saw how very unkind I had been.

He was only a sparrow, so humble and plain,

But the lesson he taught me will always remain.

As I journey through life I shall keep it in mind,

And never again will I act so unkind.

MAY'S APPLE-TREE

One April day

Our little May

Did plant an apple-tree;

Although 'twas slow,

She watched it grow

Until its years were three.

She oft would say,

In her sweet way,

"How tall you going to be?

I'd like to know

If you can grow

To be as big as me?"

So one Spring day

When little May

Stood by her apple-tree;

What do you think?

Some buds in pink

Were there for her to see.

She laughed in glee

Those buds to see,

And smelt their sweet perfume;

And blossoms white

Were soon in sight,

Upon the tree in bloom.

Then apples green

So soon were seen,

As round as they could be;

And so they grew

In sun and dew

Upon her apple-tree.

Then May did eat

The apples sweet,

As nice as they could be;

Then little May

Had her full pay

For planting that one tree.

TEACHING A LESSON

They were gazing through the window,

On a cold December day,

At the pretty toys for children,

That were shown in fine array.

One was robed in richest raiment,

With a face so bright and glad;

One was dressed in poorest garments,

With a face so wan and sad.

While they gazed upon the window,

Said the rich one to the poor:

"Ain't it nice that Christmas is coming,

For that brings old Santa sure.

"Oh! he's going to bring a dolly,

And a lovely Christmas tree,

And some toys and nuts and candy

And some story-books for me.

"Don't you know what he will bring you?--

Lots of pretty toys, I guess!

And a cloak and pair of mittens,

And, perhaps, a pretty dress."

But the little child made answer,

With a deep, unbidden sigh:

"Santa never comes to see me,

And I never knew just why.

"Nor I don't have pretty playthings

Like some other children do;

Nor the toys and nuts and candy

That old Santa brings to you.

"For we live down in an alley,

In a house that's poor and old;

And we scarcely can keep warm

When the nights are chill and cold.

"And my mama sews to keep us,

So it's all that she can do

With the little that she's earning

Just to feed and clothe us two.

"So, perhaps, that's why old Santa

Never knocks upon our door,

'Cause he don't care for the children

Of the people who are poor."

To the little child of plenty,

'Twas a story strange, but true,

That her Santa was so partial,

And would give to such a few.

Home she ran and told her mama

All the story, strange and sad:

"He's a naughty, naughty Santa,

So I'll make the children glad.

"I will just make up some bundles

Of the things he brings to me,

Then I'll play that I am Santa,

With a pretty Christmas tree.

"And I'll go down the alley

And that little girl I'll find;

That will teach him such a lesson!

One, I think, he'll always mind.

"Then I'll write a different letter

From the ones he's had before;

And I'll tell him it's his duty

Just to stop at every door.

"That, I guess, will set him thinking

All about his conduct here;

Then the poor he will remember

When he comes another year."

So out went the little Santa

With the bundles from her tree;

And she passed not by a doorway

Where she found that want might be.

And the lesson for old Santa

In her childish way she taught

To the selfish ones about her,

Who for others had no thought.

THE LITTLE CRIB BED

There's a little crib bed that is unused now,

And is stowed in the garret with care;

For the wee baby girl that slept in that bed

Will never again dream there.

There's a little old pillow of matted down,

But no more 'twill be tumbled at night;

For the little babe's head that rested there

Now sleeps on a pillow more light.

There's a little odd quilt of an ancient style,

That was pieced from the dresses she wore;

But it lies in the bed now undisturbed,

For the baby will kick it no more.

So this little crib bed is stowed away now,

And the pillow is minus its case;

And the little, odd quilt, now faded and old,

Is neatly tucked in its place.

In memory again we only shall see

The babe in her little, snug fold;

But we treasure the bed, with pillow and quilt,

For the baby it used to hold.

Yet how happy the times in the olden days,

When the baby was sung off to sleep,

And the sweet curls lay on the pillow of down,

With the quilt tucked over her feet.

But the baby has gone to a chamber above,

That is furnished in colors of light;

And the bed where she rests is one of ease,

With a cover all spotless and white.

In her picture again we only shall see

The ringlets of gold on her head;

For her hair--is done up and she's grown too tall

To sleep in that little crib bed.

ROBIN'S FAREWELL

A robin had come to bid me good-by,

And up in a tree had perched himself high;

He seemed not to mind that the day was cold,

But sang his sweet song the same as of old.

The morning was drear and leafless the tree,

But dear old robin! so happy was he!

I said to him, "Robin, why do you wait?

It seems to me you are staying too late.

"The weather is cold, the flowers are dead,

The trees all their leaves have long ago shed;

You'd better be going before the snow comes,

Or hungry you'll be, and looking for crumbs.

"And old Jack Frost will be after your feet,

Then you'll need your wing to cover your beak.

So, Robin, please hurry away, or you'll freeze

If you stay around here in the leafless trees."

But robin sang on, and, nodding his head,

"Don't worry for me," he knowingly said,

"I'm not a bit 'fraid of Jack or the snow,

That's why I have been in no hurry to go.

"It won't take me long to fly away there,

Where trees are all green and balmy the air;

It's just a nice trip for this time of year,

And I've made it before, so I haven't a fear."

"But, Robin, you know that the rain might fall,

And the day might end in a dreadful squall;

So I cannot see why you have been so slow,

For the rest have flown there long ago.

"Say, what do you do in that far sunny clime?

Does Santa Claus come there at Christmas time?

You cannot go coasting, or skating on ice,

So I don't think the South can be very nice."

"When you are watching for Santa Claus' sleigh,

He travels down South in a far differ'nt way.

In a great air ship, with fairies for guides,

From chimney to chimney he quietly rides.

"When you are coasting adown some hill,

I'll be drinking from some rippling rill;

When you are freezing your feet on your skates,

I'll be sailing o'er beautiful lakes.

"When you are making a man out of snow,

I'll be tending some wild-flower show;

When you are trying your best to keep warm,

I'll be away from Jack Frost's harm.

"But now I am going to say good-by,

So, dear little girl, for me do not cry.

I'll not be afraid though the journey is long,

For my body is warm and my wings are strong.

"But if I grow tired and think 'twill be best,

I'll stop on the way and take a short rest;

And in the glad spring I'll come flying back,

And others will follow right on in my track.

"So watch for my coming and list for my song,

For winter is short and you won't wait long";

Then he sang unto me a robin's adieu,

And opened his wings and southward he flew.

THE FOOLISH FLOWERS

Miss Chrysanth'um gave a party

On a cool October night,

And invited in the flowers

That had tender buds in sight.

Then she whispered to the Pansy

That old Jack was coming soon,

And he'd nip her tender budlets

If she left them out to bloom.

Then she told the grand Nasturtium,

That was climbing up the wall,

That if Jack should overtake her

She was sure to have a fall.

And she said to Miss Petunia:

"You must find a hiding-place,

For if Jack should chance to kiss you

He would spoil your pretty face."

And the other summer flowers,

That were blooming rather late,

She told them all to hide away,

Or they'd meet a frosty fate.

So they put their heads together,

All the flowers that were wise,

And they planned to fool old Jack

With his sparkling, piercing eyes.

But the flowers that were foolish,

When she bade them take advice,

Shook their heads of flowery beauty

And they laughed at frost and ice.

Miss Chrysanth'um helped the wise ones

In the plans that they had laid:

So they gathered leaves of maple,

And some coverlets then made.

When old Jack came stealing onward,

With the stars all shining bright,

Not a flower among the wise ones

Was there left to greet his sight.

All were hidden under covers

Made from leaves of Autumn's gold;

And Jack then failed to find them

Though he was so sharp and old.

But the Marigold was laughing,

When he chanced to pass her by;

And Nasturtium still was climbing

O'er the wall so old and high.

Then he blew his breath upon them

And they both began to sneeze;

Soon the tender buds and blossoms

Of the flowers began to freeze.

When the sun shone out next morning

O'er the pretty flower-bed,

All the wise ones were rejoicing

But the foolish ones--were dead.

GRANDPA AND PET

Grandpa was holding his pet on his lap,

Grandpa and pet were taking a nap.

Off in far dreamland were grandpa and May,

Looking for goodies for Thanksgiving Day.

Jogging along, he was holding her hand,

Viewing the sights in funny dreamland.

Looking for turkeys, dressed up in gowns,

Shooing at goblins wearing bright crowns.

Smiling at puddings a-walking on legs,

Laughing at dumplings a-sitting on pegs.

Onward and onward went grandpa and May,

Looking for goodies for Thanksgiving Day.

Hunting for turkeys stuffed and roasted,

Longing for bread buttered and toasted.

'Round and 'round went grandpa and May,

Hungry as two little children at play.

Finding at last a table all spread,

Grandpa and May sat down at the head.

Looking it o'er some goodies they spied,

"See! Grandpa, see!" little May cried:

"There's a turkey stuffed and roasted!

There's some bread buttered and toasted!

"There's some dumplings sitting on pegs!

There's a pudding standing on legs!

"There's a clock that's mountains high,

Reaching up against the sky!"

Soon the clock began to chime,

Everything marched off in line.

'Round and 'round in giddy whirl,

Passed the man and little girl.

Pet and grandpa watched them all,

Wond'ring that they did not fall.

He helped himself and little May,

As the turkey came their way;

Piled their plates up full and high,

As the rest came marching by.

Just as grandpa took a bite,

Sleeping pet then moved a mite,

Slipped and fell from grandpa's lap,

Right then ended grandpa's nap.

Back from dreamland came the two,

Sorry that their trip was through.

WHEN I WAS A BABY

When I was a baby

They said I was "sweet";

I'd such dimpled hands

And soft, little feet.

My head, it was bald,

My teeth had not come;

But then just the same

I chewed my own gum.

My eyes they were blue,

My lips they were thin,

My cheeks they were dimpled,

And so was my chin.

I was very good-natured,

Full of frolic and fun;

And they said I was "cute"

For a baby so young.

And when I grew older

I learned how to talk;

And soon after creeping,

I learned how to walk.

I trotted about

Most all of the day;

And got into mischief

When I wasn't in play.

I've kept on growing

And now am quite tall

And think it much nicer

Than being so small.

I'm growing much older

And soon will be eight;

And so long to grow big

I scarcely can wait.

DOT'S NEW LEAF

As Dot sat by the fire one night,

She thought of times gone past;

Of summer days, of romps, and plays,

Of school, and its hard task.

She thought of times of misspelled words,

And numbers hard to sum,

Of tardy lines, and awful times,

And scales she could not run.

So Dot resolved that winter night,

The new year she would try

To study well, and learn to spell,

And sing the scale up high.

So when began the winter term,

And Dot went off to school,

She with the rest then tried her best

To learn each little rule.

Though little Dot meant all she said,

Somehow 'twas hard to do;

'Twas greater fun to slide or run

Than multiply by two.

The seat grew hard, the teacher cross,

And lessons harder got;

"I'd rather skate than use my slate,"

So mused poor little Dot.

When time wore on to balmy days,

With sunshine and with showers;

She stayed away from school, to play

And gather wild-wood flowers.

So when, at last, the school was closed,

She dropped behind the class;

For little Dot, her leaf forgot,

And then she did not pass.

DREAMING, SWEETLY DREAMING

I have tucked away my dollies

All so snugly in their bed,

And I listened to the prayers

That my little dollies said.

Oh, they were so tired and sleepy,

For they played so many hours;

But now they're dreaming, sweetly dreaming,

Of the birds and pretty flowers.

They have played among the daisies,

And among the lilies too;

They were romping in the clover,

And were picking violets blue.

They have chased the shining sunbeams

That came flitting from the skies;

But now they're dreaming, sweetly dreaming,

Of the birds and butterflies.

They have picked the blushing roses,

And have kissed the starry bells,

And found the sweet forget-me-nots

Where they bloom in flowery dells.

They have romped among the grasses

That were fanned by evening breeze,

But now they're dreaming, sweetly dreaming,

Of the birds and humming bees.

When the stars have ceased to twinkle,

And the sky is bright and clear;

When the sun is up and shining,

And the dewdrops disappear;

When the little fish are swimming,

Swimming in the sunny streams,

Then my dollies will be waking,

Waking from their happy dreams.

THE SNOWDROP'S CALL

"Come, wake up," said the Snowdrop

To a Crocus sleeping nigh,

"The sun is brightly shining,

And there's blue up in the sky.

"The snow has left the hill tops,

And the frost is going too;

So it's time that you were waking,

For to show your face of blue.

"Come, Daffodil, I'm calling;

You are sleeping much too long;

For the bluebirds are returning,

And I've heard the robin's song.

"The South wind is gently blowing,

For I heard it 'mongst the trees

And the Hyacinth is waking

To perfume the gentle breeze.

"Come, Jonquil, do not linger!

For the morn is passing fast;

If you soon are not awaking,

You will surely be the last."

The Crocus 'woke up quickly

When she heard the Snowdrop's call;

And put forth her face of blue

When the snow began to fall.

She shivered in the snowflakes

That fell about her feet;

Then was sorry she was wakened

From her winter's quiet sleep.

"You have called us all too early,"

Said the sleepy Daffodil,

"For the North wind still is blowing,

And the nights are cold and chill."

Then they all dropped back to slumber

Till the days some warmer grew;

Then their winter nap was ended,

And they 'woke and blossomed too.

WHEN BROTHER WAS A SISTER

When brother was a little girl,

She never wore her hair in curl;

But she was very good and sweet,

And had the "cutest" dimpled feet!

Her little hands were soft and white,

And so she kept them day and night.

Her dimpled cheeks were pretty too,

In rosy tints of nature's hue.

And oh! such happy times had we,

My little sister Lisle and me.

We sometimes kept a little store,

And sold our playthings o'er and o'er.

And through the long, long summer day,

Upon the lawn we used to play.

We played with dishes and with dolls,

With dolly cabs and rubber balls.

She helped to wash the dishes too,

Like little sisters always do.

And in her sorrows I could share,

For sister was my only care.

And with a loving sister's arm

I used to shield her from all harm.

Then life for me was all a joy

Before Lisle turned into a boy.

But Time flies on his changing wings,

And many curious changes brings.

The creeping worm becomes a fly,

And wings his way toward the sky.

The golden egg within the nest,

Becomes a chick with downy breast.

The pollywog becomes a frog,

And croaks within his hidden bog.

And little sisters turn to boys,

And leave their dolls for warlike toys

Then Time brought me the saddest day,

When sister's frocks were laid away.

The little cloak and bonnet too

Were changed for cap and coat of blue.

And for the girl with sweetest face--

A boy had stepped into her place.

A boy! and oh, so changed is he!

From the little girl he used to be.

The dimpled feet are brown and bare,

And rough and tumbled is his hair.

The rosy cheeks of nature's hue--

Sometimes they're black, sometimes they're blue.

The little hands so soft and white--

With dirt begrimed, they are a sight.

Now through the long, long summer days,

Upon the coalhouse roof he plays.

And on the roof he sits and fishes,

And never helps me wash the dishes.

He scorns the sister's loving arm

That used to shield him from all harm;

And for my loving, watchful care,

He turns his nose up in the air.

Oh! I wish he'd never turned into a boy,

To bring such woe instead of joy;

But stayed a little girl like me,

For then my life would happier be.

WE'RE ONLY LITTLE CHILDREN

We're only little children,

And not so very wise;

So don't expect too much,

And do not criticise.

We came here for your pleasure,

And 'twould be hardly right

If we should make mistakes,

For you to laugh to-night.

So won't you kindly listen,

And patience try to keep?

Don't whisper to each other,

Nor yawn and go to sleep.

We're only little children,

But think, when we are through,

You big folks all will say

We did as well as you.

A DREAM OF EASTER

When Nell her evening prayer had said,

And climbed into her snowy bed,

She closed her little weary eyes,

To dream of wonders in the skies,

And dream of days of long ago,

When her dear Savior was laid low.

She saw Him nailed upon the cross,

And heard poor Mary grieve her loss,

Then saw Him laid within the tomb,

Where all was dark as midnight gloom;

And saw the loved ones turn away

From where their dear, dead Savior lay.

She heard an earthquake's rumbling sound,

And felt the shaking of the ground,

Then saw a white-robed angel band

Descend to earth from heaven land;

And at the breaking of the day,

She saw one roll the stone away.

A glorious light dispelled the gloom

That reigned within the Savior's tomb;

And forth He came, in garments white,

Amid the morning stars of light;

A shining crown was on his head,

For He had risen from the dead.

The band of angels sweetly sang

Until the tomb with music rang;

The birds cooed softly in the trees,

And sweet perfume was on the breeze;

The sun arose in splendor bright,

To shed o'er earth his beaming light

When Nell awoke within her bed,

"It is our Easter morn," she said,

"Such visions fair in sleep I've seen,

For Jesus rose up in my dream.

Out from the tomb I saw Him rise

And pass beyond the heavenly skies;

And with a band of angels fair,

He went to heaven to dwell up there."

MOTHER ROBIN

A robin was sitting high up in a tree,

And was happy as ever a robin could be;

In a nice little nest that was built by two,

She was sitting on four small eggs of blue.

Her mate on a limb was sitting close nigh,

And thinking of birds that would come by-and-by.

He always kept near that little home-nest,

And often would sit to give his mate rest.

When she grew tired of waiting so long,

He would cheer her up with a sweet little song.

In a very short time her sitting was o'er,

And the birds in her nest numbered just four.

A sweet little girl lived near to this tree,

Who was happy as ever a girl could be;

She had a nice doll, that had a nice swing,

That had hung in this tree since early in spring.

One day she was swinging her doll to and fro,

Mother Robin was peeking at her below;

She said: "Little girl, little girl, look up to me,

I've four little birdies for you to see."

"O Mother Robin, I'm glad they have come!

I'll go right now and bring you a crumb;

I'll bring one for your mate and each of the four,

And when supper is ready I'll bring you some more."

"All right, little girl, I wish that you would,

I'm glad to see you so thoughtful and good;

But I wish you would keep old Tabby away,

For I know she was gazing up here to-day."

"O Mother Robin, you must have no alarm!

For Tabby, I'm sure, will do you no harm;

She's a good old cat and minds what I say,

But I'll tell her again not to come this way.

"Will you give me a birdie? one of your four,

I only want one and not any more;

I have a nice cage I could hang in the tree,

And birdie, I know, would be happy with me."

"Oh, no; little girl, it never will do

To part with my birdie and give her to you;

She never could live shut up in a cage,

And my mate, I fear, would fly in a rage.

"Will you give me your doll? I'd like to have one

For my little birdies, you know they have none;

When they get older they'll all want to play,

And I've room by my nest to tuck her away."

"Oh, no; Mother Robin, my dolly would cry,

If she lived in a nest that was up so high;

When the wind blew my dolly would fall,

Then down would come birdies, nest, and all.

"So I'll keep my dolly, for I think it is best,

And you keep your birds till they fly from the nest;

They will be happier, I know, to be free,

And my dolly's contented to stay here with me."

MABEL GRAY

Early to her slumber

Went little Mabel Gray;

Rose up in the morning

Just at the peep o' day.

Busy little maiden

Was little Mabel Gray;

Doing all her house work

Before she went to play.

Helping in the kitchen

To keep things shining bright;

Dusting in the parlor,

And setting things to right.

Singing all the daytime,

From morn till dewy night;

Shedding rays of brightness

Like stars of purest light.

Busy little woman,

And with a loving heart,

Never shirked her duty,

But always did her part.

Charming little woman,

And loving little wife,

Ever bright and cheerful,

Lived a long and happy life.

THE NAUGHTY CROW

A blackbird was swinging

On a blackberry bush;

When there came an old crow

And gave him a push.

Then the blackbird fell

From the blackberry bush;

And the old crow crowed

'Cause he gave him that push.

THE BIRDS' GOOD-NIGHT

"Good-night," said the robin,

As he finished his song;

"I am going to sleep

Till the morning doth dawn."

"Good-night," said the bluebird,

As he sought his snug nest;

"Now the evening draws near,

I am going to rest."

"Good-night," said the lark,

As he hushed his lay;

"I am off to my sleep

Till the break of the day."

"Good-night," said the thrush

As he trilled his last note;

"I am off to my roost

In the broad spreading oak."

"Good-night," said a maid

As she nodded her head,

"When you've gone to your rest,

I am going to bed.

"I have finished my work,

And have finished my play;

And am glad for the night

At the close of the day.

"I am sleepy and tired,

And I long for my bed;

For the soft, downy pillow,

Where I lay my wee head.

"And to dream there sweetly

Till the sun shines bright:

Till then, my birdies,

Good-night, good-night."

SANTA'S QUEER JOKE

When Santa came one wintry night,

A pair of stockings hung in sight

Just side by side upon the wall--

But one was large and one was small.

When Santa turned and saw them there,

He said: "Well, that's a queer-matched pair!

"This girl is up to tricks I see,

And thinks she'll play a joke on me;

"But I'll look 'round and soon find out

What this fair miss has been about."

And then he took the stockings down,

And a folded note in one he found.

'Twas written plain, so Santa read

Each line and word the wee note said:

"Dear, dear Santa, I hope you won't mind

Because two stockings you happen to find.

"Don't think I'm greedy, that won't be fair!

For one is grandma's you see hung there.

"You have not filled it since she was young,

So I hung it up to have some fun.

"So please, dear Santa, do not scold,

For grandma now is getting old.

"She wants some specs, so she can see

To knit some winter mitts for me.

"Then 'twould be nice if you've enough

So you could spare a box of snuff.

"Some gum to chew, some nuts to crack--

I'm sure you've got them in your pack.

"She needs a cap with lace and strings,

So, Santa, please give her these things.

"That's all I'll ask; if you'll do this,

I'll pay you some time with a kiss."

"This little girl, with heart of gold,

Must love her grandma now so old.

"And it's all for fun! Yes, yes, I see!"

Then Santa laughed again with glee.

"I'll carry the joke as far as I can,

For I like some fun, if I am an old man."

Then dropping his pack upon the floor,

He looked its contents o'er and o'er,

And found a cap, some specs, and gum,

A whistle, doll, and little drum;

A nice red sled, and doll buggy, too,

Old Santa found as he searched them through.

Into grandma's stocking he stuffed the doll;

Although 'twas large, it wouldn't hold all.

Then tied with a string the sticks and drum,

And said: "Now grandma can have some fun."

Then into the other, the one so small,

He stuffed the cap, specs, snuff, and all.

Then said to himself, the jolly old man,

"I've carried the joke as far as I can.

"I'd better be off ere grandma is waking,

Or maybe I'll get a jolly good shaking."

Then should'ring his pack till his form was bent,

He got into mischief wherever he went.

Then in the morning, when grandma awoke,

She laughed, till she cried, at Santa's queer joke.

LITTLE SUNBEAMS

We're a band of little children,

That is gathered here to-day,

And we're working for our Savior,

In our little childish way.

In the path that lies before us,

In this world of ours below,

We will strive to do our duty,

As we ever onward go.

We are as the light of morning,

That comes peeping through the pane;

We are like the rays of sunshine,

That we welcome after rain.

We are just some little sunbeams

That are scattered here and there;

And without us little sunbeams,

This great world would not be fair.

WHERE DO BABIES GO?

Where has baby gone to?

Asks a mother dear;

Why has darling baby

Left me lonely here?

And my pretty home

Grown so still and drear?

Where are all the playthings

That lay upon the floor?

Where's the little dolly cab

That bumped against the door?

It's stowed now in the attic,

For she'll never want it more.

So she went and left us,

Our little baby May,

And we are so lonely

Since she went away,

That we wish our baby

Would come back and stay.

There's a dreadful longing

In poor mama's breast,

Where her precious baby

Laid her head to rest;

And slept so sweetly,

Like birdies in their nest.

Where has baby gone to?

Says mama with a sigh;

Where has baby gone to?

And a tear is in her eye,

And will my darling baby

Come back by-and-by?

She gazes from the window,

And sees the faces sweet

Of the pretty children,

Coming down the street;

But not a face like baby's

Does she chance to meet.

Soon a winsome lassie

Comes tripping into view,

With head of flaxen curls,

And eyes of deepest blue,

And a loving heart

That always beats so true.

Mama sees the lassie

That took the baby's place,

With the same blue eyes,

But not the baby face;

For the winsome lassie

Has one of older grace.

And that's where baby went to;

But no one ever knows

How the baby disappears,

Or how the baby goes,

Only that a baby

Eats, and laughs, and grows.

WHEN MY KITTY WAS A KITTEN

When my kitty was a kitten,

That was many years ago,

Her was dest the sweetest kitten

Of any kitten that I know.

An' her wore a ribby ribbon

That was striped in stripes of blue;

An' her purred the sweetest pur

When her didn't mew her mew.

Her was dest as good an' gentle

As a kitten ever was;

An' was berry neat an' 'ticular

'Bout her little pawey paws.

Her was full of fun an' frolic,

An' her played wiv paper balls;

An' her sleeped her little sleeps

Wiv my darling dolly dolls.

But my kitty's growed a catty

An' forgot her cunnin' plays;

An' her doesn't like my dollies,

So her spits an' runs aways.

Nor her isn't sweet an' gentle

Like my kitten used to was;

For her scratches little misses

Wiv her naughty scratchy claws.

Oh! I's sorry that her's bigger

Than my kitten used to be;

For a kitten's awful sweeter

Than a catty is to me.

THE BUSY LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER

I's such a busy little housekeeper,

An' dot so much to do,

I has to stop an' think a bit,

If ever I tan git froo.

For there's my dollie's bed to make

An' pretty dess to mend;

An' there's my little baby doll

That I must stop to tend.

Whenever she wakes up at morn,

She's sure to fret or cry,

Unless I rocks her for a while

An' sings a lullaby.

An' there's my little bruver Joe,

He's such a naughty tease,

He always wants my dolly boy,

But never will say "Please."

He makes such lots an' lots of work

For mama an' for me;

I often wish he was a fish

A-swimmin' in the sea.

An' when I has such busy days,

An' dot so much to do,

To care for all my dollies dear,

He never helps me froo.

I musn't stop no longer now

To tell you nuthin' more;

I thinks I hear my dollie scream,

Like she's tumbled on the floor.

I has to go an' git her now,

An' hush her up right quick;

Or maybe she will hold her breff,

An' then git awful sick.

GRANDMA'S POCKET

I have a lovely grandma

Who's very dear to me;

I go to see her oftentimes

And sit upon her knee.

She tells me pretty stories

Just what I like to hear;

She thinks I'm very nice, I guess,

And calls me little dear.

My grandma has a lovely dress

She's worn a long, long while;

She made it all herself, she said,

When pockets were in style.

It's made with pointed, ruffled waist,

That has a surplice twist;

And has the old-time bishop sleeve

That buttons at the wrist.

The skirt does hang so nicely too,

And always looks so well,

It has not any train to it,

Nor was it cut a bell.

It has a lovely pocket though!

That's big, and wide, and deep,

I always find out where it is

And slyly take a peep.

"There is something in my pocket, dear,"

Says grandma every time.

I'm sure to find a penny there,

Or else a silver dime.

"It's yours, my little girlie dear!"

Says grandma, with a kiss,

"So keep them all, my little one,

Until you're grown a miss."

I'm saving up my money now

To buy a golden locket;

And have her picture placed in it

With dimes from out her pocket.

WHAT GOOD IS A BROTHER?

What good is a brother?

I never could see,

But only to tease

A poor sister like me,

And that is as naughty,

As naughty can be.

He's nothing but trouble,

And mama's great care,

And always in mischief

A-doing his share;

And no peace in the house

Whenever he's there.

He hangs up my doll

At the foot of the bed,

With my new skipping-rope

Until she is dead;

Then laughs at the tears

That it makes me shed.

Then he teases my kitty,

Like the bad boys do,

By pulling her tail

Till it's nearly in two;

Then whistles and laughs

When he hears her mew.

If I had my wish,

Do you know what I'd say?

I'd tell my poor mama

To give him away

To grandpa and grandma,

And there make him stay.

But, then, poor grandpa!

He never could nap

Without a bad boy

Crawling up on his lap,

And whipping his knees

To make them get-ap.

And poor, dear grandma,

So patient and kind,

It worries her so

Because he won't mind;

And then her glasses

She never could find.

I suppose I must live,

And try, if I can,

To bear with his capers

Until he's a man;

But I do hope then

My brother will see

What a lot of trouble

He has been to me.

MR. HOP-TOAD

A hop-toad came out

One day in the spring.

He struck up a tune,

And began to sing;

The weather was cold

And made his voice crack,

So poor old hop-toad

Just waddled right back.

MINNIE'S SECRET

I've got a little secret

I'd like to have you know;

So, now, I'm going to tell it:--

My sister has a beau.

She looks so sweet and pretty

When Tommy comes to call;

And talks so nice and witty,

And is so good to all.

I'm afraid he's going to love her,

And marry her some day;

But if he only knew her,

He'd think another way.

She's awful cross to brother,

When Tommy ain't around;

I don't believe a crosser girl

Could anywhere be found.

She says I am a bother

When she has got a beau;

And act so very stupid

By telling all I know.

I only told to Tommy

That she would lie in bed,

And let our tired mama

Do all the work instead.

I told him not to love her

For she was awful cross;

And me and little brother

She always tried to "boss."

I guess he's going to listen

And my advice he'll take.

He said she must do better

Or she would get the shake.

I'm just a-going to tell her

To mind what she's about;

For soon I'll be as big as her

And then I'll cut her out.

NELLIE'S EASTER EGGS

Old Biddy Brown, a nice old hen,

Belonged to little Nell;

She hid her nest from all the rest,

And kept her secret well.

And every morn, just like the sun,

She made her daily trip

Up in the hay her egg to lay,

And gave the rest the slip

But one cold day old Biddy Brown

Concluded it was best,

That in the hay she'd better stay,

And take a little rest.

They missed her from the chicken coop,

And from the barnyard pen;

And none could tell, not even Nell,

Just where to find that hen.

The days went by, the weeks sped on,

And still she hid away;

But little Nell kept hunting well,

And found her in the hay.

Now, Easter time was drawing nigh,

And Nell, in colors bright,

Was going to taint, with brush and paint,

Old Biddy's eggs so white.

She took them from the poor old hen,

Who'd sat so long with care,

And in a tin she brought them in,

Which really was not fair.

She dabbled with those pretty paints,

Till shells were lost to view;

Then with delight she viewed the sight

Of eggs, in red and blue.

She put them by the kitchen stove,

And covered them up tight,

To keep them warm and free from harm,

And out of baby's sight.

The next morn rang the Easter bells,

And Nell rose with a start;

Her playmates, some would surely come

To view her work of art.

So proudly to the kitchen then,

With step so light and free,

With happy look her playmates took,

Those Easter eggs to see.

But what a change came over Nell!

Had some one played her tricks?

To her surprise, before her eyes

Was a pan of downy chicks.

WHEN DOLLY WAS SICK

My doll got sick one summer day,

And then I had to stop my play.

I tucked her in her little bed,

With burning cheeks and throbbing head.

I knew that she was cutting teeth,

And that one thought gave me relief.

But still I wondered as I had,

Why her poor head should ache so bad.

She seemed so ill for one so young,

So I thought I'd have the doctor come.

I sent for him to come--come quick,

For my dear Nell was very sick.

Then when he came he shook his head,

And this is what the doctor said:

"She has the measles or some fever;

But have no fear, I can relieve her.

"I'll give her powders for her head,

But you must keep her close in bed.

"I'll give her quinine made in pills,

And they will cure those dreadful chills.

"But when your neighbors come to call,

Don't let them see your babe at all.

"She must not talk, nor even smile;

So keep her quiet for a while.

"Be careful what you give to eat,

Now don't give salads or cold meat.

"Nor don't give biscuits that are warm,

For they will do your dolly harm.

"But give her nicely buttered toast,

With veal, or lamb, or mutton roast."

I watched beside her suffering bed,

And many were the tears I shed.

But soon a change came o'er my Nell,

I saw that she was getting well.

Oh, what a joy it was to me,

To know from pain my Nell was free!

But she was very pale and thin,

With faded cheeks and pointed chin.

Then came the doctor with his bills--

So much for powders, so much for pills.

I paid them all without a sigh,

And thanked him 'cause she did not die.

AUNTIE'S PARLOR

My auntie has a parlor grand,

That's furnished very fine,

With lots of pretty, fancy things,

That cost her many a dime.

I like to peep into that room

Whenever I go there,

To see those pretty, fancy things,

And find out what they are.

But auntie always watches me,

Just like a cat a mouse,

And says: "You are a mischief, Belle,

When you are in my house."

There's bric-a-brac on the mantel-shelf,

And pictures on the wall,

And pretty, high-back easy-chairs

That spring up like a ball.

There is a grand piano there

That must have cost her much;

But all I ever hear is this:

"Now, Belle, you must not touch."

There is a lovely stand and stool,

And rugs upon the floor,

And vases in the corner too,

But--a lock is on the door.

Now, what's a parlor good for, say?

I'd really like to know!

With doors and windows fastened tight,

And pretty things for show.

I wish I owned that parlor grand,

And all those things so nice,

I'd let my kitty go in there

To watch for naughty mice.

I'd tell the little girls I know

Who hadn't one so fine,

That they were always welcome guests

To come and play in mine.

OFF TO SCHOOL WE GO