Chapter VIII: Front Matter (8)

Little Bennie

I had told him, Christmas morning,
As he sat upon my knee,
Holding fast his little stockings,
Stuffed as full as can be,
And attentive listening to me,
With a face demure and mild,
That old Santa Claus, who filled them,
Did not love a naughty child.

"But we'll be good, won't we, moder?"
And from off my lap he slid,
Digging deep among the goodies
In his crimson stockings hid.
While I turned me to my table,
Where a tempting goblet stood,
Brimming high with a dainty custard,
Sent me by a neighbour good.

But the kitten, there before me,
With his white paw, nothing loth,
Sat, by way of entertainment,
Lapping off the shining froth;
And, in not the gentlest humour
At the loss of such a treat,
I confess I rather rudely
Thrust him out into the street.

Then how Bennie's blue eyes kindled;
Gathering up the precious store
He had busily been pouring
In his tiny pinafore,
With a generous look that shamed me
Sprang he from the carpet bright,
Showing, by his mien indignant,
All a baby's sense of right.

"Come back Harney," called he loudly,
As he held his apron white,
"You shall have my candy wabbit;"
But the door was fastened tight.
So he stood, abashed and silent,
In the centre of the floor,
With defeated look, alternate
Bent on me and on the door.

Then, as by some sudden impulse,
Quickly ran he to the fire,
And while eagerly his bright eyes
Watched the flames grow high and higher,
In a brave, clear key he shouted,
Like some lordly little elf,
"Santa Kaus, come down the chimney,
Make my mother 'have herself."

"I'll be a good girl, Bennie,"
Said I, feeling the reproof;
And straightway recalled poor Harney,
Mewing on the galley roof.
Soon the anger was forgotten,
Laughter chased away the frown,
And they gambolled 'neath the live oaks,
Till the dusky night came down.

In my dim, fire-lighted chamber
Harney purred beneath my chair,
And my play-worn boy beside me
Knelt to say his evening prayer:
"God bess fader, God bess moder,
God bess sister," then a pause,
And the sweet young lips devoutly
Murmured "God bess Santa Kaus."

He is sleeping: brown and silken
Lie the lashes, long and meek,
Like caressing, clinging shadows,
On his plump and peachy cheek;
And I bend above him, weeping,
Thankful tears; O undefiled;
For a woman's crown of glory,
For the blessing of a child.

Annie C. Ketchum

[Page 77--Santa Claus Land]

Old Santa Claus

Old Santa Claus sat alone in his den,
With his leg crossed over his knee;
While a comical look peeped out at his eyes,
For a funny old fellow was he.

His queer little cap was tumbled and torn,
And his wig it was all awry;
But he sat and mused the whole day long,
While the hours went flying by.

He had been busy as busy can be,
In filling his pack with toys;
He had gathered his nuts and baked his pies,
To give to the girls and boys.

There were dolls for the girls, and whips for the boys,
With wheelbarrows, horses and drays,
And bureaus and trunks for Dolly's new clothes;
All these in his pack he displays.

Of candy too, both twisted and striped,
He had furnished a plentiful store,
While raisins and figs, and prunes and grapes,
Hung up on a peg by the door.

"I am almost ready," quoth he, quoth he,
"And Christmas is almost here;
But one thing more--I must write a book,
And give to each one this year."

So he clapped his specs on his little round nose,
And seizing the stump of a pen,
He wrote more lines in one little hour
Than you ever could write in ten.

He told them stories all pretty and new,
And wrote them all out in rhyme;
Then packed them away with his box of toys
To distribute one at a time.

And Christmas Eve, when all were in bed,
Right down the chimney he flew;
And stretching the stocking-leg out at the top,
He clapped in a book for you.

Santa Claus and the Mouse

One Christmas Eve, when Santa Claus
Came to a certain house,
To fill the children's stockings there,
He found a little mouse.

"A merry Christmas, little friend,"
Said Santa, good and kind.
"The same to you, sir!" said the mouse,
"I thought you wouldn't mind

If I should stay awake to night,
And watch you for a while."
"You're very welcome, little mouse,"
Said Santa, with a smile.

And then he filled the stockings up,
Before the mouse could wink,--
From toe to top, from top to toe,
There wasn't left a chink.

"Now, they won't hold another thing,"
Said Santa Claus with pride.
A twinkle came in mousie's eyes,
But humbly he replied:

"It's not nice to contradict--
Your pardon I implore,--
But in the fullest stocking there,
I could put one thing more."

"Oh, ho!" laughed Santa, "silly mouse!
Don't I know how to pack?
By filling stockings all these years,
I should have learned the knack."

And then he took the stocking down
From where it hung so high,
And said: "Now put in one thing more;
I give you leave to try."

The mousie chuckled to himself,
And then he softly stole
Right to the stocking's crowded toe,
And gnawed a little hole!

"Now, if you please, good Santa Claus,
I've put in one thing more;
For you will own, that little hole
Was not in there before."

How Santa Claus did laugh and laugh;
And then he gaily spoke;
"Well, you shall have a Christmas cheese,
For that nice little joke."

A Nice Little Present

"Our Santa Claus," cried Bettie,
"Is nice as any other;
He brought the nicest present
To me and to my mother.

"It was--oh, you can't guess it--
A darling little brother.
He kicks and cries, and shuts his eyes,
And he's sweet enough to eat.

"I'd rather have my baby brother
Than dolls or candy--so would my mother."

The Night Before Christmas

Curly heads, so softly pillowed;
Chubby arms outspread;
Thousand fancies swiftly flying
Through each little head.

Clasping treasures newly garnered,
Dolly, book, and ball,
Still they dream of coming pleasures
Greater than them all.

Christmas-trees of gorgeous beauty,
Filled with presents rare;
Toys unheard of, joys unnumbered,
All delights are there.

Angel forms, with smiling faces,
Hover round the bed;
Angel feet make echoing music
As they lightly tread.

Angel voices, softly thrilling,
Chant a lullaby:
"Darlings, dream, and sweetly slumber,
We are watching by."

Who from dreams like these would waken
To a world of pain?
"Hush, then, dear ones! Have we roused you?
Turn and dream again."

[Page 78--Santa Claus Land]

Annie And Willie's Prayer

'Twas the eve before Christmas; good night had been said,
And Annie and Willie had crept into bed.
There were tears on their pillows, and tears in their eyes,
And each little bosom was heaving with sighs;

For to-night their stern father's command had been given,
That they should retire precisely at seven
Instead of at eight; for they had troubled him more
With questions unheard of than ever before.

He had told them he thought this delusion a sin;
No such creature as "Santa Claus" ever had been;
And he hoped, after this, he should never more hear
How he scrambled down chimneys with presents each year.

And this was the reason that two little heads
So restlessly tosses on their soft, downy beds.
Eight, nine, and the clock on the steeple tolled ten;
Not a word had been spoken by either till then;

When Willie's sad face from the blanket did peep,
And he whispered: "Dear Annie, is 'ou fast asleep?"
"Why, no, Brother Willie," a sweet voice replies;
"I've long tried in vain, but I can't shut my eyes;

"For somehow it makes me so sorry because
Dear Papa has said there is no Santa Claus.
Now we know there is, and it can't be denied
For he came every year before dear mamma died;

"But then, I've been thinking, that she used to pray,--
And God would hear everything dear mamma would say,--
And, maybe, she asked him to send Santa Claus here
With the sack full of presents he brought every year."

"Well, why tannot we p'ay, dust as mamma did, den,
And ask Dod to send him with presents aden?"
"I've been thinking so, too;" and without a word more
Four little bare feet bounded out on the floor,

And four little knees on the soft carpet pressed,
And two tiny hands were clasped close to each breast,
"Now, Willie, you know, we must firmly believe
That the presents we ask for we're sure to receive;

"You must wait just as still till I say the 'Amen,'
And by that you will know that your turn has come then.--
"Dear Jesus, look down on my brother and me,
And grant us the favours we're asking of Thee.

"I want a wax dolly, a tea-set and a ring,
And an ebony work-box that shuts with a spring.
Bless papa, dear Jesus, and cause him to see
That Santa Claus loves us as much as does he.

"Don't let hem get fretful and angry again,
At dear brother Willie and Annie. Amen."
"Dear Desus, 'et Santa Taus tum down to night
And bring us some p'esents before it is 'ight;

"I want he sood div' me a nice little sled,
Wid bight shinin' 'unners, and all painted 'ed
A box full of tandy, a book, and a toy,
Amen. And den, Desus, I'll be a dood boy."

Their prayers being ended, they raised up their heads,
And with hearts light and cheerful again sought their beds;
They were soon lost in slumber both peaceful and deep,
And with fairies in dreamland were roaming in sleep.

Eight, nine, and the little French clock had struck ten
Ere the father had thought of his children again;
He seems now to hear Annie's self-suppressed sighs,
And to see the big tears stand in Willie's blue eyes.

"I was harsh with my darlings," he mentally said,
"And should not have sent them so early to bed:
But then I was troubled: My feelings found vent;
For the bank-stock to-day has gone down two percent.;

"But of course they've forgotten their troubles ere this,
And that I denied them the thrice-asked-for kiss;
But just to make sure I'll steal up to their door--
To my darlings I have never spoke harshly before."

So saying, he softly ascended the stairs,
And arrived at the door to hear both of their prayers;
His Annie's "Bless papa" drew forth the big tears,
And Willie's grave promise fell sweet on his ears.

"Strange, strange! I'd forgotten," he said with a sigh,
"How I longed when a child to have Christmas draw nigh
I'll atone for my harshness," he inwardly said,
"By answering their prayers ere I sleep in my bed."

Then he turned to the stairs, and softly went down,
Threw off velvet slippers and silk dressing gown.
Donned hat, coat and boots, and was out in the street,
A millionaire facing the cold, driving sleet!

Nor stopped he until he had bought everything,
From the box full of candy to the tiny gold ring:
Indeed, he kept adding so much to his store,
That the various presents outnumbered a score.

Then homeward he turned, when his holiday load,
With Aunt Mary's help, in the nursery was stow'd.
Miss Dolly was seated beneath a pine tree,
And the side of a table spread out for her tea;

A work-box, well-filled, in the centre was laid,
And on it the ring for which Annie had pray'd.
A soldier in uniform stood by a sled,
With bright shining runners, and all painted red.

There were balls, dogs, horses; books pleasing to see;
And birds of all colours were perched in the tree;
While Santa Claus, laughing, stood up in the top,
As if getting ready more presents to drop.

Now, as the fond father the picture surveyed,
He thought for his trouble he'd amply been paid;
As he said to himself, as he brushed off a tear,
"I'm happier to night than I have been for a year;

"I've enjoyed more true pleasure than ever before;
What care I if bank-stock fell two per cent. more!
Henceforward I'll make it a rule, I believe,
To have Santa Clause visit us each Christmas-eve."

So thinking, he gently extinguished the light,
And, slipping downstairs, retired for the night.
As soon as the beams of the bright morning sun
Put the darkness to flight, and the stars one by one,

Four little blue eyes out of sleep opened wide,
And at the same moment the presents espied.
Then out of their beds they sprang with a bound,
And the very gifts prayed for were all of them found.

And they laughed and they cried in their innocent glee,
And shouted for papa to come quick and see
What presents old Santa Claus brought in the night
(Just the things they wanted!), and left before light.

"And now," added Annie, in a voice soft and low,
"You'll believe there's a Santa Claus, papa, I know;"
While dear little Willie climbed up on his knee,
Determined no secret between them should be;

And told, in soft whispers, how Annie had said
That their blessed mamma, so long ago dead,
Used to kneel down and pray by the side of her chair,
And that God up in heaven had answered her prayer.

"Den we dot up and p'ayed just as well as we tood,
And Dod answered our p'ayer, now wasn't He dood?"
"I should say that He was, if He sent you all these,
And knew just what presents my children would please."

("Well, well, let them think so, dear little elf!
'Twould be cruel to tell him I did it myself.")

Blind father! who caused your stern heart to relent,
And the hasty words spoken so soon to repent?
'Twas the Being who bade you steal softly upstairs
And made you His agent to answer their prayers.

Mrs. Sophia P. Snow

[Page 79--Santa Claus Land]

Budds' Christmas Stocking

It was Christmas-time, as all the world knew;
It stormed without, and the cold wind blew,
But within all was cheerful, snug, and bright,
With glowing fires and many a light.

Budd B. was sent quite early to bed,
His stocking was hung up close to his head,
And he said to himself "When all grows still
I will find a big stocking for Santy to fill."

Now, good, honest Hans, who worked at the house,
Had gone to his bed as still as a mouse;
The room where he slept was one story higher
Than Budd's little room, with gaslight and fire.

Now, Hans loved "the poy," and petted him too,
And often at night, when his task was all through,
He would tell him strange stories of over the sea,
While Budd listened gravely or laughed out in glee.

This night Hans had promised to wake Budd at four;
He would softly come down and open his door;
But suddenly Budd bounded out of his bed,
And stole softly up to the room overhead.

On his hands and his knees he crept softly in,
"I'll borrow Han's stocking," he said, with a grin;
Old Santy will fill it up to the top,
And Hans--oh, such fun! will be mad as a hop."

He moved very slowly, and felt near the bed;
No stocking was there, but down on his head
Came a deluge of water, well sprinkled with ice,
While honest Hans held him as if in a vice.

"Vat is dat?" he cried out; "von robber I find,
Den I pound him, and shake him, so much as I mind"
"It's me," called out Budd; "Stop, Hans! oh, please do;
I'm only a boy; I could not rob you."

But Hans did not pause--his temper was hot--
And he dragged the young robber at once from the spot,
When he reached the hall light great was his surprise
To find his young master with tears in his eyes.

"I wanted your stocking," muttered Budd B.;
It is bigger than mine; boo hoo! I can't see,
And I'm all wet and cold." thus cried Budd aloud,
Until guests and his parents ran up in a crowd.

He was wrapped up with care and taken to bed,
But, strangest of all, not a harsh word was said.
He flattered himself as he fell asleep
That Hans and his friends the secret would keep.

Next morning, when Christmas songs filled all the air,
Budd found, to his grief and boyish despair,
That his neck was so stiff that he could not turn his head,
And must spend the whole day alone in his bed.

What was worse, his own stocking hung limp on a chair,
And on it these words were written most fair:
"To him who is greedy I leave less than all;
The world is so large and my reindeer so small.

"My pack is elastic when children are kind,
But it shuts with a snap and leaves nothing behind,
When a boy or girl is selfish or mean.
Good-bye, little Budd, I am off with my team.
(Signed) Santa Claus."

Christmas

Again the Christmas holidays have come,
We soon will hear the trumpet and the drum;
We'll hear the merry shout of the girls and boys
Rejoicing o'er their gifts of books and toys.

Old Santa Claus comes by at dead of night,
And down the chimney creeps--a funny sight;
He fills the stockings full of books and toys,
But puts in whips for naughty girls and boys.

One Christmas-eve the moon shone clear and bright;
I thought I'd keep awake and watch all night,
But it was silent all around and stilled,
Yet in the morn I found my stockings filled.

Christmas Morning

They put me in a square bed, and there they bade me sleep;
I must not stir; I must not wake; I must not even peep;
Right opposite that lonely bed, my Christmas stocking hung;
While near it, waiting for the morn, my Sunday clothes were flung.

I counted softly, to myself, to ten and ten times ten,
And went through all the alphabet, and then began again;
I repeated that Fifth-Reader piece--a poem called "Repose,"
And tried a dozen various ways to fall into a dose--

When suddenly the room grew light. I heard a soft, strong bound,
'Twas Santa Claus, I felt quite sure, but dared not look around.
'Twas nice to know that he was there, and things were going rightly,
And so I took a little nap, and tried to smile politely.

"Ho! Merry Christmas!" cried a voice; I felt the bed a-rocking;
Twas daylight--brother Bob was up! and oh, that splendid stocking!

St. Nicholas

[Page 80--Santa Claus Land]

Little Nellie's Visit From Santa Claus

Santa Claus is coming to-night, papa;
Please let me sit up and see him, mamma;
Loaded with presents, I'm sure he'll be.
He'll have something nice for you and for me.

"Mamma, do find something fresh and quite new,
For dear old Santa Claus, when he comes through,
I'll give it myself; I'll keep wide awake;
I know he'll be glad my present to take.

"Now all go to bed as quick as you please,
I'll wait for him," said the bright little tease,
"He surely will ring, no doubt about that,
I'll bid him come in and then have a chat."

Soon came a quick step on the piazza floor,
Just then a loud ring was heard at the door.
The little miss rose with dignified air,
Quick ushered him in, and set him a chair.

All covered o'er with little bells tinkling,
Shaking and laughing, twisting and wriggling,
A funny old man, with little eyes blinking,
Looking at Nellie, what was he thinking?

Not a word did he say--tired of waiting,
Nellie arose, her little heart quaking,
Held out her present, courage most failing,
"Santa Claus, take this"--now she is smiling.

"His furry old hand, twisting and trembling,
Took the sweet gift--"You dear little darling,"
Uttered quite softly, tenderly kissing,
The bright little face, ne'er a bit shrinking.

Lots of presents quickly bestowing,
Thanking her kindly--he must be going,
Shaking and laughing, his little bells jingling,
Down the steps, hastening off in a twinkling.

Brave little lady! all are now saying,
Santa Claus truly! bright eyes are asking;
See her dear papa, secretly laughing
At her true faith in Santa Claus' coming.

Yes! she believes it, ever so truly,
Dear precious darling! rob her not surely,
Of childhood's sweet faith, now in its glory,
While she's relating her own simple story.

Mrs. C. E. Wilbur

Christmas Stockings

'Tis Christmas day,
And little May
Peeps from her bed in the morning grey.

She looks around,
But not a sound
Breaks on the quietness profound.

So, heaving sighs,
She shuts her eyes,
And hard to go to sleep she tries.

But sleep has fled
That little bed.
And weary moves the curly head,

Until the light
(Oh, welcome sight!)
Has banished every trace of night.

Then out of bed,
With hurried tread,
She runs to waken brother Fred;

For oh, what joys,
In the shape of toys,
Does Christmas bring to girls and boys!

Fred gives a groan,
Or a sleepy moan,
And mutters, "Do let me alone!"

But bonnie May
Will not have nay;
She whispers, "It is Christmas day!"

Oh, magic sound!
For Fred turns round,
And in a trice is on the ground.

"Our stockings, where?"
"They're on that chair."
"Oh, what has Santa Claus put there?"

May laughs with glee,
The sight to see,
Of stockings filled from toe to knee

With parcels queer,
That stick out here,
Before, behind, in front and rear.

"Oh, Fred! a dolly!
I'll call her Molly."
"Why, may, a penknife here; how jolly!"

"A necktie blue!
A paintbox too!"
"Oh, Fred, a pair of kid gloves new!"

"May, here's a gun!
Won't we have fun,
Playing at soldiers!--You'll be one."

"Now that is all.
No; here's a ball;
Just hold it, or these things will fall."

"What's in the toe,
May, do you know?
Biscuits and figs!--I told you so."

"I think," said May,
That Christmas day
Should come at least every second day."

And so say we;
But then you see
That Santa Claus would tired be.

And all his toys
And Christmas joys
Would vanish then from girls and boys.

From "The Prize"

Hang Up Baby's Stocking

Hang up the baby's stocking:
Be sure you don't forget:
The dear little dimpled darling
Has never seen Christmas yet.

But I told him all about it,
And he opened his big blue eyes;
I'm sure he understood it,
He looked so funny and wise.

Ah, what a tiny stocking;
It doesn't take so much to hold
Such little toes as baby's
Safe from the frost and cold.

But then, for the baby's Christmas
It never will do at all;
For Santa Claus wouldn't be looking
For anything half so small.

I know what will do for baby;
I've thought of a first-rate plan;
I'll borrow a stocking of grandma--
The longest that I ever can.

And you shall hang it by mine, mother,
Right here in the corner--so;
And write a letter for baby.
And fasten it on the toe.

"Old Santa Claus, this is a stocking
Hung up for our baby dear;
You never have seen our darling,
He has not been with us a year,

"But he is a beautiful baby;
And now, before you go,
Please cram this stocking with presents,
From the top of it down to the toe.

"Put in a baby's rattle,
Also a coral ring,
A bright new ribbon for his waist;
Some beads hung on a string

"And mind a coloured ball please,
And a tiny pair of shoes;
You'll see from this little stocking,
The size you have to choose."

Santa Claus

A health to good old Santa Claus,
And to his reindeer bold,
Whose hoofs are shod with elder-down,
Whose horns are tipped with gold.

Ho comes from utmost fairyland
Across the wintry snows;
He makes the fir-tree and the spruce
To blossom like the rose.

Over the quaint old gables,
Over the windy ridge,
By turret wall and chimney tall,
He guided his fairy sledge;

He steals upon the slumbers
Of little rose-lipped girls,
And lays his waxen dollies down
Beside their golden curls.

He scatters blessings on his way,
And sugar-coated plums;
He robs the sluggard from his rest
With trumpets, guns, and drums.

Small feet, before the dawn of day,
Are marching to and fro,
Drums beat to arms through all the house,
And penny trumpets blow.

A health to brave old Santa Claus,
And to his reindeer bold,
Whose hoofs are shod with elder-down,
Whose horns are tipped with gold.

S. H. Whitman

[Page 81--Play Land]

The Rabbit on the Wall

The children shout with laughter,
The uproar louder grows;
Even grandma chuckles faintly,
And Johnny chirps and crows.
There ne'er was gilded painting,
Hung up in lordly hall,
Gave half the simple pleasure
As this rabbit on the wall.

The cottage work is over,
The evening meal is done;
Hark! thro' the starlight stillness
You hear the river run.
The little children whisper,
Then speak out one and all;
"Come, father, make for Johnny,
The rabbit on the wall."

He--smilingly assenting,
They gather round his chair;
"Now, grandma, you hold Johnny;
Don't let the candle flare."
So speaking, from his fingers
He throws a shadow tall,
That seems, a moment after,
A rabbit on the wall.

Holiday Time

With these three little girls and two little boys
There is sure to be plenty of laughter and noise;
But nobody minds it, because don't you see,
At school they are quiet with lessons to say--
But when the holidays come they can play the whole day.

The Fairy Queen

Let us laugh and let us sing,
Dancing in a merry ring;
We'll be fairies on the green,
Sporting round the Fairy Queen.

Like the seasons of the year,
Round we circle in a sphere;
I'll be Summer, you'll be Spring,
Dancing in a fairy ring.

Harry will be Winter wild;
Little Annie, Autumn mild;
Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring,
Dancing in a fairy ring.

Spring and Summer glide away,
Autumn comes with tresses grey;
Winter, hand in hand with Spring,
Dancing in a fairy ring.

Faster! faster! round we go
While our cheeks like roses glow;
Free as birds upon the wing,
Dancing in a fairy ring.

Come and Play in the Garden

Little sister, come away,
And let us in the garden play,
For it is a pleasant day.

On the grassplot let us sit,
Or, if you please, we'll play a bit,
And run about all over it.

But the fruit we will not pick,
For that would be a naughty trick,
And, very likely, make us sick.

Nor will we pluck the pretty flowers
That grow about the beds and bowers,
Because, you know, they are not ours.

We'll pluck the daisies, white and red,
Because mamma has often said,
That we may gather them instead.

And much I hope we always may
Out very dear mamma obey,
And mind whatever she may say.

Little Romp

I am tired to death of keeping still
And being good all day.
I guess my mamma's company
Forgot to go away,
I've wished and wished they'd think of it,
And that they would get through;
But they must talk for ever first,
They almost always do.

I heard Tom calling to me once,
He's launched his boat, I know;
I wanted to get out and help,
But mamma's eyes said no.
The ladies talk such stuff to me,
It makes me sick to hear--
"How beautiful your hair curls!" or,
"How red your cheeks are, dear!"

I'd ten times rather run a race,
Then play my tunes and things;
I wouldn't swop my dogs and balls
For forty diamond rings.
I've got no 'finement, aunty says,
I 'spect she knows the best;
I don't need much to climb a tree,
Or hunt a squirrel's nest.

"Girls are like berries," papa says,
"Sweeter for running wild,"
But Aunt Melissa shakes her head,
And calls me "Horrid child!"
I'll always be a romp she knows--
But sure's my name is Sadie,
I'll fool 'em all some dreadful day,
By growing up a lady.

Hide and Seek

"We will have a game of hide and seek,
Now mind you do not look."
And Willie went and hid himself
In a dark and lonely nook.

Then the children went to find him;
They hunted all about.
It was a funny way in which
At last they found him out.

Just as they got where he was hid,
In his nose he felt a tickling
That made him sneeze, and so you see
They found him in a twinkling.

[Page 82--Play Land]

Tired of Play

Tired of play! tired of play!
What hast thou done this livelong day?
The birds are silent, and so is the bee;
The sun is creeping up temple and tree;

The doves have flown to the sheltering eves
And the nests are dark with the drooping leaves.
Twilight gathers and day is done,
How hast thou spent it, restless one?

Playing? But what has thou done beside,
To tell thy mother at eventide?
What promise of morn is left unbroken?
What kind word to thy playmate spoken?

Whom hast thou pitied and whom forgiven,
How with thy faults has duty striven,
What hast thou learned by field and hill?
By greenwood path, and singing rill?

Well for thee if thou couldst tell,
A tale like this of a day spent well,
If thy kind hand has aided distress,
And thou pity hast felt for wretchedness;

If thou hast forgiven a brother's offence,
And grieved for thine own with penitence;
If every creature has won thy love
From the creeping worm to the brooding dove,
Then with joy and peace on the bed of rest,
Thou wilt sleep as on thy mother's breast.

Sea-side Play

Two little boys, all neat and clean,
Came down upon the shore:
They did not know old Ocean's ways--
They'd ne'er seen him before.

So quietly they sat them down,
To build a fort of sand;
Their backs were turned to the sea,
Their faces toward the land.

They had just built a famous fort--
The handkerchief flag was spread--
When up there came a stealthy wave,
And turned them heels over head.

After School Hours

School is closed and tasks are done,
Flowers are laughing in the sun;
Like the songsters in the air,
Happy children, banish care!

Riding on a Gate

Sing, sing,
What shall we sing,
A gate is a capital
Sort of thing.

If you have not a horse,
Or haven't a swing,
A gate is a capital
Sort of thing.

Cry, cry,
Finger in eye,
Go home to mother
And tell her why;

You've been riding,
And why not I?
Each in turn, isn't that the rule
For work or play, at home or school.

Walking Song

Come, my children, come away,
For the sun shines bright to-day;
Little children, come with me,
Birds, and brooks, and posies see;
Get your hats and come away,
For it is a pleasant day.

Bring the hoop and bring the ball,
Come with happy faces all,
Let us make a merry ring,
Talk, and laugh, and dance, and sing
Quickly, quickly come away,
For it is a pleasant day.

The Lost Playmate

The old school-house is still to day,
The rooms have no gay throng;
No ringing laugh is on the air,
There is no snatch of song.
The white-haired master sits upon
The seat beneath the tree,
And thinks upon the vanished face,
With all its boyish glee.

But a few short days ago, the lad
Was gayest of the gay,
Quick at the page of knowledge, and
The heartiest in play.
The pride of the home beside the stream,
With his pigeons in their cots,
And finding life a very dream,
In pleasant homely spots.

His school companions loving him,
And old folks speaking praise,
Of the well-loved boy, with frankest eyes,
And cheery, happy ways.
All in the village knew the boy,
From parson down to clerk,
And his whistle in the village street
Was clear as the song of lark.

But like a dream he's passed away,
And from the chamber dim,
In the fair light of summer day,
The peasants carry him.
And playmates gather at the grave,
The old schoolmaster there,
While blossomed boughs wave over-head,
And all around is fair.

True is the grief that brings the tear,
There is no empty show;
The simple neighbours see their loss,
And there is heart-felt woe.
They talk of the bright and lively lad,
Cut down in boyish prime,
And old folks think how strange is life,
More strange with passing time!

Oh! simple sight on green hill-side,
Away from pomp and power;
Here are the truths so oft denied
To the imperial hour.
Dear child, how precious are the tears,
Suffusing friendly eyes!
Sublimity is in their gleam,
A light from God's own skies.

[Page 83--Play Land]

In the Toy Shop

Cups and saucers, pots and pans,
China figures, Chinese fans,
Railway trains, with tops and tables,
Fairy tales, and Aesop's fables.

Clockwork mice, and colored marbles,
Painted bird that sweetly warbles,
Dolls of every age and size,
With flaxen curls and moving eyes.

Cows and horses, chickens, cats,
Rattles, windmills, boats and bats,
Ducks and geese, and golden fishes,
Skipping ropes, and copper dishes.

Books with coloured pictures, too,
And a thousand other things for you;
Dainty maidens, merry boys,
Here you are, all sorts of toys.

Neat Little Clara

"Little Clara, come away,
Little Clara, come and play;
Leave your work, Maria's here,
So come and play with me, my dear."

"I will come, and very soon,
For I always play at noon;
But must put my work away,
Ere with you I come and play.

First my bodkin I must place
With my needles in their case;
I like to put them by with care,
And then I always find them there.

There's my cotton, there's my thread
Thimble in its little bed;
All is safe--my box I lock,
Now I come--'tis twelve o'clock."

Playing Store

"Ting-a-ling!" Now they
Have opened the store,
Never was such
An assortment before;
Mud pies in plenty,
And parcels of sand,
Pebbles for sugar plums,
Always on hand.

Plenty of customers
Coming to buy,
"Brown sugar, white sugar
Which will you try?
Paper for money;
Their wealth, too, is vast;
In spite of the plenty,
They scatter it fast.

Quick little hands
Tie bundles with care,
Summer's glad music
Is filling the air;
Birdies fly over,
And wonder, no doubt,
What all these gay
little folks are about.

Fishing

He took a stick, he took a cord,
He took a crooked pin,
And went a-fishing in the sand
And almost tumbled in.
But just before he tumbled in,
By chance it came about,
He hooked a whiting and a sole,
And made them tumble out.

Hide and Seek

When the clean white cloth is laid,
And the cups are on the table,
When the tea and toast are made,
That's a happy time for Mabel.

Stealing to her mother's side,
In her ear she whispers low,
"When papa comes I'll hide;
Don't tell him where I go,"

On her knees upon the floor,
In below the sofa creeping;
When she hears him at the door,
She pretends that she is sleeping.

"Where is Mabel?" father cries,
Looking round and round about.
Then he murmurs in surprise,
"Surely Mabel can't be out."

First he looks behind his chair,
Then he peers beneath the table,
Seeking, searching everywhere
All in vain for little Mabel;

But at last he thinks he knows,
And he laughs and shakes his head,
Says to mother, "I suppose
Mabel has been put to bed."

But when he sits down to tea,
From beneath the sofa creeping,
Mabel climbs upon his knee,
Clasps her hands: "I was not sleeping."

When he asks, "Where is my girl's
Very secret hiding-place?"
Mabel only shakes her curls,
Laughing, smiling, in his face.

[Page 84--Play Land]

Little Sailors

Now, Harry, pull the chairs up,
And, Fanny, get the shawl;
We'll play that we are sailors,
And that we're in a squall.

The fire will be a lighthouse,
To warn us off the shore;
And we will place the footstools
For rocks, out on the floor.

Now this chair is the stern
And that one is the bow;
But there, you must be careful,
And not lean hard, you know.

Now, sailors, pull that sail up,
And tuck the corners in--
Well if you want it tighter,
Ask mother for a pin.

Now couldn't we sing something
About the "Ocean Blue"?
Well, never mind, "By-baby"
Or anything will do.

Take care, you careless sailors,
And mind what you are about,
You know the sea will drown you,
If you should tumble out.

Brother Playing

Up and down the play-room,
Then behind the door,
Now upon the sofa,
Now upon the floor.

In below the table,
Round the big arm-chair,
Goes my little brother,
Crying "Are you there?"

And when brother sees me,
Then away I run;
And he follows after,
Merry with the fun.

So at hide and seek we play.
And pass the happy hours away.

Girls and Boys, Come Out to Play

Girls and boys,
Come out to play,
The sun is shining
Away, away.

Into the meadow
Over the way,
Tumbling and tossing
The new-mown hay.

Into the hedgerow
Picking the May;
Over the hills
And far away.

Down by the brook
Where the ripples play,
Whirling and winding
Their silvery way,

Then home again
By a different way,
Picking an armful
Of wildflowers gay.

For mother dear
To gladden her way,
And wake in her heart
A cheerful lay.

For every leaf
Has it's sunny ray;
All nature is happy
And seems to say:

Girls and boys,
Come out to play.
The sun is shining
Away, away.

Two Merry Men

Two merry men,
One summer day,
Forsook their toys,
And forgot their play.

Two little faces,
Full of fun,
Two little hearts
That beat as one.

Four little hands,
At work with a will,
Four little legs
That can't keep still.

For labour is sweet,
And toil is fun,
When mother wants
Any work to be done.

Mud Pies

Tell me little ladies,
Playing in the sun,
How many minutes
Till the baking's done?

Susy gets the flour,
All of golden dust;
Harry builds the oven,
Lily rolls the crust.

Pat it here, and pat it there;
What a dainty size!
Bake it on a shelf of stone,
Nice mud pies!

Now we want a shower--
For we need it so--
It would make a roadside,
Such a heap of dough.

Turn them in, and turn them out,
How the morning flies!
Ring the bell for dinner--
Hot mud pies!

The Playful Girl

I know a little girl,
Who is very fond of play:
And if her ma would let her,
Would do nothing else all day.

She has a little doll,
And another one quite large.
She plays she has a little home,
And house cares to discharge.

But when her mamma calls her,
Some real work to do,
She does not like to leave her play,
And pouts till she is through.

Hay Making

In the hay, in the hay,
Toss we and tumble;
No one to say us nay,
All through this Summer's day!
No one to grumble.

In the hat, in the hay,
Arthur we'll smother;
Bring armfuls, heap them high,
Pile them up--now good-bye,
Poor little brother!

In the hay, in the hay,
Snugly reclining,
Shaded from the noontide heat,
Smelling the clover sweet,
See us all dining;

While the haymakers sit
Under the willows,
Each with his bread and cheese
Spread out upon his knees,
Hay for their pillows.

Hark! how the laugh and chat,
Happy, light hearted!
Now to their work they go,
Raking up one long row,
Fit to be carted.

Now comes the wagon near,
Quickly they're loading;
Rake away! rake away!
While it's fine make the hay--
Rain is foreboding.

Now that the sunset ray
Says the day's over,
Homeward we make our way,
In the cart strewn with hay,
Smelling of clover.

Mrs. Hawtrey

[Page 85--Play Land]

Johnny the Stout

"Ho! for a frolic!"
Said Johnny the stout;
"There's coasting and sledding;
I'm going out."

Scarcely had Johnny
Plunged in the snow,
When there came a complaint
Up from his toe:

"We're cold" said the toe,
"I and the rest;
There's ten of us freezing,
Standing abreast."

Then up spoke an ear;
"My, but it's labor--
Playing in winter. Eh!
Opposite neighbour!"

"Pooh!" said his nose,
Angry and red;
"Who wants to tingle?
Go home to bed!"

Eight little fingers,
Four to a thumb,
All cried together--
"Johnny, we're numb!"

But Johnny the stout
Wouldn't listen a minute;
Never a snow-bank
But Johnny was in it.

Tumbling and jumping,
Shouting with glee,
Wading the snow-drifts
Up to his knee.

Soon he forgot them,
Fingers and toes,
Never once thought of
The ear and the nose.

Ah! What a frolic!
All in a glow,
Johnny grew warmer
Out in the snow.

Often his breathing
Came with a joke;
"Blaze away, Johnny!
I'll do the smoke."

"And I'll do the fire,"
Said Johnny the bold.
"Fun is the fuel
For driving off cold."

[Page 86--Play Land]

Training Time

Supper is over,
Now for fun,
This is the season
Children must run;

Papa is reading;
Says, of these boys;
"Pray did you ever
Hear such a noise?"

Riding on "camels"
Over the floor,
See, one's a squirrel
Climbing the door;

There goes the baby
Flat on his nose,
Brother was trying
To tickle his toes.

Little he minds it,
Though he would cry,
Changed it to laughter
As Lyn galloped by;

Order is nowhere,
Fun is the rule;
Think, they are children
Just out of school.

Home is their palace;
They are the kings
Let them be masters,
Of just a few things;

Only one short hour
Out of all day,
Give them full freedom;
Join in their play.

Do not be angry
Do not forget
You liked to make noise
Sometimes do yet;

Home will be sweeter
Till life is done
If you will give them
An hour of fun.

[Page 87--Play Land]

Playtime

Play-time, play-time, hurrah!
Out in the fields together!
Don't let us lose a moment's time,
This fine, bright, glorious weather.

Run, boys! Run, boys! faster!
Ball and the bats for cricket;
Jack, you're the fastest runner here,
Be off, and pitch the wicket.

Football for those who choose--
The goal stick--go, Jim, fix it;
Give us the ball; who's won the toss?
Now, for the first who kicks it.

No lazy ones today;
Off, stretch your legs running!
Now for the hip, hip, hip, hurrah!
And let the noise be stunning.

Hear how it echoes round!
Another and another!
No fear of noise, it won't disturb
Old granny and poor mother.

Hullo there! no foul play!
Dick, what is that you're saying?
No bad words and no cruel sport;
We're come for fun and playing.

Romping

Why now, my dear boys, this is always the way,
You can't be contented with innocent play;
But this sort of romping, so noisy and high,
Is never left off till it ends in a cry.

What! are there no games you can take a delight in,
But kicking and knocking, and tearing, and fighting?
It is a sad thing to be forced to conclude
That boys can't be merry, without being rude.

Now what is the reason you never can play
Without snatching each other's playthings away?
Would it be any hardship to let them alone,
When every one of you has toys of his own?

I often have told you before, my dear boys,
That I do not object to your making a noise;
Or running and jumping about, anyhow,
But fighting and mischief I cannot allow.

So, if any more of these quarrels are heard,
I tell you this once, and I'll keep to my word,
I'll take every marble, and spintop and ball,
And not let you play with each other at all.

Nurse's Song

When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.

"Then come home my children, the sun is gone down
And the dews of the night arise;
Come, come, leave off play, and let us away,
Till the morning appears in the skies."

"No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,
And we cannot go to sleep;
Besides in the sky the little birds fly,
And the hills are covered with sheep."

"Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
And then go home to bed."
The little ones leaped, and shouted and laughed,
And all the hills echoed.

W. Blake

[Page 88--Play Land]

Swinging

Here we go on the garden swing,
Under the chestnut tree.
Up in the branches birdies sing
Songs to Baby and me,
Baby and Kitty and me.
Then up, high up, for the ropes are long,
And down, low down, for the branch is strong.

And there's room on the seat for three,
Just Baby and Kitty and me
Merrily swinging,
Merrily singing,
Under the chestnut tree.

Up to the clustering leaves we go,
Down we sweep to the grass,
Touching the daisies there below,
Bowing to let us pass,
Smiling to us as we pass.
Then up, high up, for the ropes are long,
And down, low down, for the branch is strong.

And there's room on the seat for three,
Just Baby and Kitty and me
Merrily swinging,
Merrily singing,
Under the chestnut tree.

Skating

One day it chanced that Miss Maud did meet
The poet's little son,
"I'm going skating, Sir," she said;
"And so am I," said John.

"If you can skate and I can skate,
Why let me skate with you,
We'll go the whole world round and round,
And skate the whole year through."

They skated left, and skated right,
Miss Maud and little John,
That is--as long as there was ice
For them to skate upon.

And then they did unstrap their skates
Like other girls and men,
And never used them once--until
They put them on again!

The Skipping Rope

Lessons now at last are over,
Books and slates are put away;
Hymns attentively repeated,
Copy without a blot completed,
Now's the time for fun and play.

Lessons done with cheerful spirit
Bring the sure reward of merit,
Smiling face and heart so gay;
In this bright and smiling weather,
Merrily they all together,
With the skipping rope will play;

And if only Tom and Polly
Will come too, it will be jolly!
Here they are now, foot it lightly,
Hand in hand they skip so sprightly,
Bees are humming,
Summer's coming.

Birds are singing as they're bringing
Twigs from many a distant tree;
Lined with down, and moss, and feather,
Where they'll sit and chirp together,
Oh! how snug those homes will be!

O'er the ropes so lightly skipping,
O'er the grass so lightly tripping,
The children are as glads as they.
Lessons are done with cheerful spirit,
Bring the sure reward of merit;

And remember, too, that they
Who work hardest day by day,
Always most enjoy their play.

[Page 89--Play Land]

The Baby's Debut

My brother Jack was nine in May,
And I was eight on New Year's day;
So in Kate Wilson's shop
Papa (he's my papa and Jack's)
Bought me, last week, a doll of wax,
And brother Jack a top.

Jack's in the pouts, and this it is,
He thinks mine came to more than his;
So to my drawer he goes,
Takes out the doll, and, O, my stars!
He pokes her head between the bars,
And melts off half her nose!

Quite cross, a bit of string I beg,
And tie it to his peg-top's peg,
And bang with might and main,
It's head against the parlor door:
Off flies the head, and hits the floor,
And breaks a window-pane.

This made him cry with rage and spite:
Well, let him cry, it serves him right.
A pretty thing, forsooth!
If he's to melt, all scalding hot.
Half my doll's nose, and I am not
To draw his peg-top's tooth!

Aunt Hannah heard the window break,
And cried "O naughty Nancy Lake,
Thus to distress your aunt:
No Drury-lane for you to-day!"
And while papa said "Pooh, she may!"
Mamma said "No she sha'n't!"

Well, after many a sad reproach,
They got into a hackney coach,
And trotted down the street.
I saw them go: one horse was blind,
The tails of both hung down behind,
Their shoes were on their feet.

The chaise in which poor brother Bill
Used to be drawn to Pentonville,
Stood in the lumber-room:
I wiped the dust from off the top,
While molly mopp'd it with a mop,
And brush'd it with a broom.

My uncle's porter, Samuel Hughes,
Came in at six to black the shoes,
(I always talk to Sam:)
So what does he, but takes, and drags
Me in the chaise among the flags,
And leaves me where I am.

My father's walls are made of brick,
But not so tall and not so thick
As these; and, goodness me!
My father's beams are made of wood,
But never, never half so good
As those that now I see.

What a large floor! 'tis like a town!
The carpet, when they lay it down,
Won't hide it, I'll be bound;
And there's a row of lamps!--my eye!
How they do blaze! I wonder why
They keep them on the ground.

Let the Child Play

He who checks a child with terror,
Stops its play and stills its song,
Not alone commits an error
But a great and grievous wrong.

Give it play, and never fear it;
Active life is no defect.
Never, never break its spirit;
Curb it only to direct.

Would you stop the flowing river,
Thinking it would cease to flow?
Onward in must flow forever;
Better teach it where to go.

[Page 90--Reading Land]

Reading

"And so you do not like to spell,
Mary, my dear, oh, very well:
'Tis dull and troublesome,' you say,
And you had rather be at play.

"Then bring me all your books again;
Nay, Mary, why do you complain?
For as you do not choose to read,
You shall not have your books, indeed.

"So, as you wish to be a dunce,
Pray go and fetch me them at once;
For if you will not learn to spell,
'Tis vain to think of reading well.

"Do you not think you'll blush to own
When you become a woman grown,
Without one good excuse to plead,
That you have never learnt to read?"

"Oh, dear mamma," said Mary then,
"Do let me have my books again;
I'll not fret any more indeed,
If you will let me learn to read."

Jane Taylor

Mrs Grammar's Ball

Mrs Grammar once gave a fine ball
To the nine different parts of our speech;
To the short and the tall,
To the stout and the small,
There were pies, plums and puddings for each.

And first little Articles came,
In a hurry to make themselves known--
Fat _A_, _An_, and _The_;
But none of the three
Could stand for a minute alone.

The Adjectives came to announce
That their dear friends the Nouns were at hand,
_Rough_, _rougher_ and _roughest_,
_Tough_, _tougher_ and _toughest_,
_Fat_, _merry_, _good-natured_ and _grand_.

The Nouns were indeed on their way,
Tens of thousands, and more, I should think;
For each name we could utter,
_Shop_, _shoulder_, or _shutter_,
Is a noun: _lady_, _lion_ or _link_.

The Pronouns were hastening fast
To push the Nouns out of their places:
_I_, _thou_, _he_, and _she_,
_You_, _it_, _they_, and _we_,
With their sprightly intelligent faces.

Some cried out, "Make way for the Verbs!
A great crowd is coming in view!"
To _light_ and to _smile_,
To _fight_ and to _bite_,
To _be_, and to _have_, and to _do_.

The Adverbs attended on the Verbs,
Behind as their footmen they ran;
As this, "to fight _badly_,"
And "run _away gladly_,"
Shows how fighting and running were done.

Prepositions came _in_, _by_, and _near_;
With Conjunctions, a wee little band,
As _either_ you _or_ he,
But _neither_ I _nor_ she;
They held their great friends by the hand.

Then, too, with a _hip_, _hip_, _hurrah_!
Rushed in Interjections uproarious;
_Dear me!_ _well-a-day!_
When they saw the display,
"_Ha! Ha!_" they all shouted out, "glorious!"

But, alas! what misfortunes were nigh!
While the fun and the feasting pleased each,
Pounced on them at once
A monster--a Dunce!
And confounded the nine parts of speech!

Help! friends! to the rescue! on you
For aid Verb and Article call;
Oh! give your protection
To poor Interjection,
Noun, Pronoun, Conjunction, and all!

Grammar In Rhyme

Three little words we often see,
And Article, _a_, _an_, _the_.

Noun's the name of anything,
As _school_ or _garden_, _hoop_ or _string_.

Adjective tells the kind of noun,
As _great_, _small_, _pretty_, _white_ or _brown_.