Chapter I: KNOW when little buds come out,

And spread their colors all about,
They make soft music--Yet it's true
Most people never hear. Do you?

There is the faintest, tinkly sound.
Birds fly to listen all around,
Then all the leaves stand just as still,
And sunshine dances on the hill.

FRILLS

THE dainty frills upon my frocks
Make me all twinkly smiles inside.
I want to take my sweets around,--
A something in me says "Divide."

I run to give my mother dear
My nicest, clean-face kiss.
I feed the sparrows on the steps,
And think what others miss.

I put some water on my fern;
To every one I want to say
Nice _velvet_ things. It is so queer
That we can dress our moods away!

GONE SOMEWHERE

ONE day a little boy,
With a poor broken toy,
And ragged clothes, went by.
He looked as if he'd like to cry,
To see my soldiers fine,
In scarlet coats, so straight in line.

Would he have liked to play with me,
Here beneath my shady tree?
I wonder, but I did not call him back again.
I thought he'd come next day the same,
And I would ask him in to play,
And when he had to go away
Give him my nicest toys--
The drum that makes the loudest noise,
My whistle, and perhaps my sword,
Or even my soldier hat with braids and cord.

But though I watch here by the gate
Until it grows quite dark and late,
I never hear his footsteps there,
The little boy is gone somewhere.

THE CHOSEN DREAM

IF I could choose a dream to-night,
I'd choose a splendid dream
About big soldiers in a fight,--
So real that it would seem
A truly one not in a book,
With flags and banners waving high
And horses with a prancing look
And powder smoke that filled the sky,
And lots of swords to flash.
Perhaps this dream would frighten me,
More than a noisy game,
If too much blood should splash,
And any soldiers die.
And yet I think I'd choose it just the same
And then wake up and cry.

HOME

YOU think my home is up the street
In that big house with lots of steps,
All worn in places by our feet--
With tracks that look like mine and Jep's.

You think it's where I always eat,
Where I can find my spoon and bowl,
My napkin folded clean and neat,
And milk, and sometimes jelly-roll.

You think it's where I always sleep,
Where I get in my puffy bed,
And fall right in a comfy heap,
Some nights before my prayers are said.

But that's not home--just roof and walls,
A place that anybody buys,
With shiny floors and stairs and halls.--
_My_ home is in my mother's eyes.

DAWN

THERE are no sounds of feet
Or wagons in the street,
So still, so beautiful,
With air so fresh and cool.
I love the dawn to come--
But oh, I know that some
Are not so glad as I,--
For they must wake to cry.

THE CITY TREE

A SOLEMN, dressed-up City Tree,
As stiff and straight as it can be,
All cut and trimmed and kept just so,
Is trying very hard to grow
Correctly, with its top so queer,
In front of my big window here.

It is not like my Country Tree,
Good friend of every bird and bee,
Who keep it merry company
And always sing and talk to me.
My Country Tree laughs all day long.
Its fresh leaves whisper in a song
Their secrets just for me to hear.
Its branches lean so very near
The ground, that grasses stretch and try
To meet the boughs not swung too high.
There is the place, the very best
In all the world, to play and rest.

The City Tree stands all alone
Above the clean-swept pavement stone.
No little children ever stay
Beneath its trimmed-off shade to play--
They aren't brave enough to dare,
Because it is so proper there.
There are no lady-birds about;
No crickets frolic in and out.
The City Tree is very proud,
It hasn't even looked or bowed.
We're not at all acquainted yet--
It's just as if we'd never met.

The days seem long--I wonder when
I'll see my country tree again?

A PRAYER

DEAR God, may I _not_ dream
The Dragon-dream to-night,--
And please do not forget
To make it light
On time again
For me. Amen.

CAP AND BELLS

THEY make me laugh and clap my hands
When they run out in wide striped clothes
Of white, with red and yellow bands,
With pointed caps and pointed toes,--
The "funny men" at circus shows.

I wish I knew just how a clown
Can make his mouth up in a smile,
And wrinkle in a crinkly frown
His forehead all the while,
In that queer circus style.

One day when I had cried and cried
Because I lost the picture book
Which I had made, and mother tried
To comfort me, we went and took
A walk, to see how clown men look.

I soon forgot my book, and though
I loved it just the same,
I couldn't cry and miss it so,
And think about each picture's name
When all the clown men came.

I think we ought to say our thanks,
To each of them who makes and sells
Such fun and jokes, such jigs and pranks,--
How dull we'd be without the spells
They make with cap and bells!

SUMMER'S PASSING

MY mother says that Summer's gone away.
It seems so queer I didn't see her go,
Or know till now; she didn't say good-bye--
And oh, I loved her so!

Now that I know, I miss her all the time.
To-day I found this piece torn from her gown.
It fluttered softly down the path to me.
Perhaps my nurse would call it thistledown,
But grown folks often make such strange mistakes.
Nobody knows such wonder-things as I.
On fresh, dew mornings, when I used to play,
Out where the friendly rose-hedge grows so high,
The pinks and four-o'clocks would lean to me
And tell me secrets of my Summer dear.
It's lonesome now, and sad as it can be,
Since Summer is no longer here.

The Dark comes down so soon, and it is cold.
I wait and watch the sunset track,
But Mother says I'll be a year more old
Before my Summer will come back.

WHEN YOU WAIT

DO you know that when you wait
To tell the truth, and fear--
Until it grows _almost_ too late--
God leans to hear?

PUNISHMENT

SOME days my doll-child is so bad,
I have to whip her very hard.
I put her in the corner there,
And take away her picture-card.

She's put to bed without a kiss.
She doesn't have her way one bit,
But then, _I_ am the one it hurts,
And so what is the use of it?

FIRST PITY

I'VE found a bird that's hurt.
It flutters so and cries,
Then looks its pain at me
With such bright frightened eyes.

Its feathers are so soft!
How quiet it is now!
I want to make it well--
I wish my hands knew how!

NIGHT