Chapter I: KNOW where there's a beautiful shoe,

Tiny and sweet, and ready for you;
It hides away in the balsam-flower,
But I'll find you a pair in less than an hour.

"Thank you, my laddie; now this I'll do,
I'll pluck a heart-flower just for you;
The hearts hang close on a bending spray,
And every heart hides a lyre away.

"How shall you find it? I'll tell you true:
You gently sunder the heart in two,
And under the color, as white as milk,
You'll find the lyre with its strings of silk."

----------

HOBBLEDY HOPS.

HOBBLEDY HOPS
He made some tops
Out of the morning-glory;
He used the seed,--
He did indeed;
And that's the end of my story.

----------

BRIGHT little buttercup, now you will show
Whether my darling likes butter or no.
Buttercup, buttercup, will you begin?
Shine me an answer under her chin.

----------

THE ANTS.

GOOD Mistress Ant, I pray, what is the matter?
Why this commotion without any clatter?
"Alack! alack! we're ruined, you see;
I've lost my children, and they've lost me!
Our houses have fallen, our city is gone,
And thousands are murdered or running forlorn.
Ah me! who would think that such power to destroy
Could lurk in the heel of a bare-footed boy?"

----------

BURS.

DEAR me!
What shall it be?
Such sticky affairs
Did ever you see?
Let's make a basket,
Let's make a mat,
Let's make a tea-board,
Let's make a hat;
Let's make a cottage,
Windows and doors;
You do the roof,
And I'll do the floors.
Let's make a pancake,--
Stick 'em together;
See how they fasten
Close to each other!
Tied to one's heel
They would answer for spurs;
Ah, how we love 'em,
These comical burs!

----------

HOLLYHOCK, hollyhock, bend for me;
I want a cheese for my dolly's tea.
I'll put it soon on an acorn plate,
And dolly and I shall feast in state.

----------

WHEN the sun is sinking low in the skies,
The evening primrose opens her eyes.
"Come back, dear Sun," she seems to say;
"I've been dreaming of you the live-long day."

----------

HO, Dandelion! my lightsome fellow!
What's become of all your yellow?
"My bonnie yellow it wouldn't stay,
It turned about and it went away,
Till nothing at all was left of me
But the misty, feathery ball you see;
Yet pluck me off, and blow me well,
The time o' day I'll surely tell."

Whiff! whiff! "Blow again,--
Blow with all your might and main."
Whiff! whiff! That is four.
Now I've but two feathers more.
Whiff! How tight the last one sticks!
Whiff! It's gone; and that makes six.
The sun is getting low, I see,
And we must hurry home to tea.

----------

SONG OF SUMMER.

UP in the tree top, down in the ground,
High in the blue sky, far, all around,--
Near by and everywhere creatures are living,
God in his bounty something is giving.

Up in the tree top, down in the ground,
High in the blue sky, far, all around,--
Near by and everywhere creatures are striving,
Labor is surely the price of their thriving.

Up in the tree top, down in the ground,
High in the blue sky, far, all around,--
Near by and everywhere, singing and humming,
Busily, joyfully, Summer is coming!

----------

LITTLE BEGINNINGS.

A LITTLE girl on a little bench
By a little window stood,
And a little trouble was in her heart--
"Ah! if I were but good!"

"Not very, very good," she thought,
"Like dear cousin Jane who died;
But only patient, true and kind,
And free from wicked pride.

"I'll pray for that at first," she said,
"Our Father will help me try.
And then, perhaps, He will show the way,
To be very good by and by."

Then upward rose the little prayer--
So earnestly it went,
That the little heart of the little maid
Was filled with a sweet content.

And standing there on the little bench,
She looked up into the sky:
"I'll try to be good right off," she said,
"And better yet, by and by."

----------

TO Mooney and her baby,
Shut in the corner lot,
I'll carry a cooling pailful,
For the day is close and hot.
But Blacky and Snow can help themselves
At the brook as well as not.

----------

THE Moon came late to a lonesome bog,
And there sat Goggleky Gluck, the frog.
"My stars!" she cried, and veiled her face,
"What very grand people they have in this place!"

----------

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 are ten of us freezing
Standing abreast."

Then up spoke an ear:
"My! but it's labor
Playing in winter. Eh,
Opposite neighbor?"

"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."

----------

A FARMER in Bungleton had a colt
That couldn't be taught to moo;
And he kept his cow under lock and bolt
Till the smith could make her a shoe.
His ducks wouldn't gobble, his geese wouldn't quack,
His cat couldn't bark at all.
"I'm clean discouraged!" he cried; "alack!
I'll give up my farm in the fall."

----------

THE DRINKING-PAN.

KIPPY! Kippy! what a pleasure!
Kippy! Kippy! such a treasure!
Here's a lake of water clear;
Little Polly put it here.

See, the water has a sky
Like the one that shines so high
All the other birds are there,
Playing in the sunny air.

Shall we ever sing and play
In the sky the livelong day?
Oh, no, no! such silly tricks
Would not do for downy chicks.

----------

THERE was a shrewd lad of Cooloo
Who thought baby's tooth wasn't through.
Says he, "Though I doubt,
I'se a-gwine to find out."
And he did--that shrewd lad of Cooloo.

----------

THERE was a fine youth of Pike's Peak
Who raised a moustache in a week.
When they called it "like down,"
Ah, how he would frown!--
This hairy young man of Pike's Peak.

----------

STOCKING SONG ON CHRISTMAS EVE.

WELCOME, Christmas! heel and toe,
Here we wait thee in a row.
Come, good Santa Claus, we beg,--
Fill us tightly, foot and leg.

Fill us quickly ere you go,--
Fill us till we overflow.
That's the way! and leave us more
Heaped in piles upon the floor.

Little feet that ran all day
Twitch in dreams of merry play;
Little feet that jumped at will
Lie all pink, and warm, and still.

See us, how we lightly swing;
Hear us, how we try to sing.
Welcome, Christmas! heel and toe,
Come and fill us ere you go.

Here we hang till some one nimbly
Jumps with treasure down the chimney.
Bless us! how he'll tickle us!
Funny old St. Nicholas!

----------

IN TRUST.

IT'S coming, boys,
It's almost here;
It's coming, girls,
The grand New Year!
A year to be glad in,
Not to be bad in;
A year to live in,
To gain and give in;
A year for trying,
And not for sighing;
A year for striving
And hearty thriving;
A bright new year.
Oh! hold it dear;
For God who sendeth
He only lendeth.

----------

A SONG OF SAINT NICHOLAS.

COME, ho! sing, ho! ye chimney sprites,
Come and a riddle unravel:
Tell us true, by the dancing lights,
Where does Saint Nicholas travel?

In the twinkling of an eye,
Hither, thither, doth he hie,--
North and south and east and west;
Not a moment doth he rest.
Speeding here and speeding there,
In an instant everywhere.
Valleys, hills, and mountain passes,
Sunny fields and drear morasses,
Silent plains and busy towns,
Yankee meadows, English downs,--
Whether crowded, lone or wild,
So it holds one little child,--
Every spot, he knows by heart;
What if half the world apart?
In the twinkling of an eye
Hither, thither, doth he hie.

Prythee, this riddle unravel:
How does Saint Nicholas travel?

How does he travel? This is the way:
Sun or storm or blue or gray,
Soon as he gathers his stock of toys,
Laughing and nodding, but never a noise,
Laughing and nodding, shaking his sides,
This is the way Saint Nicholas rides:
Not over mountains, not over streams,
But gliding swift through the children's dreams.
Soon as their eyelids in slumber close,
Hither and thither Saint Nicholas goes.

But how do the little ones go to _him_?
Sing, ho! When the winter waxeth dim,
And, Christmas over, the children say,
"Good Saint Nick! he has gone away,"
Oho! he strokes his jolly old nose,
And lays him down for a quiet doze.
"Ha, ha! the snow is a capital bed!"
And he pulls his nightcap over his head.
Asleep and resting, O good Saint Nick!
Now do the children play him a trick;
For, bright and rosy and lithe of limb,
They travel quick in his dreams, to him.
From every nook and possible place
There peeps a beautiful baby-face.
With joyous murmur and laughing hum,
From every quarter the children come.
Rosy, tender, and snow-flake soft,
They throng about him or float aloft;
Closer they nestle, a hundred thick,
And whisper, "We thank you, dear Saint Nick;
We've come to tell you we love you, dear."
And Nicholas laughs in his sleep to hear.
Oho! sing, ho! and now you know:
As soon as the Christmas lights are dim,
And the saint no more his rounds doth go,
The children flock, in his dreams, to him.

----------

FLOWERS.

MY little one came, and brought me a flower,
Never a sweeter one grew;
But it faded and faded in one short hour,
And lost all its pretty blue.

My little one stayed in the room and played;
And so my flower bloomed bright,--
My beautiful blossom that did not fade,
But slept in my arms all night.

----------

THE LITTLE MOTHER.

NOW, Dolly, dear, I'm going away,
And want you to be good all day.
Don't lose your shoes nor soil your dress,
Nor get your hair all in a mess;
But lie quite still, and up I'll come
To kiss you, soon as I get home.
I'd take you, dear, but then, you know,
It's wax Sabina's turn to go.
She's sick, I'm 'fraid. Her eyes don't work;
They open worse, the more I jerk;
She used to be so straight and stout,
But now her sawdust's running out.
Her kid is out of order, dear.
My papa says she's out of gear.
That's dreadful, isn't it? But then
The air may make her well again.
So, Dolly, won't you stay alone,
And be real good while I am gone?
Good-by, my precious! Yes, I'll come
And kiss you, soon as I get home.

----------

AMONG THE ANIMALS.

ONE rainy morning,
Just for a lark,
I jumped and stamped
On my new Noah's Ark:
I crushed an elephant,
Smashed a gnu,
And snapped a camel
Clean in two;
I finished the wolf
Without half tryin',
And wild hyena,
And roaring lion;
I knocked down Ham,
And Japhet, too,
And cracked the leg
Of the kangaroo;
I finished, beside,
Two pigs and a donkey,
A polar bear,
Opossum, and monkey;
Also the lions,
Tigers, and cats,
And dromedaries,
And tiny rats--
There wasn't a thing
That didn't feel,
Sooner or later,
The weight o' my heel;
I felt as grand
As grand could be--
But oh the whipping
My mammy gave me!

----------

OLD Doctor Paff, he used to laugh
Whenever he saw the brindle calf.
But Doctor Paff thought best to bow
When at last he met the brindle cow.

----------

THE LITTLE GIRL WHO WOULDN'T EAT CRUSTS.

THE awfulest times that ever could be
They had with a bad little girl of Dundee,
Who never would finish her crust.
In vain they besought her,
And patiently taught her,
And told her she must.

Her grandma would coax,
And so would the folks,
And tell her the sinning
Of such a beginning.
But no, she wouldn't,
She couldn't, she shouldn't,
She'd have them to know--
So they might as well go.

Now what do you think soon came to pass?
This little girl of Dundee, alas!
Who wouldn't take crusts in the regular way,
Sat down to a feast one summer's day;
And what did the people that little girl give,
But a dish of _bread pudding_--as sure as I live!

----------

POOR little Toddlekins,
All full o' sketer-bites--
Bodder him awful,
Baby can't sleep o' nights.
Buzzing all over him,
Singing and tickling,
In and out, round about,
Nipping and prickling.
Poor little Toddlekins,
All full o' sketer-bites--
Bodder him awful,
Can't even sleep o' nights!

----------

SONG OF THE DUCKS.

ONE little black duck, one little gray,
Six little white ducks, running out to play;
One white lady-duck, motherly and trim,
Eight little baby ducks, bound for a swim!
One little white duck, holding up its wings,
One little bobbing duck, making water-rings,
One little black duck, turning round its head,
One big black duck--guess he's gone to bed.
One little white duck, running from the water,
One very fat duck--pretty little daughter!
One very brave duck, swimming off alone,
One little white duck, standing on a stone.
One little white duck, walking by its mother;
Look among the water-reeds, maybe there's another.

Not another anywhere? surely you are blind.
Push away the grass, dear; ducks are hard to find.
Bright little brown eyes! o'er the picture linger;
Point me all the ducks out, chubby little finger!
Make the picture musical, merry little shout!
Now, where's that other duck? What is he about?
_I_ think the other duck's the nicest duck of all;
He hasn't any feathers, and his mouth is sweet and small;
He runs with a light step, and jumps upon my knee,
And though he cannot swim, he is very dear to me.

One white lady-duck, motherly and trim;
Eight little baby-ducks, bound for a swim;
One lazy black duck, taking quite a nap;
One little precious duck, here on mamma's lap!

----------

THAT'S WHAT WE'D DO.

IF you were an owl,
And I were an owl,
And this were a tree,
And the moon came out,
I know what we'd do.
We would stand, we two,
On a bough of the tree;
You'd wink at me,
And I'd wink at you;
That's what we'd do,
Beyond a doubt.

I'd give you a rose
For your lovely nose,
And you'd look at me
Without turning about.
I know what we'd do
(That is, I and you);
Why, you'd sing to me,
And I'd sing to you;
That's what we'd do,
When the moon came out.

----------

----------

HOLLOA!
What's the matter?
Why this bustle,
Noise and clatter?
Mercy on us!
Don't you know
Little Pipkin's
Stubbed his toe!

What's that?
Some one knocks.
How the wind
Shakes the locks!
Run, quick!
How absurd--
Only a beggar,
Upon my word!

----------

AN APRIL MAIDEN.

WERE you ever heavy-hearted, little May?
She tossed her pretty head,
As right merrily she said,
"Heavy hearted? No, not I;
Yet a little makes me cry,
And a little less than half
Makes me laugh--
My mother often calls me 'April Day.'"

Were you ever very happy, little May?
Again she shook her head.
"I do not know," she said.
"_Very_ happy? Who is so?
Not a single soul, you know;
Mother often tells me this,
With a kiss;
Our life, she says, is like an April day."

Were you ever very naughty, little May?
She flushed a rosy red,
As, right saucily, she said,
"Very naughty? Let me see:
Why, I _have_ been bad--for me;
I have trod on, Pussy's toes,
And I've torn my Sunday clo'es;
And, oh!--now, don't you tell!--
I mean to--well,
Fool every one I know on April-day."

----------

THERE'S a fragrance in the blossom,
But the fruit is better still;
And the river rushes farther
Than ever could the rill.

----------

WAKE UP, BIRDIE!

BIRDIE with the folded wing,
Shall we never hear you sing?
Sleepy birdie, wake up quick!
Pretty birdie, are you sick?
Birdie, birdie! are you dead?
Birdie, birdie! lift your head!
Lift your head, and show your beak.
Naughty birdie! won't you speak?
Here is water for your cup;
Here is sugar--eat it up:
Here is sunshine warm and bright--
Now he sings with all his might!

THE DIFFERENCE.

THERE was an old lady all dressed in silk,
Who lived upon lemons and buttermilk;
And, thinking this world was a sour old place,
She carried its acid all over her face;

Another old lady, all dressed in patches,
Lived upon nothing but Lucifer matches;
So the world, it made her strangle and cough,
And sure as you rubbed her you set her off.

Another old lady, all sunny and neat,
Who lived upon sugar, and every thing sweet;
Declared, when she heard of their troubles, she "never!"
For the world was so nice she could live on forever.

----------

THE MORAL.

NOW, children take your choice
Of the food your hearts shall eat;
There are sourish thoughts, and brimstone thoughts,
And thoughts all good and sweet;

And whatever the heart feeds on,
Dear children, trust to me,
Is precisely what this queer old world
Will seem to you to be.

----------

BILLY BOY.

POOR Billy boy was music mad,
Oh music mad was he;
And yet he was as blithe a lad
As any lad could be--
With a hi-de-diddle,
Bow and fiddle,
Rig-a-my, ho! sang he--
For Billy was as blithe a lad
As any lad could be.

"Nobody knows the joy I know,
Or sees the sights I see,
So play me high, or play me low,
My fiddle's enough for me.
It takes me here, it takes me there--
So play me low or high--
It finds me, binds me anywhere,
And lifts me to the sky."
With a hi-de-diddle,
Bow and fiddle,
Rig-a-my, ho! sang he--
For Billy was as blithe a lad
As any lad could be.

----------

SHEPHERD JOHN.

OH! Shepherd John is good and kind,
Oh! Shepherd John is brave;
He loves the weakest of his flock,
His arm is quick to save.

But Shepherd John to little John
Says: "Learn, my laddie, learn!
In grassy nooks still read your books,
And aye for knowledge burn.

Read while you tend the grazing flock:
Had I but loved my book,
I'd not be still in shepherd's frock,
Nor bearing shepherd's crook.

The world is wide, the world is fair,
There's muckle work to do.
I'll rest content a shepherd still,
But grander fields for you!"

----------

MY WEEK.

ON Monday I wash my dollies' clothes,
On Tuesday smoothly press 'em;
On Wednesday mend their little hose,
On Thursday neatly dress 'em.

On Friday I play they're taken ill,
On Saturday something or other;

But when Sunday comes, I say, "Lie still:
I'm going to church with mother."

----------

BABY IN DREAMLAND.

BABY'S dreams are very bright,
Though they come at dead of night,
When the house is still;
For a moonbeam comes to take her
Where the sweetest sounds shall wake her,
Where she'll play at will.

In the dreamland, far away,
There do sleeping babies play,
There they laugh and walk.
All the day their speech is gone--
Not a foot to stand upon--
There they leap and talk.

There the pretty candle-blaze,
When they clutch it, brightly stays;
There the stars so grand
Come to meet the outstretched arm,
Leap all sparkling to the palm
Of the little hand.

But in all that wondrous place,
Still is smiling, mother's face;
Mother's touch is there;
And like music sweet and low,
Though the baby does not know,
Breathes the mother's prayer.

So the baby laughs and plays
Through the happy dreamland ways
(Close to heaven, maybe),
Till the merry sunbeams take her
To her bed, and gently wake her.
--Now, come see to Baby!

----------

THANKSGIVING.

ALL their heads were bowed in prayer--
Father's, mother's, boys' and girls',
Grandma's, grandpa's--only Nelly,
Little Nelly, shook her curls.

Little Nelly shook her curls,
Smiling, gazing all intent,
Stared as ever at the sight--
Wondered what on earth it meant.

Busy firelight, flashing bright,
Shot its frisky flamelets out;
While the ship above the clock
Gayly tossed and pitched about.

Roasted turkey, on his back,
And the chickens, side by side,
Had a perky, jaunty air
Full of jollity and pride;

Tempting pies and puddings near,
Held their faces to the light;
While canary in his cage,
Piped and sang with all his might.

Flowery carpet under foot,
Hanging basket all a-bloom,
Pearly, picture-covered wall--
Drew the sunlight to the room.

Little Nelly felt it all,
Felt how blithe it was and fair;
Yet the moment seemed so long
That the heads were bowed in prayer.

If they only knew, she thought,
How the room was full of play,
They would never hide their faces
In that sober, solemn way.

Laughing, staring, puzzled Nell!
How could such a baby know
'Twas the cheery, sunny gladness
That had bowed their heads so low;

That the blithesome, happy home-life,
Birdie singing on the wall,
And the laughing little mischief,
Made them thank the God of all?

----------

LULU'S BIRTHDAY.

LULU'S Birthday--very queer!
Comes to her but once a year;
Comes when Winter snows are falling,
Comes when Ocean winds are squalling,
Comes when Nature's quite appalling,--
Every thing so cold and drear.

Lulu's Birthday--stranger still!
Has to climb to her up hill;
For the maiden is so knowing,
That she spends her time in growing,
Every year some change is showing,--
Growing head, and heart, and will.

Lulu's Birthday--it is clear--
Likes to meet her every year;
Likes to follow Lulu's scorning.
So, with fairest flowers adorning
All the home, we give it cheer.
And with prayer and watchful loving,
Though the little maid keep moving,
And the time be cold and drear,
Sure as comes the Birthday morning,
We shall try to have her here.

----------

THE STAR FAMILY.

THE Moon came late to the twinkling sky,
To see what the stars were about:
"Fair Night," quoth she, "are the family in?"
"Oh! no, they are, every one, out."

----------

AS I was a-going to market,
I met a man with a goose.
Says he: "Big boots with a boy!
I guess you came from Toulouse."
Says I: "Little goose with a man!
How did you leave your mother?
I guess you just came from home,
For I see you've brought your brother."

----------

TWO LITTLE FROGGIES.

TWO little froggies they sighed to one another:
"Our puddle is all liquor and no meat.

Let us sit upon the bank, where the lovely mud is shining,
And maybe we'll see something good to eat."

Forty little ants said gayly to their mother:
"O mother! we are going to the bogs;"
But the forty little ants never dreamed they were going
Just to make a dainty dinner for the frogs.

----------

ONE AND ONE.

TWO little girls are better than one
Two little boys can double the fun,
Two little birds can build a fine nest,
Two little arms can love mother best.
Two little ponies must go to a span;
Two little pockets has my little man;
Two little eyes to open and close,
Two little ears and one little nose,
Two little elbows, dimpled and sweet,
Two little shoes on two little feet,
Two little lips and one little chin,
Two little cheeks with a rose shut in;
Two little shoulders, chubby and strong,
Two little legs running all day long.
Two little prayers does my darling say,
Twice does he kneel by my side each day,--
Two little folded hands, soft and brown,
Two little eyelids cast meekly down,--
And two little angels guard him in bed,
"One at the foot, and one at the head."

----------

BIRDIES AND BABIES.

BIRDIES with broken wings,
Hide from each other;
But babies in trouble,
Can run home to mother.

----------

WILLIE'S LODGER.

TWO little boys, named Willie,
Live in the house with me.
One is as good a darling
As ever I wish to see;
His eyes are glad, his smile is sweet,
His voice is kind, his dress is neat,
And he is the boy for me.

This Willie says, "Good morning!"
Happy as any bird;
A merrier laugh, a lighter step,
No mortal ever heard.
"Thank you," he says, and "If you please?"
He will not pout, he will not tease--
Oh! he is the boy for me!

The other Willie, sad to say,
Is very, very bad;
I think he is as cross a child
As ever a mother had.
"Go 'way!" he shrieks. He squalls and cries,
The angry tears oft fill his eyes--
He is not the boy for me.

He lingers round my Willie,
And whispers evil things--
Oh! how we dread him! for we know
The sin and grief he brings!
Who keeps him, then? Why, Willie's self;
He keeps this wicked Willie-elf
Who is not the boy for me.

If I were you, my Willie,
I'd make him stay away,--
This boy who grieves your mother
And spoils your brightest day,--
For he lives in you where he doesn't belong;
So oust him, Willie! Send him along!
"Clear out!" I'd say, "old Fume and Fret!
This heart of mine is not to let,--
You're not the boy for me."

----------

FOUR little piggies, bound for a frolic,
Ate green apples till one got the colic.
One was so greedy he stuffed his maw;
One munched so hard that he cracked his jaw.
One had the toothache and couldn't chew a bit,
So he swallowed them whole and died in a fit.

----------

SPINNING your top,
Don't let it flop, boys;

Flying your kite,
Pull with your might, boys.
Rolling your hoop,
Never you stoop, boys;
Either stand still,
Or play with a will.

----------

GOOD-MORNING.

GOOD-MORNING, mamma! Good-morning, bright sun!
Good-morning, papa! The day is begun.
Good-morning to every one, pussy as well:
Does he sleep like the rest, till he hears the first bell?

Good-morning it is, for the sky is all blue,
The grass is just shining and sparkling with dew;
The birdies are singing their merriest song,
And the air through the window comes sunny and strong.

Good-morning it is, for dark was the night,
And chilly and still; but the morning is bright.
If God did not watch us and bring us the day,
We'd never be able to get up and play.

Good-morning, new day! I'm glad we're awake,
Your work and your sunshine and frolic to take;
And I'm glad we are able so gayly to call
Good-morning! good-morning! Good-morning to all!

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LADY-BIRD AND DADDY LONGLEGS.

LADY-BIRD, in gown so gay,
Came creeping from the clover;
Daddy Longlegs went that way,
And nearly knocked her over.

"I'll tell my ant!" she cried out quick.
"It beats the bugs!" said he.
"A tad-_pole_ for your walking stick
Would suit you well," said she.

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WOULDN'T AND WOULD.