THE LOVABLE CHILD

Frisky as a lambkin,

Busy as a bee

That's the kind of little girl

People like to see.

Modest as a violet,

As a rosebud sweet

That's the kind of little girl

People like to meet.

Bright as is a diamond,
Pure as any pearl-
Everyone rejoices in
Such a little girl.

Happy as a robin,

Gentle as a dove

That's the kind of little girl
Everyone will love.

Fly away and seek her,

Little song of mine,

For I choose that very girl

As my Valentine.

Emilie Poulsson

"THERE WAS A LITTLE GIRL"

There was a little girl, who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead,

And when she was good, she was very, very good,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

She stood on her head, on her little trundle-bed, With nobody by for to hinder;

She screamed and she squalled, she yelled and she bawled, And drummed her little heels against the winder.

Her mother heard the noise, and thought it was the boys
Playing in the empty attic,

She rushed upstairs, and caught her unawares,
And spanked her, most emphatic.

A NURSERY SONG

Oh, Peterkin Pout and Gregory Grout

Are two little goblins black.

Full oft from my house I've driven them out,

But somehow they still come back. They clamber up to the baby's mouth,

And pull the corners down;

They perch aloft on the baby's brow,

And twist it into a frown.

And one says "Must!" and t'other says "Can't!"
And one says "Shall!" and t'other says "Shan't!”
Oh, Peterkin Pout and Gregory Grout,

I pray you now from my house keep out!

But Samuel Smile and Lemuel Laugh

Are two little fairies bright;

They're always ready for fun and chaff,
And sunshine is their delight.

And when they creep into Baby's eyes,
Why, there the sunbeams are;

And when they peep through her rosy lips,
Her laughter rings near and far.

And one says "Please!" and t'other
And both together say "I love you!"
So, Lemuel Laugh and Samuel Smile,
Come in, my dears, and tarry awhile!

says "Do!"

Laura E. Richards

ANGER

Anger in its time and place
May assume a kind of grace.
It must have some reason in it,
And not last beyond a minute.
If to further lengths it go,
It does into malice grow.
'Tis the difference that we see
'Twixt the serpent and the bee.
If the latter you provoke,
It inflicts a hasty stroke,
Puts you to some little pain,
But it never stings again.

Close in tufted bush or brake
Lurks the poison-swelled snake
Nursing up his cherished wrath;
In the purlieus of his path,
In the cold, or in the warm,
Mean him good, or mean him harm,
Wheresoever fate may bring you,
The vile snake will always sting you.

Charles and Mary Lamb

MY LADY WIND

My Lady Wind, my Lady Wind,
Went round about the house to find
A chink to set her foot in;

She tried the keyhole in the door,
She tried the crevice in the floor,

And drove the chimney soot in.

And then one night when it was dark
She blew up such a tiny spark

That all the town was bothered;

From it she raised such flame and smoke
That many in great terror woke,

And many more were smothered.

And thus when once, my little dears,
A whisper reaches itching ears-

The same will come, you'll find:
Take my advice, restrain the tongue,
Remember what old nurse has sung
Of busy Lady Wind.

THE BEST FIRM

A pretty good firm is "Watch & Waite,"
And another is "Attit, Early & Layte;'
And still another is "Doo & Dairet;"
But the best is probably “Grinn & Barrett."

Walter G. Doty

A BAKER'S DUZZEN UV WIZE SAWZ

Them ez wants, must choose.

Them ez hez, must lose.

Them ez knows, won't blab.

Them ez guesses, will gab.
Them ez borrows, sorrows.
Them ez lends, spends.
Them ez gives, lives.

Them ez keeps dark, is deep.

Them ez kin earn, kin keep.

Them ez aims, hits.

Them ez hez, gits.

Them ez waits, win.

Them ez will, kin.

Edward Rowland Sill

"JOG ON, JOG ON"

Jog on, jog on the foot-path way
And merrily hent the stile-a;
A merry heart goes all the day,

Your sad tires in a mile-a.

William Shakespeare

THE TUMBLE

Tumble down, tumble up, never mind it, my sweet;

No, no, never beat the poor floor:

'Twas your fault, that could not stand straight on your feet;

Beat yourself, if you beat any more.

Oh dear! what a noise: will a noise make it well?

Will crying wash bruises away?

Suppose that it should bleed a little and swell,

'Twill all be gone down in a day.

That's right, be a man, love, and dry up your tears.

Come, smile, and I'll give you a kiss:

If you live in the world but a very few years,

You must bear greater troubles than this.

Ah! there's the last tear dropping down from your cheek! All the dimples are coming again!

And your round little face looks as ruddy and meek

As a rose that's been washed in the rain.

LITTLE THINGS

Little drops of water,

Little grains of sand,

Ann Taylor