diff options
Diffstat (limited to '2670-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 2670-h/2670-h.htm | 2811 |
1 files changed, 2811 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/2670-h/2670-h.htm b/2670-h/2670-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3e41b8d --- /dev/null +++ b/2670-h/2670-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2811 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Love-songs of Childhood, by Eugene Field + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love-Songs of Childhood, by Eugene Field + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Love-Songs of Childhood + +Author: Eugene Field + +Release Date: January 8, 2009 [EBook #2670] +Last Updated: January 26, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE-SONGS OF CHILDHOOD *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + LOVE-SONGS OF CHILDHOOD + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Eugene Field + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Belle Angler + </p> + <p> + Dearest Aunt: + </p> + <p> + Many years ago you used to rock me to sleep, cradling me in your arms and + singing me petty songs. Surely you have not forgotten that time, and I + recall it with tenderness. You were very beautiful then. But you are more + beautiful now; for, in the years that have come and gone since then, the + joys and the sorrows of maternity have impressed their saintly grace upon + the dear face I used to kiss, and have made your gentle heart gentler + still. + </p> + <p> + Beloved lady, in memory of years to be recalled only in thought, and in + token of my gratitude and affection, I bring you these little love-songs, + and reverently I lay them at your feet. + </p> + <p> + Eugene Field Chicago, November 1, 1894 + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE ROCK-A-BY LADY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> "BOOH!" </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> GARDEN AND CRADLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE NIGHT WIND </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> KISSING TIME </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> BEARD AND BABY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE DINKEY BIRD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> THE DRUM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE DEAD BABE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE HAPPY HOUSEHOLD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> SO, SO, ROCK-A-BY SO! </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> THE SONG OF LUDDY-DUD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> THE DUEL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> GOOD-CHILDREN STREET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> THE DELECTABLE BALLAD OF THE WALLER LOT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> THE STORK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> THE BOTTLE TREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> GOOGLY-GOO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> THE BENCH-LEGGED FYCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> LITTLE MISS BRAG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> THE HUMMING TOP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> LADY BUTTON-EYES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> THE BROOK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> PICNIC-TIME </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> SHUFFLE-SHOON AND AMBER-LOCKS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> THE SHUT-EYE TRAIN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> LITTLE-OH DEAR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> THE FLY-AWAY HORSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> SWING HIGH AND SWING LOW </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> WHEN I WAS A BOY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> AT PLAY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> A VALENTINE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> LITTLE ALL-ALONEY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> SEEIN' THINGS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> THE CUNNIN' LITTLE THING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> THE DOLL'S WOOING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> INSCRIPTION FOR MY LITTLE SON'S SILVER PLATE + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> FISHERMAN JIM'S KIDS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> "FIDDLE-DEE-DEE" </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + THE ROCK-A-BY LADY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street + Comes stealing; comes creeping; + The poppies they hang from her head to her feet, + And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet— + She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet, + When she findeth you sleeping! + + There is one little dream of a beautiful drum— + "Rub-a-dub!" it goeth; + There is one little dream of a big sugar-plum, + And lo! thick and fast the other dreams come + Of popguns that bang, and tin tops that hum, + And a trumpet that bloweth! + + And dollies peep out of those wee little dreams + With laughter and singing; + And boats go a-floating on silvery streams, + And the stars peek-a-boo with their own misty gleams, + And up, up, and up, where the Mother Moon beams, + The fairies go winging! + + Would you dream all these dreams that are tiny and fleet? + They'll come to you sleeping; + So shut the two eyes that are weary, my sweet, + For the Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street, + With poppies that hang from her head to her feet, + Comes stealing; comes creeping. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + "BOOH!" + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + On afternoons, when baby boy has had a splendid nap, + And sits, like any monarch on his throne, in nurse's lap, + In some such wise my handkerchief I hold before my face, + And cautiously and quietly I move about the place; + Then, with a cry, I suddenly expose my face to view, + And you should hear him laugh and crow when I say "Booh"! + + Sometimes the rascal tries to make believe that he is scared, + And really, when I first began, he stared, and stared, and stared; + And then his under lip came out and farther out it came, + Till mamma and the nurse agreed it was a "cruel shame"— + But now what does that same wee, toddling, lisping baby do + But laugh and kick his little heels when I say "Booh!" + + He laughs and kicks his little heels in rapturous glee, and then + In shrill, despotic treble bids me "do it all aden!" + And I—of course I do it; for, as his progenitor, + It is such pretty, pleasant play as this that I am for! + And it is, oh, such fun I am sure that we shall rue + The time when we are both too old to play the game "Booh!" +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GARDEN AND CRADLE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When our babe he goeth walking in his garden, + Around his tinkling feet the sunbeams play; + The posies they are good to him, + And bow them as they should to him, + As fareth he upon his kingly way; + And birdlings of the wood to him + Make music, gentle music, all the day, + When our babe he goeth walking in his garden. + + When our babe he goeth swinging in his cradle, + Then the night it looketh ever sweetly down; + The little stars are kind to him, + The moon she hath a mind to him + And layeth on his head a golden crown; + And singeth then the wind to him + A song, the gentle song of Bethlem-town, + When our babe he goeth swinging in his cradle. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE NIGHT WIND + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Have you ever heard the wind go "Yooooo"? + 'T is a pitiful sound to hear! + It seems to chill you through and through + With a strange and speechless fear. + 'T is the voice of the night that broods outside + When folk should be asleep, + And many and many's the time I've cried + To the darkness brooding far and wide + Over the land and the deep: + "Whom do you want, O lonely night, + That you wail the long hours through?" + And the night would say in its ghostly way: + "Yoooooooo! + Yoooooooo! + Yoooooooo!" + + My mother told me long ago + (When I was a little tad) + That when the night went wailing so, + Somebody had been bad; + And then, when I was snug in bed, + Whither I had been sent, + With the blankets pulled up round my head, + I'd think of what my mother'd said, + And wonder what boy she meant! + And "Who's been bad to-day?" I'd ask + Of the wind that hoarsely blew, + And the voice would say in its meaningful way: + "Yoooooooo! + Yoooooooo! + Yoooooooo!" + + That this was true I must allow— + You'll not believe it, though! + Yes, though I'm quite a model now, + I was not always so. + And if you doubt what things I say, + Suppose you make the test; + Suppose, when you've been bad some day + And up to bed are sent away + From mother and the rest— + Suppose you ask, "Who has been bad?" + And then you'll hear what's true; + For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone: + "Yoooooooo! + Yoooooooo! + Yoooooooo!" +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + KISSING TIME + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'T is when the lark goes soaring + And the bee is at the bud, + When lightly dancing zephyrs + Sing over field and flood; + When all sweet things in nature + Seem joyfully achime— + 'T is then I wake my darling, + For it is kissing time! + + Go, pretty lark, a-soaring, + And suck your sweets, O bee; + Sing, O ye winds of summer, + Your songs to mine and me; + For with your song and rapture + Cometh the moment when + It's half-past kissing time + And time to kiss again! + + So—so the days go fleeting + Like golden fancies free, + And every day that cometh + Is full of sweets for me; + And sweetest are those moments + My darling comes to climb + Into my lap to mind me + That it is kissing time. + + Sometimes, maybe, he wanders + A heedless, aimless way— + Sometimes, maybe, he loiters + In pretty, prattling play; + But presently bethinks him + And hastens to me then, + For it's half-past kissing time + And time to kiss again! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Father calls me William, sister calls me Will, + Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill! + Mighty glad I ain't a girl—ruther be a boy, + Without them sashes, curls, an' things that's worn by Fauntleroy! + Love to chawnk green apples an' go swimmin' in the lake— + Hate to take the castor-ile they give for bellyache! + 'Most all the time, the whole year round, there ain't no flies on me, + But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be! + + Got a yeller dog named Sport, sick him on the cat; + First thing she knows she doesn't know where she is at! + Got a clipper sled, an' when us kids goes out to slide, + 'Long comes the grocery cart, an' we all hook a ride! + But sometimes when the grocery man is worrited an' cross, + He reaches at us with his whip, an' larrups up his hoss, + An' then I laff an' holler, "Oh, ye never teched me!" + But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be! + + Gran'ma says she hopes that when I git to be a man, + I'll be a missionarer like her oldest brother, Dan, + As was et up by the cannibuls that lives in Ceylon's Isle, + Where every prospeck pleases, an' only man is vile! + But gran'ma she has never been to see a Wild West show, + Nor read the Life of Daniel Boone, or else I guess she'd know + That Buff'lo Bill an' cow-boys is good enough for me! + Excep' jest 'fore Christmas, when I'm good as I kin be! + + And then old Sport he hangs around, so solemn-like an' still, + His eyes they seem a-sayin': "What's the matter, little Bill?" + The old cat sneaks down off her perch an' wonders what's become + Of them two enemies of hern that used to make things hum! + But I am so perlite an' 'tend so earnestly to biz, + That mother says to father: "How improved our Willie is!" + But father, havin' been a boy hisself, suspicions me + When, jest 'fore Christmas, I'm as good as I kin be! + + For Christmas, with its lots an' lots of candies, cakes, an' toys, + Was made, they say, for proper kids an' not for naughty boys; + So wash yer face an' bresh yer hair, an' mind yer p's and q's, + An' don't bust out yer pantaloons, and don't wear out yer shoes; + Say "Yessum" to the ladies, an' "Yessur" to the men, + An' when they's company, don't pass yer plate for pie again; + But, thinkin' of the things yer'd like to see upon that tree, + Jest 'fore Christmas be as good as yer kin be! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BEARD AND BABY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I say, as one who never feared + The wrath of a subscriber's bullet, + I pity him who has a beard + But has no little girl to pull it! + + When wife and I have finished tea, + Our baby woos me with her prattle, + And, perching proudly on my knee, + She gives my petted whiskers battle. + + With both her hands she tugs away, + While scolding at me kind o' spiteful; + You'll not believe me when I say + I find the torture quite delightful! + + No other would presume, I ween, + To trifle with this hirsute wonder, + Else would I rise in vengeful mien + And rend his vandal frame asunder! + + But when her baby fingers pull + This glossy, sleek, and silky treasure, + My cup of happiness is full— + I fairly glow with pride and pleasure! + + And, sweeter still, through all the day + I seem to hear her winsome prattle— + I seem to feel her hands at play, + As though they gave me sportive battle. + + Yes, heavenly music seems to steal + Where thought of her forever lingers, + And round my heart I always feel + The twining of her dimpled fingers! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DINKEY BIRD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In an ocean, 'way out yonder + (As all sapient people know), + Is the land of Wonder-Wander, + Whither children love to go; + It's their playing, romping, swinging, + That give great joy to me + While the Dinkey-Bird goes singing + In the amfalula tree! + + There the gum-drops grow like cherries, + And taffy's thick as peas— + Caramels you pick like berries + When, and where, and how you please; + Big red sugar-plums are clinging + To the cliffs beside that sea + Where the Dinkey-Bird is singing + In the amfalula tree. + + So when children shout and scamper + And make merry all the day, + When there's naught to put a damper + To the ardor of their play; + When I hear their laughter ringing, + Then I'm sure as sure can be + That the Dinkey-Bird is singing + In the amfalula tree. + + For the Dinkey-Bird's bravuras + And staccatos are so sweet— + His roulades, appoggiaturas, + And robustos so complete, + That the youth of every nation— + Be they near or far away— + Have especial delectation + In that gladsome roundelay. + + Their eyes grow bright and brighter, + Their lungs begin to crow, + Their hearts get light and lighter, + And their cheeks are all aglow; + For an echo cometh bringing + The news to all and me, + That the Dinkey-Bird is singing + In the amfalula tree. + + I'm sure you like to go there + To see your feathered friend— + And so many goodies grow there + You would like to comprehend! + Speed, little dreams, your winging + To that land across the sea + Where the Dinkey-Bird is singing + In the amfalula tree! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DRUM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I'm a beautiful red, red drum, + And I train with the soldier boys; + As up the street we come, + Wonderful is our noise! + There's Tom, and Jim, and Phil, + And Dick, and Nat, and Fred, + While Widow Cutler's Bill + And I march on ahead, + With a r-r-rat-tat-tat + And a tum-titty-um-tum-tum— + Oh, there's bushels of fun in that + For boys with a little red drum! + + The Injuns came last night + While the soldiers were abed, + And they gobbled a Chinese kite + And off to the woods they fled! + The woods are the cherry-trees + Down in the orchard lot, + And the soldiers are marching to seize + The booty the Injuns got. + With tum-titty-um-tum-tum, + And r-r-rat-tat-tat, + When soldiers marching come + Injuns had better scat! + + Step up there, little Fred, + And, Charley, have a mind! + Jim is as far ahead + As you two are behind! + Ready with gun and sword + Your valorous work to do— + Yonder the Injun horde + Are lying in wait for you. + And their hearts go pitapat + When they hear the soldiers come + With a r-r-rat-tat-tat + And a tum-titty-um-tum-tum! + + Course it's all in play! + The skulking Injun crew + That hustled the kite away + Are little white boys, like you! + But "honest" or "just in fun," + It is all the same to me; + And, when the battle is won, + Home once again march we + With a r-r-rat-tat-tat + And tum-titty-um-tum-tum; + And there's glory enough in that + For the boys with their little red drum! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DEAD BABE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Last night, as my dear babe lay dead, + In agony I knelt and said: + "O God! what have I done, + Or in what wise offended Thee, + That Thou should'st take away from me + My little son? + + "Upon the thousand useless lives, + Upon the guilt that vaunting thrives, + Thy wrath were better spent! + Why should'st Thou take my little son— + Why should'st Thou vent Thy wrath upon + This innocent?" + + Last night, as my dear babe lay dead, + Before mine eyes the vision spread + Of things that might have been: + Licentious riot, cruel strife, + Forgotten prayers, a wasted life + Dark red with sin! + + Then, with sweet music in the air, + I saw another vision there: + A Shepherd in whose keep + A little lamb—my little child! + Of worldly wisdom undefiled, + Lay fast asleep! + + Last night, as my dear babe lay dead, + In those two messages I read + A wisdom manifest; + And though my arms be childless now, + I am content—to Him I bow + Who knoweth best. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HAPPY HOUSEHOLD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It's when the birds go piping and the daylight slowly breaks, + That, clamoring for his dinner, our precious baby wakes; + Then it's sleep no more for baby, and it's sleep no more for me, + For, when he wants his dinner, why it's dinner it must be! + And of that lacteal fluid he partakes with great ado, + While gran'ma laughs, + And gran'pa laughs, + And wife, she laughs, + And I—well, I laugh, too! + + You'd think, to see us carrying on about that little tad, + That, like as not, that baby was the first we'd ever had; + But, sakes alive! he isn't, yet we people make a fuss + As if the only baby in the world had come to us! + And, morning, noon, and night-time, whatever he may do, + Gran'ma, she laughs, + Gran'pa, he laughs, + Wife, she laughs, + And I, of course, laugh, too! + + But once—a likely spell ago—when that poor little chick + From teething or from some such ill of infancy fell sick, + You wouldn't know us people as the same that went about + A-feelin' good all over, just to hear him crow and shout; + And, though the doctor poohed our fears and said he'd pull him through, + Old gran'ma cried, + And gran'pa cried, + And wife, she cried, + And I—yes, I cried, too! + + It makes us all feel good to have a baby on the place, + With his everlastin' crowing and his dimpling, dumpling face; + The patter of his pinky feet makes music everywhere, + And when he shakes those fists of his, good-by to every care! + No matter what our trouble is, when he begins to coo, + Old gran'ma laughs, + And gran'pa laughs, + Wife, she laughs, + And I—you bet, I laugh, too! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SO, SO, ROCK-A-BY SO! + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + So, so, rock-a-by so! + Off to the garden where dreamikins grow; + And here is a kiss on your winkyblink eyes, + And here is a kiss on your dimpledown cheek + And here is a kiss for the treasure that lies + In the beautiful garden way up in the skies + Which you seek. + Now mind these three kisses wherever you go— + So, so, rock-a-by so! + + There's one little fumfay who lives there, I know, + For he dances all night where the dreamikins grow; + I send him this kiss on your droopydrop eyes, + I send him this kiss on your rosyred cheek. + And here is a kiss for the dream that shall rise + When the fumfay shall dance in those far-away skies + Which you seek. + Be sure that you pay those three kisses you owe— + So, so, rock-a-by so! + + And, by-low, as you rock-a-by go, + Don't forget mother who loveth you so! + And here is her kiss on your weepydeep eyes, + And here is her kiss on your peachypink cheek, + And here is her kiss for the dreamland that lies + Like a babe on the breast of those far-away skies + Which you seek— + The blinkywink garden where dreamikins grow— + So, so, rock-a-by so! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SONG OF LUDDY-DUD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A sunbeam comes a-creeping + Into my dear one's nest, + And sings to our babe a-sleeping + The song that I love the best: + "'T is little Luddy-Dud in the morning— + 'T is little Luddy-Dud at night; + And all day long + 'T is the same sweet song + Of that waddling, toddling, coddling little mite, + Luddy-Dud." + + The bird to the tossing clover, + The bee to the swaying bud, + Keep singing that sweet song over + Of wee little Luddy-Dud. + "'T is little Luddy-Dud in the morning— + 'T is little Luddy-Dud at night; + And all day long + 'T is the same dear song + Of that growing, crowing, knowing little sprite, + Luddy-Dud." + + Luddy-Dud's cradle is swinging + Where softly the night winds blow, + And Luddy-Dud's mother is singing + A song that is sweet and low: + "'T is little Luddy-Dud in the morning— + 'T is little Luddy-Dud at night; + And all day long + 'T is the same sweet song + Of my nearest and my dearest heart's delight, + Luddy-Dud!" +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DUEL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The gingham dog and the calico cat + Side by side on the table sat; + 'T was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!) + Nor one nor t' other had slept a wink! + The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate + Appeared to know as sure as fate + There was going to be a terrible spat. + (I wasn't there; I simply state + What was told to me by the Chinese plate!) + + The gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!" + And the calico cat replied "mee-ow!" + The air was littered, an hour or so, + With bits of gingham and calico, + While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place + Up with its hands before its face, + For it always dreaded a family row! + (Now mind: I'm only telling you + What the old Dutch clock declares is true!) + + The Chinese plate looked very blue, + And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!" + But the gingham dog and the calico cat + Wallowed this way and tumbled that, + Employing every tooth and claw + In the awfullest way you ever saw— + And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew! + (Don't fancy I exaggerate— + I got my news from the Chinese plate!) + + Next morning, where the two had sat + They found no trace of dog or cat; + And some folks think unto this day + That burglars stole that pair away! + But the truth about the cat and pup + Is this: they ate each other up! + Now what do you really think of that! + (The old Dutch clock it told me so, + And that is how I came to know.) +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GOOD-CHILDREN STREET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There's a dear little home in Good-Children street— + My heart turneth fondly to-day + Where tinkle of tongues and patter of feet + Make sweetest of music at play; + Where the sunshine of love illumines each face + And warms every heart in that old-fashioned place. + + For dear little children go romping about + With dollies and tin tops and drums, + And, my! how they frolic and scamper and shout + Till bedtime too speedily comes! + Oh, days they are golden and days they are fleet + With little folk living in Good-Children street. + + See, here comes an army with guns painted red, + And swords, caps, and plumes of all sorts; + The captain rides gaily and proudly ahead + On a stick-horse that prances and snorts! + Oh, legions of soldiers you're certain to meet— + Nice make-believe soldiers—in Good-Children street. + + And yonder Odette wheels her dolly about— + Poor dolly! I'm sure she is ill, + For one of her blue china eyes has dropped out + And her voice is asthmatic'ly shrill. + Then, too, I observe she is minus her feet, + Which causes much sorrow in Good-Children street. + + 'T is so the dear children go romping about + With dollies and banners and drums, + And I venture to say they are sadly put out + When an end to their jubilee comes: + Oh, days they are golden and days they are fleet + With little folk living in Good-Children street! + + But when falleth night over river and town, + Those little folk vanish from sight, + And an angel all white from the sky cometh down + And guardeth the babes through the night, + And singeth her lullabies tender and sweet + To the dear little people in Good-Children Street. + + Though elsewhere the world be o'erburdened with care, + Though poverty fall to my lot, + Though toil and vexation be always my share, + What care I—they trouble me not! + This thought maketh life ever joyous and Sweet: + There's a dear little home in Good-Children street. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DELECTABLE BALLAD OF THE WALLER LOT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Up yonder in Buena Park + There is a famous spot, + In legend and in history + Yclept the Waller Lot. + + There children play in daytime + And lovers stroll by dark, + For 't is the goodliest trysting-place + In all Buena Park. + + Once on a time that beauteous maid, + Sweet little Sissy Knott, + Took out her pretty doll to walk + Within the Waller Lot. + + While thus she fared, from Ravenswood + Came Injuns o'er the plain, + And seized upon that beauteous maid + And rent her doll in twain. + + Oh, 't was a piteous thing to hear + Her lamentations wild; + She tore her golden curls and cried: + "My child! My child! My child!" + + Alas, what cared those Injun chiefs + How bitterly wailed she? + They never had been mothers, + And they could not hope to be! + + "Have done with tears," they rudely quoth, + And then they bound her hands; + For they proposed to take her off + To distant border lands. + + But, joy! from Mr. Eddy's barn + Doth Willie Clow behold + The sight that makes his hair rise up + And all his blood run cold. + + He put his fingers in his mouth + And whistled long and clear, + And presently a goodly horde + Of cow-boys did appear. + + Cried Willie Clow: "My comrades bold, + Haste to the Waller Lot, + And rescue from that Injun band + Our charming Sissy Knott!" + + "Spare neither Injun buck nor squaw, + But smite them hide and hair! + Spare neither sex nor age nor size, + And no condition spare!" + + Then sped that cow-boy band away, + Full of revengeful wrath, + And Kendall Evans rode ahead + Upon a hickory lath. + + And next came gallant Dady Field + And Willie's brother Kent, + The Eddy boys and Robbie James, + On murderous purpose bent. + + For they were much beholden to + That maid—in sooth, the lot + Were very, very much in love + With charming Sissy Knott. + + What wonder? She was beauty's queen, + And good beyond compare; + Moreover, it was known she was + Her wealthy father's heir! + + Now when the Injuns saw that band + They trembled with affright, + And yet they thought the cheapest thing + To do was stay and fight. + + So sturdily they stood their ground, + Nor would their prisoner yield, + Despite the wrath of Willie Clow + And gallant Dady Field. + + Oh, never fiercer battle raged + Upon the Waller Lot, + And never blood more freely flowed + Than flowed for Sissy Knott! + + An Injun chief of monstrous size + Got Kendall Evans down, + And Robbie James was soon o'erthrown + By one of great renown. + + And Dady Field was sorely done, + And Willie Clow was hurt, + And all that gallant cow-boy band + Lay wallowing in the dirt. + + But still they strove with might and main + Till all the Waller Lot + Was strewn with hair and gouts of gore— + All, all for Sissy Knott! + + Then cried the maiden in despair: + "Alas, I sadly fear + The battle and my hopes are lost, + Unless some help appear!" + + Lo, as she spoke, she saw afar + The rescuer looming up— + The pride of all Buena Park, + Clow's famous yellow pup! + + "Now, sick'em, Don," the maiden cried, + "Now, sick'em, Don!" cried she; + Obedient Don at once complied— + As ordered, so did he. + + He sicked'em all so passing well + That, overcome by fright, + The Indian horde gave up the fray + And safety sought in flight. + + They ran and ran and ran and ran + O'er valley, plain, and hill; + And if they are not walking now, + Why, then, they're running still. + + The cow-boys rose up from the dust + With faces black and blue; + "Remember, beauteous maid," said they, + "We've bled and died for you!" + + "And though we suffer grievously, + We gladly hail the lot + That brings us toils and pains and wounds + For charming Sissy Knott!" + + But Sissy Knott still wailed and wept, + And still her fate reviled; + For who could patch her dolly up— + Who, who could mend her child? + + Then out her doting mother came, + And soothed her daughter then; + "Grieve not, my darling, I will sew + Your dolly up again!" + + Joy soon succeeded unto grief, + And tears were soon dried up, + And dignities were heaped upon + Clow's noble yellow pup. + + Him all that goodly company + Did as deliverer hail— + They tied a ribbon round his neck, + Another round his tail. + + And every anniversary day + Upon the Waller Lot + They celebrate the victory won + For charming Sissy Knott. + + And I, the poet of these folk, + Am ordered to compile + This truly famous history + In good old ballad style. + + Which having done as to have earned + The sweet rewards of fame, + In what same style I did begin + I now shall end the same. + + So let us sing: Long live the King, + Long live the Queen and Jack, + Long live the ten-spot and the ace, + And also all the pack. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE STORK + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Last night the Stork came stalking, + And, Stork, beneath your wing + Lay, lapped in dreamless slumber, + The tiniest little thing! + From Babyland, out yonder + Beside a silver sea, + You brought a priceless treasure + As gift to mine and me! + + Last night my dear one listened— + And, wife, you knew the cry— + The dear old Stork has sought our home + A many times gone by! + And in your gentle bosom + I found the pretty thing + That from the realm out yonder + Our friend the Stork did bring. + + Last night a babe awakened, + And, babe, how strange and new + Must seem the home and people + The Stork has brought you to; + And yet methinks you like them— + You neither stare nor weep, + But closer to my dear one + You cuddle, and you sleep! + + Last night my heart grew fonder— + O happy heart of mine, + Sing of the inspirations + That round my pathway shine! + And sing your sweetest love-song + To this dear nestling wee + The Stork from 'Way-Out-Yonder + Hath brought to mine and me! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BOTTLE TREE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A bottle tree bloometh in Winkyway land— + Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say! + A snug little berth in that ship I demand + That rocketh the Bottle-Tree babies away + Where the Bottle Tree bloometh by night and by day + And reacheth its fruit to each wee, dimpled hand; + You take of that fruit as much as you list, + For colic's a nuisance that doesn't exist! + So cuddle me and cuddle me fast, + And cuddle me snug in my cradle away, + For I hunger and thirst for that precious repast— + Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say! + + The Bottle Tree bloometh by night and by day! + Heigh-ho for Winkyway land! + And Bottle-Tree fruit (as I've heard people say) + Makes bellies of Bottle-Tree babies expand— + And that is a trick I would fain understand! + Heigh-ho for a bottle to-day! + And heigh-ho for a bottle to-night— + A bottle of milk that is creamy and white! + So cuddle me close, and cuddle me fast, + And cuddle me snug in my cradle away, + For I hunger and thirst for that precious repast— + Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GOOGLY-GOO + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Of mornings, bright and early, + When the lark is on the wing + And the robin in the maple + Hops from her nest to sing, + From yonder cheery chamber + Cometh a mellow coo— + 'T is the sweet, persuasive treble + Of my little Googly-Goo! + + The sunbeams hear his music, + And they seek his little bed, + And they dance their prettiest dances + Round his golden curly head: + Schottisches, galops, minuets, + Gavottes and waltzes, too, + Dance they unto the music + Of my googling Googly-Goo. + + My heart—my heart it leapeth + To hear that treble tone; + What music like thy music, + My darling and mine own! + And patiently—yes, cheerfully + I toil the long day through— + My labor seemeth lightened + By the song of Googly-Goo! + + I may not see his antics, + Nor kiss his dimpled cheek: + I may not smooth the tresses + The sunbeams love to seek; + It mattereth not—the echo + Of his sweet, persuasive coo + Recurreth to remind me + Of my little Googly-Goo. + + And when I come at evening, + I stand without the door + And patiently I listen + For that dear sound once more; + And oftentimes I wonder, + "Oh, God! what should I do + If any ill should happen + To my little Googly-Goo!" + + Then in affright I call him— + I hear his gleeful shouts! + Begone, ye dread forebodings— + Begone, ye killing doubts! + For, with my arms about him, + My heart warms through and through + With the oogling and the googling + Of my little Googly-Goo! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BENCH-LEGGED FYCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Speakin' of dorgs, my bench-legged fyce + Hed most o' the virtues, an' nary a vice. + Some folks called him Sooner, a name that arose + From his predisposition to chronic repose; + But, rouse his ambition, he couldn't be beat— + Yer bet yer he got thar on all his four feet! + + Mos' dorgs hez some forte—like huntin' an' such, + But the sports o' the field didn't bother him much; + Wuz just a plain dorg, an' contented to be + On peaceable terms with the neighbors an' me; + Used to fiddle an' squirm, and grunt "Oh, how nice!" + When I tickled the back of that bench-legged fyce! + + He wuz long in the bar'l, like a fyce oughter be; + His color wuz yaller as ever you see; + His tail, curlin' upward, wuz long, loose, an' slim— + When he didn't wag it, why, the tail it wagged him! + His legs wuz so crooked, my bench-legged pup + Wuz as tall settin' down as he wuz standin' up! + + He'd lie by the stove of a night an' regret + The various vittles an' things he had et; + When a stranger, most likely a tramp, come along, + He'd lift up his voice in significant song— + You wondered, by gum! how there ever wuz space + In that bosom o' his'n to hold so much bass! + + Of daytimes he'd sneak to the road an' lie down, + An' tackle the country dorgs comin' to town; + By common consent he wuz boss in St. Joe, + For what he took hold of he never let go! + An' a dude that come courtin' our girl left a slice + Of his white flannel suit with our bench-legged fyce! + + He wuz good to us kids—when we pulled at his fur + Or twisted his tail he would never demur; + He seemed to enjoy all our play an' our chaff, + For his tongue 'u'd hang out an' he'd laff an' he'd laff; + An' once, when the Hobart boy fell through the ice, + He wuz drug clean ashore by that bench-legged fyce! + + We all hev our choice, an' you, like the rest, + Allow that the dorg which you've got is the best; + I wouldn't give much for the boy 'at grows up + With no friendship subsistin' 'tween him an' a pup! + When a fellow gits old—I tell you it's nice + To think of his youth and his bench-legged fyce! + + To think of the springtime 'way back in St. Joe— + Of the peach-trees abloom an' the daisies ablow; + To think of the play in the medder an' grove, + When little legs wrassled an' little han's strove; + To think of the loyalty, valor, an' truth + Of the friendships that hallow the season of youth! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LITTLE MISS BRAG + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Little Miss Brag has much to say + To the rich little lady from over the way + And the rich little lady puts out a lip + As she looks at her own white, dainty slip, + And wishes that she could wear a gown + As pretty as gingham of faded brown! + For little Miss Brag she lays much stress + On the privileges of a gingham dress— + "Aha, + Oho!" + + The rich little lady from over the way + Has beautiful dolls in vast array; + Yet she envies the raggedy home-made doll + She hears our little Miss Brag extol. + For the raggedy doll can fear no hurt + From wet, or heat, or tumble, or dirt! + Her nose is inked, and her mouth is, too, + And one eye's black and the other's blue— + "Aha, + Oho!" + + The rich little lady goes out to ride + With footmen standing up outside, + Yet wishes that, sometimes, after dark + Her father would trundle her in the park;— + That, sometimes, her mother would sing the things + Little Miss Brag says her mother sings + When through the attic window streams + The moonlight full of golden dreams— + "Aha, + Oho!" + + Yes, little Miss Brag has much to say + To the rich little lady from over the way; + And yet who knows but from her heart + Often the bitter sighs upstart— + Uprise to lose their burn and sting + In the grace of the tongue that loves to sing + Praise of the treasures all its own! + So I've come to love that treble tone— + "Aha, + Oho!" +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HUMMING TOP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The top it hummeth a sweet, sweet song + To my dear little boy at play— + Merrily singeth all day long, + As it spinneth and spinneth away. + And my dear little boy + He laugheth with joy + When he heareth the monotone + Of that busy thing + That loveth to sing + The song that is all its own. + + Hold fast the string and wind it tight, + That the song be loud and clear; + Now hurl the top with all your might + Upon the banquette here; + And straight from the string + The joyous thing + Boundeth and spinneth along, + And it whirrs and it chirrs + And it birrs and it purrs + Ever its pretty song. + + Will ever my dear little boy grow old, + As some have grown before? + Will ever his heart feel faint and cold, + When he heareth the songs of yore? + Will ever this toy + Of my dear little boy, + When the years have worn away, + Sing sad and low + Of the long ago, + As it singeth to me to-day? +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LADY BUTTON-EYES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When the busy day is done, + And my weary little one + Rocketh gently to and fro; + When the night winds softly blow, + And the crickets in the glen + Chirp and chirp and chirp again; + When upon the haunted green + Fairies dance around their queen— + Then from yonder misty skies + Cometh Lady Button-Eyes. + + Through the murk and mist and gloam + To our quiet, cozy home, + Where to singing, sweet and low, + Rocks a cradle to and fro; + Where the clock's dull monotone + Telleth of the day that's done; + Where the moonbeams hover o'er + Playthings sleeping on the floor— + Where my weary wee one lies + Cometh Lady Button-Eyes. + + Cometh like a fleeting ghost + From some distant eerie coast; + Never footfall can you hear + As that spirit fareth near— + Never whisper, never word + From that shadow-queen is heard. + In ethereal raiment dight, + From the realm of fay and sprite + In the depth of yonder skies + Cometh Lady Button-Eyes. + + Layeth she her hands upon + My dear weary little one, + And those white hands overspread + Like a veil the curly head, + Seem to fondle and caress + Every little silken tress; + Then she smooths the eyelids down + Over those two eyes of brown— + In such soothing, tender wise + Cometh Lady Button-Eyes. + + Dearest, feel upon your brow + That caressing magic now; + For the crickets in the glen + Chirp and chirp and chirp again, + While upon the haunted green + Fairies dance around their queen, + And the moonbeams hover o'er + Playthings sleeping on the floor— + Hush, my sweet! from yonder skies + Cometh Lady Button-Eyes! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Play that my knee was a calico mare + Saddled and bridled for Bumpville; + Leap to the back of this steed, if you dare, + And gallop away to Bumpville! + I hope you'll be sure to sit fast in your seat, + For this calico mare is prodigiously fleet, + And many adventures you're likely to meet + As you journey along to Bumpville. + + This calico mare both gallops and trots + While whisking you off to Bumpville; + She paces, she shies, and she stumbles, in spots, + In the tortuous road to Bumpville; + And sometimes this strangely mercurial steed + Will suddenly stop and refuse to proceed, + Which, all will admit, is vexatious indeed, + When one is en route to Bumpville! + + She's scared of the cars when the engine goes "Toot!" + Down by the crossing at Bumpville; + You'd better look out for that treacherous brute + Bearing you off to Bumpville! + With a snort she rears up on her hindermost heels, + And executes jigs and Virginia reels— + Words fail to explain how embarrassed one feels + Dancing so wildly to Bumpville! + + It's bumpytybump and it's jiggytyjog, + Journeying on to Bumpville + It's over the hilltop and down through the bog + You ride on your way to Bumpville; + It's rattletybang over boulder and stump, + There are rivers to ford, there are fences to jump, + And the corduroy road it goes bumpytybump, + Mile after mile to bumpville! + + Perhaps you'll observe it's no easy thing + Making the journey to Bumpville, + So I think, on the whole, it were prudent to bring + An end to this ride to Bumpville; + For, though she has uttered no protest or plaint, + The calico mare must be blowing and faint— + What's more to the point, I'm blowed if I ain't! + So play we have got to Bumpville! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BROOK + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I looked in the brook and saw a face— + Heigh-ho, but a child was I! + There were rushes and willows in that place, + And they clutched at the brook as the brook ran by; + And the brook it ran its own sweet way, + As a child doth run in heedless play, + And as it ran I heard it say: + "Hasten with me + To the roistering sea + That is wroth with the flame of the morning sky!" + + I look in the brook and see a face— + Heigh-ho, but the years go by! + The rushes are dead in the old-time place, + And the willows I knew when a child was I. + And the brook it seemeth to me to say, + As ever it stealeth on its way— + Solemnly now, and not in play: + "Oh, come with me + To the slumbrous sea + That is gray with the peace of the evening sky!" + + Heigh-ho, but the years go by— + I would to God that a child were I! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PICNIC-TIME + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy + That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy; + For, every June, the Sunday-schools at picnics may be seen, + Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green"; + Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders, bugs, and ants, + An' little boys get grass-stains on their go-to meetin' pants. + It's June ag'in, an' with it all what happiness is mine— + There's goin' to be a picnic, an' I'm goin' to jine! + + One year I jined the Baptists, an' goodness! how it rained! + (But grampa says that that's the way "baptizo" is explained.) + And once I jined the 'Piscopils an' had a heap o' fun— + But the boss of all the picnics was the Presbyteriun! + They had so many puddin's, sallids, sandwidges, an' pies, + That a feller wisht his stummick was as hungry as his eyes! + Oh, yes, the eatin' Presbyteriuns give yer is so fine + That when they have a picnic, you bet I'm goin' to jine! + + But at this time the Methodists have special claims on me, + For they're goin' to give a picnic on the 21st, D. V.; + Why should a liberal universalist like me object + To share the joys of fellowship with every friendly sect? + However het'rodox their articles of faith elsewise may be, + Their doctrine of fried chick'n is a savin' grace to me! + So on the 21st of June, the weather bein' fine, + They're goin' to give a picnic, and I'm goin' to jine! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SHUFFLE-SHOON AND AMBER-LOCKS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Shuffle-shoon and Amber-Locks + Sit together, building blocks; + Shuffle-Shoon is old and gray, + Amber-Locks a little child, + But together at their play + Age and Youth are reconciled, + And with sympathetic glee + Build their castles fair to see. + + "When I grow to be a man" + (So the wee one's prattle ran), + "I shall build a castle so— + With a gateway broad and grand; + Here a pretty vine shall grow, + There a soldier guard shall stand; + And the tower shall be so high, + Folks will wonder, by and by!" + + Shuffle-Shoon quoth: "Yes, I know; + Thus I builded long ago! + Here a gate and there a wall, + Here a window, there a door; + Here a steeple wondrous tall + Riseth ever more and more! + But the years have leveled low + What I builded long ago!" + + So they gossip at their play, + Heedless of the fleeting day; + One speaks of the Long Ago + Where his dead hopes buried lie; + One with chubby cheeks aglow + Prattleth of the By and By; + Side by side, they build their blocks— + Shuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SHUT-EYE TRAIN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Come, my little one, with me! + There are wondrous sights to see + As the evening shadows fall; + In your pretty cap and gown, + Don't detain + The Shut-Eye train— + "Ting-a-ling!" the bell it goeth, + "Toot-toot!" the whistle bloweth, + And we hear the warning call: + "All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!" + + Over hill and over plain + Soon will speed the Shut-Eye train! + Through the blue where bloom the stars + And the Mother Moon looks down + We'll away + To land of Fay— + Oh, the sights that we shall see there! + Come, my little one, with me there— + 'T is a goodly train of cars— + All aboard for Shut-Eye Town! + + Swifter than a wild bird's flight, + Through the realms of fleecy light + We shall speed and speed away! + Let the Night in envy frown— + What care we + How wroth she be! + To the Balow-land above us, + To the Balow-folk who love us, + Let us hasten while we may— + All aboard for Shut-Eye Town! + + Shut-Eye Town is passing fair— + Golden dreams await us there; + We shall dream those dreams, my dear, + Till the Mother Moon goes down— + See unfold + Delights untold! + And in those mysterious places + We shall see beloved faces + And beloved voices hear + In the grace of Shut-Eye Town. + + Heavy are your eyes, my sweet, + Weary are your little feet— + Nestle closer up to me + In your pretty cap and gown; + Don't detain + The Shut-Eye train! + "Ting-a-ling!" the bell it goeth, + "Toot-toot!" the whistle bloweth + Oh, the sights that we shall see! + All aboard for Shut-Eye Town! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LITTLE-OH DEAR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + See, what a wonderful garden is here, + Planted and trimmed for my Little-Oh-Dear! + Posies so gaudy and grass of such brown— + Search ye the country and hunt ye the town + And never ye'll meet with a garden so queer + As this one I've made for my Little-Oh-Dear! + + Marigolds white and buttercups blue, + Lilies all dabbled with honey and dew, + The cactus that trails over trellis and wall, + Roses and pansies and violets—all + Make proper obeisance and reverent cheer + When into her garden steps Little-Oh-Dear. + + And up at the top of that lavender-tree + A silver-bird singeth as only can she; + For, ever and only, she singeth the song + "I love you—I love you!" the happy day long;— + Then the echo—the echo that smiteth me here! + "I love you, I love you," my Little-Oh-Dear! + + The garden may wither, the silver-bird fly— + But what careth my little precious, or I? + From her pathway of flowers that in spring time upstart + She walketh the tenderer way in my heart + And, oh, it is always the summer-time here + With that song of "I love you," my Little-Oh-Dear! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FLY-AWAY HORSE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse— + Perhaps you have seen him before; + Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept + Through the moonlight that floats on the floor. + For it's only at night, when the stars twinkle bright, + That the Fly-Away Horse, with a neigh + And a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane, + Is up on his heels and away! + The Moon in the sky, + As he gallopeth by, + Cries: "Oh! what a marvelous sight!" + And the Stars in dismay + Hide their faces away + In the lap of old Grandmother Night. + + It is yonder, out yonder, the Fly-Away Horse + Speedeth ever and ever away— + Over meadows and lanes, over mountains and plains, + Over streamlets that sing at their play; + And over the sea like a ghost sweepeth he, + While the ships they go sailing below, + And he speedeth so fast that the men at the mast + Adjudge him some portent of woe. + "What ho there!" they cry, + As he flourishes by + With a whisk of his beautiful tail; + And the fish in the sea + Are as scared as can be, + From the nautilus up to the whale! + + And the Fly-Away Horse seeks those faraway lands + You little folk dream of at night— + Where candy-trees grow, and honey-brooks flow, + And corn-fields with popcorn are white; + And the beasts in the wood are ever so good + To children who visit them there— + What glory astride of a lion to ride, + Or to wrestle around with a bear! + The monkeys, they say: + "Come on, let us play," + And they frisk in the cocoanut-trees: + While the parrots, that cling + To the peanut-vines, sing + Or converse with comparative ease! + + Off! scamper to bed—you shall ride him tonight! + For, as soon as you've fallen asleep, + With a jubilant neigh he shall bear you away + Over forest and hillside and deep! + But tell us, my dear, all you see and you hear + In those beautiful lands over there, + Where the Fly-Away Horse wings his faraway course + With the wee one consigned to his care. + Then grandma will cry + In amazement: "Oh, my!" + And she'll think it could never be so; + And only we two + Shall know it is true— + You and I, little precious! shall know! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SWING HIGH AND SWING LOW + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Swing high and swing low + While the breezes they blow— + It's off for a sailor thy father would go; + And it's here in the harbor, in sight of the sea, + He hath left his wee babe with my song and with me: + "Swing high and swing low + While the breezes they blow!" + + Swing high and swing low + While the breezes they blow— + It's oh for the waiting as weary days go! + And it's oh for the heartache that smiteth me when + I sing my song over and over again: + "Swing high and swing low + While the breezes they blow!" + + "Swing high and swing low "— + The sea singeth so, + And it waileth anon in its ebb and its flow; + And a sleeper sleeps on to that song of the sea + Nor recketh he ever of mine or of me! + "Swing high and swing low + While the breezes they blow— + 'T was off for a sailor thy father would go!" +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WHEN I WAS A BOY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Up in the attic where I slept + When I was a boy, a little boy, + In through the lattice the moonlight crept, + Bringing a tide of dreams that swept + Over the low, red trundle-bed, + Bathing the tangled curly head, + While moonbeams played at hide-and-seek + With the dimples on the sun-browned cheek— + When I was a boy, a little boy! + + And, oh! the dreams—the dreams I dreamed! + When I was a boy, a little boy! + For the grace that through the lattice streamed + Over my folded eyelids seemed + To have the gift of prophecy, + And to bring me glimpses of times to be + When manhood's clarion seemed to call— + Ah! that was the sweetest dream of all, + When I was a boy, a little boy! + + I'd like to sleep where I used to sleep + When I was a boy, a little boy! + For in at the lattice the moon would peep, + Bringing her tide of dreams to sweep + The crosses and griefs of the years away + From the heart that is weary and faint to-day; + And those dreams should give me back again + A peace I have never known since then— + When I was a boy, a little boy! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AT PLAY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Play that you are mother dear, + And play that papa is your beau; + Play that we sit in the corner here, + Just as we used to, long ago. + Playing so, we lovers two + Are just as happy as we can be, + And I'll say "I love you" to you, + And you say "I love you" to me! + "I love you" we both shall say, + All in earnest and all in play. + + Or, play that you are that other one + That some time came, and went away; + And play that the light of years agone + Stole into my heart again to-day! + Playing that you are the one I knew + In the days that never again may be, + I'll say "I love you" to you," + And you say "I love you" to me! + "I love you!" my heart shall say + To the ghost of the past come back to-day! + + Or, play that you sought this nestling-place + For your own sweet self, with that dual guise + Of your pretty mother in your face + And the look of that other in your eyes! + So the dear old loves shall live anew + As I hold my darling on my knee, + And I'll say "I love you" to you, + And you say "I love you" to me! + Oh, many a strange, true thing we say + And do when we pretend to play! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A VALENTINE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Go, Cupid, and my sweetheart tell + I love her well. + Yes, though she tramples on my heart + And rends that bleeding thing apart; + And though she rolls a scornful eye + On doting me when I go by; + And though she scouts at everything + As tribute unto her I bring— + Apple, banana, caramel— + Haste, Cupid, to my love and tell, + In spite of all, I love her well! + + And further say I have a sled + Cushioned in blue and painted red! + The groceryman has promised I + Can "hitch" whenever he goes by— + Go, tell her that, and, furthermore, + Apprise my sweetheart that a score + Of other little girls implore + The boon of riding on that sled + Painted and hitched, as aforesaid;— + And tell her, Cupid, only she + Shall ride upon that sled with me! + Tell her this all, and further tell + I love her well. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LITTLE ALL-ALONEY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Little All-Aloney's feet + Pitter-patter in the hall, + And his mother runs to meet + And to kiss her toddling sweet, + Ere perchance he fall. + He is, oh, so weak and small! + Yet what danger shall he fear + When his mother hovereth near, + And he hears her cheering call: + "All-Aloney"? + + Little All-Aloney's face + It is all aglow with glee, + As around that romping-place + At a terrifying pace + Lungeth, plungeth he! + And that hero seems to be + All unconscious of our cheers— + Only one dear voice he hears + Calling reassuringly: + "All-Aloney!" + + Though his legs bend with their load, + Though his feet they seem so small + That you cannot help forebode + Some disastrous episode + In that noisy hall, + Neither threatening bump nor fall + Little All-Aloney fears, + But with sweet bravado steers + Whither comes that cheery call: + "All-Aloney!" + + Ah, that in the years to come, + When he shares of Sorrow's store,— + When his feet are chill and numb, + When his cross is burdensome, + And his heart is sore: + Would that he could hear once more + The gentle voice he used to hear— + Divine with mother love and cheer— + Calling from yonder spirit shore: + "All, all alone!" +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SEEIN' THINGS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I ain't afeard uv snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice, + An' things 'at girls are skeered uv I think are awful nice! + I'm pretty brave, I guess; an' yet I hate to go to bed, + For, when I'm tucked up warm an' snug an' when my prayers are said, + Mother tells me "Happy dreams!" and takes away the light, + An' leaves me lyin' all alone an' seein' things at night! + + Sometimes they're in the corner, sometimes they're by the door, + Sometimes they're all a-standin' in the middle uv the floor; + Sometimes they are a-sittin' down, sometimes they're walkin' round + So softly an' so creepylike they never make a sound! + Sometimes they are as black as ink, an' other times they're white— + But the color ain't no difference when you see things at night! + + Once, when I licked a feller 'at had just moved on our street, + An' father sent me up to bed without a bite to eat, + I woke up in the dark an' saw things standin' in a row, + A-lookin' at me cross-eyed an' p'intin' at me—so! + Oh, my! I wuz so skeered that time I never slep' a mite— + It's almost alluz when I'm bad I see things at night! + + Lucky thing I ain't a girl, or I'd be skeered to death! + Bein' I'm a boy, I duck my head an' hold my breath; + An' I am, oh! so sorry I'm a naughty boy, an' then + I promise to be better an' I say my prayers again! + Gran'ma tells me that's the only way to make it right + When a feller has been wicked an' sees things at night! + An' so, when other naughty boys would coax me into sin, + I try to skwush the Tempter's voice 'at urges me within; + An' when they's pie for supper, or cakes 'at 's big an' nice, + I want to—but I do not pass my plate f'r them things twice! + No, ruther let Starvation wipe me slowly out o' sight + Than I should keep a-livin' on an' seein' things at night! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE CUNNIN' LITTLE THING + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When baby wakes of mornings, + Then it's wake, ye people all! + For another day + Of song and play + Has come at our darling's call! + And, till she gets her dinner, + She makes the welkin ring, + And she won't keep still till she's had her fill— + The cunnin' little thing! + + When baby goes a-walking, + Oh, how her paddies fly! + For that's the way + The babies say + To other folk "by-by"; + The trees bend down to kiss her, + And the birds in rapture sing, + As there she stands and waves her hands— + The cunnin' little thing! + + When baby goes a-rocking + In her bed at close of day, + At hide-and-seek + On her dainty cheek + The dreams and the dimples play; + Then it's sleep in the tender kisses + The guardian angels bring + From the Far Above to my sweetest love— + You cunnin' little thing! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DOLL'S WOOING + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The little French doll was a dear little doll + Tricked out in the sweetest of dresses; + Her eyes were of hue + A most delicate blue + And dark as the night were her tresses; + Her dear little mouth was fluted and red, + And this little French doll was so very well bred + That whenever accosted her little mouth said + "Mamma! mamma!" + + The stockinet doll, with one arm and one leg, + Had once been a handsome young fellow; + But now he appeared + Rather frowzy and bleared + In his torn regimentals of yellow; + Yet his heart gave a curious thump as he lay + In the little toy cart near the window one day + And heard the sweet voice of that French dolly say: + "Mamma! mamma!" + + He listened so long and he listened so hard + That anon he grew ever so tender, + For it's everywhere known + That the feminine tone + Gets away with all masculine gender! + He up and he wooed her with soldierly zest + But all she'd reply to the love he professed + Were these plaintive words (which perhaps you have guessed): + "Mamma! mamma!" + + Her mother—a sweet little lady of five— + Vouchsafed her parental protection, + And although stockinet + Wasn't blue-blooded, yet + She really could make no objection! + So soldier and dolly were wedded one day, + And a moment ago, as I journeyed that way, + I'm sure that I heard a wee baby voice say: + "Mamma! mamma!" +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INSCRIPTION FOR MY LITTLE SON'S SILVER PLATE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When thou dost eat from off this plate, + I charge thee be thou temperate; + Unto thine elders at the board + Do thou sweet reverence accord; + And, though to dignity inclined, + Unto the serving-folk be kind; + Be ever mindful of the poor, + Nor turn them hungry from the door; + And unto God, for health and food + And all that in thy life is good, + Give thou thy heart in gratitude. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FISHERMAN JIM'S KIDS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Fisherman Jim lived on the hill + With his bonnie wife an' his little boys; + 'T wuz "Blow, ye winds, as blow ye will— + Naught we reck of your cold and noise!" + For happy and warm were he an' his, + And he dandled his kids upon his knee + To the song of the sea. + + Fisherman Jim would sail all day, + But, when come night, upon the sands + His little kids ran from their play, + Callin' to him an' wavin' their hands; + Though the wind was fresh and the sea was high, + He'd hear'em—you bet—above the roar + Of the waves on the shore! + + Once Fisherman Jim sailed into the bay + As the sun went down in a cloudy sky, + And never a kid saw he at play, + And he listened in vain for the welcoming cry. + In his little house he learned it all, + And he clinched his hands and he bowed his head— + "The fever!" they said. + + 'T wuz a pitiful time for Fisherman Jim, + With them darlin's a-dyin' afore his eyes, + A-stretchin' their wee hands out to him + An' a-breakin' his heart with the old-time cries + He had heerd so often upon the sands; + For they thought they wuz helpin' his boat ashore— + Till they spoke no more. + + But Fisherman Jim lived on and on, + Castin' his nets an' sailin' the sea; + As a man will live when his heart is gone, + Fisherman Jim lived hopelessly, + Till once in those years they come an' said: + "Old Fisherman Jim is powerful sick— + Go to him, quick!" + + Then Fisherman Jim says he to me: + "It's a long, long cruise-you understand— + But over beyont the ragin' sea + I kin see my boys on the shinin' sand + Waitin' to help this ol' hulk ashore, + Just as they used to—ah, mate, you know!— + In the long ago." + + No, sir! he wuzn't afeard to die; + For all night long he seemed to see + His little boys of the days gone by, + An' to hear sweet voices forgot by me! + An' just as the mornin' sun come up— + "They're holdin' me by the hands!" he cried, + An' so he died. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + "FIDDLE-DEE-DEE" + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There once was a bird that lived up in a tree, + And all he could whistle was "Fiddle-dee-dee"— + A very provoking, unmusical song + For one to be whistling the summer day long! + Yet always contented and busy was he + With that vocal recurrence of "Fiddle-dee-dee." + + Hard by lived a brave little soldier of four, + That weird iteration repented him sore; + "I prithee, Dear-Mother-Mine! fetch me my gun, + For, by our St. Didy! the deed must be done + That shall presently rid all creation and me + Of that ominous bird and his 'Fiddle-dee-dee'!" + + Then out came Dear-Mother-Mine, bringing her son + His awfully truculent little red gun; + The stock was of pine and the barrel of tin, + The "bang" it came out where the bullet went in— + The right kind of weapon I think you'll agree + For slaying all fowl that go "Fiddle-dee-dee"! + + The brave little soldier quoth never a word, + But he up and he drew a straight bead on that bird; + And, while that vain creature provokingly sang, + The gun it went off with a terrible bang! + Then loud laughed the youth—"By my Bottle," cried he, + "I've put a quietus on 'Fiddle-dee-dee'!" + + Out came then Dear-Mother-Mine, saying: "My son, + Right well have you wrought with your little red gun! + Hereafter no evil at all need I fear, + With such a brave soldier as You-My-Love here!" + She kissed the dear boy. + (The bird in the tree + Continued to whistle his "Fiddle-dee-dee") +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Over the hills and far away, + A little boy steals from his morning play + And under the blossoming apple-tree + He lies and he dreams of the things to be: + Of battles fought and of victories won, + Of wrongs o'erthrown and of great deeds done— + Of the valor that he shall prove some day, + Over the hills and far away— + Over the hills, and far away! + + Over the hills and far away + It's, oh, for the toil the livelong day! + But it mattereth not to the soul aflame + With a love for riches and power and fame! + On, O man! while the sun is high— + On to the certain joys that lie + Yonder where blazeth the noon of day, + Over the hills and far away— + Over the hills, and far away! + + Over the hills and far away, + An old man lingers at close of day; + Now that his journey is almost done, + His battles fought and his victories won— + The old-time honesty and truth, + The trustfulness and the friends of youth, + Home and mother-where are they? + Over the hills and far away— + Over the years, and far away! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Love-Songs of Childhood, by Eugene Field + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE-SONGS OF CHILDHOOD *** + +***** This file should be named 2670-h.htm or 2670-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/7/2670/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |