diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62643-0.txt | 2848 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62643-0.zip | bin | 36052 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62643-h.zip | bin | 261061 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62643-h/62643-h.htm | 3046 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62643-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 203711 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62643-h/images/image-ix.jpg | bin | 5115 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62643-h/images/image001.png | bin | 267 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62643-h/images/image127.jpg | bin | 6828 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62643-h/images/titlepage.jpg | bin | 6209 -> 0 bytes |
12 files changed, 17 insertions, 5894 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..531586d --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62643 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62643) diff --git a/old/62643-0.txt b/old/62643-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 71f0966..0000000 --- a/old/62643-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2848 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of With Trumpet and Drum, 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/license - - -Title: With Trumpet and Drum - -Author: Eugene Field - -Release Date: July 14, 2020 [EBook #62643] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH TRUMPET AND DRUM *** - - - - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - WITH TRUMPET AND DRUM - - BY EUGENE FIELD - - - Second Book of Tales. - Songs and Other Verse. - The Holy Cross and Other Tales. - The House. - The Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac. - A Little Book of Profitable Tales. - A Little Book of Western Verse. - Second Book of Verse. - Each, 1 vol., 16mo, $1.25. - A Little Book of Profitable Tales. - Cameo Edition with etched portrait. 16mo, $1.25. - Echoes from the Sabine Farm. - 4to, $2.00. - With Trumpet and Drum. - 16mo, $1.00. - Love Songs of Childhood. - 16mo, $1.00. - - Songs of Childhood. - Verses by EUGENE FIELD. Music by REGINALD - DE KOVEN, and others. Small 4to, $2.00 _net._ - - - - - With·Trumpet·and·Drum - - by - - Eugene·Field - - - [Illustration] - - - New·York - Charles·Scribner’s·Sons - 1897 - - - Copyright, 1892, by MARY FRENCH FIELD. - - - TROW DIRECTORY - PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY - NEW YORK - - - - -This volume is made up of verse compiled from my “Little Book of Western -Verse,” my “Second Book of Verse,” and the files of the “Chicago Daily -News,” the “Youth’s Companion,” and the “Ladies’ Home Journal.” - - E.F. - -CHICAGO, October 25, 1892. - - - - - _WITH TRUMPET AND DRUM_ - - - _With big tin trumpet and little red drum,_ - _Marching like soldiers, the children come!_ - _It’s this way and that way they circle and file--_ - _My! but that music of theirs is fine!_ - _This way and that way, and after a while_ - _They march straight into this heart of mine!_ - _A sturdy old heart, but it has to succumb_ - _To the blare of that trumpet and beat of that drum!_ - - _Come on, little people, from cot and from hall--_ - _This heart it hath welcome and room for you all!_ - _It will sing you its songs and warm you with love,_ - _As your dear little arms with my arms intertwine;_ - _It will rock you away to the dreamland above--_ - _Oh, a jolly old heart is this old heart of mine,_ - _And jollier still is it bound to become_ - _When you blow that big trumpet and beat that red drum!_ - - _So come; though I see not his dear little face_ - _And hear not his voice in this jubilant place,_ - _I know he were happy to bid me enshrine_ - _His memory deep in my heart with your play--_ - _Ah me! but a love that is sweeter than mine_ - _Holdeth my boy in its keeping to-day!_ - _And my heart it is lonely--so, little folk, come,_ - _March in and make merry with trumpet and drum!_ - - _EUGENE FIELD._ - - _Chicago, September 13, 1892._ - - - - -[Illustration] - - - PAGE - -THE SUGAR-PLUM TREE 1 - -KRINKEN 4 - -THE NAUGHTY DOLL 7 - -NIGHTFALL IN DORDRECHT 10 - -INTRY-MINTRY 12 - -PITTYPAT AND TIPPYTOE 15 - -BALOW, MY BONNIE 18 - -THE HAWTHORNE CHILDREN 20 - -LITTLE BLUE PIGEON (Japanese Lullaby) 24 - -THE LYTTEL BOY 26 - -TEENY-WEENY 28 - -NELLIE 31 - -NORSE LULLABY 33 - -GRANDMA’S PRAYER 35 - -SOME TIME 36 - -THE FIRE-HANGBIRD’S NEST 38 - -BUTTERCUP, POPPY, FORGET-ME-NOT 44 - -WYNKEN, BLYNKEN, AND NOD (Dutch Lullaby) 46 - -GOLD AND LOVE FOR DEARIE 49 - -THE PEACE OF CHRISTMAS-TIME 51 - -TO A LITTLE BROOK 54 - -CROODLIN’ DOO[A] 58 - -LITTLE MISTRESS SANS-MERCI 60 - -LONG AGO 62 - -IN THE FIRELIGHT 64 - -COBBLER AND STORK (Armenian Folk-Lore) 66 - -“LOLLYBY, LOLLY, LOLLYBY” 70 - -LIZZIE AND THE BABY 72 - -AT THE DOOR 74 - -HUGO’S “CHILD AT PLAY” 76 - -HI-SPY 77 - -LITTLE BOY BLUE 78 - -FATHER’S LETTER 80 - -JEWISH LULLABY 86 - -OUR WHIPPINGS 88 - -THE ARMENIAN MOTHER (Folk-Song) 93 - -HEIGHO, MY DEARIE 95 - -TO A USURPER 97 - -THE BELL-FLOWER TREE 99 - -FAIRY AND CHILD 102 - -THE GRANDSIRE 104 - -HUSHABY, SWEET MY OWN 106 - -CHILD AND MOTHER 108 - -MEDIEVAL EVENTIDE SONG 110 - -ARMENIAN LULLABY 113 - -CHRISTMAS TREASURES 115 - -OH, LITTLE CHILD 118 - -GANDERFEATHER’S GIFT 120 - -BAMBINO (Sicilian Folk-Song) 123 - -LITTLE HOMER’S SLATE 125 - - [A] Cooing Dove. - - - - - WITH TRUMPET AND DRUM - - - - - THE SUGAR-PLUM TREE - - - Have you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree? - ’Tis a marvel of great renown! - It blooms on the shore of the Lollipop sea - In the garden of Shut-Eye Town; - The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet - (As those who have tasted it say) - That good little children have only to eat - Of that fruit to be happy next day. - - When you’ve got to the tree, you would have a hard time - To capture the fruit which I sing; - The tree is so tall that no person could climb - To the boughs where the sugar-plums swing! - But up in that tree sits a chocolate cat, - And a gingerbread dog prowls below-- - And this is the way you contrive to get at - Those sugar-plums tempting you so: - - You say but the word to that gingerbread dog - And he barks with such terrible zest - That the chocolate cat is at once all agog, - As her swelling proportions attest. - And the chocolate cat goes cavorting around - From this leafy limb unto that, - And the sugar-plums tumble, of course, to the ground-- - Hurrah for that chocolate cat! - - There are marshmallows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes, - With stripings of scarlet or gold, - And you carry away of the treasure that rains - As much as your apron can hold! - So come, little child, cuddle closer to me - In your dainty white nightcap and gown, - And I’ll rock you away to that Sugar-Plum Tree - In the garden of Shut-Eye Town. - - - - - KRINKEN - - - Krinken was a little child,-- - It was summer when he smiled. - Oft the hoary sea and grim - Stretched its white arms out to him, - Calling, “Sun-child, come to me; - Let me warm my heart with thee!” - But the child heard not the sea. - - Krinken on the beach one day - Saw a maiden Nis at play; - Fair, and very fair, was she, - Just a little child was he. - “Krinken,” said the maiden Nis, - “Let me have a little kiss,-- - Just a kiss, and go with me - To the summer-lands that be - Down within the silver sea.” - - Krinken was a little child, - By the maiden Nis beguiled; - Down into the calling sea - With the maiden Nis went he. - - But the sea calls out no more; - It is winter on the shore,-- - Winter where that little child - Made sweet summer when he smiled: - Though ’tis summer on the sea - Where with maiden Nis went he,-- - Summer, summer evermore,-- - It is winter on the shore, - Winter, winter evermore. - - Of the summer on the deep - Come sweet visions in my sleep; - _His_ fair face lifts from the sea, - _His_ dear voice calls out to me,-- - These my dreams of summer be. - - Krinken was a little child, - By the maiden Nis beguiled; - Oft the hoary sea and grim - Reached its longing arms to him, - Crying, “Sun-child, come to me; - Let me warm my heart with thee!” - But the sea calls out no more; - It is winter on the shore,-- - Winter, cold and dark and wild; - Krinken was a little child,-- - It was summer when he smiled; - Down he went into the sea, - And the winter bides with me. - Just a little child was he. - - - - - THE NAUGHTY DOLL - - - My dolly is a dreadful care,-- - Her name is Miss Amandy; - I dress her up and curl her hair, - And feed her taffy candy. - Yet heedless of the pleading voice - Of her devoted mother, - She will not wed her mother’s choice, - But says she’ll wed another. - - I’d have her wed the china vase,-- - There is no Dresden rarer; - You might go searching every place - And never find a fairer. - He is a gentle, pinkish youth,-- - Of that there’s no denying; - Yet when I speak of him, forsooth, - Amandy falls to crying! - - She loves the drum--that’s very plain-- - And scorns the vase so clever; - And weeping, vows she will remain - A spinster doll forever! - The protestations of the drum - I am convinced are hollow; - When once distressing times should come, - How soon would ruin follow! - - Yet all in vain the Dresden boy - From yonder mantel woos her; - A mania for that vulgar toy, - The noisy drum, imbues her! - In vain I wheel her to and fro, - And reason with her mildly,-- - Her waxen tears in torrents flow, - Her sawdust heart beats wildly. - - I’m sure that when I’m big and tall, - And wear long trailing dresses, - I sha’n’t encourage beaux at all - Till mama acquiesces; - Our choice will be a suitor then - As pretty as this vase is,-- - Oh, how we’ll hate the noisy men - With whiskers on their faces! - - - - - NIGHTFALL IN DORDRECHT - - - The mill goes toiling slowly around - With steady and solemn creak, - And my little one hears in the kindly sound - The voice of the old mill speak. - While round and round those big white wings - Grimly and ghostlike creep, - My little one hears that the old mill sings: - “Sleep, little tulip, sleep!” - - The sails are reefed and the nets are drawn, - And, over his pot of beer, - The fisher, against the morrow’s dawn, - Lustily maketh cheer; - He mocks at the winds that caper along - From the far-off clamorous deep-- - But we--we love their lullaby song - Of “Sleep, little tulip, sleep!” - - Old dog Fritz in slumber sound - Groans of the stony mart-- - To-morrow how proudly he’ll trot you round, - Hitched to our new milk-cart! - And you shall help me blanket the kine - And fold the gentle sheep - And set the herring a-soak in brine-- - But now, little tulip, sleep! - - A Dream-One comes to button the eyes - That wearily droop and blink, - While the old mill buffets the frowning skies - And scolds at the stars that wink; - Over your face the misty wings - Of that beautiful Dream-One sweep, - And rocking your cradle she softly sings: - “Sleep, little tulip, sleep!” - - - - - INTRY-MINTRY - - - Willie and Bess, Georgie and May-- - Once, as these children were hard at play, - An old man, hoary and tottering, came - And watched them playing their pretty game. - He seemed to wonder, while standing there, - What the meaning thereof could be-- - Aha, but the old man yearned to share - Of the little children’s innocent glee - As they circled around with laugh and shout - And told their rime at counting out: - “Intry-mintry, cutrey-corn, - Apple-seed and apple-thorn; - Wire, brier, limber, lock, - Twelve geese in a flock; - Some flew east, some flew west, - Some flew over the cuckoo’s nest!” - - Willie and Bess, Georgie and May-- - Ah, the mirth of that summer-day! - ’Twas Father Time who had come to share - The innocent joy of those children there; - He learned betimes the game they played - And into their sport with them went he-- - How _could_ the children have been afraid, - Since little they recked whom he might be? - They laughed to hear old Father Time - Mumbling that curious nonsense rime - Of “Intry-mintry, cutrey-corn, - Apple-seed and apple-thorn; - Wire, brier, limber, lock, - Twelve geese in a flock; - Some flew east, some flew west, - Some flew over the cuckoo’s nest!” - - Willie and Bess, Georgie and May, - And joy of summer--where are they? - The grim old man still standeth near - Crooning the song of a far-off year; - And into the winter I come alone, - Cheered by that mournful requiem, - Soothed by the dolorous monotone - That shall count me off as it counted them-- - The solemn voice of old Father Time - Chanting the homely nursery rime - He learned of the children a summer morn - When, with “apple-seed and apple-thorn,” - Life was full of the dulcet cheer - That bringeth the grace of heaven anear-- - The sound of the little ones hard at play-- - Willie and Bess, Georgie and May. - - - - - PITTYPAT AND TIPPYTOE - - - All day long they come and go-- - Pittypat and Tippytoe; - Footprints up and down the hall, - Playthings scattered on the floor, - Finger-marks along the wall, - Tell-tale smudges on the door-- - By these presents you shall know - Pittypat and Tippytoe. - - How they riot at their play! - And a dozen times a day - In they troop, demanding bread-- - Only buttered bread will do, - And that butter must be spread - Inches thick with sugar too! - And I never can say “No, - Pittypat and Tippytoe!” - - Sometimes there are griefs to soothe, - Sometimes ruffled brows to smooth; - For (I much regret to say) - Tippytoe and Pittypat - Sometimes interrupt their play - With an internecine spat; - Fie, for shame! to quarrel so-- - Pittypat and Tippytoe! - - Oh the thousand worrying things - Every day recurrent brings! - Hands to scrub and hair to brush, - Search for playthings gone amiss, - Many a wee complaint to hush, - Many a little bump to kiss; - Life seems one vain, fleeting show - To Pittypat and Tippytoe! - - And when day is at an end, - There are little duds to mend: - Little frocks are strangely torn, - Little shoes great holes reveal, - Little hose, but one day worn, - Rudely yawn at toe and heel! - Who but _you_ could work such woe, - Pittypat and Tippytoe? - - But when comes this thought to me: - “Some there are that childless be,” - Stealing to their little beds, - With a love I cannot speak, - Tenderly I stroke their heads-- - Fondly kiss each velvet cheek. - God help those who do not know - A Pittypat or Tippytoe! - - On the floor and down the hall, - Rudely smutched upon the wall, - There are proofs in every kind - Of the havoc they have wrought, - And upon my heart you’d find - Just such trade-marks, if you sought; - Oh, how glad I am ’tis so, - Pittypat and Tippytoe! - - - - - BALOW, MY BONNIE - - - Hush, bonnie, dinna greit; - Moder will rocke her sweete,-- - Balow, my boy! - When that his toile ben done, - Daddie will come anone,-- - Hush thee, my lyttel one; - Balow, my boy! - - Gin thou dost sleepe, perchaunce - Fayries will come to daunce,-- - Balow, my boy! - Oft hath thy moder seene - Moonlight and mirkland queene - Daunce on thy slumbering een,-- - Balow, my boy! - - Then droned a bomblebee - Saftly this songe to thee: - “Balow, my boy!” - - And a wee heather bell, - Pluckt from a fayry dell, - Chimed thee this rune hersell: - “Balow, my boy!” - - Soe, bonnie, dinna greit; - Moder doth rock her sweete,-- - Balow, my boy! - Give mee thy lyttel hand, - Moder will hold it and - Lead thee to balow land,-- - Balow, my boy! - - - - - THE HAWTHORNE CHILDREN - - - The Hawthorne children--seven in all-- - Are famous friends of mine, - And with what pleasure I recall - How, years ago, one gloomy fall, - I took a tedious railway line - And journeyed by slow stages down - Unto that sleepy seaport town - (Albeit one worth seeing), - Where Hildegarde, John, Henry, Fred, - And Beatrix and Gwendolen - And she that was the baby then-- - These famous seven, as aforesaid, - Lived, moved, and had their being. - - The Hawthorne children gave me such - A welcome by the sea, - That the eight of us were soon in touch, - And though their mother marveled much, - Happy as larks were we! - Egad I was a boy again - With Henry, John, and Gwendolen! - And, oh! the funny capers - I cut with Hildegarde and Fred! - The pranks we heedless children played, - The deafening, awful noise we made-- - ’Twould shock my family, if they read - About it in the papers! - - The Hawthorne children all were smart; - The girls, as I recall, - Had comprehended every art - Appealing to the head and heart, - The boys were gifted, all; - ’Twas Hildegarde who showed me how - To hitch the horse and milk a cow - And cook the best of suppers; - With Beatrix upon the sands - I sprinted daily, and was beat, - While Henry stumped me to the feat - Of walking round upon my hands - Instead of on my “uppers.” - - The Hawthorne children liked me best - Of evenings, after tea; - For then, by general request, - I spun them yarns about the west-- - And _all_ involving Me! - I represented how I’d slain - The bison on the gore-smeared plain, - And divers tales of wonder - I told of how I’d fought and bled - In Injun scrimmages galore, - Till Mrs. Hawthorne quoth “No more!” - And packed her darlings off to bed - To dream of blood and thunder! - - They must have changed a deal since then: - The misses tall and fair - And those three lusty, handsome men, - Would they be girls and boys again - Were I to happen there, - Down in that spot beside the sea - Where we made such tumultuous glee - In dull autumnal weather? - Ah me! the years go swiftly by, - And yet how fondly I recall - The week when we were children all-- - Dear Hawthorne children, you and I-- - Just eight of us, together! - - - - - LITTLE BLUE PIGEON - - - Sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings-- - Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes; - Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swinging-- - Swinging the nest where her little one lies. - - Away out yonder I see a star-- - Silvery star with a tinkling song; - To the soft dew falling I hear it calling-- - Calling and tinkling the night along. - - In through the window a moonbeam comes-- - Little gold moonbeam with misty wings; - All silently creeping, it asks: “Is he sleeping-- - Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings?” - - Up from the sea there floats the sob - Of the waves that are breaking upon the shore, - As though they were groaning in anguish, and moaning-- - Bemoaning the ship that shall come no more. - - But sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings-- - Little blue pigeon with mournful eyes; - Am I not singing?--see, I am swinging-- - Swinging the nest where my darling lies. - - - - - THE LYTTEL BOY - - - Some time there ben a lyttel boy - That wolde not renne and play, - And helpless like that little tyke - Ben allwais in the way. - “Goe, make you merrie with the rest,” - His weary moder cried; - But with a frown he catcht her gown - And hong untill her side. - - That boy did love his moder well, - Which spake him faire, I ween; - He loved to stand and hold her hand - And ken her with his een; - His cosset bleated in the croft, - His toys unheeded lay,-- - He wolde not goe, but, tarrying soe, - Ben allwais in the way. - - Godde loveth children and doth gird - His throne with soche as these, - And he doth smile in plaisaunce while - They cluster at his knees; - And some time, when he looked on earth - And watched the bairns at play, - He kenned with joy a lyttel boy - Ben allwais in the way. - - And then a moder felt her heart - How that it ben to-torne, - She kissed eche day till she ben gray - The shoon he use to worn; - No bairn let hold untill her gown - Nor played upon the floore,-- - Godde’s was the joy; a lyttel boy - Ben in the way no more! - - - - - TEENY-WEENY - - - Every evening, after tea, - Teeny-Weeny comes to me, - And, astride my willing knee, - Plies his lash and rides away; - Though that palfrey, all too spare, - Finds his burden hard to bear, - Teeny-Weeny doesn’t care; - He commands, and I obey! - - First it’s trot, and gallop then; - Now it’s back to trot again; - Teeny-Weeny likes it when - He is riding fierce and fast. - Then his dark eyes brighter grow - And his cheeks are all aglow: - “More!” he cries, and never “Whoa!” - Till the horse breaks down at last. - - Oh, the strange and lovely sights - Teeny-Weeny sees of nights, - As he makes those famous flights - On that wondrous horse of his! - Oftentimes before he knows, - Wearylike his eyelids close, - And, still smiling, off he goes - Where the land of By-low is. - - There he sees the folk of fay - Hard at ring-a-rosie play, - And he hears those fairies say: - “Come, let’s chase him to and fro!” - But, with a defiant shout, - Teeny puts that host to rout; - Of this tale I make no doubt, - Every night he tells it so. - - So I feel a tender pride - In my boy who dares to ride - That fierce horse of his astride, - Off into those misty lands; - And as on my breast he lies, - Dreaming in that wondrous wise, - I caress his folded eyes, - Pat his little dimpled hands. - - On a time he went away, - Just a little while to stay, - And I’m not ashamed to say - I was very lonely then; - Life without him was so sad, - You can fancy I was glad - And made merry when I had - Teeny-Weeny back again! - - So of evenings, after tea, - When he toddles up to me - And goes tugging at my knee. - You should hear his palfrey neigh! - You should see him prance and shy, - When, with an exulting cry, - Teeny-Weeny, vaulting high, - Plies his lash and rides away! - - - - - NELLIE - - - His listening soul hears no echo of battle, - No pæan of triumph nor welcome of fame; - But down through the years comes a little one’s prattle, - And softly he murmurs her idolized name. - And it seems as if now at his heart she were clinging - As she clung in those dear, distant years to his knee; - He sees her fair face, and he hears her sweet singing-- - And Nellie is coming from over the sea. - - While each patriot’s hope stays the fullness of sorrow, - While our eyes are bedimmed and our voices are low, - He dreams of the daughter who comes with the morrow - Like an angel come back from the dear long ago. - Ah, what to him now is a nation’s emotion, - And what for our love or our grief careth he? - A swift-speeding ship is a-sail on the ocean, - And Nellie is coming from over the sea! - - O daughter--my daughter! when Death stands before me - And beckons me off to that far misty shore, - Let me see your loved form bending tenderly o’er me, - And feel your dear kiss on my lips as of yore. - In the grace of your love all my anguish abating, - I’ll bear myself bravely and proudly as he, - And know the sweet peace that hallowed his waiting - When Nellie was coming from over the sea. - - - - - NORSE LULLABY - - - The sky is dark and the hills are white - As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night; - And this is the song the storm-king sings, - As over the world his cloak he flings: - “Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep”; - He rustles his wings and gruffly sings: - “Sleep, little one, sleep.” - - On yonder mountain-side a vine - Clings at the foot of a mother pine; - The tree bends over the trembling thing, - And only the vine can hear her sing: - “Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep-- - What shall you fear when I am here? - Sleep, little one, sleep.” - - The king may sing in his bitter flight, - The tree may croon to the vine to-night, - But the little snowflake at my breast - Liketh the song _I_ sing the best-- - Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep; - Weary thou art, a-next my heart - Sleep, little one, sleep. - - - - - GRANDMA’S PRAYER - - - I pray that, risen from the dead, - I may in glory stand-- - A crown, perhaps, upon my head, - But a needle in my hand. - - I’ve never learned to sing or play, - So let no harp be mine; - From birth unto my dying day, - Plain sewing’s been my line. - - Therefore, accustomed to the end - To plying useful stitches, - I’ll be content if asked to mend - The little angels’ breeches. - - - - - SOME TIME - - - Last night, my darling, as you slept, - I thought I heard you sigh, - And to your little crib I crept, - And watched a space thereby; - Then, bending down, I kissed your brow-- - For, oh! I love you so-- - You are too young to know it now, - But some time you shall know. - - Some time, when, in a darkened place - Where others come to weep, - Your eyes shall see a weary face - Calm in eternal sleep; - The speechless lips, the wrinkled brow, - The patient smile may show-- - You are too young to know it now, - But some time you shall know. - - Look backward, then, into the years, - And see me here to-night-- - See, O my darling! how my tears - Are falling as I write; - And feel once more upon your brow - The kiss of long ago-- - You are too young to know it now, - But some time you shall know. - - - - - THE FIRE-HANGBIRD’S NEST - - - As I am sitting in the sun upon the porch to-day, - I look with wonder at the elm that stands across the way; - I say and mean “with wonder,” for now it seems to me - That elm is not as tall as years ago it used to be! - The old fire-hangbird’s built her nest therein for many springs-- - High up amid the sportive winds the curious cradle swings, - But not so high as when a little boy I did my best - To scale that elm and carry off the old fire-hangbird’s nest! - - The Hubbard boys had tried in vain to reach the homely prize - That dangled from that upper outer twig in taunting wise, - And once, when Deacon Turner’s boy had almost grasped the limb, - He fell! and had to have a doctor operate on him! - Philetus Baker broke his leg and Orrin Root his arm-- - But what of that? The danger gave the sport a special charm! - The Bixby and the Cutler boys, the Newtons and the rest - Ran every risk to carry off the old fire-hang-bird’s nest! - - I can remember that I used to knee my trousers through, - That mother used to wonder how my legs got black and blue, - And how she used to talk to me and make stern threats when she - Discovered that my hobby was the nest in yonder tree; - How, as she patched my trousers or greased my purple legs, - She told me ’twould be wicked to destroy a hangbird’s eggs, - And then she’d call on father and on gran’pa to attest - That they, as boys, had never robbed an old fire-hangbird’s nest! - - Yet all those years I coveted the trophy flaunting there, - While, as it were in mockery of my abject despair, - The old fire-hangbird confidently used to come and go, - As if she were indifferent to the bandit horde below! - And sometimes clinging to her nest we thought we heard her chide - The callow brood whose cries betrayed the fear that reigned inside: - “Hush, little dears! all profitless shall be their wicked quest-- - I knew my business when I built the old fire-hangbird’s nest!” - - For many, very many years that mother-bird has come - To rear her pretty little brood within that cozy home. - She is the selfsame bird of old--I’m certain it is she-- - Although the chances are that she has quite forgotten me. - Just as of old that prudent, crafty bird of compound name - (And in parenthesis I’ll say her nest is still the same); - Just as of old the passion, too, that fires the youthful breast - To climb unto and comprehend the old fire-hangbird’s nest! - - I like to see my old-time friend swing in that ancient tree, - And, if the elm’s as tall and sturdy as it _used_ to be, - I’m sure that many a year that nest shall in the breezes blow, - For boys aren’t what they used to be a forty years ago! - The elm looks shorter than it did when brother Rufe and I - Beheld with envious hearts that trophy flaunted from on high; - He writes that in the city where he’s living ’way out West - His little boys have never seen an old fire-hangbird’s nest! - - Poor little chaps! how lonesomelike their city life must be-- - I wish they’d come and live awhile in this old house with me! - They’d have the honest friends and healthful sports I used to know - When brother Rufe and I were boys a forty years ago. - So, when they grew from romping lads to busy, useful men, - They could recall with proper pride their country life again; - And of those recollections of their youth I’m sure the best - Would be of how they sought in vain the old fire-hangbird’s nest! - - - - - BUTTERCUP, POPPY, FORGET-ME-NOT - - - Buttercup, Poppy, Forget-me-not-- - These three bloomed in a garden spot; - And once, all merry with song and play, - A little one heard three voices say: - “Shine and shadow, summer and spring, - O thou child with the tangled hair - And laughing eyes! we three shall bring - Each an offering passing fair.” - The little one did not understand, - But they bent and kissed the dimpled hand. - - Buttercup gamboled all day long, - Sharing the little one’s mirth and song; - Then, stealing along on misty gleams, - Poppy came bearing the sweetest dreams. - Playing and dreaming--and that was all - Till once a sleeper would not awake; - Kissing the little face under the pall, - We thought of the words the third flower spake; - And we found betimes in a hallowed spot - The solace and peace of Forget-me-not. - - Buttercup shareth the joy of day, - Glinting with gold the hours of play; - Bringeth the poppy sweet repose, - When the hands would fold and the eyes would close; - And after it all--the play and the sleep - Of a little life--what cometh then? - To the hearts that ache and the eyes that weep - A new flower bringeth God’s peace again. - Each one serveth its tender lot-- - Buttercup, Poppy, Forget-me-not. - - - - - WYNKEN, BLYNKEN, AND NOD - - - Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night - Sailed off in a wooden shoe-- - Sailed on a river of crystal light, - Into a sea of dew. - “Where are you going, and what do you wish?” - The old moon asked the three. - “We have come to fish for the herring fish - That live in this beautiful sea; - Nets of silver and gold have we!” - Said Wynken, - Blynken, - And Nod. - - The old moon laughed and sang a song, - As they rocked in the wooden shoe, - And the wind that sped them all night long - Ruffled the waves of dew. - - The little stars were the herring fish - That lived in that beautiful sea-- - “Now cast your nets wherever you wish-- - Never afeard are we”; - So cried the stars to the fishermen three: - Wynken, - Blynken, - And Nod. - - All night long their nets they threw - To the stars in the twinkling foam-- - Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, - Bringing the fishermen home; - ’Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed - As if it could not be, - And some folks thought ’twas a dream they’d dreamed - Of sailing that beautiful sea-- - But I shall name you the fishermen three: - Wynken, - Blynken, - And Nod. - - Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, - And Nod is a little head, - And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies - Is a wee one’s trundle-bed. - So shut your eyes while mother sings - Of wonderful sights that be, - And you shall see the beautiful things - As you rock in the misty sea, - Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three: - Wynken, - Blynken, - And Nod. - - - - - GOLD AND LOVE FOR DEARIE - - - Out on the mountain over the town, - All night long, all night long, - The trolls go up and the trolls go down, - Bearing their packs and singing a song; - And this is the song the hill-folk croon, - As they trudge in the light of the misty moon-- - This is ever their dolorous tune: - “Gold, gold! ever more gold-- - Bright red gold for dearie!” - - Deep in the hill a father delves - All night long, all night long; - None but the peering, furtive elves - Sees his toil and hears his song; - Merrily ever the cavern rings - As merrily ever his pick he swings, - And merrily ever this song he sings: - “Gold, gold! ever more gold-- - Bright red gold for dearie!” - - Mother is rocking thy lowly bed - All night long, all night long, - Happy to smooth thy curly head, - To hold thy hand and to sing her song: - ’Tis not of the hill-folk dwarfed and old, - Nor the song of thy father, stanch and bold, - And the burthen it beareth is not of gold, - But it’s “Love, love! nothing but love - Mother’s love for dearie!” - - - - - THE PEACE OF CHRISTMAS-TIME - - - Dearest, how hard it is to say - That all is for the best, - Since, sometimes, in a grievous way - God’s will is manifest. - - See with what hearty, noisy glee - Our little ones to-night - Dance round and round our Christmas tree - With pretty toys bedight. - - Dearest, one voice they may not hear, - One face they may not see-- - Ah, what of all this Christmas cheer - Cometh to you and me? - - Cometh before our misty eyes - That other little face, - And we clasp, in tender, reverent wise, - That love in the old embrace. - - Dearest, the Christ-Child walks to-night, - Bringing his peace to men, - And he bringeth to you and to me the light - Of the old, old years again. - - Bringeth the peace of long ago, - When a wee one clasped your knee - And lisped of the morrow--dear one, you know-- - And here come back is he! - - Dearest, ’tis sometimes hard to say - That all is for the best, - For, often, in a grievous way - God’s will is manifest. - - But in the grace of this holy night - That bringeth us back our child, - Let us see that the ways of God are right, - And so be reconciled. - - - - - TO A LITTLE BROOK - - - You’re not so big as you were then, - O little brook!-- - I mean those hazy summers when - We boys roamed, full of awe, beside - Your noisy, foaming, tumbling tide, - And wondered if it could be true - That there were bigger brooks than you - O mighty brook, O peerless brook! - - All up and down this reedy place - Where lives the brook, - We angled for the furtive dace; - The redwing-blackbird did his best - To make us think he’d built his nest - Hard by the stream, when, like as not, - He’d hung it in a secret spot - Far from the brook, the telltale brook! - - And often, when the noontime heat - Parboiled the brook, - We’d draw our boots and swing our feet - Upon the waves that, in their play, - Would tag us last and scoot away; - And mother never seemed to know - What burnt our legs and chapped them so-- - But father guessed it was the brook! - - And Fido--how he loved to swim - The cooling brook, - Whenever we’d throw sticks for him; - And how we boys _did_ wish that we - Could only swim as good as he-- - Why, Daniel Webster never was - Recipient of such great applause - As Fido, battling with the brook! - - But once--O most unhappy day - For you, my brook!-- - Came Cousin Sam along that way; - And, having lived a spell out West, - Where creeks aren’t counted much at best, - He neither waded, swam, nor leapt, - But, with superb indifference, _stept_ - Across that brook--our mighty brook! - - Why do you scamper on your way, - You little brook, - When I come back to you to-day? - Is it because you flee the grass - That lunges at you as you pass, - As if, in playful mood, it would - Tickle the truant if it could, - You chuckling brook--you saucy brook? - - Or is it you no longer know-- - You fickle brook-- - The honest friend of long ago? - The years that kept us twain apart - Have changed my face, but not my heart-- - Many and sore those years, and yet - I fancied you could not forget - That happy time, my playmate brook! - - Oh, sing again in artless glee, - My little brook, - The song you used to sing for me-- - The song that’s lingered in my ears - So soothingly these many years; - My grief shall be forgotten when - I hear your tranquil voice again - And that sweet song, dear little brook! - - - - - CROODLIN’ DOO - - - Ho, pretty bee, did you see my croodlin’ doo? - Ho, little lamb, is she jinkin’ on the lea? - Ho, bonnie fairy, bring my dearie back to me-- - Got a lump o’ sugar an’ a posie for you, - Only bring me back my wee, wee croodlin’ doo! - - Why! here you are, my little croodlin’ doo! - Looked in er cradle, but didn’t find you there-- - Looked f’r my wee, wee croodlin’ doo ever’where; - Be’n kind lonesome all er day withouten you-- - Where you be’n, my teeny, wee, wee croodlin’ doo? - - Now you go balow, my little croodlin’ doo; - Now you go rockaby ever so far,-- - Rockaby, rockaby up to the star - That’s winkin’ an’ blinkin’ an’ singin’ to you, - As you go balow, my wee, wee croodlin’ doo! - - - - - LITTLE MISTRESS SANS-MERCI - - - Little Mistress Sans-Merci - Fareth world-wide, fancy free: - Trotteth cooing to and fro, - And her cooing is command-- - Never ruled there yet, I trow, - Mightier despot in the land. - And my heart it lieth where - Mistress Sans-Merci doth fare. - - Little Mistress Sans-Merci-- - She hath made a slave of me! - “Go,” she biddeth, and I go-- - “Come,” and I am fain to come-- - Never mercy doth she show, - Be she wroth or frolicsome, - Yet am I content to be - Slave to Mistress Sans-Merci! - - Little Mistress Sans-Merci - Hath become so dear to me - That I count as passing sweet - All the pain her moods impart, - And I bless the little feet - That go trampling on my heart: - Ah, how lonely life would be - But for little Sans-Merci! - - Little Mistress Sans-Merci, - Cuddle close this night to me, - And the heart, which all day long - Ruthless thou hast trod upon, - Shall outpour a soothing song - For its best belovéd one-- - All its tenderness for thee, - Little Mistress Sans-Merci! - - - - - LONG AGO - - - I once knew all the birds that came - And nested in our orchard trees, - For every flower I had a name-- - My friends were woodchucks, toads, and bees; - I knew where thrived in yonder glen - What plants would soothe a stone-bruised toe-- - Oh, I was very learned then, - But that was very long ago. - - I knew the spot upon the hill - Where checkerberries could be found, - I knew the rushes near the mill - Where pickerel lay that weighed a pound! - I knew the wood--the very tree - Where lived the poaching, saucy crow, - And all the woods and crows knew me-- - But that was very long ago. - - And pining for the joys of youth, - I tread the old familiar spot - Only to learn this solemn truth: - I have forgotten, am forgot. - Yet here’s this youngster at my knee - Knows all the things I used to know; - To think I once was wise as he!-- - But that was very long ago. - - I know it’s folly to complain - Of whatsoe’er the fates decree, - Yet, were not wishes all in vain, - I tell you what my wish should be: - I’d wish to be a boy again, - Back with the friends I used to know. - For I was, oh, so happy then-- - But that was very long ago! - - - - - IN THE FIRELIGHT - - - The fire upon the hearth is low, - And there is stillness everywhere, - And, like wing’d spirits, here and there - The firelight shadows fluttering go. - And as the shadows round me creep, - A childish treble breaks the gloom, - And softly from a further room - Comes: “Now I lay me down to sleep.” - - And, somehow, with that little pray’r - And that sweet treble in my ears, - My thought goes back to distant years, - And lingers with a dear one there; - And as I hear my child’s amen, - My mother’s faith comes back to me-- - Crouched at her side I seem to be, - And mother holds my hands again. - - Oh, for an hour in that dear place-- - Oh, for the peace of that dear time-- - Oh, for that childish trust sublime-- - Oh, for a glimpse of mother’s face! - Yet, as the shadows round me creep, - I do not seem to be alone-- - Sweet magic of that treble tone - And “Now I lay me down to sleep!” - - - - - COBBLER AND STORK - - - _Cobbler._ - - Stork, I am justly wroth, - For thou hast wronged me sore; - The ash roof-tree that shelters thee - Shall shelter thee no more! - - - _Stork._ - - Full fifty years I’ve dwelt - Upon this honest tree, - And long ago (as people know!) - I brought thy father thee. - What hail hath chilled thy heart, - That thou shouldst bid me go? - Speak out, I pray--then I’ll away, - Since thou commandest so. - - - _Cobbler._ - - Thou tellest of the time - When, wheeling from the west, - This hut thou sought’st and one thou brought’st - Unto a mother’s breast. - _I_ was the wretched child - Was fetched that dismal morn-- - ’Twere better die than be (as I) - To life of misery born! - And hadst thou borne me on - Still farther up the town, - A king I’d be of high degree, - And wear a golden crown! - For yonder lives the prince - Was brought that selfsame day: - How happy he, while--look at me! - I toil my life away! - And see my little boy-- - To what estate he’s born! - Why, when I die no hoard leave I - But poverty and scorn. - And _thou_ hast done it all-- - I might have been a king - And ruled in state, but for thy hate, - Thou base, perfidious thing! - - - _Stork._ - - Since, cobbler, thou dost speak - Of one thou lovest well, - Hear of that king what grievous thing - This very morn befell. - Whilst round thy homely bench - Thy well-belovéd played, - In yonder hall beneath a pall - A little one was laid; - Thy well-belovéd’s face - Was rosy with delight, - But ’neath that pall in yonder hall - The little face is white; - Whilst by a merry voice - Thy soul is filled with cheer, - Another weeps for one that sleeps - All mute and cold anear; - One father hath his hope, - And one is childless now; - _He_ wears a crown and rules a town-- - Only a cobbler _thou_! - Wouldst thou exchange thy lot - At price of such a woe? - I’ll nest no more above thy door, - But, as thou bidst me, go. - - - _Cobbler._ - - Nay, stork! thou shalt remain-- - I mean not what I said; - Good neighbors we must always be, - So make thy home o’erhead. - I would not change my bench - For any monarch’s throne, - Nor sacrifice at any price - My darling and my own! - Stork! on my roof-tree bide, - That, seeing thee anear, - I’ll thankful be God sent by thee - Me and my darling here! - - - - -“LOLLYBY, LOLLY, LOLLYBY” - - - Last night, whiles that the curfew bell ben ringing, - I heard a moder to her dearie singing - “Lollyby, lolly, lollyby”; - And presently that chylde did cease hys weeping, - And on his moder’s breast did fall a-sleeping - To “lolly, lolly, lollyby.” - - Faire ben the chylde unto his moder clinging, - But fairer yet the moder’s gentle singing-- - “Lollyby, lolly, lollyby”; - And angels came and kisst the dearie smiling - In dreems while him hys moder ben beguiling - With “lolly, lolly, lollyby.” - - Then to my harte saies I: “Oh, that thy beating - Colde be assuaged by some sweete voice repeating - ‘Lollyby, lolly, lollyby’; - That like this lyttel chylde I, too, ben sleeping - With plaisaunt phantasies about me creeping, - To ‘lolly, lolly, lollyby’!” - - Some time--mayhap when curfew bells are ringing-- - A weary harte shall heare straunge voices singing - “Lollyby, lolly, lollyby”; - Some time, mayhap, with Chryst’s love round me streaming, - I shall be lulled into eternal dreeming, - With “lolly, lolly, lollyby.” - - - - - LIZZIE AND THE BABY - - - I wonder ef all wimmin air - Like Lizzie is when we go out - To theaters an’ concerts where - Is things the papers talk about. - Do other wimmin fret an’ stew - Like they wuz bein’ crucified-- - Frettin’ a show or concert through, - With wonderin’ ef the baby cried? - - Now Lizzie knows that gran’ma’s there - To see that everything is right, - Yet Lizzie thinks that gran’ma’s care - Ain’t good enuff f’r baby, quite; - Yet what am I to answer when - She kind uv fidgets at my side, - An’ asks me every now and then: - “I wonder if the baby cried?” - - Seems like she seen two little eyes - A-pinin’ f’r their mother’s smile-- - Seems like she heern the pleadin’ cries - Uv one she thinks uv all the while; - An’ so she’s sorry that she come, - An’ though she allus tries to hide - The truth, she’d ruther stay to hum - Than wonder ef the baby cried. - - Yes, wimmin folks is all alike-- - By Lizzie you kin jedge the rest; - There never wuz a little tyke, - But that his mother loved him best. - And nex’ to bein’ what I be-- - The husband uv my gentle bride-- - I’d wisht I wuz that croodlin’ wee, - With Lizzie wonderin’ ef I cried. - - - - - AT THE DOOR - - - I thought myself, indeed, secure - So fast the door, so firm the lock; - But, lo! he toddling comes to lure - My parent ear with timorous knock. - - My heart were stone could it withstand - The sweetness of my baby’s plea,-- - That timorous, baby knocking and - “Please let me in,--it’s only me.” - - I threw aside the unfinished book, - Regardless of its tempting charms, - And, opening wide the door, I took - My laughing darling in my arms. - - Who knows but in Eternity, - I, like a truant child, shall wait - The glories of a life to be, - Beyond the Heavenly Father’s gate? - - And will that Heavenly Father heed - The truant’s supplicating cry, - As at the outer door I plead, - “‘Tis I, O Father! only I?” - - - - - HUGO’S “CHILD AT PLAY” - - - A child was singing at his play-- - I heard the song, and paused to hear; - His mother moaning, groaning lay, - And, lo! a specter stood anear! - - The child shook sunlight from his hair, - And caroled gaily all day long-- - Aye, with that specter gloating there, - The innocent made mirth and song! - - How like to harvest fruit wert thou, - O sorrow, in that dismal room-- - God ladeth not the tender bough - Save with the joy of bud and bloom! - - - - - HI-SPY - - - Strange that the city thoroughfare, - Noisy and bustling all the day, - Should with the night renounce its care - And lend itself to children’s play! - - Oh, girls are girls, and boys are boys, - And have been so since Abel’s birth, - And shall be so till dolls and toys - Are with the children swept from earth. - - The selfsame sport that crowns the day - Of many a Syrian shepherd’s son, - Beguiles the little lads at play - By night in stately Babylon. - - I hear their voices in the street, - Yet ’tis so different now from then! - Come, brother! from your winding-sheet, - And let us two be boys again! - - - - - LITTLE BOY BLUE - - - The little toy dog is covered with dust, - But sturdy and stanch he stands; - And the little toy soldier is red with rust, - And his musket molds in his hands. - Time was when the little toy dog was new, - And the soldier was passing fair; - And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue - Kissed them and put them there. - - “Now, don’t you go till I come,” he said, - “And don’t you make any noise!” - So, toddling off to his trundle-bed, - He dreamt of the pretty toys; - And, as he was dreaming, an angel song - Awakened our Little Boy Blue-- - Oh! the years are many, the years are long, - But the little toy friends are true! - - Aye, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand, - Each in the same old place-- - Awaiting the touch of a little hand, - The smile of a little face; - And they wonder, as waiting the long years through - In the dust of that little chair, - What has become of our Little Boy Blue, - Since he kissed them and put them there. - - - - - FATHER’S LETTER - - - I’m going to write a letter to our oldest boy who went - Out West last spring to practise law and run for president; - I’ll tell him all the gossip I guess he’d like to hear, - For he hasn’t seen the home-folks for going on a year! - Most generally it’s Marthy does the writing, but as she - Is suffering with a felon, why, the job devolves on me-- - So, when the supper things are done and put away to-night, - I’ll draw my boots and shed my coat and settle down to write. - - I’ll tell him crops are looking up, with prospects big for corn, - That, fooling with the barnyard gate, the off-ox hurt his horn; - That the Templar lodge is doing well--Tim Bennett joined last week - When the prohibition candidate for Congress came to speak; - That the old gray woodchuck’s living still down in the pasture-lot, - A-wondering what’s become of little William, like as not! - Oh, yes, there’s lots of pleasant things and no bad news to tell, - Except that old Bill Graves was sick, but now he’s up and well. - - Cy Cooper says--(but I’ll not pass my word that it is so, - For Cy he is some punkins on spinning yarns, you know)-- - He says that, since the freshet, the pickerel are so thick - In Baker’s pond you can wade in and kill ’em with a stick! - The Hubbard girls are teaching school, and Widow Cutler’s Bill - Has taken Eli Baxter’s place in Luther Eastman’s mill; - Old Deacon Skinner’s dog licked Deacon Howard’s dog last week, - And now there are two lambkins in one flock that will not speak. - - The yellow rooster froze his feet, a-wadin’ through the snow, - And now he leans agin the fence when he starts in to crow; - The chestnut colt that was so skittish when _he_ went away-- - I’ve broke him to the sulky and I drive him every day! - We’ve got pink window curtains for the front spare-room up-stairs, - And Lizzie’s made new covers for the parlor lounge and chairs; - We’ve roofed the barn and braced the elm that has the hangbird’s nest-- - Oh, there’s been lots of changes since our William went out West! - - Old Uncle Enos Packard is getting mighty gay-- - He gave Miss Susan Birchard a peach the other day! - His late lamented Sarah hain’t been buried quite a year, - So his purring ’round Miss Susan causes criticism here. - At the last donation party, the minister opined - That, if he’d half suspicioned what was coming, he’d resigned; - For, though they brought him slippers like he was a centipede, - His pantry was depleted by the consequential feed! - These are the things I’ll write him--our boy that’s in the West; - And I’ll tell him how we miss him--his mother and the rest; - Why, we never have an apple-pie that mother doesn’t say: - “_He_ liked it so--I wish that he could have a piece to-day!” - I’ll tell him we are prospering, and hope he is the same-- - That we hope he’ll have no trouble getting on to wealth and fame; - And just before I write “good-by from father and the rest,” - I’ll say that “mother sends her love,” and that will please him best. - - For when _I_ went away from home, the weekly news I heard - Was nothing to the tenderness I found in that one word-- - The sacred name of mother--why, even now as then, - The thought brings back the saintly face, the gracious love again; - And in my bosom seems to come a peace that is divine, - As if an angel spirit communed a while with mine; - And one man’s heart is strengthened by the message from above, - And earth seems nearer heaven when “mother sends her love.” - - - - - JEWISH LULLABY - - - My harp is on the willow-tree, - Else would I sing, O love, to thee - A song of long-ago-- - Perchance the song that Miriam sung - Ere yet Judea’s heart was wrung - By centuries of woe. - - I ate my crust in tears to-day, - As scourged I went upon my way-- - And yet my darling smiled; - Aye, beating at my breast, he laughed-- - My anguish curdled not the draught-- - ’Twas sweet with love, my child! - - The shadow of the centuries lies - Deep in thy dark and mournful eye - But, hush! and close them now, - And in the dreams that thou shalt dream - The light of other days shall seem - To glorify thy brow! - - Our harp is on the willow-tree-- - I have no song to sing to thee, - As shadows round us roll; - But, hush and sleep, and thou shalt hear - Jehovah’s voice that speaks to cheer - Judea’s fainting soul! - - - - - OUR WHIPPINGS - - - Come, Harvey, let us sit a while and talk about the times - Before you went to selling clothes and I to peddling rimes-- - The days when we were little boys, as naughty little boys - As ever worried home-folks with their everlasting noise! - Egad! and, were we so disposed, I’ll venture we could show - The scars of wallopings we got some forty years ago; - What wallopings I mean I think I need not specify-- - Mother’s whippings didn’t hurt, but father’s! oh, my! - - The way that we played hookey those many years ago-- - We’d rather give ’most anything than have our children know! - The thousand naughty things we did, the thousand fibs we told-- - Why, thinking of them makes my presbyterian blood run cold! - How often Deacon Sabine Morse remarked if we were his - He’d tan our “pesky little hides until the blisters riz!” - It’s many a hearty thrashing to that Deacon Morse we owe-- - Mother’s whippings didn’t count--father’s did, though! - - We used to sneak off swimmin’ in those careless, boyish days, - And come back home of evenings with our necks and backs ablaze; - How mother used to wonder why our clothes were full of sand, - But father, having been a boy, appeared to understand. - And, after tea, he’d beckon us to join him in the shed - Where he’d proceed to tinge our backs a deeper, darker red; - Say what we will of mother’s, there is none will controvert - The proposition that our father’s lickings always hurt! - - For mother was by nature so forgiving and so mild - That she inclined to spare the rod although she spoiled the child; - And when at last in self-defense she had to whip us, she - Appeared to feel those whippings a great deal more than we! - But how we bellowed and took on, as if we’d like to die-- - Poor mother really thought she hurt, and that’s what made _her_ cry! - Then how we youngsters snickered as out the door we slid, - For mother’s whippings never hurt, though father’s always did. - - In after years poor father simmered down to five feet four, - But in our youth he seemed to us in height eight feet or more! - Oh, how we shivered when he quoth in cold, suggestive tone: - “I’ll see you in the woodshed after supper all alone!” - Oh, how the legs and arms and dust and trouser buttons flew-- - What florid vocalisms marked that vesper interview! - Yes, after all this lapse of years, I feelingly assert, - With all respect to mother, it was father’s whippings hurt! - - The little boy experiencing that tingling ’neath his vest - Is often loath to realize that all is for the best; - Yet, when the boy gets older, he pictures with delight - The buffetings of childhood--as we do here to-night. - The years, the gracious years, have smoothed and beautified the ways - That to our little feet seemed all too rugged in the days - Before you went to selling clothes and I to peddling rimes-- - So, Harvey, let us sit a while and think upon those times. - - - - - THE ARMENIAN MOTHER - - - I was a mother, and I weep; - The night is come--the day is sped-- - The night of woe profound, for, oh, - My little golden son is dead! - - The pretty rose that bloomed anon - Upon my mother breast, they stole; - They let the dove I nursed with love - Fly far away--so sped my soul! - - That falcon Death swooped down upon - My sweet-voiced turtle as he sung; - ’Tis hushed and dark where soared the lark, - And so, and so my heart was wrung! - - Before my eyes, they sent the hail - Upon my green pomegranate-tree-- - Upon the bough where only now - A rosy apple bent to me. - - They shook my beauteous almond-tree, - Beating its glorious bloom to death-- - They strewed it round upon the ground, - And mocked its fragrant dying breath. - - I was a mother, and I weep; - I seek the rose where nestleth none-- - No more is heard the singing bird-- - I have no little golden son! - - So fall the shadows over me, - The blighted garden, lonely nest. - Reach down in love, O God above! - And fold my darling to thy breast. - - - - - HEIGHO, MY DEARIE - - - A moonbeam floateth from the skies, - Whispering: “Heigho, my dearie; - I would spin a web before your eyes-- - A beautiful web of silver light - Wherein is many a wondrous sight - Of a radiant garden leagues away, - Where the softly tinkling lilies sway - And the snow-white lambkins are at play-- - Heigho, my dearie!” - - A brownie stealeth from the vine, - Singing: “Heigho, my dearie; - And will you hear this song of mine-- - A song of the land of murk and mist - Where bideth the bud the dew hath kist? - Then let the moonbeam’s web of light - Be spun before thee silvery white, - And I shall sing the livelong night-- - Heigho, my dearie!” - - The night wind speedeth from the sea, - Murmuring: “Heigho, my dearie; - I bring a mariner’s prayer for thee; - So let the moonbeam veil thine eyes, - And the brownie sing thee lullabies-- - But I shall rock thee to and fro, - Kissing the brow _he_ loveth so. - And the prayer shall guard thy bed, I trow-- - Heigho, my dearie!” - - - - - TO A USURPER - - - Aha! a traitor in the camp, - A rebel strangely bold,-- - A lisping, laughing, toddling scamp, - Not more than four years old! - - To think that I, who’ve ruled alone - So proudly in the past, - Should be ejected from my throne - By my own son at last! - - He trots his treason to and fro, - As only babies can, - And says he’ll be his mamma’s beau - When he’s a “gweat, big man”! - - You stingy boy! you’ve always had - A share in mamma’s heart. - Would you begrudge your poor old dad - The tiniest little part? - - That mamma, I regret to see, - Inclines to take your part,-- - As if a dual monarchy - Should rule her gentle heart! - - But when the years of youth have sped, - The bearded man, I trow, - Will quite forget he ever said - He’d be his mamma’s beau. - - Renounce your treason, little son, - Leave mamma’s heart to me; - For there will come another one - To claim your loyalty. - - And when that other comes to you, - God grant her love may shine - Through all your life, as fair and true - As mamma’s does through mine! - - - - - THE BELL-FLOWER TREE - - - When brother Bill and I were boys, - How often in the summer we - Would seek the shade your branches made, - O fair and gracious bell-flower tree! - Amid the clover bloom we sat - And looked upon the Holyoke range, - While Fido lay a space away, - Thinking our silence very strange. - - The woodchuck in the pasture-lot, - Beside his furtive hole elate, - Heard, off beyond the pickerel pond, - The redwing-blackbird chide her mate. - The bumblebee went bustling round, - Pursuing labors never done-- - With drone and sting, the greedy thing - Begrudged the sweets we lay upon! - - Our eyes looked always at the hills-- - The Holyoke hills that seemed to stand - Between us boys and pictured joys - Of conquest in a further land! - Ah, how we coveted the time - When we should leave this prosy place - And work our wills beyond those hills, - And meet creation face to face! - - You must have heard our childish talk-- - Perhaps our prattle gave you pain; - For then, old friend, you seemed to bend - Your kindly arms about us twain. - It might have been the wind that sighed, - And yet I thought I heard you say: - “Seek not the ills beyond those hills-- - Oh, stay with me, my children, stay!” - - See, I’ve come back; the boy you knew - Is wiser, older, sadder grown; - I come once more, just as of yore-- - I come, but see! I come alone! - The memory of a brother’s love, - Of blighted hopes, I bring with me, - And here I lay my heart to-day-- - A weary heart, O bell-flower tree! - - So let me nestle in your shade - As though I were a boy again, - And pray extend your arms, old friend, - And love me as you used to then. - Sing softly as you used to sing, - And maybe I shall seem to be - A little boy and feel the joy - Of thy repose, O bell-flower tree! - - - - - FAIRY AND CHILD - - - Oh, listen, little Dear-My-Soul, - To the fairy voices calling, - For the moon is high in the misty sky - And the honey dew is falling; - To the midnight feast in the clover bloom - The bluebells are a-ringing, - And it’s “Come away to the land of fay” - That the katydid is singing. - - Oh, slumber, little Dear-My-Soul, - And hand in hand we’ll wander-- - Hand in hand to the beautiful land - Of Balow, away off yonder; - Or we’ll sail along in a lily leaf - Into the white moon’s halo-- - Over a stream of mist and dream - Into the land of Balow. - - Or, you shall have two beautiful wings-- - Two gossamer wings and airy, - And all the while shall the old moon smile - And think you a little fairy; - And you shall dance in the velvet sky, - And the silvery stars shall twinkle - And dream sweet dreams as over their beams - Your footfalls softly tinkle. - - - - - THE GRANDSIRE - - - I loved him so; his voice had grown - Into my heart, and now to hear - The pretty song he had sung so long - Die on the lips to me so dear! - _He_ a child with golden curls, - And I with head as white as snow-- - I knelt down there and made this pray’r: - “God, let me be the first to go!” - - How often I recall it now: - My darling tossing on his bed, - I sitting there in mute despair, - Smoothing the curls that crowned his head. - They did not speak to me of death-- - A feeling _here_ had told me so; - What could I say or do but pray - That I might be the first to go? - - Yet, thinking of him standing there - Out yonder as the years go by, - Waiting for me to come, I see - ’Twas better he should wait, not I. - For when I walk the vale of death, - Above the wail of Jordan’s flow - Shall rise a song that shall make me strong-- - The call of the child that was first to go. - - - - - HUSHABY, SWEET MY OWN - - - Fair is the castle up on the hill-- - Hushaby, sweet my own! - The night is fair, and the waves are still, - And the wind is singing to you and to me - In this lowly home beside the sea-- - Hushaby, sweet my own! - - On yonder hill is store of wealth-- - Hushaby, sweet my own! - And revelers drink to a little one’s health; - But you and I bide night and day - For the other love that has sailed away-- - Hushaby, sweet my own! - - See not, dear eyes, the forms that creep - Ghostlike, O my own! - Out of the mists of the murmuring deep; - Oh, see them not and make no cry - Till the angels of death have passed us by-- - Hushaby, sweet my own! - - Ah, little they reck of you and me-- - Hushaby, sweet my own! - In our lonely home beside the sea; - They seek the castle up on the hill, - And there they will do their ghostly will-- - Hushaby, O my own! - - Here by the sea a mother croons - “Hushaby, sweet my own!” - In yonder castle a mother swoons - While the angels go down to the misty deep - Bearing a little one fast asleep-- - Hushaby, sweet my own! - - - - - CHILD AND MOTHER - - - O Mother-my-love, if you’ll give me your hand, - And go where I ask you to wander, - I will lead you away to a beautiful land-- - The Dreamland that’s waiting out yonder. - We’ll walk in a sweet-posie garden out there - Where moonlight and starlight are streaming - And the flowers and the birds are filling the air - With the fragrance and music of dreaming. - - There’ll be no little tired-out boy to undress, - No questions or cares to perplex you; - There’ll be no little bruises or bumps to caress, - Nor patching of stockings to vex you. - For I’ll rock you away on a silver-dew stream, - And sing you asleep when you’re weary, - And no one shall know of our beautiful dream - But you and your own little dearie. - - And when I am tired I’ll nestle my head - In the bosom that’s soothed me so often, - And the wide-awake stars shall sing in my stead - A song which our dreaming shall soften. - So, Mother-My-Love, let me take your dear hand, - And away through the starlight we’ll wander-- - Away through the mist to the beautiful land-- - The Dreamland that’s waiting out yonder! - - - - - MEDIEVAL EVENTIDE SONG - - - Come hither, lyttel childe, and lie upon my breast to-night, - For yonder fares an angell yclad in raimaunt white, - And yonder sings ye angell as onely angells may, - And his songe ben of a garden that bloometh farre awaye. - - To them that have no lyttel childe Godde sometimes sendeth down - A lyttel childe that ben a lyttel angell of his owne; - And if so bee they love that childe, he willeth it to staye, - But elsewise, in his mercie, he taketh it awaye. - - And sometimes, though they love it, Godde yearneth for ye childe, - And sendeth angells singing, whereby it ben beguiled; - They fold their arms about ye lamb that croodleth at his play, - And beare him to ye garden that bloometh farre awaye. - - I wolde not lose ye lyttel lamb that Godde hath lent to me; - If I colde sing that angell songe, how joysome I sholde be! - For, with mine arms about him, and my musick in his eare, - What angell songe of paradize soever sholde I feare? - - Soe come, my lyttel childe, and lie upon my breast to-night, - For yonder fares an angell yclad in raimaunt white, - And yonder sings that angell, as onely angells may, - And his songe ben of a garden that bloometh farre awaye. - - - - - ARMENIAN LULLABY - - - If thou wilt shut thy drowsy eyes, - My mulberry one, my golden sun! - The rose shall sing thee lullabies, - My pretty cosset lambkin! - And thou shalt swing in an almond-tree, - With a flood of moonbeams rocking thee-- - A silver boat in a golden sea, - My velvet love, my nestling dove, - My own pomegranate blossom! - - The stork shall guard thee passing well - All night, my sweet! my dimple-feet! - And bring thee myrrh and asphodel, - My gentle rain-of-springtime! - And for thy slumbrous play shall twine - The diamond stars with an emerald vine - To trail in the waves of ruby wine, - My myrtle bloom, my heart’s perfume, - My little chirping sparrow! - - And when the morn wakes up to see - My apple bright, my soul’s delight! - The partridge shall come calling thee, - My jar of milk-and-honey! - Yes, thou shalt know what mystery lies - In the amethyst deep of the curtained skies, - If thou wilt fold thy onyx eyes, - You wakeful one, you naughty son, - You cooing little turtle! - - - - - CHRISTMAS TREASURES - - - I count my treasures o’er with care,-- - The little toy my darling knew, - A little sock of faded hue, - A little lock of golden hair. - - Long years ago this holy time, - My little one--my all to me-- - Sat robed in white upon my knee, - And heard the merry Christmas chime. - - “Tell me, my little golden-head, - If Santa Claus should come to-night, - What shall he bring my baby bright,-- - What treasure for my boy?” I said. - - And then he named this little toy, - While in his round and mournful eyes - There came a look of sweet surprise, - That spake his quiet, trustful joy. - - And as he lisped his evening prayer - He asked the boon with childish grace; - Then, toddling to the chimney-place, - He hung this little stocking there. - - That night, while lengthening shadows crept, - I saw the white-winged angels come - With singing to our lowly home - And kiss my darling as he slept. - - They must have heard his little prayer, - For in the morn, with rapturous face, - He toddled to the chimney-place, - And found this little treasure there. - - They came again one Christmas-tide,-- - That angel host, so fair and white; - And, singing all that glorious night, - They lured my darling from my side. - - A little sock, a little toy, - A little lock of golden hair, - The Christmas music on the air, - A watching for my baby boy! - - But if again that angel train - And golden-head come back for me - To bear me to Eternity, - My watching will not be in vain. - - - - - OH, LITTLE CHILD - - - Hush, little one, and fold your hands-- - The sun hath set, the moon is high; - The sea is singing to the sands, - And wakeful posies are beguiled - By many a fairy lullaby-- - Hush, little child--my little child! - - Dream, little one, and in your dreams - Float upward from this lowly place-- - Float out on mellow, misty streams - To lands where bideth Mary mild, - And let her kiss thy little face, - You little child--my little child! - - Sleep, little one, and take thy rest-- - With angels bending over thee, - Sleep sweetly on that Father’s breast - Whom our dear Christ hath reconciled-- - But stay not there--come back to me, - Oh, little child--_my_ little child! - - - - - GANDERFEATHER’S GIFT - - - I was just a little thing - When a fairy came and kissed me; - Floating in upon the light - Of a haunted summer night, - Lo, the fairies came to sing - Pretty slumber songs and bring - Certain boons that else had missed me. - From a dream I turned to see - What those strangers brought for me, - When that fairy up and kissed me-- - Here, upon this cheek, he kissed me! - - Simmerdew was there, but she - Did not like me altogether; - Daisybright and Turtledove, - Pilfercurds and Honeylove, - Thistleblow and Amberglee - On that gleaming, ghostly sea - Floated from the misty heather, - And around my trundle-bed - Frisked, and looked, and whispering said-- - Solemnlike and all together: - “_You_ shall kiss him, Ganderfeather!” - - Ganderfeather kissed me then-- - Ganderfeather, quaint and merry! - No attenuate sprite was he, - --But as buxom as could be;-- - Kissed me twice, and once again, - And the others shouted when - On my cheek uprose a berry - Somewhat like a mole, mayhap, - But the kiss-mark of that chap - Ganderfeather, passing merry-- - Humorsome, but kindly, very! - - I was just a tiny thing - When the prankish Ganderfeather - Brought this curious gift to me - With his fairy kisses three; - Yet with honest pride I sing - That same gift he chose to bring - Out of yonder haunted heather. - Other charms and friendships fly-- - Constant friends this mole and I, - Who have been so long together - Thank you, little Ganderfeather! - - - - - BAMBINO - - - Bambino in his cradle slept; - And by his side his grandam grim - Bent down and smiled upon the child, - And sung this lullaby to him,-- - This “ninna and anninia”: - - “When thou art older, thou shalt mind - To traverse countries far and wide, - And thou shalt go where roses blow - And balmy waters singing glide-- - So ninna and anninia! - - “And thou shalt wear, trimmed up in points, - A famous jacket edged in red, - And, more than that, a peakéd hat, - All decked in gold, upon thy head-- - Ah! ninna and anninia! - - “Then shalt thou carry gun and knife, - Nor shall the soldiers bully thee; - Perchance, beset by wrong or debt, - A mighty bandit thou shalt be-- - So ninna and anninia! - - “No woman yet of our proud race - Lived to her fourteenth year unwed; - The brazen churl that eyed a girl - Bought her the ring or paid his head-- - So ninna and anninia! - - “But once came spies (I know the thieves!) - And brought disaster to our race; - God heard us when our fifteen men - Were hanged within the market-place-- - But ninna and anninia! - - “Good men they were, my babe, and true,-- - Right worthy fellows all, and strong; - Live thou and be for them and me - Avenger of that deadly wrong-- - So ninna and anninia!” - - - - - LITTLE HOMER’S SLATE - - - After dear old grandma died, - Hunting through an oaken chest - In the attic, we espied - What repaid our childish quest; - ’Twas a homely little slate, - Seemingly of ancient date. - - On its quaint and battered face - Was the picture of a cart, - Drawn with all that awkward grace - Which betokens childish art; - But what meant this legend, pray: - “Homer drew this yesterday”? - - Mother recollected then - What the years were fain to hide-- - She was but a baby when - Little Homer lived and died; - Forty years, so mother said, - Little Homer had been dead. - - This one secret through those years - Grandma kept from all apart, - Hallowed by her lonely tears - And the breaking of her heart; - While each year that sped away - Seemed to her but yesterday. - - So the homely little slate - Grandma’s baby’s fingers pressed, - To a memory consecrate, - Lieth in the oaken chest, - Where, unwilling we should know, - Grandma put it, years ago. - - -[Illustration] - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of With Trumpet and Drum, by Eugene Field - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH TRUMPET AND DRUM *** - -***** This file should be named 62643-0.txt or 62643-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/6/4/62643/ - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -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/license - -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 1.F.3. 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 MERCHANTABILITY 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. diff --git a/old/62643-0.zip b/old/62643-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 68cd3ba..0000000 --- a/old/62643-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62643-h.zip b/old/62643-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index fcee916..0000000 --- a/old/62643-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62643-h/62643-h.htm b/old/62643-h/62643-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 6d5edab..0000000 --- a/old/62643-h/62643-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3046 +0,0 @@ -<!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" xml:lang="en"> - <head> <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> -<title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of With Trumpet And Drum, by Eugene Field. -</title> -<style type="text/css"> - -a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - - link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - -a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} - -a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} - -big {font-size: 130%;} - -body{margin-left:4%;margin-right:6%;background:#ffffff;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} - -.bbox {border:solid 1px black;} - -.blockquot {margin:2% 15%} - -.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - -.caption {font-weight:normal;} -.caption p{font-size:75%;text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - -.cb {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;font-weight:bold;} - -.eng {font-family: "Old English Text MT",fantasy,sans-serif;} - -.fint {text-align:center;text-indent:0%; -margin-top:2em;} - -.figcenter {margin:3% auto 3% auto;clear:both; -text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - @media handheld, print - {.figcenter - {page-break-before: avoid;} - } - -.figleft {float:left;clear:left;margin-left:0;margin-bottom:1em;margin-top:1em;margin-right:1em;padding:0;text-align:center;} - -.figright {float:right;clear:right;margin-left:1em;margin-bottom:1em;margin-top:1em;margin-right:0;padding:0;text-align:center;} - -.footnotes {border:dotted 3px gray;margin-top:5%;clear:both;} - -.footnote {width:95%;margin:auto 3% 1% auto;font-size:0.9em;position:relative;} - -.label {position:relative;left:-.5em;top:0;text-align:left;font-size:.8em;} - -.fnanchor {vertical-align:30%;font-size:.8em;} - -.hang {text-indent:-2%;margin-left:2%;} - - h1 {margin-top:5%;text-align:center;clear:both; -font-weight:bold;} - - h2 {margin-top:4%;margin-bottom:2%;text-align:center;clear:both; - font-size:100%;font-weight:normal;} - - h3 {margin:4% auto 2% auto;text-align:center;clear:both;} - - hr {width:90%;margin:2em auto 2em auto;clear:both;color:black;} - - hr.full {width: 60%;margin:2% auto 2% auto;border-top:1px solid black; -padding:.1em;border-bottom:1px solid black;border-left:none;border-right:none;} - - img {border:none;} - -.lftspc {margin-left:.25em;} - -.letra {font-size:250%;float:left;margin-top:-1.5%;} - @media print, handheld - { .letra - {padding:0%;} - } - -.nind {text-indent:0%;} - -.nonvis {display:inline;} - @media print, handheld - {.nonvis - {display: none;} - } - - p {margin-top:.2em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.2em;text-indent:4%;} - -.pagenum {font-style:normal;position:absolute; -left:95%;font-size:55%;text-align:right;color:gray; -background-color:#ffffff;font-variant:normal;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;text-decoration:none;text-indent:0em;} -@media print, handheld -{.pagenum - {display: none;} - } - -.r {text-align:right;margin-right: 5%;} - -.rt {text-align:right;} - -small {font-size: 70%;} - - sup {font-size:75%;vertical-align:top;} - -.smcap {font-variant:small-caps;font-size:100%;} - -table {margin-top:2%;margin-bottom:2%;margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;border:none;} - -div.poetry {text-align:center;} -div.poem {font-size:100%;margin:auto auto;text-indent:0%; -display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poem .stanza {margin-top: 1em;margin-bottom:1em;} -.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: .45em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 3.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i15 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -</style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of With Trumpet and Drum, 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/license - - -Title: With Trumpet and Drum - -Author: Eugene Field - -Release Date: July 14, 2020 [EBook #62643] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH TRUMPET AND DRUM *** - - - - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="c"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" height="550" alt="" /> -<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_i" id="page_i">{i}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_ii" id="page_ii">{ii}</a></span> </p> - -<p class="c">WITH TRUMPET AND DRUM</p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td class="c">BY EUGENE FIELD</td></tr> -<tr><td class="c">———</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">Second Book of Tales.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">Songs and Other Verse.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">The Holy Cross and Other Tales.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">The House.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">The Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">A Little Book of Profitable Tales.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">A Little Book of Western Verse.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">Second Book of Verse.</td></tr> -<tr><td> Each, 1 vol., 16mo, $1.25.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">A Little Book of Profitable Tales.</td></tr> -<tr><td> Cameo Edition with etched portrait. 16mo, $1.25.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">Echoes from the Sabine Farm.</td></tr> -<tr><td> 4to, $2.00.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">With Trumpet and Drum.</td></tr> -<tr><td> 16mo, $1.00.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">Love Songs of Childhood.</td></tr> -<tr><td> 16mo, $1.00.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="eng">Songs of Childhood.</td></tr> -<tr><td> Verses by <span class="smcap">Eugene Field</span>. -Music by <span class="smcap">Reginald<br /> - de Koven</span>, and others. Small 4to, $2.00 <i>net.</i></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iii" id="page_iii">{iii}</a></span> </p> - -<h1><span class="eng">With·Trumpet·and·Drum</span></h1> - -<p class="cb"><span class="eng">by<br /> -<br /><big><big> -Eugene·Field</big><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<img src="images/titlepage.jpg" -width="150" -alt="" -/> - -<br /> -<br /> -New·York<br /> -Charles·Scribner’s·Sons<br /></big> -1897</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iv" id="page_iv">{iv}</a></span><br /> -<br /><small> -Copyright, 1892, by <span class="smcap">Mary French Field</span>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /><small> -TROW DIRECTORY<br /> -PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY<br /> -NEW YORK<br /></small></small> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_v" id="page_v">{v}</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>This volume is made up of verse compiled from my “Little Book of Western -Verse,” my “Second Book of Verse,” and the files of the “Chicago Daily -News,” the “Youth’s Companion,” and the “Ladies’ Home Journal.”</p> - -<p class="r"> -E.F.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Chicago</span>, October 25, 1892.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vi" id="page_vi">{vi}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vii" id="page_vii">{vii}</a></span> </p> - -<h2><a name="WITH_TRUMPET_AND_DRUM" id="WITH_TRUMPET_AND_DRUM"></a><i>WITH TRUMPET AND DRUM</i></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>With big tin trumpet and little red drum,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Marching like soldiers, the children come!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>It’s this way and that way they circle and file—</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>My! but that music of theirs is fine!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>This way and that way, and after a while</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>They march straight into this heart of mine!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>A sturdy old heart, but it has to succumb</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To the blare of that trumpet and beat of that drum!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Come on, little people, from cot and from hall—</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>This heart it hath welcome and room for you all!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>It will sing you its songs and warm you with love,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>As your dear little arms with my arms intertwine;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>It will rock you away to the dreamland above—</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Oh, a jolly old heart is this old heart of mine,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And jollier still is it bound to become</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>When you blow that big trumpet and beat that red drum!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>So come; though I see not his dear little face</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And hear not his voice in this jubilant place,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>I know he were happy to bid me enshrine</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>His memory deep in my heart with your play—</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Ah me! but a love that is sweeter than mine</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Holdeth my boy in its keeping to-day!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And my heart it is lonely—so, little folk, come,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>March in and make merry with trumpet and drum!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i15"><i>EUGENE FIELD.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Chicago, September 13, 1892.</i><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_ix" id="page_ix">{ix}</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_viii" id="page_viii">{viii}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - - -<p class="c"><img src="images/image-ix.jpg" -width="250" -alt="" -/></p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SUGAR-PLUM_TREE">The Sugar-Plum Tree</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#KRINKEN">Krinken</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_4">4</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_NAUGHTY_DOLL">The Naughty Doll</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_7">7</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#NIGHTFALL_IN_DORDRECHT">Nightfall in Dordrecht</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_10">10</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#INTRY-MINTRY">Intry-Mintry</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_12">12</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PITTYPAT_AND_TIPPYTOE">Pittypat and Tippytoe</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_15">15</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BALOW_MY_BONNIE">Balow, my Bonnie</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_18">18</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_HAWTHORNE_CHILDREN">The Hawthorne Children</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_20">20</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LITTLE_BLUE_PIGEON">Little Blue Pigeon (Japanese Lullaby)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_24">24</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_LYTTEL_BOY">The Lyttel Boy</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_26">26</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TEENY-WEENY">Teeny-Weeny</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_28">28</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#NELLIE">Nellie</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_31">31</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#NORSE_LULLABY">Norse Lullaby</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_33">33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GRANDMAS_PRAYER">Grandma’s Prayer</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_35">35</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SOME_TIME">Some Time</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_36">36</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_FIRE-HANGBIRDS_NEST">The Fire-Hangbird’s Nest</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BUTTERCUP_POPPY_FORGET-ME-NOT">Buttercup, Poppy, Forget-me-not</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_44">44</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WYNKEN_BLYNKEN_AND_NOD">Wynken, Blynken, and Nod (Dutch Lullaby)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_46">46</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GOLD_AND_LOVE_FOR_DEARIE">Gold and Love for Dearie</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_49">49</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_PEACE_OF_CHRISTMAS-TIME">The Peace of Christmas-Time</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_51">51</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_A_LITTLE_BROOK">To a Little Brook</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_54">54</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CROODLIN_DOO">Croodlin’ Doo</a><a href="#Footnote_A_1">[A]</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_58">58</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LITTLE_MISTRESS_SANS-MERCI">Little Mistress Sans-Merci</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_60">60</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LONG_AGO">Long Ago</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_62">62</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IN_THE_FIRELIGHT">In the Firelight</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_64">64</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#COBBLER_AND_STORK">Cobbler and Stork (Armenian Folk-Lore)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_66">66</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LOLLYBY_LOLLY_LOLLYBY">“Lollyby, lolly, Lollyby”</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_70">70</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LIZZIE_AND_THE_BABY">Lizzie and the Baby</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_72">72</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AT_THE_DOOR">At the Door</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_74">74</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HUGOS_CHILD_AT_PLAY">Hugo’s “Child at Play”</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_76">76</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HI-SPY">Hi-Spy</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_77">77</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LITTLE_BOY_BLUE">Little Boy Blue</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_78">78</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FATHERS_LETTER">Father’s Letter</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_80">80</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#JEWISH_LULLABY">Jewish Lullaby</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_86">86</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#OUR_WHIPPINGS">Our Whippings</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_88">88</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_ARMENIAN_MOTHER">The Armenian Mother (Folk-Song)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_93">93</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HEIGHO_MY_DEARIE">Heigho, my Dearie</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_95">95</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_A_USURPER">To a Usurper</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_97">97</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_BELL-FLOWER_TREE">The Bell-flower Tree</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_99">99</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FAIRY_AND_CHILD">Fairy and Child</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_102">102</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_GRANDSIRE">The Grandsire</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_104">104</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HUSHABY_SWEET_MY_OWN">Hushaby, Sweet my Own</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_106">106</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CHILD_AND_MOTHER">Child and Mother</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_108">108</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MEDIEVAL_EVENTIDE_SONG">Medieval Eventide Song</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_110">110</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ARMENIAN_LULLABY">Armenian Lullaby</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_113">113</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CHRISTMAS_TREASURES">Christmas Treasures</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_115">115</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#OH_LITTLE_CHILD">Oh, Little Child</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_118">118</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GANDERFEATHERS_GIFT">Ganderfeather’s Gift</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_120">120</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BAMBINO">Bambino (Sicilian Folk-Song)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_123">123</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LITTLE_HOMERS_SLATE">Little Homer’s Slate</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_125">125</a></td></tr> -<tr><td> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a> - Cooing Dove.</p></div> -</td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xii" id="page_xii">{xii}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1">{1}</a></span> </p> - -<p class="cb">WITH TRUMPET AND DRUM<br /><br /> -<img src="images/image001.png" -width="15" -alt="" -/> -</p> - -<h2><a name="THE_SUGAR-PLUM_TREE" id="THE_SUGAR-PLUM_TREE"></a>THE SUGAR-PLUM TREE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">H</span>AVE you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree?<br /></span> -<span class="ih">’Tis a marvel of great renown!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It blooms on the shore of the Lollipop sea<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the garden of Shut-Eye Town;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(As those who have tasted it say)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That good little children have only to eat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of that fruit to be happy next day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When you’ve got to the tree, you would have a hard time<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To capture the fruit which I sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tree is so tall that no person could climb<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the boughs where the sugar-plums swing!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2">{2}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But up in that tree sits a chocolate cat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a gingerbread dog prowls below—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this is the way you contrive to get at<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those sugar-plums tempting you so:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You say but the word to that gingerbread dog<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he barks with such terrible zest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the chocolate cat is at once all agog,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As her swelling proportions attest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the chocolate cat goes cavorting around<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From this leafy limb unto that,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sugar-plums tumble, of course, to the ground—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hurrah for that chocolate cat!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There are marshmallows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With stripings of scarlet or gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you carry away of the treasure that rains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As much as your apron can hold!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3">{3}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">So come, little child, cuddle closer to me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In your dainty white nightcap and gown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I’ll rock you away to that Sugar-Plum Tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the garden of Shut-Eye Town.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">{4}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="KRINKEN" id="KRINKEN"></a>KRINKEN</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">K</span>RINKEN was a little child,—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">It was summer when he smiled.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft the hoary sea and grim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stretched its white arms out to him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calling, “Sun-child, come to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me warm my heart with thee!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the child heard not the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Krinken on the beach one day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saw a maiden Nis at play;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair, and very fair, was she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just a little child was he.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Krinken,” said the maiden Nis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Let me have a little kiss,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just a kiss, and go with me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the summer-lands that be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down within the silver sea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">{5}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Krinken was a little child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the maiden Nis beguiled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down into the calling sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the maiden Nis went he.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the sea calls out no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is winter on the shore,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winter where that little child<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made sweet summer when he smiled:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though ’tis summer on the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where with maiden Nis went he,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Summer, summer evermore,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is winter on the shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winter, winter evermore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of the summer on the deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come sweet visions in my sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>His</i> fair face lifts from the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>His</i> dear voice calls out to me,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These my dreams of summer be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Krinken was a little child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the maiden Nis beguiled;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6">{6}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft the hoary sea and grim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reached its longing arms to him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crying, “Sun-child, come to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me warm my heart with thee!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the sea calls out no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is winter on the shore,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winter, cold and dark and wild;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Krinken was a little child,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was summer when he smiled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down he went into the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the winter bides with me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just a little child was he.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">{7}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_NAUGHTY_DOLL" id="THE_NAUGHTY_DOLL"></a>THE NAUGHTY DOLL</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">M</span>Y dolly is a dreadful care,—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Her name is Miss Amandy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dress her up and curl her hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And feed her taffy candy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet heedless of the pleading voice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of her devoted mother,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She will not wed her mother’s choice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But says she’ll wed another.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’d have her wed the china vase,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is no Dresden rarer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You might go searching every place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And never find a fairer.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is a gentle, pinkish youth,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of that there’s no denying;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet when I speak of him, forsooth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amandy falls to crying!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">{8}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She loves the drum—that’s very plain—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And scorns the vase so clever;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And weeping, vows she will remain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A spinster doll forever!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The protestations of the drum<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am convinced are hollow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When once distressing times should come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How soon would ruin follow!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet all in vain the Dresden boy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From yonder mantel woos her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mania for that vulgar toy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The noisy drum, imbues her!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vain I wheel her to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And reason with her mildly,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her waxen tears in torrents flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her sawdust heart beats wildly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’m sure that when I’m big and tall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wear long trailing dresses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sha’n’t encourage beaux at all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till mama acquiesces;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">{9}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our choice will be a suitor then<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As pretty as this vase is,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, how we’ll hate the noisy men<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With whiskers on their faces!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">{10}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="NIGHTFALL_IN_DORDRECHT" id="NIGHTFALL_IN_DORDRECHT"></a>NIGHTFALL IN DORDRECHT</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE mill goes toiling slowly around<br /></span> -<span class="ih">With steady and solemn creak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my little one hears in the kindly sound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The voice of the old mill speak.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While round and round those big white wings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grimly and ghostlike creep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My little one hears that the old mill sings:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sails are reefed and the nets are drawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, over his pot of beer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fisher, against the morrow’s dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lustily maketh cheer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He mocks at the winds that caper along<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the far-off clamorous deep—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But we—we love their lullaby song<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of “Sleep, little tulip, sleep!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">{11}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Old dog Fritz in slumber sound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Groans of the stony mart—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-morrow how proudly he’ll trot you round,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hitched to our new milk-cart!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you shall help me blanket the kine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fold the gentle sheep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And set the herring a-soak in brine—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But now, little tulip, sleep!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A Dream-One comes to button the eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That wearily droop and blink,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the old mill buffets the frowning skies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And scolds at the stars that wink;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over your face the misty wings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of that beautiful Dream-One sweep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And rocking your cradle she softly sings:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">{12}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="INTRY-MINTRY" id="INTRY-MINTRY"></a>INTRY-MINTRY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>ILLIE and Bess, Georgie and May—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Once, as these children were hard at play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An old man, hoary and tottering, came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And watched them playing their pretty game.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He seemed to wonder, while standing there,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What the meaning thereof could be—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Aha, but the old man yearned to share<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of the little children’s innocent glee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As they circled around with laugh and shout<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And told their rime at counting out:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“Intry-mintry, cutrey-corn,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Apple-seed and apple-thorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wire, brier, limber, lock,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Twelve geese in a flock;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Some flew east, some flew west,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Some flew over the cuckoo’s nest!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">{13}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Willie and Bess, Georgie and May—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, the mirth of that summer-day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas Father Time who had come to share<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The innocent joy of those children there;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He learned betimes the game they played<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And into their sport with them went he—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How <i>could</i> the children have been afraid,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Since little they recked whom he might be?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They laughed to hear old Father Time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mumbling that curious nonsense rime<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of “Intry-mintry, cutrey-corn,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Apple-seed and apple-thorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wire, brier, limber, lock,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Twelve geese in a flock;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Some flew east, some flew west,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Some flew over the cuckoo’s nest!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Willie and Bess, Georgie and May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And joy of summer—where are they?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grim old man still standeth near<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crooning the song of a far-off year;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">{14}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">And into the winter I come alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Cheered by that mournful requiem,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soothed by the dolorous monotone<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That shall count me off as it counted them—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The solemn voice of old Father Time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chanting the homely nursery rime<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He learned of the children a summer morn<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When, with “apple-seed and apple-thorn,”<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Life was full of the dulcet cheer<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That bringeth the grace of heaven anear—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The sound of the little ones hard at play—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Willie and Bess, Georgie and May.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">{15}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PITTYPAT_AND_TIPPYTOE" id="PITTYPAT_AND_TIPPYTOE"></a>PITTYPAT AND TIPPYTOE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>LL day long they come and go—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Pittypat and Tippytoe;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Footprints up and down the hall,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Playthings scattered on the floor,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Finger-marks along the wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Tell-tale smudges on the door—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By these presents you shall know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pittypat and Tippytoe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How they riot at their play!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a dozen times a day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In they troop, demanding bread—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Only buttered bread will do,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And that butter must be spread<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Inches thick with sugar too!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I never can say “No,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pittypat and Tippytoe!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">{16}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes there are griefs to soothe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes ruffled brows to smooth;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For (I much regret to say)<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Tippytoe and Pittypat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sometimes interrupt their play<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With an internecine spat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fie, for shame! to quarrel so—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pittypat and Tippytoe!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh the thousand worrying things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every day recurrent brings!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hands to scrub and hair to brush,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Search for playthings gone amiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Many a wee complaint to hush,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Many a little bump to kiss;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life seems one vain, fleeting show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Pittypat and Tippytoe!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when day is at an end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There are little duds to mend:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Little frocks are strangely torn,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Little shoes great holes reveal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Little hose, but one day worn,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Rudely yawn at toe and heel!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">{17}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who but <i>you</i> could work such woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pittypat and Tippytoe?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when comes this thought to me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Some there are that childless be,”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stealing to their little beds,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a love I cannot speak,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tenderly I stroke their heads—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fondly kiss each velvet cheek.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God help those who do not know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Pittypat or Tippytoe!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On the floor and down the hall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rudely smutched upon the wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There are proofs in every kind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of the havoc they have wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And upon my heart you’d find<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Just such trade-marks, if you sought;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, how glad I am ’tis so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pittypat and Tippytoe!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">{18}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BALOW_MY_BONNIE" id="BALOW_MY_BONNIE"></a>BALOW, MY BONNIE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">H</span>USH, bonnie, dinna greit;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Moder will rocke her sweete,—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Balow, my boy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When that his toile ben done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Daddie will come anone,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hush thee, my lyttel one;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Balow, my boy!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gin thou dost sleepe, perchaunce<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fayries will come to daunce,—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Balow, my boy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft hath thy moder seene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moonlight and mirkland queene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Daunce on thy slumbering een,—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Balow, my boy!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">{19}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then droned a bomblebee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saftly this songe to thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Balow, my boy!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And a wee heather bell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pluckt from a fayry dell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chimed thee this rune hersell:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Balow, my boy!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soe, bonnie, dinna greit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moder doth rock her sweete,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Balow, my boy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give mee thy lyttel hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moder will hold it and<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lead thee to balow land,—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Balow, my boy!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">{20}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_HAWTHORNE_CHILDREN" id="THE_HAWTHORNE_CHILDREN"></a>THE HAWTHORNE CHILDREN</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE Hawthorne children—seven in all—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Are famous friends of mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with what pleasure I recall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How, years ago, one gloomy fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I took a tedious railway line<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And journeyed by slow stages down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto that sleepy seaport town<br /></span> -<span class="i4">(Albeit one worth seeing),<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where Hildegarde, John, Henry, Fred,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Beatrix and Gwendolen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she that was the baby then—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These famous seven, as aforesaid,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lived, moved, and had their being.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Hawthorne children gave me such<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A welcome by the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the eight of us were soon in touch,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though their mother marveled much,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Happy as larks were we!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">{21}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Egad I was a boy again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Henry, John, and Gwendolen!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And, oh! the funny capers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I cut with Hildegarde and Fred!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pranks we heedless children played,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The deafening, awful noise we made—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Twould shock my family, if they read<br /></span> -<span class="i4">About it in the papers!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Hawthorne children all were smart;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The girls, as I recall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had comprehended every art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Appealing to the head and heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The boys were gifted, all;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas Hildegarde who showed me how<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hitch the horse and milk a cow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And cook the best of suppers;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With Beatrix upon the sands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sprinted daily, and was beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While Henry stumped me to the feat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of walking round upon my hands<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Instead of on my “uppers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">{22}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Hawthorne children liked me best<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of evenings, after tea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For then, by general request,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I spun them yarns about the west—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And <i>all</i> involving Me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I represented how I’d slain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bison on the gore-smeared plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And divers tales of wonder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I told of how I’d fought and bled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Injun scrimmages galore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till Mrs. Hawthorne quoth “No more!”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And packed her darlings off to bed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To dream of blood and thunder!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They must have changed a deal since then:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The misses tall and fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And those three lusty, handsome men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would they be girls and boys again<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Were I to happen there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down in that spot beside the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where we made such tumultuous glee<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">{23}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">In dull autumnal weather?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah me! the years go swiftly by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet how fondly I recall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The week when we were children all—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dear Hawthorne children, you and I—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Just eight of us, together!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">{24}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LITTLE_BLUE_PIGEON" id="LITTLE_BLUE_PIGEON"></a>LITTLE BLUE PIGEON</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">S</span>LEEP, little pigeon, and fold your wings—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swinging—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swinging the nest where her little one lies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Away out yonder I see a star—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Silvery star with a tinkling song;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the soft dew falling I hear it calling—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calling and tinkling the night along.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In through the window a moonbeam comes—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Little gold moonbeam with misty wings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All silently creeping, it asks: “Is he sleeping—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">{25}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Up from the sea there floats the sob<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the waves that are breaking upon the shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As though they were groaning in anguish, and moaning—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bemoaning the ship that shall come no more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Little blue pigeon with mournful eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Am I not singing?—see, I am swinging—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swinging the nest where my darling lies.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">{26}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_LYTTEL_BOY" id="THE_LYTTEL_BOY"></a>THE LYTTEL BOY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">S</span>OME time there ben a lyttel boy<br /></span> -<span class="ih">That wolde not renne and play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And helpless like that little tyke<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ben allwais in the way.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Goe, make you merrie with the rest,”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His weary moder cried;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But with a frown he catcht her gown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hong untill her side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That boy did love his moder well,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which spake him faire, I ween;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He loved to stand and hold her hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ken her with his een;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His cosset bleated in the croft,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His toys unheeded lay,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He wolde not goe, but, tarrying soe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ben allwais in the way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">{27}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Godde loveth children and doth gird<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His throne with soche as these,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he doth smile in plaisaunce while<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They cluster at his knees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And some time, when he looked on earth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And watched the bairns at play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He kenned with joy a lyttel boy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ben allwais in the way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then a moder felt her heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How that it ben to-torne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She kissed eche day till she ben gray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shoon he use to worn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No bairn let hold untill her gown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor played upon the floore,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Godde’s was the joy; a lyttel boy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ben in the way no more!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">{28}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TEENY-WEENY" id="TEENY-WEENY"></a>TEENY-WEENY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">E</span>VERY evening, after tea,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Teeny-Weeny comes to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, astride my willing knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Plies his lash and rides away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though that palfrey, all too spare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Finds his burden hard to bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teeny-Weeny doesn’t care;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He commands, and I obey!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">First it’s trot, and gallop then;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now it’s back to trot again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teeny-Weeny likes it when<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He is riding fierce and fast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then his dark eyes brighter grow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his cheeks are all aglow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“More!” he cries, and never “Whoa!”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till the horse breaks down at last.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">{29}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, the strange and lovely sights<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teeny-Weeny sees of nights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As he makes those famous flights<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On that wondrous horse of his!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oftentimes before he knows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wearylike his eyelids close,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, still smiling, off he goes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the land of By-low is.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There he sees the folk of fay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hard at ring-a-rosie play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he hears those fairies say:<br /></span> -<span class="i1">“Come, let’s chase him to and fro!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, with a defiant shout,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teeny puts that host to rout;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of this tale I make no doubt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Every night he tells it so.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So I feel a tender pride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my boy who dares to ride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fierce horse of his astride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Off into those misty lands;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">{30}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as on my breast he lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreaming in that wondrous wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I caress his folded eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pat his little dimpled hands.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On a time he went away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just a little while to stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I’m not ashamed to say<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I was very lonely then;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life without him was so sad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You can fancy I was glad<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And made merry when I had<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Teeny-Weeny back again!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So of evenings, after tea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When he toddles up to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And goes tugging at my knee.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You should hear his palfrey neigh!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You should see him prance and shy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, with an exulting cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teeny-Weeny, vaulting high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Plies his lash and rides away!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">{31}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="NELLIE" id="NELLIE"></a>NELLIE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">H</span>IS listening soul hears no echo of battle,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">No pæan of triumph nor welcome of fame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But down through the years comes a little one’s prattle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And softly he murmurs her idolized name.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it seems as if now at his heart she were clinging<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As she clung in those dear, distant years to his knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sees her fair face, and he hears her sweet singing—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Nellie is coming from over the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While each patriot’s hope stays the fullness of sorrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While our eyes are bedimmed and our voices are low,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">{32}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">He dreams of the daughter who comes with the morrow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like an angel come back from the dear long ago.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, what to him now is a nation’s emotion,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And what for our love or our grief careth he?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A swift-speeding ship is a-sail on the ocean,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Nellie is coming from over the sea!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O daughter—my daughter! when Death stands before me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And beckons me off to that far misty shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me see your loved form bending tenderly o’er me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And feel your dear kiss on my lips as of yore.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the grace of your love all my anguish abating,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll bear myself bravely and proudly as he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And know the sweet peace that hallowed his waiting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Nellie was coming from over the sea.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">{33}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="NORSE_LULLABY" id="NORSE_LULLABY"></a>NORSE LULLABY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE sky is dark and the hills are white<br /></span> -<span class="ih">As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this is the song the storm-king sings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As over the world his cloak he flings:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep”;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“Sleep, little one, sleep.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On yonder mountain-side a vine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clings at the foot of a mother pine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tree bends over the trembling thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And only the vine can hear her sing:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What shall you fear when I am here?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sleep, little one, sleep.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">{34}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The king may sing in his bitter flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tree may croon to the vine to-night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the little snowflake at my breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Liketh the song <i>I</i> sing the best—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weary thou art, a-next my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sleep, little one, sleep.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">{35}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GRANDMAS_PRAYER" id="GRANDMAS_PRAYER"></a>GRANDMA’S PRAYER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> PRAY that, risen from the dead,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I may in glory stand—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A crown, perhaps, upon my head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But a needle in my hand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ve never learned to sing or play,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So let no harp be mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From birth unto my dying day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Plain sewing’s been my line.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Therefore, accustomed to the end<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To plying useful stitches,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll be content if asked to mend<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The little angels’ breeches.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">{36}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SOME_TIME" id="SOME_TIME"></a>SOME TIME</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">L</span>AST night, my darling, as you slept,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I thought I heard you sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to your little crib I crept,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And watched a space thereby;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, bending down, I kissed your brow—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For, oh! I love you so—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You are too young to know it now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But some time you shall know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some time, when, in a darkened place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where others come to weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your eyes shall see a weary face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calm in eternal sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The speechless lips, the wrinkled brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The patient smile may show—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You are too young to know it now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But some time you shall know.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">{37}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look backward, then, into the years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And see me here to-night—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, O my darling! how my tears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are falling as I write;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feel once more upon your brow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The kiss of long ago—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You are too young to know it now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But some time you shall know.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">{38}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_FIRE-HANGBIRDS_NEST" id="THE_FIRE-HANGBIRDS_NEST"></a>THE FIRE-HANGBIRD’S NEST</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>S I am sitting in the sun upon the porch to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I look with wonder at the elm that stands across the way;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I say and mean “with wonder,” for now it seems to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That elm is not as tall as years ago it used to be!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old fire-hangbird’s built her nest therein for many springs—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High up amid the sportive winds the curious cradle swings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But not so high as when a little boy I did my best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To scale that elm and carry off the old fire-hangbird’s nest!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">{39}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Hubbard boys had tried in vain to reach the homely prize<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dangled from that upper outer twig in taunting wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And once, when Deacon Turner’s boy had almost grasped the limb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He fell! and had to have a doctor operate on him!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Philetus Baker broke his leg and Orrin Root his arm—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But what of that? The danger gave the sport a special charm!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Bixby and the Cutler boys, the Newtons and the rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ran every risk to carry off the old fire-hang-bird’s nest!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I can remember that I used to knee my trousers through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That mother used to wonder how my legs got black and blue,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">{40}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And how she used to talk to me and make stern threats when she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Discovered that my hobby was the nest in yonder tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How, as she patched my trousers or greased my purple legs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She told me ’twould be wicked to destroy a hangbird’s eggs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then she’d call on father and on gran’pa to attest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That they, as boys, had never robbed an old fire-hangbird’s nest!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet all those years I coveted the trophy flaunting there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While, as it were in mockery of my abject despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old fire-hangbird confidently used to come and go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if she were indifferent to the bandit horde below!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">{41}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sometimes clinging to her nest we thought we heard her chide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The callow brood whose cries betrayed the fear that reigned inside:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Hush, little dears! all profitless shall be their wicked quest—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew my business when I built the old fire-hangbird’s nest!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For many, very many years that mother-bird has come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To rear her pretty little brood within that cozy home.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is the selfsame bird of old—I’m certain it is she—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Although the chances are that she has quite forgotten me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just as of old that prudent, crafty bird of compound name<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(And in parenthesis I’ll say her nest is still the same);<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">{42}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just as of old the passion, too, that fires the youthful breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To climb unto and comprehend the old fire-hangbird’s nest!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I like to see my old-time friend swing in that ancient tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, if the elm’s as tall and sturdy as it <i>used</i> to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’m sure that many a year that nest shall in the breezes blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For boys aren’t what they used to be a forty years ago!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The elm looks shorter than it did when brother Rufe and I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beheld with envious hearts that trophy flaunted from on high;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He writes that in the city where he’s living ’way out West<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His little boys have never seen an old fire-hangbird’s nest!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">{43}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Poor little chaps! how lonesomelike their city life must be—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wish they’d come and live awhile in this old house with me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They’d have the honest friends and healthful sports I used to know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When brother Rufe and I were boys a forty years ago.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, when they grew from romping lads to busy, useful men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They could recall with proper pride their country life again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of those recollections of their youth I’m sure the best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would be of how they sought in vain the old fire-hangbird’s nest!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">{44}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BUTTERCUP_POPPY_FORGET-ME-NOT" id="BUTTERCUP_POPPY_FORGET-ME-NOT"></a>BUTTERCUP, POPPY, FORGET-ME-NOT</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">B</span>UTTERCUP, Poppy, Forget-me-not—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">These three bloomed in a garden spot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And once, all merry with song and play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little one heard three voices say:<br /></span> -<span class="i1">“Shine and shadow, summer and spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O thou child with the tangled hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And laughing eyes! we three shall bring<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Each an offering passing fair.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The little one did not understand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But they bent and kissed the dimpled hand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Buttercup gamboled all day long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sharing the little one’s mirth and song;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, stealing along on misty gleams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poppy came bearing the sweetest dreams.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">{45}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Playing and dreaming—and that was all<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Till once a sleeper would not awake;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kissing the little face under the pall,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">We thought of the words the third flower spake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we found betimes in a hallowed spot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The solace and peace of Forget-me-not.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Buttercup shareth the joy of day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glinting with gold the hours of play;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringeth the poppy sweet repose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the hands would fold and the eyes would close;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And after it all—the play and the sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of a little life—what cometh then?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the hearts that ache and the eyes that weep<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A new flower bringeth God’s peace again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each one serveth its tender lot—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Buttercup, Poppy, Forget-me-not.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">{46}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WYNKEN_BLYNKEN_AND_NOD" id="WYNKEN_BLYNKEN_AND_NOD"></a>WYNKEN, BLYNKEN, AND NOD</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>YNKEN, Blynken, and Nod one night<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Sailed off in a wooden shoe—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sailed on a river of crystal light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into a sea of dew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Where are you going, and what do you wish?”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The old moon asked the three.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“We have come to fish for the herring fish<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That live in this beautiful sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nets of silver and gold have we!”<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Said Wynken,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Blynken,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And Nod.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The old moon laughed and sang a song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As they rocked in the wooden shoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the wind that sped them all night long<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ruffled the waves of dew.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">{47}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The little stars were the herring fish<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That lived in that beautiful sea—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Now cast your nets wherever you wish—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never afeard are we”;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So cried the stars to the fishermen three:<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Wynken,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Blynken,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And Nod.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All night long their nets they threw<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the stars in the twinkling foam—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bringing the fishermen home;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As if it could not be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And some folks thought ’twas a dream they’d dreamed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of sailing that beautiful sea—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I shall name you the fishermen three:<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Wynken,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Blynken,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And Nod.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">{48}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Nod is a little head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is a wee one’s trundle-bed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So shut your eyes while mother sings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of wonderful sights that be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you shall see the beautiful things<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As you rock in the misty sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Wynken,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Blynken,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And Nod.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">{49}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GOLD_AND_LOVE_FOR_DEARIE" id="GOLD_AND_LOVE_FOR_DEARIE"></a>GOLD AND LOVE FOR DEARIE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">O</span>UT on the mountain over the town,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">All night long, all night long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The trolls go up and the trolls go down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bearing their packs and singing a song;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this is the song the hill-folk croon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As they trudge in the light of the misty moon—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is ever their dolorous tune:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Gold, gold! ever more gold—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bright red gold for dearie!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deep in the hill a father delves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All night long, all night long;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None but the peering, furtive elves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sees his toil and hears his song;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">{50}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Merrily ever the cavern rings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As merrily ever his pick he swings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And merrily ever this song he sings:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Gold, gold! ever more gold—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bright red gold for dearie!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mother is rocking thy lowly bed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All night long, all night long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happy to smooth thy curly head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hold thy hand and to sing her song:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis not of the hill-folk dwarfed and old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor the song of thy father, stanch and bold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the burthen it beareth is not of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But it’s “Love, love! nothing but love<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mother’s love for dearie!”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">{51}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_PEACE_OF_CHRISTMAS-TIME" id="THE_PEACE_OF_CHRISTMAS-TIME"></a>THE PEACE OF CHRISTMAS-TIME</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">D</span>EAREST, how hard it is to say<br /></span> -<span class="ih">That all is for the best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since, sometimes, in a grievous way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God’s will is manifest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See with what hearty, noisy glee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our little ones to-night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dance round and round our Christmas tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With pretty toys bedight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dearest, one voice they may not hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One face they may not see—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, what of all this Christmas cheer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cometh to you and me?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">{52}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cometh before our misty eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That other little face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we clasp, in tender, reverent wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That love in the old embrace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dearest, the Christ-Child walks to-night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bringing his peace to men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he bringeth to you and to me the light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the old, old years again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bringeth the peace of long ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When a wee one clasped your knee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lisped of the morrow—dear one, you know—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And here come back is he!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dearest, ’tis sometimes hard to say<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That all is for the best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, often, in a grievous way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God’s will is manifest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53">{53}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But in the grace of this holy night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That bringeth us back our child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us see that the ways of God are right,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And so be reconciled.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54">{54}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_A_LITTLE_BROOK" id="TO_A_LITTLE_BROOK"></a>TO A LITTLE BROOK</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU’re not so big as you were then,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">O little brook!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I mean those hazy summers when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We boys roamed, full of awe, beside<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your noisy, foaming, tumbling tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wondered if it could be true<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That there were bigger brooks than you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O mighty brook, O peerless brook!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All up and down this reedy place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where lives the brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We angled for the furtive dace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The redwing-blackbird did his best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make us think he’d built his nest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hard by the stream, when, like as not,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He’d hung it in a secret spot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far from the brook, the telltale brook!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55">{55}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And often, when the noontime heat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Parboiled the brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’d draw our boots and swing our feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the waves that, in their play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would tag us last and scoot away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mother never seemed to know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What burnt our legs and chapped them so—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But father guessed it was the brook!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Fido—how he loved to swim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cooling brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whenever we’d throw sticks for him;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And how we boys <i>did</i> wish that we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could only swim as good as he—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why, Daniel Webster never was<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Recipient of such great applause<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As Fido, battling with the brook!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But once—O most unhappy day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For you, my brook!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came Cousin Sam along that way;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56">{56}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, having lived a spell out West,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where creeks aren’t counted much at best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He neither waded, swam, nor leapt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, with superb indifference, <i>stept</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Across that brook—our mighty brook!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why do you scamper on your way,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You little brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I come back to you to-day?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it because you flee the grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That lunges at you as you pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if, in playful mood, it would<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tickle the truant if it could,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You chuckling brook—you saucy brook?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or is it you no longer know—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You fickle brook—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The honest friend of long ago?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The years that kept us twain apart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have changed my face, but not my heart—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Many and sore those years, and yet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I fancied you could not forget<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That happy time, my playmate brook!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57">{57}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, sing again in artless glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My little brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The song you used to sing for me—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The song that’s lingered in my ears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So soothingly these many years;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My grief shall be forgotten when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear your tranquil voice again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And that sweet song, dear little brook!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58">{58}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CROODLIN_DOO" id="CROODLIN_DOO"></a>CROODLIN’ DOO</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">H</span>O, pretty bee, did you see my croodlin’ doo?<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Ho, little lamb, is she jinkin’ on the lea?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ho, bonnie fairy, bring my dearie back to me—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Got a lump o’ sugar an’ a posie for you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only bring me back my wee, wee croodlin’ doo!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why! here you are, my little croodlin’ doo!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Looked in er cradle, but didn’t find you there—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Looked f’r my wee, wee croodlin’ doo ever’where;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be’n kind lonesome all er day withouten you—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where you be’n, my teeny, wee, wee croodlin’ doo?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59">{59}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now you go balow, my little croodlin’ doo;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now you go rockaby ever so far,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rockaby, rockaby up to the star<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That’s winkin’ an’ blinkin’ an’ singin’ to you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As you go balow, my wee, wee croodlin’ doo!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60">{60}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LITTLE_MISTRESS_SANS-MERCI" id="LITTLE_MISTRESS_SANS-MERCI"></a>LITTLE MISTRESS SANS-MERCI</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">L</span>ITTLE Mistress Sans-Merci<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Fareth world-wide, fancy free:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Trotteth cooing to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And her cooing is command—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never ruled there yet, I trow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mightier despot in the land.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my heart it lieth where<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mistress Sans-Merci doth fare.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little Mistress Sans-Merci—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She hath made a slave of me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Go,” she biddeth, and I go—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“Come,” and I am fain to come—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never mercy doth she show,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Be she wroth or frolicsome,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet am I content to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slave to Mistress Sans-Merci!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61">{61}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little Mistress Sans-Merci<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath become so dear to me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I count as passing sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All the pain her moods impart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I bless the little feet<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That go trampling on my heart:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, how lonely life would be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But for little Sans-Merci!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little Mistress Sans-Merci,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cuddle close this night to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the heart, which all day long<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ruthless thou hast trod upon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall outpour a soothing song<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For its best belovéd one—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All its tenderness for thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little Mistress Sans-Merci!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62">{62}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LONG_AGO" id="LONG_AGO"></a>LONG AGO</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> ONCE knew all the birds that came<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And nested in our orchard trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For every flower I had a name—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My friends were woodchucks, toads, and bees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew where thrived in yonder glen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What plants would soothe a stone-bruised toe—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, I was very learned then,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that was very long ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I knew the spot upon the hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where checkerberries could be found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew the rushes near the mill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where pickerel lay that weighed a pound!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63">{63}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew the wood—the very tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where lived the poaching, saucy crow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the woods and crows knew me—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that was very long ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And pining for the joys of youth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I tread the old familiar spot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only to learn this solemn truth:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I have forgotten, am forgot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet here’s this youngster at my knee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Knows all the things I used to know;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To think I once was wise as he!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that was very long ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know it’s folly to complain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of whatsoe’er the fates decree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, were not wishes all in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I tell you what my wish should be:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d wish to be a boy again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Back with the friends I used to know.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I was, oh, so happy then—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that was very long ago!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64">{64}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IN_THE_FIRELIGHT" id="IN_THE_FIRELIGHT"></a>IN THE FIRELIGHT</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE fire upon the hearth is low,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And there is stillness everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And, like wing’d spirits, here and there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The firelight shadows fluttering go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as the shadows round me creep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A childish treble breaks the gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And softly from a further room<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comes: “Now I lay me down to sleep.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And, somehow, with that little pray’r<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And that sweet treble in my ears,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My thought goes back to distant years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lingers with a dear one there;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65">{65}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as I hear my child’s amen,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My mother’s faith comes back to me—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Crouched at her side I seem to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mother holds my hands again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, for an hour in that dear place—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Oh, for the peace of that dear time—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Oh, for that childish trust sublime—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, for a glimpse of mother’s face!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, as the shadows round me creep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I do not seem to be alone—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet magic of that treble tone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And “Now I lay me down to sleep!”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66">{66}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="COBBLER_AND_STORK" id="COBBLER_AND_STORK"></a>COBBLER AND STORK</h2> - -<p class="c"><i>Cobbler.</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="smcap">Stork</span>, I am justly wroth,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">For thou hast wronged me sore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ash roof-tree that shelters thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall shelter thee no more!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>Stork.</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig">Full fifty years I’ve dwelt<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Upon this honest tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And long ago (as people know!)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I brought thy father thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What hail hath chilled thy heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That thou shouldst bid me go?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speak out, I pray—then I’ll away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since thou commandest so.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67">{67}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>Cobbler.</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig">Thou tellest of the time<br /></span> -<span class="ih">When, wheeling from the west,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This hut thou sought’st and one thou brought’st<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unto a mother’s breast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I</i> was the wretched child<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was fetched that dismal morn—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twere better die than be (as I)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To life of misery born!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hadst thou borne me on<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still farther up the town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A king I’d be of high degree,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wear a golden crown!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For yonder lives the prince<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was brought that selfsame day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How happy he, while—look at me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I toil my life away!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see my little boy—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To what estate he’s born!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why, when I die no hoard leave I<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But poverty and scorn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And <i>thou</i> hast done it all<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68">{68}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I might have been a king<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ruled in state, but for thy hate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou base, perfidious thing!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>Stork.</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig">Since, cobbler, thou dost speak<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Of one thou lovest well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hear of that king what grievous thing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This very morn befell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst round thy homely bench<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy well-belovéd played,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In yonder hall beneath a pall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A little one was laid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy well-belovéd’s face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was rosy with delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ’neath that pall in yonder hall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The little face is white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst by a merry voice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy soul is filled with cheer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another weeps for one that sleeps<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All mute and cold anear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One father hath his hope,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69">{69}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">And one is childless now;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>He</i> wears a crown and rules a town—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only a cobbler <i>thou</i>!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wouldst thou exchange thy lot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At price of such a woe?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll nest no more above thy door,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, as thou bidst me, go.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>Cobbler.</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig">Nay, stork! thou shalt remain—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I mean not what I said;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good neighbors we must always be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So make thy home o’erhead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would not change my bench<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For any monarch’s throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor sacrifice at any price<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My darling and my own!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stork! on my roof-tree bide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That, seeing thee anear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll thankful be God sent by thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Me and my darling here!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70">{70}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LOLLYBY_LOLLY_LOLLYBY" id="LOLLYBY_LOLLY_LOLLYBY"></a>“LOLLYBY, LOLLY, LOLLYBY”</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">L</span>AST night, whiles that the curfew bell ben ringing,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I heard a moder to her dearie singing<br /></span> -<span class="i6">“Lollyby, lolly, lollyby”;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And presently that chylde did cease hys weeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on his moder’s breast did fall a-sleeping<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To “lolly, lolly, lollyby.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Faire ben the chylde unto his moder clinging,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But fairer yet the moder’s gentle singing—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">“Lollyby, lolly, lollyby”;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And angels came and kisst the dearie smiling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In dreems while him hys moder ben beguiling<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With “lolly, lolly, lollyby.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71">{71}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then to my harte saies I: “Oh, that thy beating<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Colde be assuaged by some sweete voice repeating<br /></span> -<span class="i6">‘Lollyby, lolly, lollyby’;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That like this lyttel chylde I, too, ben sleeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With plaisaunt phantasies about me creeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To ‘lolly, lolly, lollyby’!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some time—mayhap when curfew bells are ringing—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A weary harte shall heare straunge voices singing<br /></span> -<span class="i6">“Lollyby, lolly, lollyby”;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some time, mayhap, with Chryst’s love round me streaming,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall be lulled into eternal dreeming,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With “lolly, lolly, lollyby.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72">{72}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LIZZIE_AND_THE_BABY" id="LIZZIE_AND_THE_BABY"></a>LIZZIE AND THE BABY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> WONDER ef all wimmin air<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Like Lizzie is when we go out<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To theaters an’ concerts where<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is things the papers talk about.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do other wimmin fret an’ stew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like they wuz bein’ crucified—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Frettin’ a show or concert through,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With wonderin’ ef the baby cried?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now Lizzie knows that gran’ma’s there<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see that everything is right,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet Lizzie thinks that gran’ma’s care<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ain’t good enuff f’r baby, quite;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet what am I to answer when<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She kind uv fidgets at my side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ asks me every now and then:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“I wonder if the baby cried?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73">{73}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Seems like she seen two little eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A-pinin’ f’r their mother’s smile—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seems like she heern the pleadin’ cries<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Uv one she thinks uv all the while;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ so she’s sorry that she come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An’ though she allus tries to hide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The truth, she’d ruther stay to hum<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than wonder ef the baby cried.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes, wimmin folks is all alike—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By Lizzie you kin jedge the rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There never wuz a little tyke,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that his mother loved him best.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nex’ to bein’ what I be—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The husband uv my gentle bride—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d wisht I wuz that croodlin’ wee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With Lizzie wonderin’ ef I cried.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74">{74}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AT_THE_DOOR" id="AT_THE_DOOR"></a>AT THE DOOR</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> THOUGHT myself, indeed, secure<br /></span> -<span class="ih">So fast the door, so firm the lock;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, lo! he toddling comes to lure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My parent ear with timorous knock.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My heart were stone could it withstand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sweetness of my baby’s plea,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That timorous, baby knocking and<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Please let me in,—it’s only me.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I threw aside the unfinished book,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Regardless of its tempting charms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, opening wide the door, I took<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My laughing darling in my arms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75">{75}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who knows but in Eternity,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I, like a truant child, shall wait<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glories of a life to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beyond the Heavenly Father’s gate?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And will that Heavenly Father heed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The truant’s supplicating cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As at the outer door I plead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Tis I, O Father! only I?”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76">{76}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HUGOS_CHILD_AT_PLAY" id="HUGOS_CHILD_AT_PLAY"></a>HUGO’S “CHILD AT PLAY”</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span> CHILD was singing at his play—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">I heard the song, and paused to hear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His mother moaning, groaning lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, lo! a specter stood anear!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The child shook sunlight from his hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And caroled gaily all day long—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aye, with that specter gloating there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The innocent made mirth and song!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How like to harvest fruit wert thou,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O sorrow, in that dismal room—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God ladeth not the tender bough<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Save with the joy of bud and bloom!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77">{77}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HI-SPY" id="HI-SPY"></a>HI-SPY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">S</span>TRANGE that the city thoroughfare,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Noisy and bustling all the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should with the night renounce its care<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lend itself to children’s play!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, girls are girls, and boys are boys,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And have been so since Abel’s birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shall be so till dolls and toys<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are with the children swept from earth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The selfsame sport that crowns the day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of many a Syrian shepherd’s son,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beguiles the little lads at play<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By night in stately Babylon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hear their voices in the street,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet ’tis so different now from then!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, brother! from your winding-sheet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let us two be boys again!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78">{78}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LITTLE_BOY_BLUE" id="LITTLE_BOY_BLUE"></a>LITTLE BOY BLUE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE little toy dog is covered with dust,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">But sturdy and stanch he stands;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the little toy soldier is red with rust,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And his musket molds in his hands.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time was when the little toy dog was new,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the soldier was passing fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kissed them and put them there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Now, don’t you go till I come,” he said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“And don’t you make any noise!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He dreamt of the pretty toys;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, as he was dreaming, an angel song<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Awakened our Little Boy Blue—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! the years are many, the years are long,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But the little toy friends are true!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79">{79}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Aye, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each in the same old place—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awaiting the touch of a little hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The smile of a little face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they wonder, as waiting the long years through<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the dust of that little chair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What has become of our Little Boy Blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since he kissed them and put them there.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80">{80}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FATHERS_LETTER" id="FATHERS_LETTER"></a>FATHER’S LETTER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span>’M going to write a letter to our oldest boy who went<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Out West last spring to practise law and run for president;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll tell him all the gossip I guess he’d like to hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For he hasn’t seen the home-folks for going on a year!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most generally it’s Marthy does the writing, but as she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is suffering with a felon, why, the job devolves on me—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, when the supper things are done and put away to-night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll draw my boots and shed my coat and settle down to write.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81">{81}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ll tell him crops are looking up, with prospects big for corn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, fooling with the barnyard gate, the off-ox hurt his horn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the Templar lodge is doing well—Tim Bennett joined last week<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the prohibition candidate for Congress came to speak;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the old gray woodchuck’s living still down in the pasture-lot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A-wondering what’s become of little William, like as not!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, yes, there’s lots of pleasant things and no bad news to tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Except that old Bill Graves was sick, but now he’s up and well.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cy Cooper says—(but I’ll not pass my word that it is so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Cy he is some punkins on spinning yarns, you know)—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He says that, since the freshet, the pickerel are so thick<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82">{82}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Baker’s pond you can wade in and kill ’em with a stick!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Hubbard girls are teaching school, and Widow Cutler’s Bill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has taken Eli Baxter’s place in Luther Eastman’s mill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Old Deacon Skinner’s dog licked Deacon Howard’s dog last week,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now there are two lambkins in one flock that will not speak.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The yellow rooster froze his feet, a-wadin’ through the snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now he leans agin the fence when he starts in to crow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chestnut colt that was so skittish when <i>he</i> went away—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ve broke him to the sulky and I drive him every day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ve got pink window curtains for the front spare-room up-stairs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Lizzie’s made new covers for the parlor lounge and chairs;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83">{83}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ve roofed the barn and braced the elm that has the hangbird’s nest—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, there’s been lots of changes since our William went out West!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Old Uncle Enos Packard is getting mighty gay—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He gave Miss Susan Birchard a peach the other day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His late lamented Sarah hain’t been buried quite a year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So his purring ’round Miss Susan causes criticism here.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the last donation party, the minister opined<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, if he’d half suspicioned what was coming, he’d resigned;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, though they brought him slippers like he was a centipede,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His pantry was depleted by the consequential feed!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These are the things I’ll write him—our boy that’s in the West;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84">{84}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I’ll tell him how we miss him—his mother and the rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why, we never have an apple-pie that mother doesn’t say:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“<i>He</i> liked it so—I wish that he could have a piece to-day!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll tell him we are prospering, and hope he is the same—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That we hope he’ll have no trouble getting on to wealth and fame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And just before I write “good-by from father and the rest,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll say that “mother sends her love,” and that will please him best.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For when <i>I</i> went away from home, the weekly news I heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was nothing to the tenderness I found in that one word—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sacred name of mother—why, even now as then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thought brings back the saintly face, the gracious love again;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85">{85}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in my bosom seems to come a peace that is divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if an angel spirit communed a while with mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one man’s heart is strengthened by the message from above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And earth seems nearer heaven when “mother sends her love.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86">{86}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JEWISH_LULLABY" id="JEWISH_LULLABY"></a>JEWISH LULLABY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">M</span>Y harp is on the willow-tree,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Else would I sing, O love, to thee<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A song of long-ago—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perchance the song that Miriam sung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere yet Judea’s heart was wrung<br /></span> -<span class="i4">By centuries of woe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I ate my crust in tears to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As scourged I went upon my way—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And yet my darling smiled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aye, beating at my breast, he laughed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My anguish curdled not the draught—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">’Twas sweet with love, my child!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87">{87}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shadow of the centuries lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in thy dark and mournful eye<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But, hush! and close them now,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the dreams that thou shalt dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The light of other days shall seem<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To glorify thy brow!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our harp is on the willow-tree—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have no song to sing to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As shadows round us roll;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, hush and sleep, and thou shalt hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jehovah’s voice that speaks to cheer<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Judea’s fainting soul!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88">{88}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="OUR_WHIPPINGS" id="OUR_WHIPPINGS"></a>OUR WHIPPINGS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">C</span>OME, Harvey, let us sit a while and talk about the times<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Before you went to selling clothes and I to peddling rimes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The days when we were little boys, as naughty little boys<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As ever worried home-folks with their everlasting noise!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Egad! and, were we so disposed, I’ll venture we could show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The scars of wallopings we got some forty years ago;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What wallopings I mean I think I need not specify—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mother’s whippings didn’t hurt, but father’s! oh, my!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_89" id="page_89">{89}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The way that we played hookey those many years ago—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’d rather give ’most anything than have our children know!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thousand naughty things we did, the thousand fibs we told—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why, thinking of them makes my presbyterian blood run cold!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How often Deacon Sabine Morse remarked if we were his<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He’d tan our “pesky little hides until the blisters riz!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s many a hearty thrashing to that Deacon Morse we owe—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mother’s whippings didn’t count—father’s did, though!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We used to sneak off swimmin’ in those careless, boyish days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And come back home of evenings with our necks and backs ablaze;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How mother used to wonder why our clothes were full of sand,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90">{90}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But father, having been a boy, appeared to understand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, after tea, he’d beckon us to join him in the shed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where he’d proceed to tinge our backs a deeper, darker red;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say what we will of mother’s, there is none will controvert<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The proposition that our father’s lickings always hurt!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For mother was by nature so forgiving and so mild<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That she inclined to spare the rod although she spoiled the child;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when at last in self-defense she had to whip us, she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Appeared to feel those whippings a great deal more than we!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But how we bellowed and took on, as if we’d like to die—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor mother really thought she hurt, and that’s what made <i>her</i> cry!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91">{91}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then how we youngsters snickered as out the door we slid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For mother’s whippings never hurt, though father’s always did.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In after years poor father simmered down to five feet four,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in our youth he seemed to us in height eight feet or more!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, how we shivered when he quoth in cold, suggestive tone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I’ll see you in the woodshed after supper all alone!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, how the legs and arms and dust and trouser buttons flew—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What florid vocalisms marked that vesper interview!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes, after all this lapse of years, I feelingly assert,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all respect to mother, it was father’s whippings hurt!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The little boy experiencing that tingling ’neath his vest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is often loath to realize that all is for the best;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92">{92}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, when the boy gets older, he pictures with delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The buffetings of childhood—as we do here to-night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The years, the gracious years, have smoothed and beautified the ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to our little feet seemed all too rugged in the days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before you went to selling clothes and I to peddling rimes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, Harvey, let us sit a while and think upon those times.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93">{93}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_ARMENIAN_MOTHER" id="THE_ARMENIAN_MOTHER"></a>THE ARMENIAN MOTHER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> WAS a mother, and I weep;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The night is come—the day is sped—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night of woe profound, for, oh,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My little golden son is dead!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The pretty rose that bloomed anon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon my mother breast, they stole;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They let the dove I nursed with love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fly far away—so sped my soul!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That falcon Death swooped down upon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My sweet-voiced turtle as he sung;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis hushed and dark where soared the lark,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And so, and so my heart was wrung!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94">{94}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Before my eyes, they sent the hail<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon my green pomegranate-tree—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the bough where only now<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A rosy apple bent to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They shook my beauteous almond-tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beating its glorious bloom to death—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They strewed it round upon the ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And mocked its fragrant dying breath.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I was a mother, and I weep;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I seek the rose where nestleth none—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No more is heard the singing bird—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I have no little golden son!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So fall the shadows over me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blighted garden, lonely nest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reach down in love, O God above!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fold my darling to thy breast.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_95" id="page_95">{95}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HEIGHO_MY_DEARIE" id="HEIGHO_MY_DEARIE"></a>HEIGHO, MY DEARIE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span> MOONBEAM floateth from the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Whispering: “Heigho, my dearie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would spin a web before your eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A beautiful web of silver light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein is many a wondrous sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a radiant garden leagues away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the softly tinkling lilies sway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the snow-white lambkins are at play—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Heigho, my dearie!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A brownie stealeth from the vine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Singing: “Heigho, my dearie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And will you hear this song of mine—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A song of the land of murk and mist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where bideth the bud the dew hath kist?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_96" id="page_96">{96}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then let the moonbeam’s web of light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be spun before thee silvery white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I shall sing the livelong night—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Heigho, my dearie!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The night wind speedeth from the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Murmuring: “Heigho, my dearie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I bring a mariner’s prayer for thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So let the moonbeam veil thine eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the brownie sing thee lullabies—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I shall rock thee to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kissing the brow <i>he</i> loveth so.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the prayer shall guard thy bed, I trow—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Heigho, my dearie!”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_97" id="page_97">{97}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_A_USURPER" id="TO_A_USURPER"></a>TO A USURPER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>HA! a traitor in the camp,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">A rebel strangely bold,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lisping, laughing, toddling scamp,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not more than four years old!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To think that I, who’ve ruled alone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So proudly in the past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should be ejected from my throne<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By my own son at last!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He trots his treason to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As only babies can,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And says he’ll be his mamma’s beau<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When he’s a “gweat, big man”!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You stingy boy! you’ve always had<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A share in mamma’s heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would you begrudge your poor old dad<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tiniest little part?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_98" id="page_98">{98}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That mamma, I regret to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Inclines to take your part,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if a dual monarchy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should rule her gentle heart!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when the years of youth have sped,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bearded man, I trow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will quite forget he ever said<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He’d be his mamma’s beau.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Renounce your treason, little son,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leave mamma’s heart to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For there will come another one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To claim your loyalty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when that other comes to you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God grant her love may shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through all your life, as fair and true<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As mamma’s does through mine!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_99" id="page_99">{99}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_BELL-FLOWER_TREE" id="THE_BELL-FLOWER_TREE"></a>THE BELL-FLOWER TREE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN brother Bill and I were boys,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">How often in the summer we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would seek the shade your branches made,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O fair and gracious bell-flower tree!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amid the clover bloom we sat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And looked upon the Holyoke range,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While Fido lay a space away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thinking our silence very strange.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The woodchuck in the pasture-lot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beside his furtive hole elate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heard, off beyond the pickerel pond,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The redwing-blackbird chide her mate.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bumblebee went bustling round,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pursuing labors never done—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With drone and sting, the greedy thing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Begrudged the sweets we lay upon!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100">{100}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our eyes looked always at the hills—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Holyoke hills that seemed to stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between us boys and pictured joys<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of conquest in a further land!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, how we coveted the time<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When we should leave this prosy place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And work our wills beyond those hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And meet creation face to face!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You must have heard our childish talk—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Perhaps our prattle gave you pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For then, old friend, you seemed to bend<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your kindly arms about us twain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It might have been the wind that sighed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yet I thought I heard you say:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Seek not the ills beyond those hills—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oh, stay with me, my children, stay!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See, I’ve come back; the boy you knew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is wiser, older, sadder grown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I come once more, just as of yore—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I come, but see! I come alone!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101">{101}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The memory of a brother’s love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of blighted hopes, I bring with me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And here I lay my heart to-day—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A weary heart, O bell-flower tree!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So let me nestle in your shade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As though I were a boy again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pray extend your arms, old friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And love me as you used to then.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing softly as you used to sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And maybe I shall seem to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little boy and feel the joy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of thy repose, O bell-flower tree!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102">{102}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FAIRY_AND_CHILD" id="FAIRY_AND_CHILD"></a>FAIRY AND CHILD</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">O</span>H, listen, little Dear-My-Soul,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">To the fairy voices calling,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the moon is high in the misty sky<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the honey dew is falling;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the midnight feast in the clover bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bluebells are a-ringing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it’s “Come away to the land of fay”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That the katydid is singing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, slumber, little Dear-My-Soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hand in hand we’ll wander—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hand in hand to the beautiful land<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Balow, away off yonder;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or we’ll sail along in a lily leaf<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into the white moon’s halo—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over a stream of mist and dream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into the land of Balow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103">{103}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or, you shall have two beautiful wings—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two gossamer wings and airy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the while shall the old moon smile<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And think you a little fairy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you shall dance in the velvet sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the silvery stars shall twinkle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dream sweet dreams as over their beams<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your footfalls softly tinkle.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104">{104}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_GRANDSIRE" id="THE_GRANDSIRE"></a>THE GRANDSIRE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> LOVED him so; his voice had grown<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Into my heart, and now to hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pretty song he had sung so long<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Die on the lips to me so dear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>He</i> a child with golden curls,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I with head as white as snow—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knelt down there and made this pray’r:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“God, let me be the first to go!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How often I recall it now:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My darling tossing on his bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sitting there in mute despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Smoothing the curls that crowned his head.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They did not speak to me of death—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A feeling <i>here</i> had told me so;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What could I say or do but pray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I might be the first to go?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105">{105}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, thinking of him standing there<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out yonder as the years go by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waiting for me to come, I see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Twas better he should wait, not I.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For when I walk the vale of death,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above the wail of Jordan’s flow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall rise a song that shall make me strong—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The call of the child that was first to go.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106">{106}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HUSHABY_SWEET_MY_OWN" id="HUSHABY_SWEET_MY_OWN"></a>HUSHABY, SWEET MY OWN</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">F</span>AIR is the castle up on the hill—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Hushaby, sweet my own!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night is fair, and the waves are still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the wind is singing to you and to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this lowly home beside the sea—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hushaby, sweet my own!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On yonder hill is store of wealth—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hushaby, sweet my own!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And revelers drink to a little one’s health;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But you and I bide night and day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the other love that has sailed away—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hushaby, sweet my own!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See not, dear eyes, the forms that creep<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ghostlike, O my own!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of the mists of the murmuring deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, see them not and make no cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the angels of death have passed us by—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hushaby, sweet my own!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107">{107}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, little they reck of you and me—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hushaby, sweet my own!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In our lonely home beside the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They seek the castle up on the hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there they will do their ghostly will—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hushaby, O my own!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here by the sea a mother croons<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“Hushaby, sweet my own!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In yonder castle a mother swoons<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the angels go down to the misty deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bearing a little one fast asleep—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hushaby, sweet my own!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108">{108}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHILD_AND_MOTHER" id="CHILD_AND_MOTHER"></a>CHILD AND MOTHER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">O</span> MOTHER-my-love, if you’ll give me your hand,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And go where I ask you to wander,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will lead you away to a beautiful land—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Dreamland that’s waiting out yonder.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll walk in a sweet-posie garden out there<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where moonlight and starlight are streaming<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the flowers and the birds are filling the air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the fragrance and music of dreaming.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There’ll be no little tired-out boy to undress,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No questions or cares to perplex you;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’ll be no little bruises or bumps to caress,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor patching of stockings to vex you.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I’ll rock you away on a silver-dew stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sing you asleep when you’re weary,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And no one shall know of our beautiful dream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But you and your own little dearie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109">{109}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when I am tired I’ll nestle my head<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the bosom that’s soothed me so often,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the wide-awake stars shall sing in my stead<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A song which our dreaming shall soften.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, Mother-My-Love, let me take your dear hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And away through the starlight we’ll wander—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Away through the mist to the beautiful land—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Dreamland that’s waiting out yonder!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110">{110}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MEDIEVAL_EVENTIDE_SONG" id="MEDIEVAL_EVENTIDE_SONG"></a>MEDIEVAL EVENTIDE SONG</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">C</span>OME hither, lyttel childe, and lie upon my breast to-night,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">For yonder fares an angell yclad in raimaunt white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yonder sings ye angell as onely angells may,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his songe ben of a garden that bloometh farre awaye.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To them that have no lyttel childe Godde sometimes sendeth down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lyttel childe that ben a lyttel angell of his owne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if so bee they love that childe, he willeth it to staye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But elsewise, in his mercie, he taketh it awaye.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111">{111}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And sometimes, though they love it, Godde yearneth for ye childe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sendeth angells singing, whereby it ben beguiled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They fold their arms about ye lamb that croodleth at his play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And beare him to ye garden that bloometh farre awaye.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wolde not lose ye lyttel lamb that Godde hath lent to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I colde sing that angell songe, how joysome I sholde be!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, with mine arms about him, and my musick in his eare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What angell songe of paradize soever sholde I feare?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soe come, my lyttel childe, and lie upon my breast to-night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For yonder fares an angell yclad in raimaunt white,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112">{112}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yonder sings that angell, as onely angells may,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his songe ben of a garden that bloometh farre awaye.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113">{113}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ARMENIAN_LULLABY" id="ARMENIAN_LULLABY"></a>ARMENIAN LULLABY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span>F thou wilt shut thy drowsy eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">My mulberry one, my golden sun!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rose shall sing thee lullabies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My pretty cosset lambkin!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou shalt swing in an almond-tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a flood of moonbeams rocking thee—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A silver boat in a golden sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My velvet love, my nestling dove,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My own pomegranate blossom!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The stork shall guard thee passing well<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All night, my sweet! my dimple-feet!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bring thee myrrh and asphodel,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My gentle rain-of-springtime!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114">{114}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for thy slumbrous play shall twine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The diamond stars with an emerald vine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To trail in the waves of ruby wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My myrtle bloom, my heart’s perfume,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My little chirping sparrow!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when the morn wakes up to see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My apple bright, my soul’s delight!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The partridge shall come calling thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My jar of milk-and-honey!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes, thou shalt know what mystery lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the amethyst deep of the curtained skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thou wilt fold thy onyx eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You wakeful one, you naughty son,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">You cooing little turtle!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115">{115}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHRISTMAS_TREASURES" id="CHRISTMAS_TREASURES"></a>CHRISTMAS TREASURES</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> COUNT my treasures o’er with care,—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The little toy my darling knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A little sock of faded hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little lock of golden hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long years ago this holy time,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My little one—my all to me—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sat robed in white upon my knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heard the merry Christmas chime.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Tell me, my little golden-head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If Santa Claus should come to-night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What shall he bring my baby bright,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What treasure for my boy?” I said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116">{116}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then he named this little toy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While in his round and mournful eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There came a look of sweet surprise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That spake his quiet, trustful joy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as he lisped his evening prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He asked the boon with childish grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then, toddling to the chimney-place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He hung this little stocking there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That night, while lengthening shadows crept,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I saw the white-winged angels come<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With singing to our lowly home<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kiss my darling as he slept.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They must have heard his little prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For in the morn, with rapturous face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He toddled to the chimney-place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And found this little treasure there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They came again one Christmas-tide,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That angel host, so fair and white;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, singing all that glorious night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They lured my darling from my side.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117">{117}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A little sock, a little toy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A little lock of golden hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Christmas music on the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A watching for my baby boy!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But if again that angel train<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And golden-head come back for me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To bear me to Eternity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My watching will not be in vain.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118">{118}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="OH_LITTLE_CHILD" id="OH_LITTLE_CHILD"></a>OH, LITTLE CHILD</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">H</span>USH, little one, and fold your hands—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The sun hath set, the moon is high;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sea is singing to the sands,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And wakeful posies are beguiled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By many a fairy lullaby—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hush, little child—my little child!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dream, little one, and in your dreams<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Float upward from this lowly place—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Float out on mellow, misty streams<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To lands where bideth Mary mild,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let her kiss thy little face,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">You little child—my little child!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119">{119}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleep, little one, and take thy rest—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With angels bending over thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep sweetly on that Father’s breast<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whom our dear Christ hath reconciled—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But stay not there—come back to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Oh, little child—<i>my</i> little child!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120">{120}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GANDERFEATHERS_GIFT" id="GANDERFEATHERS_GIFT"></a>GANDERFEATHER’S GIFT</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> WAS just a little thing<br /></span> -<span class="ih">When a fairy came and kissed me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Floating in upon the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a haunted summer night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo, the fairies came to sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pretty slumber songs and bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Certain boons that else had missed me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From a dream I turned to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What those strangers brought for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When that fairy up and kissed me—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here, upon this cheek, he kissed me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Simmerdew was there, but she<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Did not like me altogether;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Daisybright and Turtledove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pilfercurds and Honeylove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thistleblow and Amberglee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On that gleaming, ghostly sea<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121">{121}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Floated from the misty heather,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And around my trundle-bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Frisked, and looked, and whispering said—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Solemnlike and all together:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“<i>You</i> shall kiss him, Ganderfeather!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ganderfeather kissed me then—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ganderfeather, quaint and merry!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No attenuate sprite was he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—But as buxom as could be;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kissed me twice, and once again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the others shouted when<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On my cheek uprose a berry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Somewhat like a mole, mayhap,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the kiss-mark of that chap<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ganderfeather, passing merry—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Humorsome, but kindly, very!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I was just a tiny thing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the prankish Ganderfeather<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brought this curious gift to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With his fairy kisses three;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet with honest pride I sing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122">{122}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That same gift he chose to bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out of yonder haunted heather.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Other charms and friendships fly—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Constant friends this mole and I,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who have been so long together<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thank you, little Ganderfeather!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123">{123}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BAMBINO" id="BAMBINO"></a>BAMBINO</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">B</span>AMBINO in his cradle slept;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And by his side his grandam grim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bent down and smiled upon the child,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sung this lullaby to him,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">This “ninna and anninia”:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“When thou art older, thou shalt mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To traverse countries far and wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou shalt go where roses blow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And balmy waters singing glide—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So ninna and anninia!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“And thou shalt wear, trimmed up in points,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A famous jacket edged in red,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, more than that, a peakéd hat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All decked in gold, upon thy head—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ah! ninna and anninia!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124">{124}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Then shalt thou carry gun and knife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor shall the soldiers bully thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perchance, beset by wrong or debt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A mighty bandit thou shalt be—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So ninna and anninia!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“No woman yet of our proud race<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lived to her fourteenth year unwed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brazen churl that eyed a girl<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bought her the ring or paid his head—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So ninna and anninia!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“But once came spies (I know the thieves!)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And brought disaster to our race;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God heard us when our fifteen men<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were hanged within the market-place—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But ninna and anninia!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Good men they were, my babe, and true,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Right worthy fellows all, and strong;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Live thou and be for them and me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Avenger of that deadly wrong—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So ninna and anninia!”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125">{125}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LITTLE_HOMERS_SLATE" id="LITTLE_HOMERS_SLATE"></a>LITTLE HOMER’S SLATE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>FTER dear old grandma died,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Hunting through an oaken chest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the attic, we espied<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What repaid our childish quest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas a homely little slate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seemingly of ancient date.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On its quaint and battered face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was the picture of a cart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drawn with all that awkward grace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which betokens childish art;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But what meant this legend, pray:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Homer drew this yesterday<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126">{126}</a></span>”?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mother recollected then<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What the years were fain to hide—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She was but a baby when<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Little Homer lived and died;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forty years, so mother said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little Homer had been dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This one secret through those years<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grandma kept from all apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hallowed by her lonely tears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the breaking of her heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While each year that sped away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seemed to her but yesterday.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So the homely little slate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grandma’s baby’s fingers pressed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a memory consecrate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lieth in the oaken chest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, unwilling we should know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grandma put it, years ago.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127">{127}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - - -<p class="c"> -<img src="images/image127.jpg" -width="200" -alt="" -/></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of With Trumpet and Drum, by Eugene Field - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH TRUMPET AND DRUM *** - -***** This file should be named 62643-h.htm or 62643-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/6/4/62643/ - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -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/license - -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 1.F.3. 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 MERCHANTABILITY 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> diff --git a/old/62643-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/62643-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5948b2e..0000000 --- a/old/62643-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62643-h/images/image-ix.jpg b/old/62643-h/images/image-ix.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a0b6d95..0000000 --- a/old/62643-h/images/image-ix.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62643-h/images/image001.png b/old/62643-h/images/image001.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 073a50b..0000000 --- a/old/62643-h/images/image001.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62643-h/images/image127.jpg b/old/62643-h/images/image127.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5359db5..0000000 --- a/old/62643-h/images/image127.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62643-h/images/titlepage.jpg b/old/62643-h/images/titlepage.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index dd043f5..0000000 --- a/old/62643-h/images/titlepage.jpg +++ /dev/null |
