The Project Gutenberg eBook ofChild Whispers

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofChild WhispersThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world 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 atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Child WhispersAuthor: Enid BlytonRelease date: August 14, 2020 [eBook #62928]Most recently updated: October 18, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free Literature (Imagesgenerously made available by The Internet Archive.)*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILD WHISPERS ***

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world 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 atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Child WhispersAuthor: Enid BlytonRelease date: August 14, 2020 [eBook #62928]Most recently updated: October 18, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free Literature (Imagesgenerously made available by The Internet Archive.)

Title: Child Whispers

Author: Enid Blyton

Release date: August 14, 2020 [eBook #62928]Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free Literature (Imagesgenerously made available by The Internet Archive.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILD WHISPERS ***

PrefaceRosamundaDisappointmentOn StrikeFairy SightA Fairy NecklacePaying a CallBefore BreakfastGoblinsThe Fairy’s BedtimePoppiesA Queer ButterflyLovely FrocksThe Jolly WindThe Witch’s BalloonsFairy MusicThe Little Folk on the HillThe Moon at Tea-TimeAprilThe Silent PoolThis AfternoonThe “Feeling”The Naughty GnomeSix o’clockThe Imp’s MistakePut to BedThe Merry BreezeAn AccidentA Happy Ending

The children of nowadays are different in many of their likes and dislikes, from the children of ten years ago. This change of attitude is noticeable as much in the world of children’s poetry as it is in other things.

In my experience of teaching I have found the children delight in two distinct types of verses. These are the humorous type and the imaginative poetical type—but the humour must be from the child’s point of view and not from the “grown-up’s”—a very different thing. And the imagination in the second type of poem must be clear and whimsical, otherwise the appeal fails and the child does not respond.

As I found a lack of suitable poems of the types I wanted, I began to write them myself for the children under my supervision, taking, in many cases, the ideas, humorous or whimsical, of the children themselves, as the theme of the poems. Finding them to be successful, I continued, until the suggestion was made to me that many children, other than those in my own school, might enjoy hearing and learning the poems. Accordingly this collection of verses is put forward in the hope that it will be a source of sincere enjoyment to the little people of the world.

ENID BLYTON.

In the garden very earlyRosamunda’s walking,And to her surprise she hearsLots of fairies talking.She looks around but cannot seeWhere they can be hiding;Not on any butterflyNor bee, are they a-riding.She goes to where the tulips growAnd finds a sight of wonder,For out pop fairy elves and say,“Good-morning, Rosamunda!”

In the garden very earlyRosamunda’s walking,And to her surprise she hearsLots of fairies talking.

She looks around but cannot seeWhere they can be hiding;Not on any butterflyNor bee, are they a-riding.

She goes to where the tulips growAnd finds a sight of wonder,For out pop fairy elves and say,“Good-morning, Rosamunda!”

Once I found a fairyIn my cup of tea.She was nearly drownedAnd wet as wet could be.I picked her out and dried herAnd asked her if she’d stay;“Oh, no,” she said, “I mustn’t,”And off she flew away.

Once I found a fairyIn my cup of tea.She was nearly drownedAnd wet as wet could be.

I picked her out and dried herAnd asked her if she’d stay;“Oh, no,” she said, “I mustn’t,”And off she flew away.

My dollies are so naughty,I’m afraid they’ve gone on strike;They won’t let me undress them,But just do what they like.They say they want a pennyTo spend on Saturday,And ’less I let them have it,They’ll not join in my play.I can’t let them behave so,They’ll never grow up right—But I know they will be sorryWhen I don’t kiss them good-night.

My dollies are so naughty,I’m afraid they’ve gone on strike;They won’t let me undress them,But just do what they like.

They say they want a pennyTo spend on Saturday,And ’less I let them have it,They’ll not join in my play.

I can’t let them behave so,They’ll never grow up right—But I know they will be sorryWhen I don’t kiss them good-night.

If you want to see a fairy,In the middle of the night,Wrap the blanket round you,And shut your eyes up tight.Say “Akral dafarray!”And open your right eye,And (if you’ve been a good child)A fairy flutters by!

The rain had rained all morning,And then the sun shone fair,And all the garden glitteredWith raindrops everywhere!There were raindrops on the grasses,And raindrops on the trees,And how they shook and shivered,Like diamonds, in the breeze!And oh, I saw a fairyCome flying right by me;She shook a score of raindrops,From off the hazel tree.She slung them on a spider’s thread,A necklace made of rain!She clasped them round her little neck,And off she flew again!

The rain had rained all morning,And then the sun shone fair,And all the garden glitteredWith raindrops everywhere!

There were raindrops on the grasses,And raindrops on the trees,And how they shook and shivered,Like diamonds, in the breeze!

And oh, I saw a fairyCome flying right by me;She shook a score of raindrops,From off the hazel tree.

She slung them on a spider’s thread,A necklace made of rain!She clasped them round her little neck,And off she flew again!

I put on my hat with the band of blue,And my frock with the frilly lace,I took my sunshade, and held it up,To keep the sun off my face.I thought I’d go calling like Mother does,And have pretty cakes for tea,And sit on the edge of a chair and talkWith a tea-cup on my knee.I walked all along the sunny road,Till I came to Mrs. Leroy’s.I climbed the steps, and I rang the bell—It made such a jangley noise.And then I suddenly felt afraid,And couldn’t think what I would sayWhen they opened the door—so I jumpedthe steps,And I ran back home all the way.Nurse saw me coining in my best frock,And oh, how she scolded me!And that’s why I’m wearing an overall now,And not having jam for tea.

I put on my hat with the band of blue,And my frock with the frilly lace,I took my sunshade, and held it up,To keep the sun off my face.

I thought I’d go calling like Mother does,And have pretty cakes for tea,And sit on the edge of a chair and talkWith a tea-cup on my knee.

I walked all along the sunny road,Till I came to Mrs. Leroy’s.I climbed the steps, and I rang the bell—It made such a jangley noise.

And then I suddenly felt afraid,And couldn’t think what I would sayWhen they opened the door—so I jumpedthe steps,And I ran back home all the way.

Nurse saw me coining in my best frock,And oh, how she scolded me!And that’s why I’m wearing an overall now,And not having jam for tea.

I go round the garden early, when the grass isbright with dew,And I have to put goloshes on my feet.I’ll tell you all I do there, right away frompeople’s view,When the world is half-awake and verysweet.I shake the lady hollyhocks to make the beesfly out,And I see how much they’ve grown sinceyesterday.I pop the fattest fuchsia buds, if gardener’snot about,And I blow the dandelion clocks away.I smell the honeysuckle and the lavender aswell,I take the rose-leaves fallen down beyond;They’re pink and white and beautiful, just likea fairy shell,And I save them up for sailing on the pond.I stand upon the mossy wall, and smell thenew mown hay,And I feel the wind that blows the cloudsalong;I think there never,nevercould be such alovely day—And then, I hear that horrid breakfast gong!

I shake the lady hollyhocks to make the beesfly out,And I see how much they’ve grown sinceyesterday.I pop the fattest fuchsia buds, if gardener’snot about,And I blow the dandelion clocks away.

I smell the honeysuckle and the lavender aswell,I take the rose-leaves fallen down beyond;They’re pink and white and beautiful, just likea fairy shell,And I save them up for sailing on the pond.

I stand upon the mossy wall, and smell thenew mown hay,And I feel the wind that blows the cloudsalong;I think there never,nevercould be such alovely day—And then, I hear that horrid breakfast gong!

When I am cross as I can be, and nothing’sever right,Then Mummy says there’s naughty goblins,hiding out of sight,Who try to make me do what’s wrong, and tryto make me bad,They like me to forget things, and make otherpeople sad.I’ve never found them anywhere, I don’t knowwhere to look,I’ve only seen them in the pages of mypicture-book,But oh, I’msurethey’re all about ineverybody’s house,Little creepy-crawley things, as quiet as amouse.When cook forgets to put the sugar in theSunday cake,And gardener breaks the barrow-wheel, andloses Daddie’s rake,And Nurse is very cross indeed, and won’t letme go out,I always know those nasty little goblins areabout.I play next-door with Peter, and there’sgoblins even there,Altho’ it’s such a lovely house, I can’t thinkhow they dare,But often Peter’s Daddie is as grumpy as canbe,All over nothing, so the goblins must be there,you see.Whenever things go very wrong, I hide myselfaway,To try and see those goblins, and I’m sure Ishall some day.And if they bother you at all, you try andcatch them, too,Andwillyou save them up for me to look at,if you do?

I’ve never found them anywhere, I don’t knowwhere to look,I’ve only seen them in the pages of mypicture-book,But oh, I’msurethey’re all about ineverybody’s house,Little creepy-crawley things, as quiet as amouse.

When cook forgets to put the sugar in theSunday cake,And gardener breaks the barrow-wheel, andloses Daddie’s rake,And Nurse is very cross indeed, and won’t letme go out,I always know those nasty little goblins areabout.

I play next-door with Peter, and there’sgoblins even there,Altho’ it’s such a lovely house, I can’t thinkhow they dare,But often Peter’s Daddie is as grumpy as canbe,All over nothing, so the goblins must be there,you see.

Whenever things go very wrong, I hide myselfaway,To try and see those goblins, and I’m sure Ishall some day.And if they bother you at all, you try andcatch them, too,Andwillyou save them up for me to look at,if you do?

Just before they go to bed,The fairy babes are toldTo sit upon their toadstools, andTo be as good as gold.So down they sit, all in a ring,It’s supper-time, they know,For look, their little acorn cupsAre standing in a row.A fairy fills the little cups,With dew and honey sweetAnd gives one to each little babeWith something nice to eat.Then off into the trees they flyAnd curl themselves up tightInside a leaf that’s soft and warm,And there they sleep all night.

Just before they go to bed,The fairy babes are toldTo sit upon their toadstools, andTo be as good as gold.

So down they sit, all in a ring,It’s supper-time, they know,For look, their little acorn cupsAre standing in a row.

A fairy fills the little cups,With dew and honey sweetAnd gives one to each little babeWith something nice to eat.

Then off into the trees they flyAnd curl themselves up tightInside a leaf that’s soft and warm,And there they sleep all night.

Up the lane behind our houseA little hill you climb,And at the top on either sideThere is in Summer time—A cornfield waving in the wind,Where poppies shake their headAnd peep at you between the corn,A glowing dancing red—I’ll tell you what I did one dayWhen nurse was cross with me,And pulled my hair back in a plait,As tight as tight could be—I crept up to the swaying cornAnd in the poppies thereI sat down by myself, and thenI undid all my hair!I picked some gleaming poppies red,The biggest I could find,I wound them tightly in my curls,And some hung down behind.I walked about so very grandTill it began to rain,When one by one the poppies fell,And I went home again.

I caught a lovely butterfly,In Marianna’s net.It was the sweetest blue and gold,The prettiest I’d seen yet.But Marianna came and saidThe butterfly should beNot mine, buthers, because the netBelonged to her, not me.We quarrelled hard, and didn’t stop,Until my frock was torn,And then she pointed down to whereThe net lay, on the lawn.The butterfly was creeping outAnd spread its wings of blue,And thenstood up, just fancy that!You’d hardly think it true!We saw then what it really was,A fairy, come to play,And all because we quarrelled so,She fluttered right away.

I caught a lovely butterfly,In Marianna’s net.It was the sweetest blue and gold,The prettiest I’d seen yet.

But Marianna came and saidThe butterfly should beNot mine, buthers, because the netBelonged to her, not me.

We quarrelled hard, and didn’t stop,Until my frock was torn,And then she pointed down to whereThe net lay, on the lawn.

The butterfly was creeping outAnd spread its wings of blue,And thenstood up, just fancy that!You’d hardly think it true!

We saw then what it really was,A fairy, come to play,And all because we quarrelled so,She fluttered right away.

In my Mummy’s wardrobe, there are lots oflovely frocks,I know because I’ve seen them hangingthere;There’s purple, and there’s orange, and a frillyone of blue,And a yellow that is shiny like her hair.The satin frocks make Mummy look just like afairy Queen—But she can’t cuddle me at all in those—And when she wears a silken frock, it rustleslike the trees—But I can’t kiss her ’cos I spoils the bows.And tho’ I love her pretty dresses, ’cos shelooks so grand,What I like really best of all to see,Is when she’s in the garden, wearingjustanoverall—And comes to romp and play about with me.

The satin frocks make Mummy look just like afairy Queen—But she can’t cuddle me at all in those—And when she wears a silken frock, it rustleslike the trees—But I can’t kiss her ’cos I spoils the bows.

And tho’ I love her pretty dresses, ’cos shelooks so grand,What I like really best of all to see,Is when she’s in the garden, wearingjustanoverall—And comes to romp and play about with me.

“Hurrah!” says the wind, as he sweeps along,“Three cheers for the sun to-day,Just look at him shining away in the sky!Do come along, children, and play!I’ll fly your kites on the top of the hill,And I’ll spin the old weather-cock round!I’ll send your boats sailing away down thestream,Till bump! they have all come aground!Come along while I turn the old windmill about,And hear how it groans and it creaks;Just see how I tweak off your bonnets and caps,And hear all the laughter and shrieks!I’ll make you run faster than ever before,I’ll spin you around and about!Oh, hurry up, children, and come out of school,Hurrah!” says the wind, with a shout!

“Hurrah!” says the wind, as he sweeps along,“Three cheers for the sun to-day,Just look at him shining away in the sky!Do come along, children, and play!

I’ll fly your kites on the top of the hill,And I’ll spin the old weather-cock round!I’ll send your boats sailing away down thestream,Till bump! they have all come aground!

Come along while I turn the old windmill about,And hear how it groans and it creaks;Just see how I tweak off your bonnets and caps,And hear all the laughter and shrieks!

I’ll make you run faster than ever before,I’ll spin you around and about!Oh, hurry up, children, and come out of school,Hurrah!” says the wind, with a shout!

Opposite the nursery sat a woman old andbrown,I should think she was the very oldest personin the town,She sold balloons to children as they passedher corner there,She was very cross and horrid and she had anasty stare.I looked at her one morning, on a verywindy day,And she saw me and she stared at me in sucha nasty way,I felt afraid, and certain sure that she must bea witch,And keep all sorts of stolen treasures hiddenin a ditch.And as I looked at her, and she was staring upat me,I saw a fairy flying low from out the chestnuttree,She held a little knife, and oh, she cut thestrings right through,That held the big balloons together, then awayshe flew!And off went all the purple ones and off wentall the pink,A-flying in the air as high as ever you couldthink,Around the chimney pots, and right away upin the sky,Until they bumped into the clouds, a-sailingslowly by.And then I looked to see what that old womanhad to say,But there wasn’t any sign of her, she’dvanished right away,Shemusthave been a wicked witch, and bythe fairies slain,For tho’ I’ve looked each morning, she hasnevercome again.

I looked at her one morning, on a verywindy day,And she saw me and she stared at me in sucha nasty way,I felt afraid, and certain sure that she must bea witch,And keep all sorts of stolen treasures hiddenin a ditch.

And as I looked at her, and she was staring upat me,I saw a fairy flying low from out the chestnuttree,She held a little knife, and oh, she cut thestrings right through,That held the big balloons together, then awayshe flew!

And off went all the purple ones and off wentall the pink,A-flying in the air as high as ever you couldthink,Around the chimney pots, and right away upin the sky,Until they bumped into the clouds, a-sailingslowly by.

And then I looked to see what that old womanhad to say,But there wasn’t any sign of her, she’dvanished right away,Shemusthave been a wicked witch, and bythe fairies slain,For tho’ I’ve looked each morning, she hasnevercome again.

I found a little fairy fluteBeneath a harebell blue;I sat me down upon the mossAnd blew a note or two.And as I blew the rabbits cameAround me in the sun,And little mice and velvet molesCame creeping, one by one.A swallow perched upon my head,A robin on my thumb,The thrushes sang in tune with me,The bees began to hum.I loved to see them all aroundAnd wished they’d always stay,When down a little fairy flewAndsnatchedmy flute away!And then the swallow fluttered off,And gone were all the bees,The rabbits ran, and I was leftAlone among the trees!

I found a little fairy fluteBeneath a harebell blue;I sat me down upon the mossAnd blew a note or two.

And as I blew the rabbits cameAround me in the sun,And little mice and velvet molesCame creeping, one by one.

A swallow perched upon my head,A robin on my thumb,The thrushes sang in tune with me,The bees began to hum.

I loved to see them all aroundAnd wished they’d always stay,When down a little fairy flewAndsnatchedmy flute away!

And then the swallow fluttered off,And gone were all the bees,The rabbits ran, and I was leftAlone among the trees!

Right on the top of the Feraling HillThere’s a queer little seat made of stone,And sometimes I climb up the heathery slope.And sit in the wind all alone.Nobody knows why the little seat’s there,(It’s almost too tiny for me)But I love to squeeze into it on a clear day,And look over the hills to the sea.Sometimes I’ve sat there and heard funnysoundsAnd voices, and tho’ I’ve kept still,I’ve only seen one of the queer Little FolkThat Iknowlive inside of the hill.For once I came quietly up to the stone—And on it sat one of the Folk!He was looking across all the hills to the sea,But he vanished away when I spoke.And that’s howIknow why the little seat’sthere,And why it’s small even for me;The Folk put it there in the wind, forthey loveTo look over the hills to the sea.

Right on the top of the Feraling HillThere’s a queer little seat made of stone,And sometimes I climb up the heathery slope.And sit in the wind all alone.

Nobody knows why the little seat’s there,(It’s almost too tiny for me)But I love to squeeze into it on a clear day,And look over the hills to the sea.

Sometimes I’ve sat there and heard funnysoundsAnd voices, and tho’ I’ve kept still,I’ve only seen one of the queer Little FolkThat Iknowlive inside of the hill.

For once I came quietly up to the stone—And on it sat one of the Folk!He was looking across all the hills to the sea,But he vanished away when I spoke.

And that’s howIknow why the little seat’sthere,And why it’s small even for me;The Folk put it there in the wind, forthey loveTo look over the hills to the sea.

I was playing in the meadow, where there’snot a single tree,I was throwing bits of sorrel at a fat oldbumble-bee,And then—I just looked up to see the cloudsgo sailing by—And oh, I saw themoon, in daytime! and Ican’tthink why!Such funny things keep happ’ning, andthey’ve happened all to-day,First, I found a weeny mouse, all cuddled inthe hay,Then at home we’ve got a baby, fromIdon’tknow where!And now I find the moon attea-time, sitting inthe air!I’m sure it’s wrong, because the Bible says it’smeant for night,And look, it hides behind the clouds—it knowsit isn’t right.Now there it comes! Oh, silly moon, you makethe sun look fine,’Cos bumping up against the clouds hasrubbed off allyourshine!

Such funny things keep happ’ning, andthey’ve happened all to-day,First, I found a weeny mouse, all cuddled inthe hay,Then at home we’ve got a baby, fromIdon’tknow where!And now I find the moon attea-time, sitting inthe air!

I’m sure it’s wrong, because the Bible says it’smeant for night,And look, it hides behind the clouds—it knowsit isn’t right.Now there it comes! Oh, silly moon, you makethe sun look fine,’Cos bumping up against the clouds hasrubbed off allyourshine!

Oh, April brings the cuckoo-bird, and Aprilbrings the rain,April hangs a hundred sunny raindrops in thelane,She can wash the sky with woolly clouds ofpurest white,And gaily dress it up in rainbows, curving outof sight.Oh, April hangs the chestnut trees with spiresof white and pink,And kisses all the primroses along the river’sbrink,She peeps into the tiny nests where eggs arehidden well,And searches out the purple violets growing inthe dell.Oh, April swings the apple blossom, sweetagainst the skyAnd chases all the bob-tail rabbits scuttlinggaily by,She dances with the meadow cowslips, droopingheads of gold,Oh, April is the sweetest month that any yearcan hold!

Oh, April hangs the chestnut trees with spiresof white and pink,And kisses all the primroses along the river’sbrink,She peeps into the tiny nests where eggs arehidden well,And searches out the purple violets growing inthe dell.

Oh, April swings the apple blossom, sweetagainst the skyAnd chases all the bob-tail rabbits scuttlinggaily by,She dances with the meadow cowslips, droopingheads of gold,Oh, April is the sweetest month that any yearcan hold!

Away in the wood where it’s dark,There’s a pool that is purplish green,With whispering rushes around,That murmur of things they have seen.I once lay and listened all night,And heard why the pool lies alone;Not even a fairy goes nearAnd only the sad rushes moan.I heard how there once lived a witch,Who weaved wicked spells night and day,And used the pool’s purplish deepsFor things which I wouldn’t dare say.Then one day she vanished and went,And never was seen any more,But silent and still lay the pool,And darker than ever before.No fairy knows what the pool holds,And none guesses what secrets lieHid safely away in its deeps,But shuddering, all pass it by.Take heed when you go through the wood,And pass where the pool lies alone—Not even a fairy goes near,And only the sad rushes moan!

Away in the wood where it’s dark,There’s a pool that is purplish green,With whispering rushes around,That murmur of things they have seen.

I once lay and listened all night,And heard why the pool lies alone;Not even a fairy goes nearAnd only the sad rushes moan.

I heard how there once lived a witch,Who weaved wicked spells night and day,And used the pool’s purplish deepsFor things which I wouldn’t dare say.

Then one day she vanished and went,And never was seen any more,But silent and still lay the pool,And darker than ever before.

No fairy knows what the pool holds,And none guesses what secrets lieHid safely away in its deeps,But shuddering, all pass it by.

Take heed when you go through the wood,And pass where the pool lies alone—Not even a fairy goes near,And only the sad rushes moan!

This afternoon is very hot,And all the sky is blue,The busy bees are humming loud,They have a lot to do.I want to go out in the fieldsWhere all the daisies grow,And watch the little breezes bendThe grasses to and fro.I want to watch the butterflies,And hear the cuckoo call,I’d cuckoo back to see if heWould answer me at all.The buttercups are shaking goldUpon the dry brown earth,And shiny beetles race alongThe ground, for all they’re worth.I want to lie down on the grassAnd look up at the sky,It looks so queer and far awayAnd wonderfully high.It’s such a lovely afternoon,With lovely things to see;Oh,whymust I in my best frockBe taken out to tea?

This afternoon is very hot,And all the sky is blue,The busy bees are humming loud,They have a lot to do.

I want to go out in the fieldsWhere all the daisies grow,And watch the little breezes bendThe grasses to and fro.I want to watch the butterflies,And hear the cuckoo call,I’d cuckoo back to see if heWould answer me at all.

The buttercups are shaking goldUpon the dry brown earth,And shiny beetles race alongThe ground, for all they’re worth.I want to lie down on the grassAnd look up at the sky,It looks so queer and far awayAnd wonderfully high.

It’s such a lovely afternoon,With lovely things to see;Oh,whymust I in my best frockBe taken out to tea?

Inside of me there’s a Feeling lives,That wakes when I see a rose,Or the snow, or sunshine, or daisy fields;It wakes for a time—and then goes.When I suddenly see the rainbow shineRight over the sky so wide,And the sunshine gleams thro’ the pouring rain,I get that “Feeling” inside.When I get out of bed on a winter’s morn,And look thro’ my window pane,And find the snow on the trees and fields,I get the Feeling again.When a great big wave comes sweeping upOn a stormy and windy tide,And crashes against the rocks in spray,I get the Feeling inside.I once told Nannie just how I felt,But I’m not going to tell her again.Shedidn’t know at all what I meant,She called my Feeling apain!

Inside of me there’s a Feeling lives,That wakes when I see a rose,Or the snow, or sunshine, or daisy fields;It wakes for a time—and then goes.

When I suddenly see the rainbow shineRight over the sky so wide,And the sunshine gleams thro’ the pouring rain,I get that “Feeling” inside.

When I get out of bed on a winter’s morn,And look thro’ my window pane,And find the snow on the trees and fields,I get the Feeling again.

When a great big wave comes sweeping upOn a stormy and windy tide,And crashes against the rocks in spray,I get the Feeling inside.

I once told Nannie just how I felt,But I’m not going to tell her again.Shedidn’t know at all what I meant,She called my Feeling apain!

A little gnome in FairylandOnce found a pot of glue,And he of course began to thinkWhat mischief he could do!He smeared the toadstools, one and all,Whereon the fairies sat,And oh, how cross they were to findA naughty trick like that!He dropped some glue upon the grass,To catch the fairies’ feet,When there came by the Fairy KingAnd Queen with all their suite.The King walked straight upon the glueAnd found he couldn’t stir!Then came the frightened gnome, and cried,“Oh, please have mercy, Sir!I didn’t mean to catchyourfeetWithin my sticky glue,But please forgive me and I’ll findSome better thing to do!”“I’ll pardon you,” the King replied,“But harken what I say,Go, use your glue onchestnutbuds,To keep the frost away.”So in the chestnuts every springThe gnome works all day long,And if you touch a bud, you’ll findHis glue isverystrong!

A little gnome in FairylandOnce found a pot of glue,And he of course began to thinkWhat mischief he could do!

He smeared the toadstools, one and all,Whereon the fairies sat,And oh, how cross they were to findA naughty trick like that!

He dropped some glue upon the grass,To catch the fairies’ feet,When there came by the Fairy KingAnd Queen with all their suite.

The King walked straight upon the glueAnd found he couldn’t stir!Then came the frightened gnome, and cried,“Oh, please have mercy, Sir!

I didn’t mean to catchyourfeetWithin my sticky glue,But please forgive me and I’ll findSome better thing to do!”

“I’ll pardon you,” the King replied,“But harken what I say,Go, use your glue onchestnutbuds,To keep the frost away.”

So in the chestnuts every springThe gnome works all day long,And if you touch a bud, you’ll findHis glue isverystrong!

We always wake at six o’clock,When Nurse is still asleep;She’s hidden under all the clothes,Her breathes are loud and deep.We mustn’t talk till seven strikes,And so we just turn roundAnd hear the milk-carts going by,They have a tinny sound.I look up at the ceiling, andI count the cracks I see,And all the flies upon the wall;Once there weretwenty-three!Teddie pulls out feathers fromThe eiderdown, and blowsWith all his might, to make them dropOn top of Nurse’s nose.I breathe on all the brassy nobsThat feel so very cold;They go quite dull till Teddie rubs,And makes them shine like gold.And now I’ve told you all these things,If you wake early, too,And mustn’t talk till seven strikes,You’llknow just what to do.

We always wake at six o’clock,When Nurse is still asleep;She’s hidden under all the clothes,Her breathes are loud and deep.

We mustn’t talk till seven strikes,And so we just turn roundAnd hear the milk-carts going by,They have a tinny sound.

I look up at the ceiling, andI count the cracks I see,And all the flies upon the wall;Once there weretwenty-three!

Teddie pulls out feathers fromThe eiderdown, and blowsWith all his might, to make them dropOn top of Nurse’s nose.

I breathe on all the brassy nobsThat feel so very cold;They go quite dull till Teddie rubs,And makes them shine like gold.

And now I’ve told you all these things,If you wake early, too,And mustn’t talk till seven strikes,You’llknow just what to do.

As Anna slept beside the fireAn imp as black as sootCame down the chimney in a bound,And landed by her foot!He looked at her black shining shoe,A frown came on his face,He thought it was a piece of coalA-tumbled from its place!And so he started tugging hardTo put it back againUpon the fire, when Anna wokeAnd gave a cry of pain!“You naughty little imp,” she cried,“Just leave my foot alone!”And in a trice the imp had jumpedAnd up the chimney flown!So when you’re sitting by the fire,It’s better, on the whole,To keep awake, in case that impShould thinkyourshoes are coal!

As Anna slept beside the fireAn imp as black as sootCame down the chimney in a bound,And landed by her foot!

He looked at her black shining shoe,A frown came on his face,He thought it was a piece of coalA-tumbled from its place!

And so he started tugging hardTo put it back againUpon the fire, when Anna wokeAnd gave a cry of pain!

“You naughty little imp,” she cried,“Just leave my foot alone!”And in a trice the imp had jumpedAnd up the chimney flown!

So when you’re sitting by the fire,It’s better, on the whole,To keep awake, in case that impShould thinkyourshoes are coal!

The sun is shining hot and bright,The gardener’s mowing grass,He’s doing it with all his might,I hear his footsteps pass.Nurse put me here in bed aloneBecause I’ve not been good;I think her heart is hard as stone—I didn’t think she would.I haven’t been so very bad,I’ll tell you what I’ve done.I took a pencil that I had,A lovely orange one.I drew a splendid pattern roundThe dining room and hall,And trees that grew up from the ground,Right up the nursery wall.I’d started on a giant’s head,I know just how they’re made,When Nurse came in, so cross and red,It made me feel afraid.I never had behaved, she said,So wickedly before;She made me go upstairs to bed,And then she banged the door.She took my toys and books and ball,And all the bricks I’d built;There’s nothing here that’s nice at all,’Cept Grannie’s patchwork quilt!

The sun is shining hot and bright,The gardener’s mowing grass,He’s doing it with all his might,I hear his footsteps pass.

Nurse put me here in bed aloneBecause I’ve not been good;I think her heart is hard as stone—I didn’t think she would.

I haven’t been so very bad,I’ll tell you what I’ve done.I took a pencil that I had,A lovely orange one.

I drew a splendid pattern roundThe dining room and hall,And trees that grew up from the ground,Right up the nursery wall.

I’d started on a giant’s head,I know just how they’re made,When Nurse came in, so cross and red,It made me feel afraid.

I never had behaved, she said,So wickedly before;She made me go upstairs to bed,And then she banged the door.

She took my toys and books and ball,And all the bricks I’d built;There’s nothing here that’s nice at all,’Cept Grannie’s patchwork quilt!

Round about the orchard went the merrylittle breeze,Playing with the butterflies and teasing allthe bees,Sending showers of apple-blossom down uponthe ground,And spilling half the dew-drops from thegrasses all around.He ruffled up the feathers of the ducks a-sailingby,And hustled all the lazy clods that floated inthe sky,He swung the beeches to and fro, then dartedoff againTo dry the shiny puddles scattered down alongthe lane.The chimney smoke he twisted in the queerestkind of way,Until at last the little breeze was weary of hisplay;He crept back to the orchard, where thedaffodillies peep,And there it was I found him lying, curled upfast asleep!

He ruffled up the feathers of the ducks a-sailingby,And hustled all the lazy clods that floated inthe sky,He swung the beeches to and fro, then dartedoff againTo dry the shiny puddles scattered down alongthe lane.

The chimney smoke he twisted in the queerestkind of way,Until at last the little breeze was weary of hisplay;He crept back to the orchard, where thedaffodillies peep,And there it was I found him lying, curled upfast asleep!

We’ve a little summer houseWith a pointed top,And on it, watching us at play,The fairies often stop.But now we’ve done a dreadful thing,And frightened them away,Because, by accident, our ballStruck two of them to-day.It bounced upon the summer house,And hurt the fairies there;They flew away with cries of pain,And said it wasn’t fair.Each day we watch our summer houseAnd watch the pointed top.But now, tho’ fairies fly around,Theynevercome to stop.

We’ve a little summer houseWith a pointed top,And on it, watching us at play,The fairies often stop.

But now we’ve done a dreadful thing,And frightened them away,Because, by accident, our ballStruck two of them to-day.

It bounced upon the summer house,And hurt the fairies there;They flew away with cries of pain,And said it wasn’t fair.

Each day we watch our summer houseAnd watch the pointed top.But now, tho’ fairies fly around,Theynevercome to stop.

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