flower
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TheQueen o' MayHeld court one day,—The fields had nought to give her;All in their bestHer maids were drest,And they began to shiver."Now, never sneeze,But warm your knees,And look for daisies growing;You'll find the airQuite soft and fair,Unless it fall a-snowing.""Quite soft!" they said,Each loyal maid."So fair!" the boys went chaffing;But soon the MayCame down that way,And set them all a-laughing.
woman under parasol surrounded by admirersTHE QUEEN O' MAY.
THE QUEEN O' MAY.
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"Nowchildren," said Puss, as she shook her head,"It is time your morning lesson was said:"So her kittens drew near with footsteps slow,And sat down before her, all in a row."Attention, class!" said the cat-mamma,"And tell me quick where your noses are."At this all the kittens sniffed the airAs though it were filled with a perfume rare."Now what do you say when you want a drink?"The kittens waited a moment to think,And then the answer came clear and loud—You ought to have heard how those kittens meow'd!"Very well. 'Tis the same, with a sharper tone,When you want a fish or a bit of bone.Now what do you say when children are good?"And the kittens purred as soft as they could."And what do you do when children are bad?When they tease and pull?" each kitty looked sad."Pooh!" said their mother, "that isn't enough;You must use your claws when children are rough!""And where are your claws? no, no, my dear,(As she took up a paw) see! they're hidden here:"Then all the kittens crowded aboutTo see their sharp little claws brought out.
cat teaching kittens
They felt quite sure they never should needTo use such weapons—oh, no, indeed!But their wise mamma gave a pussy's "pshaw!"And boxed their ears with her softest paw."Now 'Stpisss!' as hard as you can," she said—But every kitten hung down its head—"Stpisss! I say," cried the mother cat,But they said, "O mammy we can't do that!""Then go and play," said the fond mamma;"What sweet little idiots kittens are!Ah well, I was once the same, I suppose"—And she looked very wise and rubbed her nose.
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Twistan Turnem, let me see,Which is the way to Tweedle-dee?Why, turn about the way you've come,And take the road to Tweedle-dum.
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Tellme, O wandering Joe!How many miles did you go?Why, one to my mother's,And three to my brother's,And just half a dozenTo hunt up a cousin;And half a mile yonderA hen-roost to plunder;And three half miles backTo cover the track.Then a half and a halfTo water the calf,And a half and a quarterBefore I found water;Add a quarter to that,When I chased a black bat;Then two to town,To see Jim Brown;And two, and none,And one for fun,And one for luck,And one for pluck;And one for trouble,And two for double;And then 'twas bestTo sit and rest.And now, my friend, says Joe,How many milesdidI go?
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Whetherfair, whether foul,Be it wet or dry,Cloudy time or shiny timeThe sun's in the sky.Gloomy-night, sparkle-night,Be it glad or dread,Cloudy time or shiny time,Stars are overhead.
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three rats
WhenI'm sittingAt my knittingAfter tea—Deary me!Such commotion,Land o' Goshen!And it's allIn the wall.Rumble, tumble,Flurry, scurry.Now a rushing,And a crushing;Now a rattle,And a battle;Now a squeakAnd a fall
So I sitAnd I knit;And I ponderAnd wonder,And scarcely know how,In the racket and row,My wits to recall.But the clatter,For that matter,And the rumbleAnd tumbleAnd scratchingAnd catchingKeep onThrough it all.Rats in dozens,With their cousins,Or in droves,With their loves:Now it's raps,Now it's taps,Or it's crunching,Or munching;Or a creak,Or a shriek;If I knewWhat to do,Or you'd showWhere to go,I'd be offLike a streak.tthree rats
rat running
But no, I must stayWhile they clamor away.Traps, cats,Sticks or rats—Bane or gun,It's all one.No, it's fudge,They won't budge!
rcat standing upright in suit with hands in pockets
Rat are rats,Spite of catsAnd the rest.But—my star!—Beginning or endOr middle, dependThe things are a pest;And they're allIn the wall,So they are!
three rats again
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girl reading book in woods
"Whatsays the book, my lassie?What says the book to thee?""It says the wood is beautiful,The blossoms fair to see;It says the brook tells merrilyA little tale of glee,And birds, brimful of melody,Do sing their songs for me.""Then close the page, my lassie,And lift thy pretty head,And what the book would say to theeThe wood shall say instead.The brook shall tell its merry tale,The flowers their brightness shed,And the birds shall sing—for life is life,And printed words are dead."Hear what the bird sings, lassie:'O little lady fair!The breath of flowers is over thee,The sunlight in thy hair;The heart of a little maidenIs free as birds in the air—And God is good to thee and me,O little lady fair!'"
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Twochildren once sat in the twilight grayPlaying a tune in a comical way;They both pressed a comb to their rosy red lips,And little they cared for tickles and slips,For wheezings, and paper that always would fall,For oh! such loud music, or no note at all.'Twas sweet to their ears, as fondly they heardThis musical strain coming forth, word for word:"W-h-h-wome, w-h-h-wome, szzzeeet, zhhweet zome,Bheet wev zo hhumble, therzzz nho blazzze liew zhhome!"Now they are grown, and sing in the choirOf their own village church with the beautiful spire;So sweet are her notes, so perfect her skill,Not a bird of the air but might envy her trill,Not a wind of the night but right gladly would knowHow to make his rich music so plaintive and low.Together their voices in harmony blend,And steep all their days in a joy without end;And yet in their hearts they have always confessedThat lovely duet long ago was the best,When they tingled their lips at the musical comb,And told all the world there was "zno blaizzz liew zhome."
two children sitting in a chair playing combs
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Say, do you hear my basketGo "kippy! kippy! pe-ek"?Maybe my funny basketIs learning how to speak.If you want to know the secret,Go ask the speckled hen,And tell her when I've warmed themI'll bring them back again.
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Twofair ships are sailing,Sailing over the sea,—Willie's ship and my ship—Full as full can be;Side by side, my Willie says,Like as pin to pin.Oh, the happy, happy daysWhen our ships come in!While our ships are sailing,Sailing over the sea,—Willie's ship and my ship,—Full as full can be,Sailing on the sunny tide,Grieving would be sin:Soon or late, and side by side,Shall our ships come in.
two ships at sea
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dog in bonnet
Oh, a perfect nose,And dainty toes,And woolen hose,Had Miss Rose!A dog was she of high degree,Born of an ancient family.From her mother's sideCame her Spanish pride;She had royal ways,And her pedigree reckonedFrom the glorious daysOf Charles the Second!Well, she needed an escortTo a party of some sort,One evening in May.And to see her bother'Twixt one dog and t'other,Was good as a play.Many pups came to sayThey would be at her service,But she sent them awayWith a manner quite nervous.In fact, I must own,Of dogs fully grown,She snubbed them by nameAs fast as they came:Sir Rover was coarse,And Ponto was cruel;Old Bounce was a horse,Young Pip lived on gruel;Spitz was a sneak,Fido was surly;Pomp was too sleek,Carlo too curly;Even elegant Pap,Who wore a gold collar,She said, with a snap,Wasn't worth a lead dollar.Then came a brave wightFor a desperate pull;He had been in a fight,Old Major de Bull.He was cross as a bear,And scanty of hair.Also young Isle of Skye,Rather down at the heel;And the well-mannered Guy,Who was sour, but genteel.
dog in top hat
But dainty Miss RoseStill tossed up her nose—She oughtn't, she couldn't,She wouldn't, she shouldn'tWith one of them go,She'd thank 'em to know.By this time it was growing late,And dainty Rose bemoaned her fate;When, in the sky, there sprang in sightA throbbing, sparkling thing of light."What's that," she cried, "I see afar?"And Guy replied, "The great Dog Star—Too Sirius, dear, for such as you,And very much above you, too.""Not so, indeed!" cried dainty Rose,No longer tossing up her nose."Now, I am matched at last, you see,The Dog Star shall my escort be!"Then off she started, quite content,And gallantly the Dog Star went.For all the way he kept in sight,And held her in his tender light,Guiding her steps with steady rays,And blinking when he met her gaze.
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Poorlittle mousie, what a mishap!Why did you put your nose in the trap?Hold still, mousie, and trust to me—I'll touch the spring, and set you free!
mouse running
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girl warming slippers by fire
In the gray of the twilight and glow of the fire,A little girl sat on the rug.She was warming a slipper; and pussy sat nigh her,And also her friend, Mr. Pug.And the song in the heart of the glad little girl,As the light of the fire played over each curl,Was, "Father is coming—hurrah! hurrah!Father is coming—hurrah!"She had spread out his soft woolen gown on the chair,With its facings of beautiful blue;Had picked up her playthings that lay here and there,And arranged things as well as she knew."For the room must be tidy and pretty and bright,"She said to herself, "when he comes, every night,And soon he is coming—hurrah! hurrah!Father is coming—hurrah!"How rosy her cheeks, and how sparkling her eyes!How dimpled her soft little hand!While Pussy and Pug look as solemn and wiseAs if the whole scene they had planned.But you never would think, so demure are the three,That the little maid's heart could be singing with glee,"Father is coming—hurrah! hurrah!Father is coming—hurrah!"The sunlight has vanished, and bleak is the street,And beggars are dreading the night.The pavement is noisy with home-speeding feet,And only the windows are bright;When quickly the little maid springs from the rug,Leaving Pussy half sleeping, but followed by Pug;"Father is coming—hurrah! hurrah!Father is coming—hurrah!"
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I've got a penny,What shall I buy?I'll buy a—whistle,That's what I'll buy.I've got two pence,What shall I buy?I'll buy a—pop-gun,That's what I'll buy.I've got three pence,What shall I buy?I'll buy a—horsey,That's what I'll buy.
[1]The charm of this thrilling ditty lies in allowing baby to suggest the last word of the third lines.
[1]The charm of this thrilling ditty lies in allowing baby to suggest the last word of the third lines.
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squirrel
Rut-a-tut-tuts!Who can crack nuts?Squirrels, can you?"That we can, true—Rut-a-tut-tuts,We can crack nuts!"Chicketty-chack,Cracketty-crack."Pooh!" said the hammer,"Silence your clamor,Rut-a-tut-tuts—Who can't crack nuts?"
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Halloo, old scuttle! good old soul,What's become of all your coal?"Why the tongs he came with a gobbledy-gun,And took my coals out, one by one;And the blaze ran in with a tricksy-spireAnd set the pretty things a-fire;And the blower came with a roaring-roar,And made them burn up more and more;And then the poker with koppitty-hop,He poked their ashes and made 'em drop—And that, O Gobbledy-Koppitty-dole!Is what's become of all my coal."
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Ifblue-birds bloomed like flowers in a row,And never could make a sound,How would the daisies and violets knowWhen to come out of the ground!They would wait and wait the seasons round;Never a flower could on earth be found.And what would birds and butterflies doIf the flowers had wings to fly?Why, birds and blossoms, and butterflies too,Would stay far up in the sky;And then the people would droop and sigh,And all the children on earth would cry.
three children sitting on ground crying with birds around them
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Oho!but he travels the country over,The queer little, kind little, elfish rover!Lightly he bears in his tricksome handA silvery horn full of sleepy sand,Shaking it here, and shaking it there,Till the blossoms nod in the drowsy air;Till the sunlight creeps up hill to bed,Or slips through the sky where clouds are red;Till the lambkins bleat a soft "good-night!"And birds grow still in the tree-tops bright,While sweet little eyelids, all over the land,Droop with the weight of the silvery sand.Oho! Oho! where the Sand Man goesEvery one wonders and nobody knows;For just when the right time comes to peep,Little and big are falling asleep.He steals to the cradles, the cribs, the beds,And sprinkles his sand over children's heads,Till bright little faces lie warm and still,Smiling or grave, at the Sand Man's will.He catches them often at full midday,And bids them stop in their merry play—With a "Ho! my darling," "Hi! my dear,""I'll sing a dream-song into your ear."
child falling asleep on chair
Some on the carpet, some on the chairs,Some curled up on the nursery stairs;Some in the grass where the shadows play,Some hidden deep in the fragrant hay,And some who, folded in mother's embrace,Float in a lullaby, pressing her face.Oho! but he travels the country over,The queer little, kind little, elfish rover!And whence he comes, and whither he goes,Every one wonders, and nobody knows;For just when the right time comes to peep,All the children are falling asleep.
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cats causing mess in greenhouse
Threebig cats in a greenhouse.Oh! they look so meek,So sage and sleek,That but for the clashAnd the sudden crash,And the broken potsOf forget-me-nots,And upset roses,And dingy noses,And draggled vines,And tangled twines,And broken pink,You'd never thinkWhat a fearful fussAnd hopeless mussCould be made in a hurryAnd velvet flurryBy three meek cats in a greenhouse.
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Girl sitting down crying
Winnie Whiney, all things grieve her;Fannie Fibber, who'd believe her?Lotty Loozem, late to school, sir;Albert Allplay, quite a fool, sir;Kitty Kissem, loved by many,Georgy Grump, not loved by any.Ralphy Ruff—beware his fist, sir!Tillie Tattle, like a blister,Gus Goodaction, bright and cheery,Sammy Selfish, sour and dreary.Do you know them, as I've sung them?Easy 'tis to choose among them.
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Children playing stor using chair as counter
"Haveyou apples, good grocer?""O yes, ma'am, how many?""How do you sell them, Sir?""Two for a penny.""I'll have two, Mr. Grocer,They're good for my baby;Send 'em home in an hour, Sir.""That I will, lady."
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Therewas an old woman of Wigg,Who fattened her favorite pig."I'll eat him," she said,"From his tail to his head"—This greedy old woman of Wigg.
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small knight in big helmet
Therewas a brave knight of Lorraine,Who hated to give people pain."I'll skeer them," he said,"But won't kill 'em dead"—This noble young knight of Lorraine.
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doctor giving medicine to man with mouth wide open
Therewas an old doctor of Brille,Who gave all his patients a pill."It will cure 'em," he said,Or else kill 'em dead"—This skillful old doctor of Brille.
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child reading fairy book in bed with characters wandering around bed
"'Et me see," thought little May,Waking from her slumber,"How many 'tories do I know?Oh, a mons'rous number!First Cin'rella with her shoe,All d'essed up so sp'ended;"'Es, an' naughty B'ue Beard too,Always gettin' 'fended;'Fended with his wives he was,All account of keys,Then a-comin' back to say'Die Ma'am! on your knees!'Oh my! if she hadn't hadHer faithful sister Ann,No one ever would have comeTo kill that wicked man!Then the Bean-stalk—that was nice!Wis' I'd one this minute,Guess, though, I'd be most af'aid—Might be giants in it.Wonder if I was to beJack the Giant-killerNursey'd be af'aid o' me?Why, I wouldn't kill her!Not unless she combed too hard—Then I'd shake my axeJus' a 'ittle—wis' I hadA real one jus' like Jack's.Wis' I had a pair o' bootsLike Puss, who went a-walkin'!Wis' I had a Pussy too,Sittin' up a-talkin'.I wouldn't like to go get lostLike 'ittle Hop my T'umb'Way 'n the forest (don't I wishMy mamma'd only come!)A'most makes me feel af'aidT'inkin' 'bout 'em now;Gettin' lef' that way I t'inkWas dreffle, any how;—But, oh, the chil'ren in the wood,They must have been so f'ightened
two children in forest by tree
A-list'nin, to the t'under, orA-watchin' when it lighten'd.Don't see why they didn't go;Maybe, though, they couldn't—MyUncle wouldn't t'eat me so,Uncle Rodney wouldn't.Maybe in the mornin', too,They heard a lion roarin'—Here comes Nursey! now I'll playI'm fast as'eep, a-snorin'.
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OldCan-an'-must is a giant bold,But one thing scares him, I've been told;"I'm afraid when a youngster wastes his crust,He'll never be thrifty," says Can-an'-must.Old Can-an'-must is a giant bold,And only one thing makes him scold:"If I catch a youngster leaving a crust,I'll gobble him up!" says Can-an'-must.
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"I wish she had not died," she said,The words were soft and low;"Most little girls like me, papa,Have dear mammas, you know."There's Lulu Hart, next door. I thinkIt's nice to live that way;With some one sitting at the blindsTo watch you while you play;"I often see her look up quick,And smile at some one there;And when she laughs and hides away,She knows some one will care."Why didn't Doctor Bishop cureMy mother, dear papa?That's what he did one time, you know,For Lulu Hart's mamma."Say, papa, was God good to takeMy own mamma away?For I was just a baby then—Papa, why don't you say?""Yes, always good," he sobbed. "MammaIs very happy, dear."His little girl sprang up, nor caredAnother word to hear."Why, papa! crying? Please don't cry.Do you feel sorry, too?Now, papa, see; I never meantI didn't care for you."If mamma's happy in the sky—You told me so before—We mustn't cry. I think it's wrongTo want her any more."Laugh, papa, quick! I'll pull your hair!I'll kiss your funny nose;Laugh, quick, for Minnie; else I'll tryTo jump right on your toes."Poor eyes! all wet. I'll kiss them dry.What's in your pocket? See.Oh! where's your watch? Now, won't you pleaseJust make it tick for me?"It's nice to have a dear papa.(How big it is, and bright.I hear it ticky, ticky, tick.It's very loud to-night.)"Ride me to Banbury Cross, papa!Now, don't you let me fall.When I was littler, how I slipped!I couldn't keep on at all."Oh! there's the tea-bell. Now you've tossedMy hair like everything!I'll toss yours too. Oho! Oho!You look just like a king—"For kings have crowns, you know, papa,And your hair's standing straight.I knew you'd laugh! There, now, you're good—Come quick, and show Aunt Kate."Aunt, at the table, glanced at one,And then glanced at the other;She could not guess what hidden thingHad happened to her brother.His shining hair stood like a crown,His smile was warm and bright;"Why, John," she said, "you really seemLike your old self to-night."
mother bird and baby bird
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family around table
Old Simonand his boys were glad,To take the plainest fare;They brightened everything they had,With gratitude and prayer."Give thanks," said Simon, "when ye rise,Give thanks when day is done."And none than Simon were more wise,Or happy, under the sun.