The Speckled Hen.Dear Brother Ben, I take my penTo tell you where, and how, and when,I found the nest of our speckled hen.She never would lay in a sensible way,Like other hens, in the barn on the hay;But here and there and everywhere,On the stable floor, and the wood-house stair,And once, on the ground her eggs I found.But yesterday I ran away,With mother’s leave, in the barn to play.The sun shone bright on the seedy floor,And the doves so white were a pretty sightAs they walked in and out of the open door,With their little red feet and feathers neat.Cooing and cooing more and more.Well, I went out to look aboutOn the platform wide, where, side by side,I could see the pig-pens in their pride;And beyond them both, on a narrow shelf,I saw the speckled hen hide herselfBehind a pile of hoes and rakesAnd pieces of boards and broken stakes.“Ah, ha! old hen, I have found you now,But to reach your nest I don’t know how,Unless I could climb or creep or crawlAlong the edge of the pig-pen wall.”And while I stood in a thoughtful mood,The speckled hen cackled as loud as she could,And flew away, as much as to say,“For once my treasure is out of your way.”I didn’t wait a moment then;I couldn’t be conquered by that old hen!But along the edge of the slippery ledgeI carefully crept, for the great pigs slept,And I dared not even look to seeIf they were thinking of eating me.But all at once, oh! what a dunce!I dropped my basket into the pen,The one you gave me, Brother Ben;There were two eggs in it, by the way,That I found in the manger under the hay,Then the pigs got up and ran aboutWith a noise between a grunt and a shout,And when I saw them rooting, rooting,Of course I slipped and lost my footing,And tripped, and jumped, and finally fellRight down among the pigs, pell-mell.For once in my life I was afraid,For the door that led out into the shedWas fastened tight with an iron hook,And father was down in the fields by the brook,Hoeing and weeding his rows of corn,And here was his Dolly, so scared and forlorn.But I called him, and called him, as loud as I could,I knew he would hear me—he must and he should—“O father! O father! (Get out, you old pig.)O father! oh! oh!” for their mouths were so big.Then I waited a minute and called him again,“O father! O father! I am in the pig-pen!”And father did hear, and he threw down his hoe,And scampered as fast as a father could go.The pigs had pushed me close to the wall,And munched my basket, eggs and all,And chewed my sun-bonnet into a ball.And one had rubbed his muddy noseAll over my apron, clean and white;And they sniffed at me, and stepped on my toes,But hadn’t taken the smallest bite,When father opened the door at last,And oh! in his arms he held me fast.—E. W. Denison.
Dear Brother Ben, I take my penTo tell you where, and how, and when,I found the nest of our speckled hen.She never would lay in a sensible way,Like other hens, in the barn on the hay;But here and there and everywhere,On the stable floor, and the wood-house stair,And once, on the ground her eggs I found.But yesterday I ran away,With mother’s leave, in the barn to play.The sun shone bright on the seedy floor,And the doves so white were a pretty sightAs they walked in and out of the open door,With their little red feet and feathers neat.Cooing and cooing more and more.Well, I went out to look aboutOn the platform wide, where, side by side,I could see the pig-pens in their pride;And beyond them both, on a narrow shelf,I saw the speckled hen hide herselfBehind a pile of hoes and rakesAnd pieces of boards and broken stakes.“Ah, ha! old hen, I have found you now,But to reach your nest I don’t know how,Unless I could climb or creep or crawlAlong the edge of the pig-pen wall.”And while I stood in a thoughtful mood,The speckled hen cackled as loud as she could,And flew away, as much as to say,“For once my treasure is out of your way.”I didn’t wait a moment then;I couldn’t be conquered by that old hen!But along the edge of the slippery ledgeI carefully crept, for the great pigs slept,And I dared not even look to seeIf they were thinking of eating me.But all at once, oh! what a dunce!I dropped my basket into the pen,The one you gave me, Brother Ben;There were two eggs in it, by the way,That I found in the manger under the hay,Then the pigs got up and ran aboutWith a noise between a grunt and a shout,And when I saw them rooting, rooting,Of course I slipped and lost my footing,And tripped, and jumped, and finally fellRight down among the pigs, pell-mell.For once in my life I was afraid,For the door that led out into the shedWas fastened tight with an iron hook,And father was down in the fields by the brook,Hoeing and weeding his rows of corn,And here was his Dolly, so scared and forlorn.But I called him, and called him, as loud as I could,I knew he would hear me—he must and he should—“O father! O father! (Get out, you old pig.)O father! oh! oh!” for their mouths were so big.Then I waited a minute and called him again,“O father! O father! I am in the pig-pen!”And father did hear, and he threw down his hoe,And scampered as fast as a father could go.The pigs had pushed me close to the wall,And munched my basket, eggs and all,And chewed my sun-bonnet into a ball.And one had rubbed his muddy noseAll over my apron, clean and white;And they sniffed at me, and stepped on my toes,But hadn’t taken the smallest bite,When father opened the door at last,And oh! in his arms he held me fast.—E. W. Denison.
Dear Brother Ben, I take my penTo tell you where, and how, and when,I found the nest of our speckled hen.She never would lay in a sensible way,Like other hens, in the barn on the hay;But here and there and everywhere,On the stable floor, and the wood-house stair,And once, on the ground her eggs I found.But yesterday I ran away,With mother’s leave, in the barn to play.The sun shone bright on the seedy floor,And the doves so white were a pretty sightAs they walked in and out of the open door,With their little red feet and feathers neat.Cooing and cooing more and more.Well, I went out to look aboutOn the platform wide, where, side by side,I could see the pig-pens in their pride;And beyond them both, on a narrow shelf,I saw the speckled hen hide herselfBehind a pile of hoes and rakesAnd pieces of boards and broken stakes.“Ah, ha! old hen, I have found you now,But to reach your nest I don’t know how,Unless I could climb or creep or crawlAlong the edge of the pig-pen wall.”And while I stood in a thoughtful mood,The speckled hen cackled as loud as she could,And flew away, as much as to say,“For once my treasure is out of your way.”I didn’t wait a moment then;I couldn’t be conquered by that old hen!But along the edge of the slippery ledgeI carefully crept, for the great pigs slept,And I dared not even look to seeIf they were thinking of eating me.But all at once, oh! what a dunce!I dropped my basket into the pen,The one you gave me, Brother Ben;There were two eggs in it, by the way,That I found in the manger under the hay,Then the pigs got up and ran aboutWith a noise between a grunt and a shout,And when I saw them rooting, rooting,Of course I slipped and lost my footing,And tripped, and jumped, and finally fellRight down among the pigs, pell-mell.For once in my life I was afraid,For the door that led out into the shedWas fastened tight with an iron hook,And father was down in the fields by the brook,Hoeing and weeding his rows of corn,And here was his Dolly, so scared and forlorn.But I called him, and called him, as loud as I could,I knew he would hear me—he must and he should—“O father! O father! (Get out, you old pig.)O father! oh! oh!” for their mouths were so big.Then I waited a minute and called him again,“O father! O father! I am in the pig-pen!”And father did hear, and he threw down his hoe,And scampered as fast as a father could go.The pigs had pushed me close to the wall,And munched my basket, eggs and all,And chewed my sun-bonnet into a ball.And one had rubbed his muddy noseAll over my apron, clean and white;And they sniffed at me, and stepped on my toes,But hadn’t taken the smallest bite,When father opened the door at last,And oh! in his arms he held me fast.—E. W. Denison.
Dear Brother Ben, I take my pen
To tell you where, and how, and when,
I found the nest of our speckled hen.
She never would lay in a sensible way,
Like other hens, in the barn on the hay;
But here and there and everywhere,
On the stable floor, and the wood-house stair,
And once, on the ground her eggs I found.
But yesterday I ran away,
With mother’s leave, in the barn to play.
The sun shone bright on the seedy floor,
And the doves so white were a pretty sight
As they walked in and out of the open door,
With their little red feet and feathers neat.
Cooing and cooing more and more.
Well, I went out to look about
On the platform wide, where, side by side,
I could see the pig-pens in their pride;
And beyond them both, on a narrow shelf,
I saw the speckled hen hide herself
Behind a pile of hoes and rakes
And pieces of boards and broken stakes.
“Ah, ha! old hen, I have found you now,
But to reach your nest I don’t know how,
Unless I could climb or creep or crawl
Along the edge of the pig-pen wall.”
And while I stood in a thoughtful mood,
The speckled hen cackled as loud as she could,
And flew away, as much as to say,
“For once my treasure is out of your way.”
I didn’t wait a moment then;
I couldn’t be conquered by that old hen!
But along the edge of the slippery ledge
I carefully crept, for the great pigs slept,
And I dared not even look to see
If they were thinking of eating me.
But all at once, oh! what a dunce!
I dropped my basket into the pen,
The one you gave me, Brother Ben;
There were two eggs in it, by the way,
That I found in the manger under the hay,
Then the pigs got up and ran about
With a noise between a grunt and a shout,
And when I saw them rooting, rooting,
Of course I slipped and lost my footing,
And tripped, and jumped, and finally fell
Right down among the pigs, pell-mell.
For once in my life I was afraid,
For the door that led out into the shed
Was fastened tight with an iron hook,
And father was down in the fields by the brook,
Hoeing and weeding his rows of corn,
And here was his Dolly, so scared and forlorn.
But I called him, and called him, as loud as I could,
I knew he would hear me—he must and he should—
“O father! O father! (Get out, you old pig.)
O father! oh! oh!” for their mouths were so big.
Then I waited a minute and called him again,
“O father! O father! I am in the pig-pen!”
And father did hear, and he threw down his hoe,
And scampered as fast as a father could go.
The pigs had pushed me close to the wall,
And munched my basket, eggs and all,
And chewed my sun-bonnet into a ball.
And one had rubbed his muddy nose
All over my apron, clean and white;
And they sniffed at me, and stepped on my toes,
But hadn’t taken the smallest bite,
When father opened the door at last,
And oh! in his arms he held me fast.
—E. W. Denison.