The
Little toy dog is covered with dust,
But
sturdy and stanch he stands;
And
the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And
the musket moulds 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.
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
the 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
shows 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!
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!
DANCE
little baby, dance up high,
Never
mind baby, mother is by;
Crow
and caper, caper and crow,
There
little baby, there you go;
Up
to the ceiling, down to the ground,
Backwards
and forwards, round and round;
Dance
little baby, and mother shall sing,
With
the merry coral, ding, ding, ding.
If
I had a hundred dollars to spend,
Or
maybe a little more,
I'd
hurry as fast as my legs would go
Straight
to the animal store.
I
wouldn't say, "How much for this or that?" --
"What
kind of a dog is he?"
I'd
buy as many as rolled an eye,
Or
wagged a tail at me!
I'd
take the hound with the drooping ears
That
sits by himself alone;
Cockers
and Cairns and wobbly pups
For
to be my very own.
I
might buy a parrot all red and green,
And
the monkey I saw before,
If
I had a hundred dollars to spend,
Or
maybe a little more.
TWINKLE,
twinkle, little star,
How
I wonder what you are!
Up
above the world so high,
Like
a diamond in the sky.
When
the blazing sun is gone,
When
he nothing shines upon,
Then
you show your little light,
Twinkle,
twinkle, all the night.
Then
the trav'ller in the dark,
Thanks
you for your tiny spark,
He
could not see which way to go,
If
you did not twinkle so.
In
the dark blue sky you keep,
And
often thro' my curtains peep,
For
you never shut your eye,
Till
the sun is in the sky.
'Tis
your bright and tiny spark,
Lights
the trav'ller in the dark:
Tho'
I know not what you are,
Twinkle,
twinkle, little star.
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