Is it in the garden "Neath the cl.u.s.tering vine?
Is it in the meadow, "Mid the gra.s.ses tall?
Is it by the brookside, Sweetest place of all?
Deep within the woodland, Shall I find them then,-- Pretty little maidens, Pretty little men; Curled among the roseleaves, Stretched along the fern, Where no wind can shake them, And no sunbeams burn?
Does the little queen live In a great red rose, Twenty elves to fan her When to sleep she goes; Coverlet of lilies Sprinkled o"er with pearls, Golden stars a-twinkling In her golden curls?
Do they paint the flowers?
Do they teach the birds All their lovely music, With its strange, sweet words?
Oh! but tell me, mother!
Is it really true?
And when next you seek them, Will you take me too?
True it is, my darling, True as true can be, That the little fairies Every day I see, Not within the meadow, Not in woodland gloom, But in brightest sunshine, In this very room.
Singing like the robin, Chirping like the wren, Pretty little maidens, Pretty little men; Leaning o"er my shoulder, Swinging on my chair, Oh! the little fairies, I see them everywhere.
Peeping at the window, Peeping at the door, If I bid them scamper, Peeping all the more.
Little sweetest voices Laughing merrily, Oh! the little fairies, They"ll never let me be.
Tugging at my ap.r.o.n, Twitching at my gown, Climbing up into my lap, Rumble-tumbling down.
Naughty little blue eyes, Full of impish glee, Oh! the little fairies, They"ll never let me be!
All are kings and queens, dear, Every smallest one; And on mother"s knee here Is their regal throne.
Look into the gla.s.s, dear!
One of them you"ll see.
Oh! the little fairies, G.o.d bless them all for me!
THE QUEEN OF THE ORKNEY ISLANDS.
Oh! the Queen of the Orkney Islands, She"s travelling over the sea: She"s bringing a beautiful cuttlefish, To play with my baby and me.
Oh! his head is three miles long, my dear, His tail is three miles short.
And when he goes out he wriggles his snout, In a way that no cuttlefish ought.
Oh! the Queen of the Orkney Islands, She rides on a sea-green whale.
He takes her a mile, with an elegant smile, At every flip of his tail.
He can snuffle and snore like a Highlandman, And swear like a Portugee; He can amble and prance like a peer of France, And lie like a heathen Chinee.
[Ill.u.s.tration: QUEEN OF THE ORKNEY ISLANDS.]
Oh! the Queen of the Orkney Islands, She dresses in wonderful taste.
The sea-serpent coils, all painted in oils, Around her bee-yu-tiful waist.
Oh! her gown is made of the green sea-kale; And though she knows nothing of feet, She can manage her train, with an air of disdain, In a way that is perfectly sweet.
Oh! the Queen of the Orkney Islands, She"s travelling over the main.
So we"ll hire a hack, and we"ll take her straight back To her beautiful Islands again.
BABY"S WAYS.
Toddle, toddle, waddle, waddle, On her little pinky toes.
Stumble, stumble, pitch and tumble, That"s the way the baby goes.
Prattle, prattle, rattle, rattle, Little shouts and little shrieks, Tears, with laughter coming after, That"s the way the baby speaks.
Playing, toying, still enjoying Every sweet that Nature gives.
Smiling, weeping, waking, sleeping, That"s the way the baby lives.
POT AND KETTLE.
[_To be read to little boys and girls who quarrel with each other._]
"Oho! Oho!" said the pot to the kettle, "You"re dirty and ugly and black!
Sure no one would think you were made of metal, Except when you"re given a crack."
"Not so! not so!" kettle said to the pot.
""Tis your own dirty image you see.
For I am so clear, without blemish or blot, That your blackness is mirrored in me."
PUNKYDOODLE AND JOLLAPIN.
Oh, Pillykin w.i.l.l.ykin Winky Wee!
How does the Emperor take his tea?
He takes it with melons, he takes it with milk, He takes it with syrup and sa.s.safras silk.
He takes it without, he takes it within.
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin!
Oh, Pillykin w.i.l.l.ykin Winky Wee!
How does the Cardinal take his tea?
He takes it in Latin, he takes it in Greek, He takes it just seventy times in the week.
He takes it so strong that it makes him grin.