I have tucked away my dollies
All so snugly in their bed,
And I listened to the prayers
That my little dollies said.
Oh, they were so tired and sleepy,
For they played so many hours;
But now they're dreaming, sweetly dreaming,
Of the birds and pretty flowers.
They have played among the daisies,
And among the lilies too;
They were romping in the clover,
And were picking violets blue.
They have chased the shining sunbeams
That came flitting from the skies;
But now they're dreaming, sweetly dreaming,
Of the birds and butterflies.
They have picked the blushing roses,
And have kissed the starry bells,
And found the sweet forget-me-nots
Where they bloom in flowery dells.
They have romped among the grasses
That were fanned by evening breeze,
But now they're dreaming, sweetly dreaming,
Of the birds and humming bees.
When the stars have ceased to twinkle,
And the sky is bright and clear;
When the sun is up and shining,
And the dewdrops disappear;
When the little fish are swimming,
Swimming in the sunny streams,
Then my dollies will be waking,
Waking from their happy dreams.

THE SNOWDROP'S CALL

"Come, wake up," said the Snowdrop
To a Crocus sleeping nigh,
"The sun is brightly shining,
And there's blue up in the sky.
"The snow has left the hill tops,
And the frost is going too;
So it's time that you were waking,
For to show your face of blue.
"Come, Daffodil, I'm calling;
You are sleeping much too long;
For the bluebirds are returning,
And I've heard the robin's song.
"The South wind is gently blowing,
For I heard it 'mongst the trees
And the Hyacinth is waking
To perfume the gentle breeze.
"Come, Jonquil, do not linger!
For the morn is passing fast;
If you soon are not awaking,
You will surely be the last."
The Crocus 'woke up quickly
When she heard the Snowdrop's call;
And put forth her face of blue
When the snow began to fall.
She shivered in the snowflakes
That fell about her feet;
Then was sorry she was wakened
From her winter's quiet sleep.
"You have called us all too early,"
Said the sleepy Daffodil,
"For the North wind still is blowing,
And the nights are cold and chill."
Then they all dropped back to slumber
Till the days some warmer grew;
Then their winter nap was ended,
And they 'woke and blossomed too.

WHEN BROTHER WAS A SISTER

When brother was a little girl,
She never wore her hair in curl;
But she was very good and sweet,
And had the "cutest" dimpled feet!
Her little hands were soft and white,
And so she kept them day and night.
Her dimpled cheeks were pretty too,
In rosy tints of nature's hue.
And oh! such happy times had we,
My little sister Lisle and me.
We sometimes kept a little store,
And sold our playthings o'er and o'er.
And through the long, long summer day,
Upon the lawn we used to play.
We played with dishes and with dolls,
With dolly cabs and rubber balls.
She helped to wash the dishes too,
Like little sisters always do.
And in her sorrows I could share,
For sister was my only care.
And with a loving sister's arm
I used to shield her from all harm.
Then life for me was all a joy
Before Lisle turned into a boy.
But Time flies on his changing wings,
And many curious changes brings.
The creeping worm becomes a fly,
And wings his way toward the sky.
The golden egg within the nest,
Becomes a chick with downy breast.
The pollywog becomes a frog,
And croaks within his hidden bog.
And little sisters turn to boys,
And leave their dolls for warlike toys
Then Time brought me the saddest day,
When sister's frocks were laid away.
The little cloak and bonnet too
Were changed for cap and coat of blue.
And for the girl with sweetest face—
A boy had stepped into her place.
A boy! and oh, so changed is he!
From the little girl he used to be.
The dimpled feet are brown and bare,
And rough and tumbled is his hair.
The rosy cheeks of nature's hue—
Sometimes they're black, sometimes they're blue.
The little hands so soft and white—
With dirt begrimed, they are a sight.
Now through the long, long summer days,
Upon the coalhouse roof he plays.
And on the roof he sits and fishes,
And never helps me wash the dishes.
He scorns the sister's loving arm
That used to shield him from all harm;
And for my loving, watchful care,
He turns his nose up in the air.
Oh! I wish he'd never turned into a boy,
To bring such woe instead of joy;
But stayed a little girl like me,
For then my life would happier be.