My auntie has a parlor grand,
That's furnished very fine,
With lots of pretty, fancy things,
That cost her many a dime.
I like to peep into that room
Whenever I go there,
To see those pretty, fancy things,
And find out what they are.
But auntie always watches me,
Just like a cat a mouse,
And says: "You are a mischief, Belle,
When you are in my house."
There's bric-a-brac on the mantel-shelf,
And pictures on the wall,
And pretty, high-back easy-chairs
That spring up like a ball.
There is a grand piano there
That must have cost her much;
But all I ever hear is this:
"Now, Belle, you must not touch."
There is a lovely stand and stool,
And rugs upon the floor,
And vases in the corner too,
But—a lock is on the door.
Now, what's a parlor good for, say?
I'd really like to know!
With doors and windows fastened tight,
And pretty things for show.
I wish I owned that parlor grand,
And all those things so nice,
I'd let my kitty go in there
To watch for naughty mice.
I'd tell the little girls I know
Who hadn't one so fine,
That they were always welcome guests
To come and play in mine.

OFF TO SCHOOL WE GO

In the morning when the sun
Does begin his daily run,
When the stars have gone to sleep,
And no longer brightly peep,
Then we take a morning dine;
And before the clock strikes nine,
Off to school, to school we go,
Some on time and some are slow.
Some look pleasant, some look sour,
Some are whispering every hour;
Some are naughty, some are good,
Some, they study as they should;
Full of fun and full of play,
So they see us every day.
Off to school, to school we go,
Some on time and some are slow.
Soon our lessons are all past,
And the day has gone at last;
Some, they learned them as they should,
Some, they did not get them good;
Some are always staying late
For mistakes upon their slate.
Home from school, from school we go,
Some on time and some are slow.
Soon we girls will older grow,
Then we'll wish so much to know,
So to study we must try,
For our time is flitting by.
Days and weeks are passing fast,
And schooldays will soon be past,
So while off to school we go,
Let's be on time and never slow.

CLARABEL'S VALENTINE

"Now, who shall get my valentine?"
Thought little Clarabel;
"For I must send it to some friend
Who loves me very well."
She thought of cousin Madaline,
A proud and haughty miss,
But changed her mind almost as soon,
For she would scoff at this.
She thought of neighbor Bessie Brown,
But she was rich and fair,
And every year her valentines
Were more than one girl's share.
And next she thought of classmates dear,
Then said their names all o'er;
But every year their valentines
Would number more and more.
So who should get her valentine?
She thought and thought in vain;
At last she said: "I'll keep this one,
And none shall have the gain."
Just then a little voice was heard
To whisper in her ear:
"There's many a girl and many a boy
Who will get none this year.
"So, Clarabel, please think again
Of some poor children's plight,
Who never get a valentine
To make their sad hearts light."
She heard that voice, and then she thought:
"I know what I shall do,
And where to send this valentine
And many others, too."
She took her little money bank,
Where she had kept her dimes,
Then swiftly to the store she ran,
And bought more valentines.
She sent them to the boys and girls
Whose pleasures were but few;
Then told her playmates what she'd done,
And then they tried it, too.
So many were the valentines
That went their happy way,
And many were the girls and boys
That had a happy day.
They thanked the postman o'er and o'er,
Those hapless little elves,
Because he brought them valentines
For their own little selves.
And Clarabel was happy too,
And truly did believe
That giving unto others
Was more than to receive.