I think I will write to old Santa,
And ask for a few little things;
And then I will try to be patient,
And wait to see what he brings.
I'll write him to bring me a dolly,
With eyes of a beautiful brown,
With hair that is all in gold ringlets,
And dressed in a beautiful gown.
I'll ask him to bring me a buggy,
To take my new dolly to ride;
I'll ask for a cunning, swift runner,
So dolly can go out to slide.
I'll write him to bring me a banjo,
A harp, and a cute little drum;
I'll wish for a sweet-toned organ
And a whole big box full of gum.
I want him to bring a wee table,
That is made for girlies like me;
And a set of little blue dishes,
So I can have company to tea.
I'll hint that I need some new dresses,
For mine are all faded and old;
I'll tell him I need some new mittens,
To wear when the weather is cold.
But maybe I'd better stop wishing,
And finish my letter with care,
For fear dear old Santa may fancy
I'm asking for more than my share.
I'll write him my stocking is hanging
Right close to my head, on the wall;
I'll tell him the right way to manage
In case that my stocking's too small.
I'll tell him to look in the corner,
At the foot of the bed, he'll see
A place that I think is just lovely
To fasten a cute little tree.

ONLY A SPARROW

A sparrow flew to my window one day,
And in a bird's way he began there to say:
"Chirp, chirp, little girl, please listen to me
I'm hungry and cold as a sparrow can be!
"I'd like a small crumb or something to eat,
And may I come in and warm my poor feet?
They're almost frozen out here in the snow;
So kind little girl, please do not say no."
I listened to him and then shook my head;
And to that poor sparrow I saucily said:
"Well, Mr. Sparrow, if your story is true,
I don't think I'll trouble myself about you.
"You're a plain-looking bird with a dirty old coat,
And you never once sang a sweet little note
So, Mr. Sparrow, you may just fly along,
For I feed none but birds of beauty and song."
"But think, little girl, were you a bird like me,
And were out in the cold with your home in a tree,
And you came to my house in the cold, deep snow,
Would you think it were kind if I treated you so?
"Would you think it quite right to be twitted that way,
Just because of your coat was not handsome and gay?
Would you think it would be nice if you could not sing
To be counted as naught but a poor useless thing?
"I know I'm not handsome, and my chirp is not sweet,
I know I'm not loved by the most that I meet;
But I'm just as God made me, a plain little bird,
And have, in this world, a right to be heard.
"And the birds of great beauty you like to see,
In the sight of our Maker are no better than me.
So I bid you adieu, my proud little miss,
But some time I pray you will just think of this:
"That kind little deeds by a good little child
So often will tame a nature that's wild.
Then always be kind and never be rude,
And hold to your tongue in an angry mood."
Then he nodded his head and flew far away,
And I saw him no more that cold winter day.
But, oh! how sorry and grieved was I then,
When I saw how very unkind I had been.
He was only a sparrow, so humble and plain,
But the lesson he taught me will always remain.
As I journey through life I shall keep it in mind,
And never again will I act so unkind.

MAY'S APPLE-TREE

One April day
Our little May
Did plant an apple-tree;
Although 'twas slow,
She watched it grow
Until its years were three.
She oft would say,
In her sweet way,
"How tall you going to be?
I'd like to know
If you can grow
To be as big as me?"
So one Spring day
When little May
Stood by her apple-tree;
What do you think?
Some buds in pink
Were there for her to see.
She laughed in glee
Those buds to see,
And smelt their sweet perfume;
And blossoms white
Were soon in sight,
Upon the tree in bloom.
Then apples green
So soon were seen,
As round as they could be;
And so they grew
In sun and dew
Upon her apple-tree.
Then May did eat
The apples sweet,
As nice as they could be;
Then little May
Had her full pay
For planting that one tree.