He held the boy in one big hand, unheeding how he cried,
And with the other dug a hole enormous, deep, and wide.
He jammed the little fellow in, and said in gruffest tone,
“This is the bed for naughty boys who won’t go to their own.”
And then the dirt was shovelled in,—it covered up his toes,
His ankles, knees, and waist and arms, and higher yet it rose.
For still the gardener shovelled on, not noticing his cries;
It came up to his chin and mouth—it almost reached his eyes;
Just then he gathered all his strength and gave an awful scream,
And woke himself, and put an end to that terrific dream.
And he said, as Nursey tucked him up and bade him snugly rest,
“When I am planted in a bed, I like my own the best.”
The Rivals
Two well-built men, neither giant nor dwarf,
Were Monsieur Elims and Mynheer Nworf.
They lived in a town not far away,
And spent their time in work and play.
Now Monsieur Elims was loved by all—
By rich and poor, by great and small.
And Mynheer Nworf remarked one day,
“Brother, explain to me, I pray,
Why no one likes me as well as you,
No matter what I may say or do.
I have stores of knowledge packed in my head;
I am learned and wise and very well read;
I can dance, I can sing, I’m extremely polite;
I am worth a large fortune all in my own right.
But still,—and this question has caused me much thought,—
While I am neglected, you’re everywhere sought.”
Monsieur Elims replied: “My dear sir, that is true,
But you see, I am I, and you see, you are you.
If I receive praises and you receive blame,
’Tis doubtless because each lives up to his name.”
You’ll find his defence rather puzzling, I fear;
But read their names backward—the meaning is clear.