Brother Playing
Up and down the play-room,
Then behind the door,
Now upon the sofa,
Now upon the floor.
In below the table,
Round the big arm-chair,
Goes my little brother,
Crying "Are you there?"
And when brother sees me,
Then away I run;
And he follows after,
Merry with the fun.
So at hide and seek we play.
And pass the happy hours away.

Girls and Boys, Come Out to Play

Girls and boys,
Come out to play,
The sun is shining
Away, away.
Into the meadow
Over the way,
Tumbling and tossing
The new-mown hay.
Into the hedgerow
Picking the May;
Over the hills
And far away.
Down by the brook
Where the ripples play,
Whirling and winding
Their silvery way,
Then home again
By a different way,
Picking an armful
Of wildflowers gay.
For mother dear
To gladden her way,
And wake in her heart
A cheerful lay.
For every leaf
Has it's sunny ray;
All nature is happy
And seems to say:
Girls and boys,
Come out to play.
The sun is shining
Away, away.
Two Merry Men
Two merry men,
One summer day,
Forsook their toys,
And forgot their play.
Two little faces,
Full of fun,
Two little hearts
That beat as one.
Four little hands,
At work with a will,
Four little legs
That can't keep still.
For labour is sweet,
And toil is fun,
When mother wants
Any work to be done.
Mud Pies
Tell me little ladies,
Playing in the sun,
How many minutes
Till the baking's done?
Susy gets the flour,
All of golden dust;
Harry builds the oven,
Lily rolls the crust.
Pat it here, and pat it there;
What a dainty size!
Bake it on a shelf of stone,
Nice mud pies!
Now we want a shower—
For we need it so—
It would make a roadside,
Such a heap of dough.
Turn them in, and turn them out,
How the morning flies!
Ring the bell for dinner—
Hot mud pies!
The Playful Girl
I know a little girl,
Who is very fond of play:
And if her ma would let her,
Would do nothing else all day.
She has a little doll,
And another one quite large.
She plays she has a little home,
And house cares to discharge.
But when her mamma calls her,
Some real work to do,
She does not like to leave her play,
And pouts till she is through.
Hay Making
In the hay, in the hay,
Toss we and tumble;
No one to say us nay,
All through this Summer's day!
No one to grumble.
In the hat, in the hay,
Arthur we'll smother;
Bring armfuls, heap them high,
Pile them up—now good-bye,
Poor little brother!
In the hay, in the hay,
Snugly reclining,
Shaded from the noontide heat,
Smelling the clover sweet,
See us all dining;
While the haymakers sit
Under the willows,
Each with his bread and cheese
Spread out upon his knees,
Hay for their pillows.
Hark! how the laugh and chat,
Happy, light hearted!
Now to their work they go,
Raking up one long row,
Fit to be carted.
Now comes the wagon near,
Quickly they're loading;
Rake away! rake away!
While it's fine make the hay—
Rain is foreboding.
Now that the sunset ray
Says the day's over,
Homeward we make our way,
In the cart strewn with hay,
Smelling of clover.
Mrs. Hawtrey

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