Elliott
Dear little cherub, from isles of the blest,
What is your destiny? What is your quest?
Have you been watching us with your bright eyes
Till you thought you would come as a cunning surprise?
Did you see that this house lacked a baby so sweet
To widen the circle and make it complete?
Did you see from your perch in the realms up above
The sweet mother-heart overflowing with love?
You thought it so precious, you flew to her breast,
You sought it and found it, and found, too, your rest—
Your refuge from sorrow; your fortress so strong,
May you rest in it, dwell in it, cherish it long.
You are welcome as dewdrops when parched are the flowers;
You will brighten the days till they shrink into hours.
May heaven watch over you, fill you with joy,
And bless the whole circle, in you, little boy.
Three Little Kittens
Three little kittens, black, white and gray,
Went out in the garden one morning to play.
Said the white one, "I want to play hide and go seek,
'Tis long since we played it, much more than a week."
"All right," said the gray, "I'm ready for fun,"
And he started away with a hop and a run.
"Just wait," said the black with an ominous growl,
His face wrinkled up in the crookedest scowl.
"It's an old-fashioned game—I shan't play at that,
It is not becoming a stylish young cat;
I'll sport with the leaves or I'll play in the sun,
But it's tiresome, unpleasant and foolish to run."
The others agreed in a good-natured way,
And the three little kittens began then to play;
The dead leaves went flying to right and to left,
All three, for a time seemed of senses bereft;
But something went wrong—"I say that's not fair,"
The black kitten cried—"and to play I don't care"—
The gray and the white coaxed him hard for awhile,
But nothing would cause him to speak or to smile,
So they left him alone and hied them away—
"Hide and seek" 'mongst the roses and lilacs to play.
He heard their gay laughter and sullener grew—
The sun was too hot—the skies were too blue,
The grass, he was certain, was damp where he lay,
All things had conspired to annoy him that day,
He could bear neither sunshine, the mirth that he heard,
The hum of the bees, nor the chirp of a bird.
How silly they seemed—it made him so cross—
The pleasures of life were nothing but dross,
So he hastened away in a fit of despair;
All things were against him and "nothing was fair."
And now, little people, does any one know
A child who is cross, and always acts so?
Who cries with a pout—"I say I shan't play,
Unless you do everything just as I say."
If beaten at games, he says "It's not fair"—
And takes of good things far more than his share.
If you know such a child, I'm sure you will find
He is sour and unhappy, because he's unkind;
To be happy, be gentle, good tempered and sweet
To playmates and elders and all whom you meet.
What is the Use of Trying?
"What is the use of trying?
I never can learn to fly,
See how the lark goes floating
Up to the sunlit sky;
He never failed as I have,
See how he flies at ease,
Light as a down of thistle
Tossed on the tremulous breeze.
I have been foolishly trying,
Thinking I, too, might rise,
I'll stay down here in the hedges,
And leave to the lark the skies."
So he stayed in the crowded hedges,
And lived through the summer long,
Only a common sparrow—
One of a common throng.
"What is the use of trying?
Pouring o'er book and slate,
I fail, and shall keep on failing,
For men are created great.
'Tis folly to think that study
For so many hours a day
Is going to make out of boys and girls,
Wise women and men alway.
So what is the use of trying?
A common lot shall be mine;
Why muddle my brain with study?
I never was meant to shine;"
So away in the closet cupboard
The books kept gathering dust,
And the mind they were meant to nourish
Was buried and lost in rust.
So the hedges go gathering sparrows,
And the larks still mount to the sky,
And out from the crowded byways
Few souls gain the mountains high.
Have courage and keep on trying,
Though a sparrow, a lark cannot be,
The highways that lead to the Pisgahs
Are open to you and to me.
Only Five
I've had a birthday party—
Of course I'm only five—
But I had the jolliest time
Of any boy alive.
I got some little chickens,
The roosters cannot crow;
But on my mamma's table
I stand them in a row.
I got the funniest bank—
A man, all mouth and eyes,
He swallows every penny,
And every dime he spies;
My mamma set a dinner
For Ollie and for me.
'Twas just a little party,
One little girl, you see.
We had the nicest oranges,
And nuts, and apples red,
And just the tiniest custard pie,
Plum cake and snow white bread.
We ate up all we wanted,
Mamma sat by and smiled,
And kissed my curls and dimples,
And called me "precious child."
And when the day was over,
And I was snug in bed,
She found the prettiest book I have,
And lots of stories read;
And then—I can't remember,
My head was in a mix;
For when the sand-man found me,
I dreamed that I was six.