YOUTH AND AGE
Say, is it dim and grim and all full of fear?
Not at all, not at all, my pretty dear.
Will there be no hope? Nothing to desire?
You shall be comforted sitting by the fire.
Will no one look at me? love me, if I please?
You shall doze happy with a little bread and cheese.
Even the springing grass—will it look pale?
You shall be gladdened with a little warm ale.
Shall I be trembling and querulous of tongue?
You shall be wiser than anybody young.
When the first thrushes sing, shall I not hear?
Not at all, not at all, my pretty dear.
A CHILD'S DREAM
I had a little dog, and my dog was very small;
He licked me in the face, and he answered to my call;
Of all the treasures that were mine, I loved him most of all.
His nose was fresh as morning dew and blacker than the night;
I thought that it could even snuff the shadows and the light;
And his tail he held it bravely, like a banner in a fight.
His body covered thick with hair was very good to smell;
His little stomach underneath was pink as any shell;
And I loved him and honoured him, more than words can tell.
We ran out in the morning, both of us, to play,
Up and down across the fields for all the sunny day;
But he ran so swiftly—he ran right away.
I looked for him, I called for him, entreatingly. Alas,
The dandelions could not speak, though they had seen him pass,
And nowhere was his waving tail among the waving grass.