I want to skate, and oh, what a fuss
For fear I’ll break through the ice!
This woman that keeps our house for us
She isn’t what I call nice.
She wants a boy to be just like a girl,
To play in the house all day,
Keep his face all clean, and his hair in curl,
But dad doesn’t think that way.
I tickle him under the chin—just so—
And I say, “Please can’t I, dad?”
Then I kiss his mouth so he can’t say no,
To his own little black-eyed lad.
“You’re growing so big” says my dad to me,
“Soon be a man, I suppose,
Too big to climb up on your old dad’s knee
And toast your ten little toes.”
Then his voice it gets the funniest shake,
And oh, but he hugs me tight!
I say, when I can’t keep my eyes awake,
“Let me sleep with you to-night.”
I tickle him under the chin—just so—
And I say, “Please can’t I, dad?”
Then I kiss his mouth so he can’t say no,
To his own little black-eyed lad.
Be Good and Glad
WHY do you sigh as days go by,
And carry such a weight of sadness?
To wistful eyes, the hot tears rise—
Yet life holds store of joy and gladness.
The sunbeams gay are out to-day,
Then worry not about to-morrow,
Nor shrink, nor start with beating heart,
Nor grave fears for the future borrow.
Let us not weep when shadows deep
About our pathway seem to gather,
But go our way, without dismay,
For children we—the Lord our Father.
I hold there must be faith and trust—
For others’ sins a full forgiving—
The greeting glad for sick and sad,
If we would taste the joys of living.
The sunlight streams, the old world dreams,
And by-and-by the stars will glimmer,
The lamps that swung when earth was young
Yet have not older grown, or dimmer.
And blind we are, or we would see
This lesson in the skies above us;
That all the way, by night or day,
God watchful is, since He doth love us.
The Making Up
WE quarrel and make up again,
And then some day,
We quarrel, and forget, straightway,
The making up.