So perhaps on the quietest of evenings
If you listen, you may hear him soon,
The child who is playing the fiddle
Away up in the cold, lonely moon.
OPPOSITES
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
Walked out into the street
And splashed in all the puddles till
She had such shocking feet.
The Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child
Stayed quietly in the house
And sat upon the fender stool
As still as any mouse.
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child,
Her hands were black as ink;
She would come running through the house
And begging for a drink.
The Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child,
Her hands were white as snow;
She did not like to play around,
She only liked to sew.
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
Lost hair ribbons galore;
She dropped them on the garden walks,
She dropped them on the floor.
The Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child,
O thoughtful little girl!
She liked to walk quite soberly,
It kept her hair in curl.
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
When she was glad or proud
Just flung her arms round Mother’s neck
And kissed her very loud.