Tree-children
The little trees that to the breeze
Make quaint and timorous courtesies:
I like to come and play with these.
Each grown-up pine that stands in line
Is but a stranger great and fine—
The little trees are friends of mine!
The Cockatoo
Green and yellow cockatoo,
Won't you let me talk to you?
Or if you would kinder be
Won't you come and talk to me?
Tell me all about the places
Where the children have black faces,
Armlets, anklets, copper rings!
Where the cannibals are kings!
Has a hungry crocodile
Ever met you with a smile?
Have you taken many a trip
In a rakish pirate ship?
Cockatoo, cockatoo,
How I'd like to talk to you!
But as you can guess, I'd be
Gladder if you'd talk to me!
High Cost of Living
Among the angels—it's a shame
To tell it—prices are so dear,
They use the blown-out candle-flame
To mend the ragged stars, this year!