O littlest cloud in all the blue,
Don't go so fast, for, see,
I'm just about the size of you!
Come down and play with me!
But oh, if that's the only way—
To come in raindrops, why,
I'll stay here by myself and play!
I wouldn't have you cry!
Princes
Cinderella sitting in her dingy chimney corner,
Delving in the ashes, with the smoke upon her eyes,
With pots and kettles waiting, all her kinfolk by to scorn her,
Longed perhaps to meet a prince, handsome, young, and wise.
Maybe Sleeping Beauty on her couch within the castle,
While her golden hair crept down to touch her silent feet,
Dreamed about a rider with a scarlet cap and tassel
Who would hack away the hedge and cry, "Awaken, sweet!"
While I'm washing dishes, or scraping out the skillet,
Or when I am sprinkling, or folding up the clothes,
Sometimes I too dream; it seems foolish-like to tell it...
But their princes came at last and ... ah, who knows?
WHILE I'M WASHING DISHES, OR SCRAPING OUT THE SKILLET
Our Share
Babies of Alaska, babies of Japan,
Babies born to beads, or silk, or fez, or fur, or fan,
None of all the babies that are toddling anywhere
Is half so sweet a baby as the baby that's our share!