Drive horses, or fly kites, or anything,
You’re quite enough to play at hare and hounds,—
You little May, and Caroline, and Poll,
Take each your doll,
And go, my dears, into the two-back pair,
Your sister Margaret’s there—
Harriet and Grace, thank God, are both at school,
At far off Ponty Pool—
I want to read, but really can’t get on—
Let the four twins, Mark, Matthew, Luke and John,