THE HOOK AND LADDER.
The frosts in the door-yard maple
Had lighted a fine red blaze,
And one of the golden twilights
That come September days:
The neighborhood lads had gathered
To play their usual plays.
Frankie was good at planning, And seeing the glowing tree, “Let’s have a fire department And play ’tis a house!” said he. “Oh, yes, a hook and ladder,” Cried all; “what fun ’twill be!” So they put the hose on the hydrant. Searched everywhere about Until they found a ladder, And then, with yell and shout Of “fire” and clang of “ding-dong,” They rushed to put it out. The hosemen pulled their jackets Hastily from their backs; One climbed the tree like a squirrel, With a ball-bat for an axe And he hewed at the beautiful branches With frantic hacks and whacks. |
Some one turned on the water,
And the boy in the foremost place
Got the full force from the nozzle
Square in his little face;
And he cried for half a minute
With the funniest grimace.
The stream flew this way, that way,
And up to the tree’s bright top,
And back came the water splashing
With reckless slosh and slop,
And with it showers of red leaves
And twigs began to drop.
This small boys’ Hook and Ladder
Was a very good company,
And they squirted till the sidewalk
Was like a mimic sea;
But they didn’t put out the fire
In the old red maple-tree.
MRS. CLARA DOTY BATES.