Dost remember how she loved
Those rose-leaves pale and sere?
I wish she had but lived to see
The lovely roses here!
Put up thy work, dear mother,
And wipe those tears away!
And come into the garden
Before 'tis set of day!
[Illustration]
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE
One, two,
Buckle my shoe;
Three, four,
Shut the door;
Five, six,
Pick up sticks;
Seven, eight,
Lay them straight;
Nine, ten,
A good fat hen;
Eleven, twelve,
Who will delve?
Thirteen, fourteen,
Maids a courting;
Fifteen, sixteen,
Maids a kissing;
Seventeen, eighteen,
Maids a waiting;
Nineteen, twenty,
My stomach's empty.
[Illustration]
WASHING AND DRESSING.
Ah! why will my dear little girl be so cross,
And cry, and look sulky and pout?
To lose her sweet smile is a terrible loss;
I can't even kiss her without.
You say you don't like to be washed and be drest,
But would you be dirty and foul?
Come, drive that long sob from your dear little breast,
And clear your sweet face from its scowl.
If the water is cold, and the comb hurts your head,
And the soap has got into your eye,