But to partlets down below, who cannot find the key, they hear,
"Lock the dairy door!" That's all his challenge says to them, my dear.
Why they had it, how they lost it, must remain a mystery;
I that tell you, never heard the first part of the history.
But if you will listen, dear, next time the cock crows proudly,
"Lock the dairy door!" you'll hear him tell the biddies loudly:
"Chickle, chackle, chee," they cry; "we haven't got the key!" they cry;
"Chickle, chackle, chee! Oh, dear, wherever can it be!" they cry.
Celia Thaxter.
Extremes[6]
I
A little boy once played so loud
That the Thunder, up in a thunder-cloud,
Said, "Since I can't be heard, why, then,
I'll never, never thunder again!"
II
And a little girl once kept so still
That she heard a fly on the window-sill
Whisper and say to a lady-bird,—
"She's the stilliest child I ever heard!"