Not comfor'ble dolly?—or why do you fidget?
You're hurting my shoulder, you troublesome midget!
Perhaps it's that hole that you told me about.
Why, darling, your sawdust is trick-ker-ling out!!
We'll call the good doctor in, right straight away;
This can't be neglected a single more day;
I'll wet my new hankchif and tie it round tight,
'Twill keep you from suffering pains in the night.
I hope you've been good, little dolly, to-day,
Not cross to your nursie, nor rude in your play;
Nor dabbled your feet in those puddles of water
The way you did yesterday, bad little daughter!
Oh, dear! I'm so sleepy—can't hold up my head,
I'll sing one more verse, then I'll creep into bed.
Cuddle down, dolly,
Here on my arm,
Nothing shall frighten you, nothing shall harm.
Cuddle down sweetly, my little pink rose,
Good angels come now and guard thy repose.
Kate Douglas Wiggin.
Playgrounds
In summer I am very glad
We children are so small,
For we can see a thousand things
That men can't see at all.