Betsy Bounce has her desire:
All the world can now admire!
Yet perhaps she will not pout
When the bonnet is worn out.
But her parents, being poor,
Cannot, for a time, procure
Betsy Bounce another hat,
So she must keep on with that.
XVIII
You cannot count the bluebells
That are upon the heath,—
The ferns stand tall and stately,
The bells hang underneath;
But I can count the tassels
As big as flowers of clover
That hang on baby’s curtain,
The curtain that hangs over;
And when I rock the cradle
The tassels swing and swing,
And they make fairy music,
And baby hears them ring;
Ding-dong in the morning,
And in the evening too,
Rhime, chime, in fairy time,
Baby, dear, for you!
XIX
When the moon was on the wane,
Ding was looking through the window-pane,
Dong was counting drops of rain,
And Dell was thinking with might and main;
But all of them listened to the bell again,
A wisdom bell,
Or a nonsense bell?