Little rages,
Obvious arts;
(Three her age is,)
Cakes, tarts;
Falling down
Off chairs;
Breaking crown
Down stairs;
CATCHING flies
On the pane;
Deep sighs,—
Cause not plain;
Bribing you
With kisses
For a few
Farthing blisses;
Wide awake,
As you hear,
“Mercy’s sake,
Quiet, dear!”
New shoes,
New frock;
Vague views
Of what’s o’clock
When it’s time
To go to bed,
And scorn sublime
Of what is said;