MIND that she has only flour
For her daily feeding;
Let her have a page an hour
Of the driest reading,—
Navigation, logarithm,
All that kind of knowledge,—
Ancient pedigrees go with ’em,
From the Heralds’ College.
When the poor girl has endured
Six months of this drying,
Winifred will come back cured,
Let us hope, of crying.
Then she will not day by day
Make those mournful faces,
And we shall not have to say,
“Wring her pillow-cases.”
II
There was a Little Boy, with two little eyes,
And he had a little head that was just the proper size,
And two little arms, and two little hands;
On two little legs this Little Boy he stands.
Now, this Little Boy would now and then be cross
Because that he could only be the very thing he was;
He wanted to be this, and then he wanted to be that;
His head was full of wishes underneath his little hat!