Transcriber’s Note:

New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.

ROSE·BUDS

by

Virginia Gerson

New York

White, Stokes, & Allen.

1885

Copyright, 1885, by

WHITE, STOKES, AND ALLEN

New York.

INDEX

Did you think that Josephine Maud was asleep,

Lying down there on the floor in a heap?

Oh, deary me, no! you have made a mistake;

Josephine Maud was quite wide awake.

Then why did she lie there, so long, and so still?

I can’t bear to tell you, and yet—well, I will;

Josephine Maud was a sad, bad girl,

She threw down her doll with a toss and a whirl:

She crushed its pink nose, she tore off its wig,

She whipped her poor doll with a crabapple sprig;

But temper don’t last, and when it was past,

Poor Josephine Maud felt very downcast.

“Oh! Josephine Maud!” cried her mother, in sorrow,

“Now what will you do for a dolly tomorrow?”

“Dear! dear! I’m so sorry,” said poor Josephine:

And seldom since then has her temper been seen.

Tommy!

Tommy!

Oh, where is Tommy Warner?

Naughty boys

Break their toys,—

Tommy’s in the corner!

Heigh ho! heigh ho!

Papa has gone to sea.

Heigh ho! Heigh ho!

What will he bring to me?

Shells and corals and a toy!

Won’t I be a happy boy!

Oh, what glory

Is in the story

Of the boy who went to sea;

For he’d sailor clothes

And a sunburnt nose

And a laugh that was merry and free!

He climbed so fast

The topsail past,

And he laughed so loud in his glee,

Till a stormy blast

Blew him off the mast,

And a shark ate him up for his tea!

Lillie!

Lillie!

Ah, here is Lillie Lansing:

Right foot!

Left foot!

Lilian is dancing.

Fred!

Fred!

Oh, where is Fred?

Eight o’clock!

Nine o’clock!

Fred has gone to bed.

Our hooples are rolling around;

They’re rolling all over the ground.

Who can tell but some day

They’ll roll far away,

And never, no never, be found.

Good-day! Good-day!

Bring out your sleigh,

The snow blows in my face, oh!

Good-bye! Good-bye!

And away we fly!

Now who will win the race, oh?

Girls and boys come out to-day,

The sun is shining on the hay;

Yellow and bright is the rising sun,

All is gay, and the day’s begun.

On a hot summer day, some little fat sparrows

Thought ’twould be cooling to fly, swift as arrows,

Over the wall to a nice shady nook

And take a fresh bath in the clear flowing brook!

But they splashed, and they chirped,

And made such a commotion,

That they turned the clear brook

To a miniature ocean;

And the two little sisters,

Who had watched them at play,

Laughed out so gayly, it scared them away.

My dicky bird!

My dicky bird!

Where can he be, poor thing?

He is sitting alone

On a green mossy stone,

Trying his best to sing.

Oh, come let us play

A game of croquet,

Cried rosy-cheeked May

To her sister one day.

They played a great game,

And then had another;

May won the first,

But Jane won the other.

I tell you that

I’ve lost my hat;

It’s full of roses red.

I do wish that

I had my hat

To tie upon my head!

I threw it down,

Caught up my gown,

And ran to catch my cat;

I did not get

My little pet,

And could not find my hat.

Now one, two, three,

And, oh, dear me!

Whatever shall I do?

I’ve lost my hat

And my pet cat,

Yes, and my temper too.

Josiah Brown

Has come to town,

He has a pink bouquet;

He brought it straight

From Applegate,

To give to little May.

The green grass is growing,

And a fresh breeze is blowing,

And a red robin’s learning to fly, oh!

There’s a bush and a pond,

And what is beyond?

Nothing but bright blue sky, oh!

Two little boys with flying hair,

Where summer winds are blowing.

Don’t you wish that you were there?

For o’er the waves they’re going.

AH!

OH!!!!!!

Ding dong, ding dong,

Sang out a bell;

And off to church went pretty Nell,

Went pretty Nell,

Went pretty Nell,

And off to church went pretty Nell.

Ding dong, dang dong,

Called out a bell;

And off to school ran pretty Nell,

Ran pretty Nell,

Ran pretty Nell,

And off to school ran pretty Nell.

Dingling, dingling,

Laughed out a bell;

And home to tea came pretty Nell,

Came pretty Nell,

Came pretty Nell,

And home to tea came pretty Nell.

Hurry, pretty Nelly,

Patty cakes and jelly;

The tea is hot

In the big tea-pot,

Singing for you, Nelly.

Oh, dandelions, dandelions,

What have you there?—

A rosy little baby

With yellow, yellow hair.

But, dandelions, dandelions,

What can she do?—

Pucker up her little mouth

And throw a kiss to you!

Two tiny shiny negroes,

Standing there so shy,

Half hidden in the dripping clothes

Hanging up to dry.

Some one’s coming up the road,

Will she pass them by?

They pull the clothes about them close

And peep out of one eye.

“Dat’s dear Miss Nancy Dawson

What am it she’s got dar?

I t’ink it’s beau’ful oranges,

Jes’ like her golden ha’r.”

“Come here! Susannah Teabout,”

Sweet Nancy Dawson cried,

As out between the table-cloths

Susannah’s face she spied.

Susannah bashfully came forth.

Asked Nancy, “Where is Rose?”

Just then a timid giggle

Came from behind the clothes.

So Susie went and quickly brought

Rosalba into view,

And Nancy gave them each some fruit,

And bade them both “adieu”.

Do look at little Bobbie!

Dear me! he is so nobbie!

He struts about with a walking-stick,

And carries a watch that goes tick, tick!

Tick, tock!

Tick, tock!

Tick, tick, tick!

Look at little Bobbie with his walking-stick.

Amy!

Amy!

Oh, where is Amy Clare?

Little cats

On funny mats

She’s working for the fair.

There was a little boy,

And he had a little drum:

Ta ratta, ta ratta, tum-tum!

He played very loud,

And he played very fast—

Ta rumpa, ta rumpa, bum-bum!

He rattled away,

And away did he play:

Ta ratta, ta ratta, tum-tum!

Till he made all the boys

Stop their ears at his noise—

Ta rumpa, ta rumpa, bum-bum!

My dolly is a Japanese,

And will not say his A, B, C’s,

No matter how I coax and tease.

That naughty, naughty Japanese!

Go to sleep, my little baby.

See! the sun has gone to sleep;

Dream of bright white snow, my baby,

Soft and white and deep!

Dream of pretty flowers, baby,

Pink or white or blue.

Pretty little dreams, my baby,

Angels send to you!

Out from the trees in an unlooked-for place

Runs Dorothy Daw with a frightful false-face,

That grins and glares,

And thoroughly scares

Poor Minnie, who thinks it a terrible sight.

But, Minnie, don’t you mind it!

There’s a smiling face behind it—

Very naughty is Miss Dorothy to give you such a fright.

Peggie and Lollie,

Two little girls jolly;

They skipped the rope

In the summer sun!

They counted six, seven,

Eight, nine, ten, eleven,

And were tired, indeed,

When they had done.

The bubbles are gay as they float away,

And gayly they’re blown and wafted to-day.

Merrily rings the childish laughter,

Echoing straight from floor to rafter.

Even baby wond’ring stands,

Clapping both her tiny hands.

Bubbles are pretty, and float around,

But why do they burst when they touch the ground?

There were six

Little chicks,

And little girls two,

And a bush of sweet-brier grew near:

“The chicks must be fed,”

The little girls said.

“Here, chickies, here, chickies, come here!”

Then came they at last,

The chickens, so fast,

And ate all the corn they could find;

But one little chick

Was not nearly so quick

As the others who left him behind!

Down from the sill

To a sunnier spot,

Maud carefully carried

Each funny red pot.

She pulled every weed,

She sprinkled each flower,

She worked hard, indeed,

Every day for an hour;

And when she had finished,

They grew up so bright;

She clapped her fat hands,

And danced with delight.

Paul!

Paul!

Oh, where is Paul?

Let me think!

At the rink?

Paul will have a fall!

Johnny!

Johnny!

Oh, where did Johnny creep?

Upstairs,

Downstairs,

Johnny’s fast asleep.

“Come hither, ‘Brother Toodles,’

Let me deck your pretty head;”

And quickly round poor Toodles’ neck

Was hung a wreath of red.

But Toodles didn’t like the leaves;

He tried to tear them loose;

But, though he madly rushed about,

He found it was no use.

What have I behind my back?

Dear me, can’t you guess it?

Nothing but my empty hands,

If I must confess it.

“Oh, papa, dear papa is coming,

A long year he’s been far away.

Do you wonder we’ve cut all the roses

To make his home sunny and gay?

“Oh, hush, happy child, with your prattle,

I think I hear horses approach,”—

In a second lay scattered the roses.

For papa, had sprung from the coach!

“What can you do,

Cousin Prue, cousin Prue?”

“Well—not much, indeed;

But I know

I can sew,

And can write, and can read.”

“Well what else can you do,

My smart cousin Prue?”

“Not much, I’m afraid;

But I think

I could drink

Some nice cool lemonade.”

“A balloon! a balloon!”

Shouted Tommy; “See there!

Oh, Peggotty, look at it

Sail through the air!”

“It’s as big as the moon,

That jolly balloon,

And as high in the sky

It will be very soon.”

I’ll tell you, if you’d like to hear,

Where all my dolls are from;

Poor little things, they cannot speak,

They are all deaf and dumb.

Well, Lee Hing is from China,

Kisara’s from Japan;

Lee Hing has a little tub,

Kisara a big fan.

Fritzie? He’s from Germany,

And Bébé ’way from France;

Fritzie, he can sing a song,

And Bébé, she can dance.

Good Biddy is from Ireland,

And she can milk the cow;

But last of all, my little dog—

Come, Beauty, say “bow-wow!”

Poor tricky Tricksy is now no more;

He’s dead!—’tis sad, but true;

Ah, many were the funny tricks

That Tricksy was wont to do:

He’d rush upon a dozing frog

That blinked beside a mossy log,

And wildly glare and bark at it,

And nearly put it in a fit.

Then calmly Tricksy would walk away,

And wag his tail as though to say:

“Cowardice is not a virtue—

Tricksy is not the dog to hurt you!”

One day a dog that played with him

Jumped in the river for a swim.

Poor Tricksy went after, with a bound,—

Ah, foolish dog! for he was drowned.

Poor tricky Tricksy is now no more;

He’s dead!—’tis sad, but true;

Too many were the little tricks

This dog had tried to do.

Betsy!

Betsy!

Why, where is Betsy Braken?

Across the lane,

And back again,

To have her picture taken!

“What have you there,

You fat little things?

It is not a fish,

And it has no wings.”

“You say it’s a turtle,

But what is that, pray?”

“Why, a turtle’s a turtle,”

Cried pert little May.

“Well, birdie, hollo!

Why are you so mum?

Surely, dear birdie,

You’re glad that I’ve come,”

So birdie said “peep,”

And looked very sweet;

A big lump of sugar

Bell gave it to eat.

The clock has struck seven,

And, well—yes, you might,

As you’re such a good child,

Kiss my dolly “good-night.”

THE END.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

• Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.