The following verses have been selected from “Lilliput Levee,” 1868, and from W. B. Rands’ numerous contributions to magazines.[A] He wrote under many signatures, never enumerated; but—with the generous assistance of his son, Mr. Paul W. Rands, and his publisher, Mr. Alexander Strahan—I have been able to identify and examine all his work. Three poems are included, by permission, from the reprint of “Lilliput Lectures,” which I lately edited for Mr. James Bowden. Messrs. Dalziel have allowed me to use one from “Hood’s Comic Annual.” All other rights belonged to Mr. Strahan, and have been transferred, with the full concurrence of Mr. P. W. Rands, to Mr. John Lane for this volume. Nothing has been included from “Innocent’s Island,” which we hope to reprint shortly with some of the “Lilliput Revels.”

These are poems for children, with whom Rands was always at his best, and have been chosen in remembrance of their tastes and understandings. As many of them are printed from magazines and never received the author’s final revision, I have occasionally edited the text, without scruple, by omitting weak lines or even altering a word.

R. B. J.

[A] A portion of the Introductory Verses to “Lilliput Legends” is also included.

RAT-TAT! the postman knocks!
This is the Lilliput letter-box.
A penny for your thoughts, my dear!
So said the Raven in Odin’s ear.
Here comes a letter from Thing-a-my-Bob,
A letter from Ruth, a letter from Rob.
Rat-tat! the postman knocks!
This is the Lilliput letter-box.

CONTENTS

LILLIPUT LEVEE

WHERE does Pinafore Palace stand?
Right in the middle of Lilliput-land!
There the Queen eats bread-and-honey,
There the King counts up his money!

Oh, the Glorious Revolution!
Oh, the Provisional Constitution!
Now that the children, clever bold folks,
Have turned the tables upon the Old Folks!

Easily the thing was done,
For the children were more than two to one;
Brave as lions, quick as foxes,
With hoards of wealth in their money-boxes!

They seized the keys, they patrolled the street,
They drove the policeman off his beat,
They built barricades, they stationed sentries—
You must give the word, when you come to the entries!

They dressed themselves, in the Riflemen’s clothes,
They had pea-shooters, they had arrows and bows,
So as to put resistance down—
Order regions in Lilliput-town!

They made the baker bake hot rolls,
They made the wharfinger send in coals,
They made the butcher kill the calf,
They cut the telegraph-wires in half.

They went to the chemists, and with their feet
They kicked the physic all down the street;
They went to the schoolroom and tore the books,
They munched the puffs at the pastrycook’s.

They sucked the jam, they lost the spoons,
They sent up several fire-balloons,
They let off crackers, they burnt a guy,
They piled a bonfire ever so high.

They offered a prize for the laziest boy,
And one for the most Magnificent toy;
They split or burnt the canes offhand,
They made new laws in Lilliput-land.

Never do to-day what you can
Put off till to-morrow, one of them ran;
Late to bed and late to rise
Was another law which they did devise.

They passed a law to have always plenty
Of beautiful things: we shall mention twenty:
A magic lantern for all to see,
Rabbits to keep, and a Christmas-tree,

A boat, a house that went on wheels,
An organ to grind, and sherry at meals,
Drums and wheelbarrows, Roman candles,
Whips with whistles let into the handles,

A real live giant, a roc to fly,
A goat to tease, a copper to sky,
A garret of apples, a box of paints,
A saw and a hammer, and no complaints.

Nail up the door, slide down the stairs,
Saw off the legs of the parlour chairs—
That was the way in Lilliput-land,
The children having the upper hand.

They made the Old Folks come to school,
And in pinafores,—that was the rule,—
Saying, Eener-deener-diner-duss,
Kattler-wheeler-whiler-wuss;

They made them learn all sorts of things
That nobody liked. They had catechisings;
They kept them in, they sent them down
In class, in school, in Lilliput-town.

O but they gave them tit-for-tat!
Thick bread-and-butter, and all that;
Stick-jaw pudding that tires your chin,
With the marmalade spread ever so thin!

They governed the clock in Lilliput-land,
They altered the hour or the minute-hand,
They made the day fast, they made the day slow,
Just as they wished the time to go.

They never waited for king or for cat;
They never wiped their shoes on the mat;
Their joy was great; their joy was greater;
They rode in the baby’s perambulator!

There was a Levee in Lilliput-town,
At Pinafore Palace. Smith and Brown,
Jones and Robinson had to attend—
All to whom they cards did send.

Every one rode in a cab to the door;
Every one came in a pinafore;
Lady and gentleman, rat-tat-tat,
Loud knock, proud knock, opera hat!

The place was covered with silver and gold,
The place was as full as it ever could hold;
The ladies kissed her Majesty’s hand,
Such was the custom in Lilliput-land.

His Majesty knighted eight or ten,
Perhaps a score, of the gentlemen,
Some of them short and some of them tall—
Arise, Sir What’s-a-name What-do-you-call!

Nuts and nutmeg (that’s in the negus);
The bill of fare would perhaps fatigue us;
Forty-five fiddlers to play the fiddle;
Right foot, left foot, down the middle.

Conjuring tricks with the poker and tongs,
Riddles and forfeits, singing of songs;
One fat man, too fat by far,
Tried “Twinkle, twinkle, little star.”

His voice was gruff, his pinafore tight,
His wife said, “Mind, dear, sing it right,”
But he forgot, and said Fa-la-la!
The Queen of Lilliput’s own papa!

She frowned, and ordered him up to bed:
He said he was sorry; she shook her head;
His clean shirt-front with his tears was stained—
But discipline had to be maintained.

The Constitution! The Law! The Crown!
Order reigns in Lilliput-town!
The Queen is Jill, and the King is John;
I trust the Government will get on.

I noticed, being a man of rhymes,
An advertisement in the Lilliput Times:—
“Pinafore Palace. This is to state
That the Court is in want of a Laureate.

“Nothing menial required.
Poets, willing to be hired,
May send in Specimens at once,
Care of the Chamberlain Doubledunce.”

Said I to myself Here’s a chance for me
The Lilliput Laureate for to be!
And these are the Specimens I sent in
To Pinafore Palace. Shall I win?

Public Notice.—This is to state
That these are the specimens left at the gate
Of Pinafore Palace, exact to date,
In the hands of the porter, Curlypate,
Who sits in his plush on a chair of state,
By the gentleman who is a candidate
For the office of Lilliput Laureate.

DOLL POEMS

I
THE PICTURE

THIS is her picture—Dolladine—
The beautifullest doll that ever was seen!
Oh, what nosegays! Oh, what sashes!
Oh, what beautiful eyes and lashes!

Oh, what a precious perfect pet!
On each instep a pink rosette;
Little blue shoes for her little blue tots;
Elegant ribbons in bows and knots.

Her hair is powdered; her arms are straight,
Only feel—she is quite a weight!
Her legs are limp, though;—stand up, miss!—
What a beautiful buttoned-up mouth to kiss!

II
THE LOVE STORY

This is the doll with respect to whom
A story is told that ends in gloom;
For there was a sensitive little sir
Went out of his mind for love of her!

They pulled a wire, she moved her eye;
They squeezed the bellows, they made her cry;
But the boy could never be persuaded
That these were really things which they did.

“My Dolladine,” he said, “has life;
I love her, and she shall be my wife;
Dainty delicate Dolladine,
The prettiest girl that ever was seen!”

To give his passion a chance to cool,
They sent the lover to boarding-school.
But absence only made it worse—
He never learnt anything, prose or verse!

He drew her likeness on his slate;
His Grammar was in a dreadful state,
With Dolladine all over the edges,
And true-love knots, and vows, and pledges.

What was the consequence?—Doctor Whack
Begged of his parents to take him back.
When his condition, poor boy, was seen,
Too late, they sent for Dolladine.

And now he will never part with her:
He calls her lily, and rose, and myrrh,
Dolly-o’-diamonds, precious lamb,
Humming-bird, honey-pot, jewel, jam,

Darling, delicate-dear-delight,
Angel-o’-red, angel-o’-white,
Queen of beauty, and suchlike names;
In fact all manner of darts and flames!

Of course, while he keeps up this wooing
His education goes to ruin:
What are his prospects in future life,
With only a doll for his lawful wife?

It is feared his parents’ hearts will break!
And there’s one remark I wish to make:
I may be wrong, but it seems a pity
For a movable doll to be made too pretty.

An old-fashioned doll, that is not like nature,
Can never pass for a human creature;
It is in a doll that moves her eyes
That the danger of these misfortunes lies!

The lover’s name must be suppressed
For obvious reasons. He lives out west,
And if I call him Pygmalion Pout,
I don’t believe you will find him out!

III
DRESSING HER

This is the way we dress the Doll:—
You may make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook,
But this is the way we dress the Doll.

Chorus: Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple and mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll.

First, you observe her little chemise,
As white as milk, with ruches of silk;
And the little drawers that cover her knees,
As she sits or stands, with golden bands,
And lace in beautiful filagrees.

Chorus: Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple or mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll.

Now these are the bodies: she has two,
One of pink, with ruches of blue,
And sweet white lace; be careful, do!
And one of green, with buttons of sheen,
Buttons and bands of gold, I mean,
With lace on the border in lovely order,
The most expensive we can afford her!

Chorus: Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple or mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll.

Then, with black at the border, jacket;
And this—and this—she will not lack it;
Skirts? Why, there are skirts, of course,
And shoes and stockings we shall enforce,
With a proper bodice, in the proper place
(Stays that lace have had their days
And made their martyrs); likewise garters,
All entire. But our desire
Is to show you her night attire,
At least a part of it. Pray admire
This sweet white thing that she goes to bed in!
It’s not the one that’s made for her wedding;
That is special, a new design,
Made with a charm and a countersign,
Three times three and nine times nine:
These are only her usual clothes:
Look, there’s a wardrobe! gracious knows
It’s pretty enough, as far as it goes!

So you see the way we dress the Doll:
You might make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you gave her a crook with a pastoral hook,
With sheep, and a shed, and a shallow brook,
And all that, out of the poetry-book.

Chorus: Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple and mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll;
If you had not seen, could you guess the Doll?

THE LITTLE DOLL’S HOUSE IN ARCADY

THE boys and girls were exceeding gay,
With billycock bonnets and curds and whey,
And I thought that I was in Arcady,
For the fringe of the forest was fair to see.

But the very first hayrick that I came to
Did turn to a Doll’s House, fair and true;
I saw with my eyes where the same did sit,
And there was a rainbow over it.

The people inside were setting the platters,
The chairs and tables, and suchlike matters,
And making the beds and getting the tea:
But through a bow-window I saw the sea.

Up came a damsel: “Sir,” she said,
“Will you walk with me by my garden bed?
Will you sit in my parlour by-and-by?”
“I will sit in your parlour, my dear,” said I.

“Will you hear my starling gossip?” said she,
And now I felt sure it was Arcady;
But a starling never could do the rhyming
That very soon in my ears was chiming:—

“Jigglum-jogglum, Lilliputlandum,
Twopenny tiptop, sugaricandum,
Snip-snap snorum, hot-cross buns,
Conjugatorum, double-dunce.

“Fannyfold funnyface, fairy-tale,
Cat in a cockle-boat, wigglum-whale,
Dickory-dolphin, humpty-hoo,
Floppety-fluteykin, tootle-tum-too.”

Said I, “There may be a clown outside,
And a clown I never could yet abide,—
A picker and stealer, a clumsy joker,
Who stirs up his friends with a burning poker.

“But perhaps,” said I, “I mistake the plan;
It may be the Punch-and-Judy man,
Or the other, that keeps the galante show
And the marionettes, for what I know.”

Then I opened the window through thick and thin,
And in with a bounce came a Harlequin,
And very distinctly I heard a band
Strike up the dances of Lilliput Land.

To wonder at this I did incline,
“And where,” said I, “is the Columbine—
Tip-toe twist-about, shimmer and shine,
Where is the beautiful Columbine?”

Then out from the curtains, all shimmer and shine,
With a rose-red sash came Columbine,
And Harlequin took her by the hand,
And they stepped it out in Lilliput Land;
Twirl about, whirl about, shimmer and shine,
O a rose-red sash had Columbine!

Then one of the folks who had set the tea
In Doll’s House fashion, did climb my knee,
And he said, “Would you like, sir, to take a trip
With me? Have you seen my little ship?”

The ship, as he called it, was certainly small,
For the dot of a sailor could carry it all:
So both got in, and away went we,
Coasting the sea-board of Arcady.

Then I told a story, and he told one,
But they both got mixed before they were done;
And so did we, as the day grew dim,
And the child was myself, and myself was him.

But now it was getting time to land,
So I stepped into Fleet Street, and went up the Strand,
For I thought I should like to study the trade
They drive in toys at the Lowther Arcade.

And whom should I see, at a Doll’s House door,
But the very same damsel I met before!
“I thought I should see you again,” says she;
“And a few of my friends will be here to tea.”

Then the Punch-and-Judy man came in,
And Columbine and the Harlequin,
The man that patters in front of the show,
And the children—and how their tongues did go!

But what makes the place so sweet? thought I,
As scents of the heather and furze went by,
And with them a whiff of the rolling sea;—
And then I remembered Arcady,
As the party were tittering over the tea.

THE PEDLAR’S CARAVAN

I WISH I lived in a caravan,
With a horse to drive, like a pedlar-man!
Where he comes from nobody knows,
Or where he goes to, but on he goes!

His caravan has windows two,
And a chimney of tin, that the smoke comes through;
He has a wife, with a baby brown,
And they go riding from town to town.

Chairs to mend, and delf to sell!
He clashes the basins like a bell;
Tea-trays, baskets ranged in order,
Plates, with alphabets round the border!

The roads are brown, and the sea is green,
But his house is like a bathing-machine;
The world is round, and he can ride,
Rumble and slash, to the other side!

With the pedlar-man I should like to roam,
And write a book when I came home;
All the people would read my book,
Just like the Travels of Captain Cook!

THE FIRST TOOTH

THERE once was a wood, and a very thick wood,
So thick that to walk was as much as you could;
But a sunbeam got in, and the trees understood.

I went to this wood, at the end of the snows,
And as I was walking I saw a primrose;
Only one! Shall I show you the place where it grows?

There once was a house, and a very dark house,
As dark, I believe, as the hole of a mouse,
Or a tree in my wood, at the thick of the boughs.

I went to this house, and I searched it aright,
I opened the chambers, and I found a light;
Only one! Shall I show you this little lamp bright?

There once was a cave, and this very dark cave
One day took a gift from an incoming wave;
And I made up my mind to know what the sea gave.

I took a lit torch, I walked round the ness
When the water was lowest; and in a recess
In my cave was a jewel. Will nobody guess?

O there was a baby, he sat on my knee,
With a pearl in his mouth that was precious to me,
His little dark mouth like my cave of the sea!

I said to my heart, “And my jewel is bright!
He blooms like a primrose! He shines like a light!”
Put your hand in his mouth! Do you feel? He can bite!

PRAISE AND LOVE

TELL me, Praise, and tell me, Love,
What you both are thinking of?

“Oh, we think,” said Love, said Praise,
“Now of children and their ways.”

Give me of your cup to drink,
Praise, and tell me all you think.

“Oh, I think of crowns of gold
For the clever and the bold.”

Then I turned to Love, and said,—
Love was glowing heavenly-red,—

Give me of your cup to drink,
Love, and tell me all you think.

Let me taste your bitter-sweet;
Who are those that kiss your feet?

Love looked up—I read her eyes—
They were stars and they were skies.

Clinging to her garment’s hem,
Smiling as I looked at them,

There were children scarred and halt,
Children weeping for a fault;
Those who scarcely dared to raise
Doubtful eyes to smiling Praise.

Love looked round, and Praise and Pride
Brought their glad ones to her side.

“Yea, these too,” she said or sang,
And the world with music rang.

TWO PICTURES

I

THERE was a little fellow
Who lived across the sea,
His hair was brown and yellow
As any honey-bee.
Sometimes he was the smartest
Of warriors in the van;
He was a Bonapartist,
And a Republican.

A fort of cards he builded,
Though now and then they slid;
With ammunition filled it,
Or made believe he did;
And when the fort was wrought up,
This little man amain
His big artillery brought up,
And blew it down again!

II

This little Bonapartist,
Or, say, Republican,
Would sometimes play the artist,—
The busy little man!
Sometimes he was untidy,
Though often he was smart;
He thought that he was mighty
In many kinds of Art.
He sat like any fixture,
The drawing-board before;
And, oh, to see the mixture
Of colours on the floor!
Such was this little fellow,
Who lived across the sea,
Whose hair was brown and yellow,
Just like a honey-bee.

III

Seven-and-seventy mothers,
This side of the sea,
Said, “We know some others
Quite as nice as he!”
Seven-and-seventy brothers
Said, “And so do we!”
Seven-and-seventy sisters,
Hearing this acclaim,
Said to those young misters,
“We think just the same.”

THE SHIP THAT SAILED INTO THE SUN

THEY said my brother’s ship went down,
Down into the sea,
Because a storm came on to drown
The biggest ships that be;
But I saw the ship, when he went away;
I saw it pass, and pass;
The tide was low, I went out to play,
The sea was all like glass;
The ship sailed straight into the sun,
Half of a ball of gold—
Onward it went till it touched the sun—
I saw the ship take hold!

But soon I saw them both no more,
The sun and the ship together,
For the wind began to hoot and to roar,
And there was stormy weather.
Yet every day the golden ball
Rests on the edge of the sky;
The sun it is, with the ship and all,
For the ship sailed into the golden ball
Across the edge of the sky.

THE YOUNG EXILE

LITTLE Boy
From Savoy,
With the slouch-sandalled feet,
With the pipe in your hand,
To play on, as you stand
In the long, stony, stupid, stumbling street;
I heard a noise just now,
And I got up from my desk,
Saying, “What can be the row?”
For the dogs went bow-wow,
And I-cannot-tell-you-how
Went your music; and the whole thing was grotesque.
Then I saw you, picturesque,
In the weather,
With a feather
In your rough wide-awake,
And a bowl,
Poor young soul!
In your hand for the coppers you might take;
And the handsome face you had,
Little lad,
Olive skin of the South,
Large eyes and well-set mouth,
I admired very much, yes, I did;
And I wished you back again
To your dear native plain
On the loose with a marmot or a kid;
With your father, and a bag full of money,
In a cottage all your own
Pretty much got up of stone,
And with flocks
In the rocks
At your call, and the maids,
Blue-kirtled, in the shades,
And a score of beehives very full of honey!

THE COMING STORM

THE tree-tops rustle, the tree-tops wave,
They hustle, they bustle; and, down in a cave,
The winds are murmuring, ready to rave.

The skies are dimming; the birds fly low,
Skimming and swimming, their wings are slow;
They float, they are carried, they scarcely go.

The dead leaves hurry; the waters, too,
Flurry and scurry; as if they knew
A storm was at hand; the smoke is blue.

THE DISCONTENTED YEW-TREE

A DARK-GREEN prickly yew one night
Peeped round on the trees of the forest,
And said, “Their leaves are smooth and bright,
My lot is the worst and poorest:

I wish I had golden leaves,” said the yew;
And lo, when the morning came,
He found his wish had come suddenly true,
For his branches were all aflame.

Now, by came a Jew, with a bag on his back,
Who cried, “I’ll be rich to-day!”
He stripped the boughs, and, filling his sack
With the yellow leaves, walked away!

The yew was as vexed as a tree could be,
And grieved as a yew-tree grieves,
And sighed, “If Heaven would but pity me,
And grant me crystal leaves!”

Then crystal leaves crept over the boughs;
Said the yew, “Now am I not gay?”
But a hailstorm hurricane soon arose
And broke every leaf away!

So he mended his wish yet once again,—
“Of my pride I do now repent;
Give me fresh green leaves, quite smooth and plain,
And I will be content.”

In the morning he woke in smooth green leaf,
Saying, “This is a sensible plan;
The storm will not bring my beauty to grief,
Or the greediness of man.”

But the world has goats as well as men,
And one came snuffing past,
Which ate of the green leaves a million and ten,
Not having broken his fast.

O then the yew-tree groaned aloud,
“What folly was mine, alack!
I was discontented, and I was proud—
O give me my old leaves back!”

So, when daylight broke, he was dark, dark green,
And prickly as before!—
The other trees mocked, “Such a sight to be seen!
To be near him makes one sore!”
The south wind whispered his leaves between,
“Be thankful, and change no more!

“The thing you are is always the thing
That you had better be”—
But the north wind said, with a gallant fling,
“The foolish, weak yew-tree!

“What if he blundered twice or thrice?
There’s a turn to the longest lane;
And everything must have its price—
Poor faulterer, try again!”

THE LITTLE BROTHER

LITTLE brother in a cot,
Baby, baby!
Shall he have a pleasant lot?
Maybe, maybe!

Little brother in a nap,
Baby, baby!
Bless his tiny little cap,
Noise far away be!

With a rattle in his hand,
Baby, baby!
Dreaming—who can understand
Dreams like this, what they be?

When he wakes kiss him twice,
Then talk and gay be;
Little cheeks soft and nice,
Baby, baby!

Pretty little pouting boy,
Baby, baby!
Let his life, with sweet and toy,
Pleasure all and play be.

Seven white angels watching here,
Baby, baby!
Pray be kind to baby dear,
Pray be, pray be!

Little brother in a cot,
Baby, baby!
His shall be a pleasant lot—
Must, not may be!

CUCKOO IN THE PEAR-TREE

THE Cuckoo sat in the old pear-tree.
Cuckoo!
Raining or snowing, nought cared he.
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo, nought cared he.

The Cuckoo flew over a housetop nigh.
Cuckoo!
“Dear, are you at home, for here am I?
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo, here am I.”

“I dare not open the door to you.
Cuckoo!
Perhaps you are not the right cuckoo?
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo, the right Cuckoo!”

“I am the right Cuckoo, the proper one.
Cuckoo!
For I am my father’s only son,
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo, his only son.”

“If you are your father’s only son—
Cuckoo!
The bobbin pull tightly,
Come through the door lightly—
Cuckoo!

If you are your father’s only son—
Cuckoo!
It must be you, the only one—
Cuckoo, cuckoo, my own Cuckoo!
Cuckoo!”

MADCAP

SWIFT, lithe, plastical;
High-fantastical
In feats gymnastical;
Enthusiastical;

She is a glorious
Romp; victorious;
Is uproarious
Too censorious?

She is a mighty,
Elfy, spritey,
Highty-tighty
Ma’mselle Flighty.

THE gayest wench, if
Her mood’s extensive;
But full of sense, if
Her mood is pensive.

What resolution
In execution!
“O mum,” says Susan,
“She is a Rooshian!”

But when she’s graver
No girl is braver
In her behaviour,
As I’m a shaver!

Bid Mystery pack again!
With sudden tack again,
My Romp is back again,
Madcap, clack again!

When I am priming
Myself for rhyming
Of Jove or Hymen,
That girl is climbing,

Athletic, able,
The chairs, the table,
An admirable
Gymnastic Babel!

It makes me shiver
In lungs and liver,
To look! However,
Three cheers I give her.

THE BEWITCHED TOYS; OR, QUEEN MAB IN CHILD-WORLD.

I

HERE comes Queen Mab in her coach-and-six!
Look out for mischievous fairy tricks!
Look out, good girls! Look out, brave boys!
I know she comes to bewitch your toys!
Hither she floats, like the down of a thistle!—
So mind the pegtop; and mind the hoop;
Bring down the kite with a sudden swoop;
Hide the popgun; and plug up the whistle;
But don’t say Dolly’s a-bed with the croup:
For, if you tell her a fib, my dear,
She’ll fasten the door-key to your ear!

II

Then the Kite went flying up to the Moon,
And the Man with the Sticks, who lives up there,
Kick’d it through with his clouted shoon,
And the tail hung dangling down in the air.

But Harry wouldn’t let go the string,
Although it nearly broke with the strain;
Said he: “Well, this is a comical thing,
But the kite is mine, and I’ll have it again!”

“Now whistle three times,” cried cunning Nell,
“And over your shoulder throw your shoe,
And pull once more, and say this spell:
Fustumfunnidostantaraboo!”

But Harry made a mistake in the charm,
Saying, “Fustumfunnidostantaboorack!”
And a dreadful pain went all up his arm,
And he fell down, shouting, right on his back.

Then Nell took hold, and pulled the string,
And the kite came down, all safe and sound,
And a piece of the moon away did bring,
Which you may have for a silver pound!

III

Said Thomas, with the round straw hat,
“My popgun bring to me,
And hey! to shoot the Tabby Cat
Up in the Cherry-tree!

“Last night she stole my supper all,—
She must be better taught;
And I shall make her caterwaul
‘I’m sorry,’ as she ought.”

Then Thomas, taking hasty aim
At Tabby on the bough,
Hit Tabby’s mistress, an old Dame
Who had a Brindled Cow.

The Brindled Cow could not abide
To see her mistress struck.
And after trembling Thomas hied,—
Said he, “It’s just my luck!”

She tossed him once, she tossed him twice,
When Tabby at her flew,
Saying, “Tom, your custard was so nice
That I will fight for you.”

The old Dame flung the pellet back,
And, when Tom picked it up,
He cried, “The pellet has turned, good lack!
To a custard in a cup!”

And so it had! The Brindled Cow,
The Dame, and Tabby Cat
Were much surprised. “It’s strange, I vow,”
Said Tom in the round hat.

But nothing came amiss to him;
He ate the custard clean—
There was a brown mark round the rim
To show where it had been.

IV

“Pegtop, pegtop—fast asleep!
Pray, how long do you mean to keep
Humming and droning and spinning away?
Do you mean to keep on all the day?
Ten minutes have passed since your nap was begun;
Pegtop, when will your nap be done?

“Forty winks, forty, and forty more!
You never slept so long before;
This is a pretty sleep to take!
Boxer, Boxer, yawn and wake!”

Then said Marian, “Never fear;
Dolly’s nightcap, Richard dear,
Put on Boxer—perhaps he thinks
He would like forty times forty winks!”

Three o’clock, four o’clock, all day long
Richard’s pegtop hummed so strong,
Hummed away and would not stop—
Dick had to buy another top!
For though this Boxer was certainly clever,
Who wants a pegtop to hum for ever?

All the Queen’s horses and all the Queen’s men
Couldn’t get Boxer to wake again;
They made him a house, and put him in;
The people came to see Boxer spin;
“A penny apiece,” said Dick, “and cheap,
To see my Pegtop’s wonderful sleep!”

V

Kate had quarrelled and would not speak
To Cousin John,
Who, trying to kiss her on the cheek,
With her bonnet on,
Had crumpled her bonnet at the border,
And put the trimming in disorder.

“Pray let me kiss you, Katy dear,”
Said John so gay.
“Now. Master John,” said Kate severe,
“Please get away!
And if you don’t, I only hope
You’ll get hit with my skipping-rope!”

Skip, skip,
Never trip;
Round and round!
“Does it touch the ground?
Don’t I skip well?” said sulky Kate;
But, oh, at last
Her feet stuck fast—
Her pretty feet,
So small and neat,
Were glued by magic to the skipping-cord,
Which turned into a Swing! And then my lord
Johnny said, “This is fine, upon my word!”

Backwards and forwards Katy swung;—
To the magic rope, which by nothing hung,
Frightened out of her breath she clung—
An apple for the Queen, and a pear for the King!
Wasn’t that a wonderful swing?
It kept on going like anything!

“John!” said Katy, turning faint,
And the colour of white paint,
“Save me from this dreadful swing!”
Then our Johnny made a spring
Up to Kate, and held her tight,
And kissed her twice, with all his might,
Which stopped the magic swing; and Katy then
Said, “Thank you, Jack!” and kissed him back again.

VI

Then the Children all said, “She spoils our play:
We must really get Queen Mab away;
She mustn’t bewitch our Toys too much.
Who will speak to her? Does she talk Dutch?
John knows Magic, and Greek, and such;
No one than John can be cleverer—
Perhaps he knows how to get rid of her!”

VII

Six White Mice, with harness on,
What do you think of Cousin John,
Who taught them so,
And made them go?—
Six white mice, with harness on!

A wee coach, gilt like the Lord Mayor’s own!
Made by Cousin John alone,
Bright and gay,—
On a Lord Mayor’s Day
Just such a coach is the Lord Mayor’s own!

Marian’s Doll come out for a ride,
Dressed like a queen in pomp and pride:
The six wee mice,
That trot so nice,
Draw Marian’s Doll come out for a ride!

Every mouse had a silver bell
Round its neck, as I’ve heard tell;
Tinkle tink!—
But who would think
Of a harnessed mouse, with a silver bell?

“What can six white mice intend?”
Thought Queen Mab, with her hair on end—
“And silver bells,
And what-not-else—
What can six white mice intend?

“When was such a procession seen?
It frightens me, as I’m a Queen!”
So she stopped her tricks,
And her coach-and-six
Drove away with the Fairy Queen.

THE NEW WORLD

I SAW a new world in my dream,
Where all the folks alike did seem;
There was no Child, there was no Mother,
There was no Change, there was no Other,

For everything was Same, the Same;
There was no praise, there was no blame;
There was neither Need nor Help for it;
There was nothing fitting, or unfit.

Nobody laughed, nobody wept;
None grew weary, and so none slept;
There was nobody born, and nobody wed;
This world was a world of the living-dead.

I longed to hear the Time-Clock strike
In the world where the people were all alike;
I hated Same, I hated For-Ever,
I longed to say Neither, or even Never.

I longed to mend, I longed to make,
I longed to give, I longed to take,
I longed for a change, whatever came after,
I longed for crying, I longed for laughter.

At last I heard the Time-Clock boom,
And woke from my dream in my little room;
With a smile on her lips my mother was nigh,
And I heard the Baby crow and cry.

And I thought to myself,—How nice it is
For me to live in a world like this,
Where things can happen, and clocks can strike,
And none of the people are made alike;

Where Love wants this, and Pain wants that,
And all our hearts want Tit for Tat
In the jumbles we make with our heads and our hands,
In a world that nobody understands,
But with work, and hope, and the right to call
Upon Him who sees it and knows us all.

LINA AND HER LAMB

I

THIS is Lina, with her lamb,
Lina and her lamb together,
In the pleasant, flowery weather.
“What a happy lamb I am!”—
That is what the lamb would say
If the lamb could only speak—
“Lina loves me all the week;
Lina loves me night and day;
Lina loves me all the hours;
Lina goes to gather flowers;
Lina knows them, Lina finds them;
Lina takes the flowers, and binds them
In a necklace for her lamb!”—
Happy Lina, happy lamb!
Lina and her lamb together,
In the pleasant flowery weather.