And his trousers considering not very much | Why, there he is ! Punch and Judy hunting, the patched, and red plush, they was once his young wretch, it's that Billy as sartin Father's best pair. as sin ! His shirt, it's very lucky I'd got washing in the But let me get him home, with a good grip of tub, or that might have gone with the his hair, and I'm blest if he shall have a rest; whole bone in his skin! THOMAS HOOD. Bat he'd got on a very good pinafore with only two slits and a burn on the breast. He'd a goodish sort of hat, if the crown was sewed in, and not quite so much jagged at LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD the brim. With one shoe on, and the other shoe is a boot, COME back, come back together, and not a fit, and you 'll know by that All ye fancies of the past, if it's him. Ye days of April weather, And then he has got such dear winning ways Ye shadows that are cast but O, I never, never shall see him no By the haunted hours before ! more! Come back, come back, my Childhood ; O dear! to think of losing him just after nussing Thou art summoned by a spell • him back from death's door ! From the green leaves of the wildwood, Only the very last month when the windfalls, From beside the charméd well, hang 'em, was at twenty a penny.! For Red Riding Hood, the darling, And the threepence he'd got by grottoing was The flower of fairy lore! spent in plums, and sixty for a child is The fields were covered over too many. With colors as she went; And the Cholera man came and whitewashed us Daisy, buttercup, and clover all, and, drat him I made a seize of our Below her footsteps bent; hog. — Summer shed its shining store ; It's no use to send the Crier to cry him about, She was happy as she pressed them he's such a blunderin' drunken old dog ; Beneath her little feet; The last time he was fetched to find a lost child She plucked them and caressed them ; he was guzzling with his bell at the They were so very sweet, They had never seemed so sweet before, And went and cried a boy instead of a girl, for To Red Riding Hood, the darling, The flower of fairy lore. How the heart of childhood dances Upon a sunny day I'm scared when I think of them Cabroleys, they It has its own romances, drive so, they'd run over their own Sisters And a wide, wide world have they ! and Brothers. A world where Phantasie is king, Or maybe he's stole by some chimbly-sweeping Made all of eager dreaming ; wretch, to stick fast in narrow flues and When once grown up and tall what not, Now is the time for scheming And be poked up behind with a picked pointed Then we shall do them all! pole, when the soot has ketched, and the Do such pleasant fancies spring chimbly 's red hot. For Red Riding Hood, the darling, 0, I'd give the whole wide world, if the world The flower of fairy lore ? She seems like an ideal love, soon come back, you 'll see me drop stone And yet loved with a real love, As if she were our own, — A younger sister for the heart; Her hair is brown and bright; but a child don't not feel like a child till With its rosy light. Never can the memory part And to his little daughter Jane Five hundred pounds in gold, Which might not be controlled ; Ere they to age should come, Their uncle should possess their wealth, For so the will did run. With Red Riding Hood, the darling, The flower of fairy lore. Did the painter, dreaming In a morning hour, Catch the fairy seeming Of this fairy flower ! Winning it with eager eyes Lingering with a long delight Giving us a sweet surprise The flower of fairy lore ? Where the cowslip bends, Did the little maiden stay. We, too, loiter mid life's flowers, All love lingering on their way, LÆTITIA ELIZABETH LANDON. “Now, brother,” said the dying man, “Look to my children dear; Be good unto my boy and girl, No friends else I have here." “O brother kind," quoth she, “You are the man must bring our babes To wealth or misery. “And if you keep them carefully, Then God will you reward ; If otherwise you seem to deal, God will your deeds regard." With lips as cold as any stone She kissed her children small : “God bless you both, my children dear,” With that the tears did fall. Their parents being dead and gone, The children home he takes, And much of them he makes. A twelvemonth and a day, To make them both away. THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. Now ponder well, you parents dear, The words which I shall write ; A doleful story you shall hear, In time brought forth to light : A gentleman, of good account, In Norfolk lived of late, Whose wealth and riches did surmount Most men of his estate. • He bargained with two ruffians strong, Which were of furious mood, That they should take these children young, And slay them in a wood. He did the children send Sore sick he was, and like to die, No help then he could have ; His wife by him as sick did lie, And both possessed one grave. No love between these two was lost, Each was to other kind ; In love they lived, in love they died, And left two babes behind : Away then went these pretty babes, Rejoicing at that tide, Rejoicing with a merry mind, They should on cock-horse ride ; They prate and prattle pleasantly, As they rode on the way, To those that should their butchers be, And work their lives' decay, The one a fine and pretty boy, Not passing three years old ; The other a girl, more young than he, And made in beauty's mould. The father left his little son, As plainly doth appear, When he to perfect age should come, Three hundred pounds a year, So that the pretty speech they had Made Murder's heart relent ; And they that undertook the deed Full sore they did repent. Yet one of them, more hard of heart, Did vow to do his charge, Because the wretch that hired him Had paid him very large. The fellow that did take in hand These children for to kill Was for a robber judged to die, As was God's blessed will; Who did confess the very truth, The which is here expressed ; Their uncle died while he, for debt, In prison long did rest. The other would not agree thereto, So here they fell at strife ; With one another they did fight, About the children's life ; And he that was of mildest mood Did slay the other there, Within an unfrequented wood ; While babes did quake for fear. You that executors be made, And overseers eke, And infants mild and meek, And yield to each his right, Lest God with such-like misery Your wicked minds requite. ANONYMOUS He took the children by the hand When tears stood in their eye, And look they did not cry ; While they for food complain : “Stay here," quoth he, “I'll bring you bread When I do come again." A MOTHER'S LOVE. These pretty babes, with hand in hand, Went wandering up and down, But nevermore they saw the man Approaching from the town. Their pretty lips with blackberries Were all besmeared and dyed, And when they saw the darksome night They sate them down and cried. Thus wandered these two pretty babes Till death did end their grief ; In one another's arms they died, As babes wanting relief. Of any man receives, Did cover them with leaves. A LITTLE in the doorway sitting, And now the heavy wrath of God Upon their uncle fell; Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house, His conscience felt an hell. His barns were fired, his goods consumed, His lands were barren made ; His cattle died within the field, And nothing with him stayed. And, in the voyage of Portugal, Two of his sons did die ; And, to conclude, himself was brought To extreme misery. Ere seven years came about'; Did by this means come out : Down the dimpled greensward dancing Bursts a flaxen-headed bevy, Bud-lipt boys and girls advancing, Love's irregular little levy. Rows of liquid eyes in laughter, How they glimmer, how they quiver ! Sparkling one another after, Like bright ripples on a river. Tipsy band of rubious faces, Not willing to be left — still by my side, Haunting my walks, while summer-day was Make your mocks and sly grimaces dying ; At Love's self, and do not fear it. Nor leaving in thy turn, but pleased to glide GEORGE DARLEY. Through the dark room where I was sadly lying; Or by the couch of pain, a sitter meek, Watch the dim eye, and kiss the fevered cheek, Earth's fragile idols ; like a tender flower, Three little girls with fluttering curls No strength in all thy freshness, prone to fade, Flit to and fro together : And bending weakly to the thunder-shower ; There's Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen, Still, round the loved, thy heart found force to And Maud with her mantle of silver-green, bind, And Kate with her scarlet feather. And clung, like woodbine shaken in the wind ! Under my window, under my window, Then Thou, my merry love, - bold in thy glee, Leaning stealthily over, Under the bough, or by the firelight dancing, Merry and clear, the voice I hear, With thy sweet temper, and thy spirit free, — Of each glad-hearted rover. Didst come, as restless as a bird's wing glan. Ah ! sly little Kate, she steals my roses ; cing, And Maud and Bell twine wreaths and posies, Full of a wild and irrepressible mirth, As merry as bees in clover. Like a young sunbeam to the gladdened earth! Under my window, under my window, Thine was the shout, the song, the burst of joy, In the blue Midsummer weather, Which sweet from childhood's rosy lip reStealing slow, on a hushed tiptoe, soundeth ; I catch them all together : Thine was the eager spirit naught could cloy, Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen, And the glad heart from which all grief reAnd Maud with her mantle of silver-green, boundeth ; And Kate with the scarlet feather. And many a mirthful jest and mock reply Lurked in the laughter of thy dark-blue eye. Under my window, under my window, And off through the orchard closes ; And thine was many an art to win and bless, While Mand she flouts, and Bell she pouts, The cold and stern to joy and fondness warm. They scamper and drop their posies ; But dear little Kate takes naught amiss, The coaxing smile, the frequent soft caress, And leaps in my arms with a loving kiss, The earnest, tearful prayer all wrath disarmAnd I give her all iny roses. ing! | Again my heart a new affection found, bound. | At length thou camest, — thou, the last and When first thou camest, gentle, shy, and fond, least, My eldest born, first hope, and dearest treasure, | Nicknamed “the Emperor” by thy laughing My heart received thee with a joy beyond brothers, All that it yet had felt of earthly pleasure ; Because a haughty spirit swelled thy breast, Nor thought that any love again might be And thou didst seek to rule and sway the So deep and strong as that I felt for thee. others, Mingling with every playful infant wile And natural piety that leaned to heaven ; Yen patient to rebukę when justly given; An eye of resolute and successful scheming ! Obedient, casy to be reconciled, Fair shoulders, curling lips, and dauntless brow, And meekly cheerful ; such wert thou, my Fit for the world's strife, not for poet's dream. child ! ing ; ing; Listen ! and be now delighted : Morn hath touched her golden strings ; Earth and Sky their vows have plighted; Life and Light are reunited Amid countless carollings ; Organ finer, deeper, clearer, Though it be a stranger's tone, Than the winds or waters dearer, More enchanting to the hearer, For it answereth to his own. But, of all its witching words, Those are sweetest, bubbling wild Through the laughter of a child. Harmonies from time-touched towers, Haunted strains from rivulets, Hum of bees among the flowers, Rustling leaves, and silver showers, – These, erelong, the ear forgets; But in mine there is a sound Ringing on the whole year round, Heart-deep laughter that I heard Ere my child could speak a word. THE PET LAMB. The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink; I heard a voice ; it said, “Drink, pretty creature, drink!" And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied A snow-white mountain-lamb with a maiden at its side. Nor sheep nor kine were near ; the lamb was all alone, And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone ; With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel, While to that mountain-lamb she gave its evening meal. The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took, Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure shook. “Drink, pretty creature, drink !” she said, in such a tone That I almost received her heart into my own. 'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare ! I watched them with delight : they were a lovely pair. Ah! 't was heard by ear far purer, Fondlier formed to catch the strain, — Ear of one whose love is surer, — Hers, the mother, the endurer Of the deepest share of pain ; |
