The Home Book of Verse
Chapter 30 : I won't have any soup to-day."The third day comes; O what a sin!To make himse

I won't have any soup to-day."

The third day comes; O what a sin!

To make himself so pale and thin.

Yet, when the soup is put on table, He screams, as loud as he is able,-- "Not any soup for me, I say: O take the nasty soup away!

I won't have any soup to-day."

Look at him, now the fourth day's come!

He scarcely weighs a sugar-plum; He's like a little bit of thread, And on the fifth day, he was--dead!

From the German of Heinrich Hoffman [1798-1874]

THE STORY OF LITTLE SUCK-A-THUMB

One day, mamma said: "Conrad dear, I must go out and leave you here.

But mind now, Conrad, what I say, Don't suck your thumb while I'm away.

The great tall tailor always comes To little boys that suck their thumbs; And ere they dream what he's about, He takes his great sharp scissors out And cuts their thumbs clean off,--and then, You know, they never grow again."

Mamma had scarcely turned her back, The thumb was in, alack! alack!

The door flew open, in he ran, The great, long, red-legged scissors-man.

Oh, children, see! the tailor's come And caught our little Suck-a-Thumb.

Snip! snap! snip! the scissors go; And Conrad cries out--"Oh! oh! oh!"

Snip! snap! Snip! They go so fast, That both his thumbs are off at last.

Mamma comes home; there Conrad stands, And looks quite sad, and shows his hands;-- "Ah!" said mamma, "I knew he'd come To naughty little Suck-a-Thumb."

From the German of Heinrich Hoffman [1798-1874]

WRITTEN IN A LITTLE LADY'S LITTLE ALb.u.m

Hearts good and true Have wishes few In narrow circles bounded, And hope that lives On what G.o.d gives Is Christian hope well founded.

Small things are best; Grief and unrest To rank and wealth are given; But little things On little wings Bear little souls to heaven.

Frederick William Faber [1814-1863]

MY LADY WIND

My Lady Wind, my Lady Wind, Went round about the house to find A c.h.i.n.k to set her foot in; She tried the keyhole in the door, She tried the crevice in the floor, And drove the chimney soot in.

And then one night when it was dark She blew up such a tiny spark That all the town was bothered; From it she raised such flame and smoke That many in great terror woke, And many more were smothered.

And thus when once, my little dears, A whisper reaches itching ears-- The same will come, you'll find: Take my advice, restrain the tongue, Remember what old nurse has sung Of busy Lady Wind.

Unknown

TO A CHILD

Small service is true service while it lasts: Of humblest friends, bright creature! scorn not one: The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.

William Wordsworth [1770-1850]

A FAREWELL

My fairest child, I have no song to give you; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray: Yet, if you will, one quiet hint I'll leave you For every day.

I'll tell you how to sing a clearer carol Than lark who hails the dawn on breezy down; To earn yourself a purer poet's laurel Than Shakespeare's crown.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do n.o.ble things, not dream them, all day long: And so make Life, and Death, and that For Ever One grand sweet song.

Charles Kingsley [1819-1875]

RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD

REEDS OF INNOCENCE

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: