* * * * *
AN IMPROMPTU FAIRY-TALE
[Illustration]
_When I wuz ist a little bit_
_o' weenty-teenty kid_
_I maked up a Fairy-tale,_
_all by myse'f, I did:--_
I
Wunst upon a time wunst
They wuz a Fairy King,
An' ever'thing he have wuz _gold--_,
His clo'es, an' _ever_'thing!
An' all the other Fairies
In his goldun Palace-hall
Had to hump an' hustle--
'Cause he wuz bosst of all!
II
He have a goldun trumput,
An' when he blow' on that,
It's a sign he want' his boots,
Er his coat er hat:
They's a sign fer ever'thing,--
An' all the Fairies knowed
Ever' sign, an' come a-hoppin'
When the King blowed!
[Illustration]
III
Wunst he blowed an' telled 'em all:
"Saddle up yer bees--
Fireflies is gittin' fat
An' sassy as you please!--
Guess we'll go a-huntin'!"
So they hunt' a little bit,
Till the King blowed "Supper-time,"
Nen they all quit.
[Illustration]
IV
Nen they have a Banqut
In the Palace-hall,
An' ist et! an' et! an' et!
Nen they have a _Ball_;
An' when the _Queen_ o' Fairyland
Come p'omenadin' through,
The King says an' halts her,--
"Guess I'll marry you!"
[Illustration]
* * * * *
DREAM-MARCH
"Wasn't it a funny dream!--perfectly bewild'rin'!--
Last night, and night before, and night before that,
Seemed like I saw the march o' regiments o' children,
Marching to the robin's fife and cricket's rat-ta-tat!
Lily-banners overhead, with the dew upon 'em,
On flashed the little army, as with sword and flame;
Like the buzz o' bumble-wings, with the honey on 'em,
Came an eerie, cheery chant, chiming as it came:--
[Illustration]
_Where go the children? Travelling! Travelling_!
_Where go the children, travelling ahead_?
_Some go to kindergarten; some go to day-school_;
_Some go to night-school; and some go to bed_!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Smooth roads or rough roads, warm or winter weather,
On go the children, tow-head and brown,
Brave boys and brave girls, rank and file together,
Marching out of Morning-Land, over dale and down:
[Illustration]
Some go a-gypsying out in country places--
Out through the orchards, with blossoms on the boughs
Wild, sweet, and pink and white as their own glad faces;
And some go, at evening, calling home the cows.
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