Grandpapa

GRANDPAPA lives at the end of the lane, His cottage is small and its furniture plain; No pony to ride on, no equipage grand,-- A garden, and just half an acre of land; No dainties to dine off, and very few toys,-- Yet is grandpapa's house the delight of the boys.

Grandpapa once lived in one little room, Grandpapa worked all day long at his loom: He speaks with queer accent, does dear grandpapa, And not half so well as papa and mamma. The girls think his clothes are a little rough, But the boys all declare they can't love him enough.

A man of the people in manners and mind, Yet so honest, so tender, so clever, so kind: Makes the best of his lot still, where'er it be cast. A sturdy old Englishman, game to the last. Though simple and humble and unknown to fame, It's good luck to the boys to bear grandpapa's name!

MONSIEUR ET MADEMOISELLE.

DEUX petits enfants Francais, Monsieur et Mademoiselle. Of what can they be talking, child? Indeed I cannot tell. But of this I am very certain, You would find naught to blame In that sweet French politeness-- I wish we had the same.

Monsieur has got a melon, And scoops it with his knife, While Mademoiselle sits watching him: No rudeness here--no strife: Though could you listen only, They're chattering like two pies-- French magpies, understand me-- So merry and so wise.

Their floor is bare of carpet, Their curtains are so thin, They dine on meagre potage, and Put many an onion in! Her snow-white caps she irons: He blacks his shoes, he can; Yet she's a little lady And he's a gentleman.

O busy, happy children! That light French heart of yours, Would it might sometimes enter at Our solemn English doors! Would that we worked as gaily, And played, yes, played as well, And lived our lives as simply As Monsieur et Mademoiselle.