English poem
Oh, No!
by Mary Mapes Dodge (1831–1905)
IF blue-birds bloomed like flowers in a row, And never could make a sound, How would the daisies and violets know When to come out of the ground! They would wait and wait the seasons round; Never a flower could on earth be found. And what would birds and butterflies do If the flowers had wings to fly? Why, birds and blossoms, and butterflies too, Would stay far up in the sky; And then the people would droop and sigh, And all the children on earth would cry.
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THE SAND MAN.
OHO! but he travels the country over, The queer little, kind little, elfish rover! Lightly he bears in his tricksome hand A silvery horn full of sleepy sand, Shaking it here, and shaking it there, Till the blossoms nod in the drowsy air; Till the sunlight creeps up hill to bed, Or slips through the sky where clouds are red; Till the lambkins bleat a soft "good-night!" And birds grow still in the tree-tops bright, While sweet little eyelids, all over the land, Droop with the weight of the silvery sand.
Oho! Oho! where the Sand Man goes Every one wonders and nobody knows; For just when the right time comes to peep, Little and big are falling asleep. He steals to the cradles, the cribs, the beds, And sprinkles his sand over children's heads, Till bright little faces lie warm and still, Smiling or grave, at the Sand Man's will. He catches them often at full midday, And bids them stop in their merry play-- With a "Ho! my darling," "Hi! my dear," "I'll sing a dream-song into your ear."
Some on the carpet, some on the chairs, Some curled up on the nursery stairs; Some in the grass where the shadows play, Some hidden deep in the fragrant hay, And some who, folded in mother's embrace, Float in a lullaby, pressing her face. Oho! but he travels the country over, The queer little, kind little, elfish rover! And whence he comes, and whither he goes, Every one wonders, and nobody knows; For just when the right time comes to peep, All the children are falling asleep.
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TROUBLE IN THE GREENHOUSE.
THREE big cats in a greenhouse. Oh! they look so meek, So sage and sleek, That but for the clash And the sudden crash, And the broken pots Of forget-me-nots, And upset roses, And dingy noses, And draggled vines, And tangled twines, And broken pink, You'd never think What a fearful fuss And hopeless muss Could be made in a hurry And velvet flurry By three meek cats in a greenhouse.
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TEN KINDS.
WINNIE WHINEY, all things grieve her; Fannie Fibber, who'd believe her? Lotty Loozem, late to school, sir; Albert Allplay, quite a fool, sir; Kitty Kissem, loved by many, Georgy Grump, not loved by any. Ralphy Ruff--beware his fist, sir! Tillie Tattle, like a blister, Gus Goodaction, bright and cheery, Sammy Selfish, sour and dreary. Do you know them, as I've sung them? Easy 'tis to choose among them.
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