Polly

Brown eyes, Straight nose; Dirt pies, Rumpled clothes;

Torn books, Spoilt toys; Arch looks, Unlike a boy’s;

Little rages, Obvious arts; (Three her age is,) Cakes, tarts;

Falling down Off chairs; Breaking crown Down stairs;

Catching flies On the pane; Deep sighs,-- Cause not plain;

Bribing you With kisses For a few Farthing blisses;

Wide awake, As you hear, “Mercy’s sake, Quiet, dear!”

New shoes, New frock; Vague views Of what’s o’clock

When it’s time To go to bed, And scorn sublime Of what is said;

Folded hands, Saying prayers, Understands Not, nor cares;

Thinks it odd, Smiles away; Yet may God Hear her pray!

Bedgown white, Kiss Dolly; Good-night!-- That’s Polly,

Fast asleep, As you see; Heaven keep My girl for me!