Polly
Brown eyes,
Straight nose;
Dirt pies,
Rumpled clothes;
Torn books,
Spoiled 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
For what it 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!