(a Cat’s Tale, with Additions)
THREE little kittens lost their mittens;
And they began to cry,
O mother dear,
We very much fear
That we have lost our mittens.
Lost your mittens!
You naughty kittens!...
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How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower.
How skilfully she builds her cell;
How neat she spreads her wax,
And labors hard to store it well
With the sweet food...
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For Night and Morning
THOU that once, on mother’s knee,
Wast a little one like me,
When I wake or go to bed
Lay thy hands about my head:
Let me feel thee very near,
Jesus Christ, our Saviour dear.
Be beside me in the light,
Close...
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Piped the Blackbird, on the beechwood spray,
“Pretty maid, slow wandering this way,
What ’s your name?” quoth he,—
“What ’s your name? O, stop and straight unfold,
Pretty maid with showery curls of gold.”—
“Little Bell,” said she.
Little...
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I Passed by a garden, a little Dutch garden,
Where useful and pretty things grew,—
Heart’s-ease and tomatoes, and pinks and potatoes,
And lilies and onions and rue.
I saw in that garden, that little Dutch garden,
A chubby Dutch man with a spade,...
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Little Orphant Annie ’s come to our house to stay,
An’ wash the cups and saucers up, an’ brush the crumbs away,
An’ shoo the chickens off the porch, an’ dust the hearth, an’ sweep,
An’ make the fire, an’ bake the bread, an’ earn her board-an’-keep;
An’ all us...
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There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
She was very, very good,
And when she was bad she was horrid.
One day she went upstairs,
When her parents, unawares,
...
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MY girl hath violet eyes and yellow hair,
A soft hand, like a lady’s, small and fair,
A sweet fate pouting in a white straw bonnet,
A tiny foot, and little boot upon it;
And all her finery to charm beholders
Is the gray shawl drawn tight around her...
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O Swan of slenderness,
Dove of tenderness,
Jewel of joys, arise!
The little red lark,
Like a soaring spark
Of song, to his sunburst flies;
But till thou art arisen,
Earth is a prison,
Full of my lonesome sighs:
Then...
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Originally Printed in 1569
LOVE me little, love me long!
Is the burden of my song:
Love that is too hot and strong
Burneth soon to waste.
Still I would not have thee cold,—
Not too backward, nor too bold;
Love that lasteth till ’t is...
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