I Ain’t afeard uv snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice,
An’ things ’at girls are skeered uv I think are awful nice!
I ’m pretty brave, I guess; an’ yet I hate to go to bed,
For, when I ’m tucked up warm an’ snug an’ when my prayers are said,
Mother tells me “Happy dreams!” and takes away the light,
An’ leaves me lyin’ all alone an’ seein’ things...
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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,
In the kitchen were occupied with meals,
And she stood upon her head
In her little... -
Translated by Charles Timothy Brooks
AH, how oft we read or hear of
Boys we almost stand in fear of!
For example, take these stories
Of two youths, named Max and Maurice,
Who, instead of early turning
Their young minds to useful learning,
Often leered with horrid features
At their lessons and their teachers.
Look now at... -
Translated by Charles Timothy Brooks
TO most people who have leisure
Raising poultry gives great pleasure;
First, because the eggs they lay us
For the care we take repay us;
Secondly, that now and then
We can dine on roasted hen;
Thirdly, of the hen’s and goose’s
Feathers men make various uses.
Some folks like to rest... -
Translated by Charles Timothy Brooks
WHEN the worthy Widow Tibbets
(Whom the cut below exhibits)
Had recovered, on the morrow,
From the dreadful shock of sorrow,
She (as soon as grief would let her
Think) began to think ’t were better
Just to take the dead, the dear ones
(Who in life were walking here once),
And in a still... -
Translated by Charles Timothy Brooks
THROUGH the town and country round
Was one Mr. Buck renowned.
Sunday coats, and week-day sack-coats,
Bob-tails, swallow-tails, and frock coats,
Gaiters, breeches, hunting-jackets;
Waistcoats, with commodious pockets,—
And other things, too long to mention,
Claimed Mr. Tailor Buck’s attention.... -
Translated by Charles Timothy Brooks
MAX and Maurice! I grow sick,
When I think on your last trick.
Why must these two scalawags
Cut those gashes in the bags?
See! the farmer on his back
Carries corn off in a sack.
Scarce has he begun to travel,
When the corn runs out like gravel.
All at once he stops and cries:
“... -
There was a small boy of Quebec,
Who was buried in snow to his neck;
When they said. “Are you friz?”
He replied, “Yes, I is—
But we don’t call this cold in Quebec.” -
O The DAYS gone by! O the days gone by!
The apples in the orchard, and the pathway through the rye;
The chirrup of the robin, and the whistle of the quail
As he piped across the meadows sweet as any nightingale;
When the bloom was on the clover, and the blue was in the sky,
And my happy heart brimmed over, in the days gone by.In the days gone...
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My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day.Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
And so make life, death, and that vast forever
One grand,...