I would not fear the ticking clock If I were Browne of Tavistock.

For blithe conceits I would not worry If I were Raleigh, or the Earl of Surrey.

I wish (I hope I am not silly?) That I could juggle words like Lyly.

I envy many a lyric champion, I. e., viz., e. g., Thomas Campion.

I creak my rhymes up like a derrick, I ne'er will be a Robin Herrick.

My wits are dull as an old Barlow-- I wish that I were Christopher Marlowe.

In short, I'd like to be Philip Sidney, Or some one else of that same kidney.

For if I were, my lady's looks And all my lyric special pleading Would be in all the future books, And called, at college, _Required Reading_.

THE INTRUDER

As I sat, to sift my dreaming To the meet and needed word, Came a merry Interruption With insistence to be heard.

Smiling stood a maid beside me, Half alluring and half shy; Soft the white hint of her bosom-- Escapade was in her eye.

"I must not be so invaded,"

(In an anger then I cried)-- "Can't you see that I am busy?

Tempting creature, stay outside!

"Pearly rascal, I am writing: I am now composing verse-- Fie on antic invitation: Wanton, vanish--fly--disperse!

"Baggage, in my G.o.dlike moment What have I to do with thee?"

And she laughed as she departed-- "I am Poetry," said she.

t.i.t FOR TAT

I often pa.s.s a gracious tree Whose name I can't identify, But still I bow, in courtesy It waves a bough, in kind reply.

I do not know your name, O tree (Are you a hemlock or a pine?) But why should that embarra.s.s me?

Quite probably you don't know mine.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Courtesy_]

SONG FOR A LITTLE HOUSE

I'm glad our house is a little house, Not too tall nor too wide: I'm glad the hovering b.u.t.terflies Feel free to come inside.

Our little house is a friendly house.

It is not shy or vain; It gossips with the talking trees, And makes friends with the rain.

And quick leaves cast a shimmer of green Against our whited walls, And in the phlox, the courteous bees Are paying duty calls.

THE PLUMPUPPETS

When little heads weary have gone to their bed, When all the good nights and the prayers have been said, Of all the good fairies that send bairns to rest The little Plumpuppets are those I love best.

_If your pillow is lumpy, or hot, thin and flat,_ _The little Plumpuppets know just what they're at;_ _They plump up the pillow, all soft, cool and fat--_ _The little Plumpuppets plump-up it!_

The little Plumpuppets are fairies of beds: They have nothing to do but to watch sleepy heads; They turn down the sheets and they tuck you in tight, And they dance on your pillow to wish you good night!

No matter what troubles have bothered the day, Though your doll broke her arm or the pup ran away; Though your handies are black with the ink that was spilt-- Plumpuppets are waiting in blanket and quilt.

_If your pillow is lumpy, or hot, thin and flat, The little Plumpuppets know just what they're at; They plump up the pillow, all soft, cool and fat-- The little Plumpuppets plump-up it!_

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The Plumpuppets_]

DANDY DANDELION

When Dandy Dandelion wakes And combs his yellow hair, The ant his cup of dewdrop takes And sets his bed to air; The worm hides in a quilt of dirt To keep the thrush away, The beetle dons his pansy shirt-- They know that it is day!

And caterpillars haste to milk The cowslips in the gra.s.s; The spider, in his web of silk, Looks out for flies that pa.s.s.

These humble people leap from bed, They know the night is done: When Dandy spreads his golden head They think he is the sun!

Dear Dandy truly does not smell As sweet as some bouquets; No florist gathers him to sell, He withers in a vase; Yet in the gra.s.s he's emperor, And lord of high renown; And grateful little folk adore His bright and shining crown.

THE HIGH CHAIR