_A Tea-Party_

You see, merry Phillis, that dear little maid, Has invited Belinda to tea; Her nice little garden is shaded by trees,-- What pleasanter place could there be?

There's a cake full of plums, there are strawberries too, And the table is set on the green; I'm fond of a carpet all daisies and gra.s.s,-- Could a prettier picture be seen?

A blackbird (yes, blackbirds delight in warm weather,) Is flitting from yonder high spray; He sees the two little ones talking together,-- No wonder the blackbird is gay.

Kate Greenaway.

_Around the World_

In go-cart so tiny My sister I drew; And I've promised to draw her The wide world through.

We have not yet started-- I own it with sorrow-- Because our trip's always Put off till to-morrow.

Kate Greenaway.

_My Ship and I_[1]

O it's I that am the captain of a tidy little ship, Of a ship that goes a-sailing on the pond; And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and all about; But when I'm a little older, I shall find the secret out How to send my vessel sailing on beyond.

For I mean to grow as little as the dolly at the helm, And the dolly I intend to come alive; And with him beside to help me, it's a-sailing I shall go, It's a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes blow And the vessel goes a divie-divie-dive.

O it's then you'll see me sailing through the rushes and the reeds, And you'll hear the water singing at the prow; For beside the dolly sailor, I'm to voyage and explore, To land upon the island where no dolly was before, And to fire the penny cannon in the bow.

Robert Louis Stevenson.

[Footnote 1: _From "Poems and Ballads," copyright, 1895, 1896, by Chas. Scribner's Sons._]

_The Feast of the Doll_

In flow'ry j.a.pan, the home of the fan, The land of the parasol, Each month has its feast, from greatest to least, And March is the Feast of the Doll-doll-doll, And March is the Feast of the Doll.

The wee, slippered maid in gown of brocade, The baby with shaven poll, The little brown lad in embroidery clad, All troop to the Feast of the Doll-doll-doll, All troop to the Feast of the Doll.

How pleasant 'twould be, 'neath an almond-tree, In sunshine and perfume to loll, Forget our own spring, with its wind and its sting, And sing to the praise of the Doll-doll-doll, And sing to the praise of the Doll.

Come, sweet Tippytoes, as pink as a rose, And white as a cotton-boll; Let us follow the plan of the folk in j.a.pan, And dance for your Feast, little Doll-doll-doll, And dance for your Feast, little Doll.

Nora Archibald Smith.

_Cuddle Down, Dolly_

They sent me to bed, dear, so dreadfully early, I hadn't a moment to talk to my girlie; But while Nurse is getting her dinner downstairs, I'll rock you a little and hear you your prayers.

_Cuddle down, dolly,_ _Cuddle down, dear!_ _Here on my shoulder you've nothing to fear._ _That's what Mamma sings to me every night,_ _Cuddle down, dolly dear, shut your eyes tight!_

Not comfor'ble dolly?--or why do you fidget?

You're hurting my shoulder, you troublesome midget!

Perhaps it's that hole that you told me about.

Why, darling, your sawdust is trick-ker-ling out!!

We'll call the good doctor in, right straight away; This can't be neglected a single more day; I'll wet my new hankchif and tie it round tight, 'Twill keep you from suffering pains in the night.

I hope you've been good, little dolly, to-day, Not cross to your nursie, nor rude in your play; Nor dabbled your feet in those puddles of water The way you did yesterday, bad little daughter!

Oh, dear! I'm so sleepy--can't hold up my head, I'll sing one more verse, then I'll creep into bed.

_Cuddle down, dolly,_ _Here on my arm,_ _Nothing shall frighten you, nothing shall harm._ _Cuddle down sweetly, my little pink rose,_ _Good angels come now and guard thy repose._

Kate Douglas Wiggin.

_Playgrounds_

In summer I am very glad We children are so small, For we can see a thousand things That men can't see at all.

They don't know much about the moss And all the stones they pa.s.s: They never lie and play among The forests in the gra.s.s:

They walk about a long way off; And, when we're at the sea, Let father stoop as best he can He can't find things like me.

But, when the snow is on the ground And all the puddles freeze, I wish that I were very tall, High up above the trees.

Laurence Alma Tadema.

_Keeping Store_

We have bags and bags of whitest down Out of the milk-weed pods; We have purple asters in lovely heaps, And stacks of golden-rods--

We have needles out of the sweet pine woods, And spools of cobweb thread; We have bachelors' b.u.t.tons for dolly's dress, And hollyhock caps for her head.

Mary F. b.u.t.ts.

_One and One_[2]

Two little girls are better than one Two little boys can double the fun, Two little birds can build a fine nest, Two little arms can love mother best.

Two little ponies must go to a span; Two little pockets has my little man; Two little eyes to open and close, Two little ears and one little nose, Two little elbows, dimpled and sweet, Two little shoes on two little feet, Two little lips and one little chin, Two little cheeks with a rose shut in; Two little shoulders, chubby and strong, Two little legs running all day long.

Two little prayers does my darling say, Twice does he kneel by my side each day,-- Two little folded hands, soft and brown, Two little eyelids cast meekly down,-- And two little angels guard him in bed, "One at the foot, and one at the head."

Mary Mapes Dodge.

[Footnote 2: _From "Rhymes and Jingles," copyright, 1874, 1904, by Chas. Scribner's Sons._]