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Sleeping
Sleeping
| Produced by K. Nordquist, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online | |
| Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This | |
| file was produced from images generously made available | |
| by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) | |
| Christmas | |
| Roses | |
| by | |
| Lizzie Lawson | |
| and | |
| Robert Ellice Mack. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| London: | |
| Griffith, Farran & Company | |
| St. Paul's Churchyard. | |
| [Illustration: CHRISTMAS ROSES] | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _A BUNCH_ of Christmas Roses, dear, | |
| To greet my fairest child, | |
| I plucked them in my garden where | |
| The drifting snow lay piled. | |
| I cannot bring thee violets dear, | |
| Or cowslips growing wild, | |
| Or daisy chain for thee to wear, | |
| For thee to wear, my child. | |
| For all the grassy meadows near | |
| Are clad with snow, my child; | |
| Through all the days of winter drear | |
| No ray of sun has smiled. | |
| I plucked this bunch of verses, dear, | |
| From out my garden wild, | |
| I plucked them in the winter drear | |
| For you, my fairest child, | |
| Your wet and wintry hours to cheer, | |
| They're Christmas Roses, child. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING._ | |
| "_I DON'T_ believe that Santa Claus will come to you and me," | |
| Said little crippled Nell, "a'cause, we are so poor you see; | |
| And then I don't believe the 'chimbley's' wide enough for him, | |
| D'ye think that Santa Claus will come, when all the lights are dim." | |
| "Of course he comes to every one, dear, whether rich or poor; | |
| Now go to bed dear Nell," said Nan, "he'll come to-night I'm sure." | |
| * * * * * | |
| I don't know if by chimney or if by stair he crept, | |
| But sure enough he visited the room where Nelly slept. | |
| He brought a golden orange, and a monkey red and blue, | |
| That climbed a little wooden stick in a way I couldn't do. | |
| He hung them in Nell's stocking, and Nan was right, be sure, | |
| That Santa Claus loves every one however rich or poor. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _THE PET RABBIT._ | |
| "_I HAVE_ a little Bunny with a coat as soft as down, | |
| And nearly all of him is white except one bit of brown. | |
| The first thing in the morning when I get out of bed, | |
| I wonder if my Bunny's still safe in his little shed. | |
| And than the next thing that I do I dare say you have guessed; | |
| It's to go at once and see him, when I am washed and dressed. | |
| And every day I see him I like him more and more, | |
| And each day he is bigger than he was the day before. | |
| I feed him in the morning with bran and bits of bread, | |
| And every night I take some straw to make his little bed. | |
| What with carrots in the morning and turnip-tops for tea, | |
| If a bunny can be happy, I'm sure he ought to be. | |
| Then when it's nearly bedtime I go down to his shed, | |
| And say 'Good night you Bunny' before I go to bed. | |
| I think there's only one thing that would make me happy quite, | |
| If I could take my Bunny dear with me to bed at night?" | |
| [Illustration: THE PET RABBIT.] | |
| [Illustration] | |
| FATHER'S BOAT. | |
| _IT'S_ Father's boat we're watching, | |
| Away out on the sea, | |
| She's named the Pretty Polly, | |
| One hundred and ninety three, | |
| Father called her the Polly, | |
| After Mother and me. | |
| There isn't a smarter boat | |
| Than Father's on the sea, | |
| The Pretty Polly is _our_ ship, | |
| Father's the skipper is he, | |
| And we are watching for Father, | |
| We're watching, Nancy and me. | |
| Sometimes the wind blows wildly, | |
| But Nancy, and Mother, and me, | |
| We sing a bit of a hymn we know, | |
| The hymn for those at sea, | |
| Although when we think of Father, | |
| We're as near to choke as can be. | |
| To-night the moon will be shining, | |
| A sight it will be to see, | |
| Father's ship all in silver, | |
| A'sail on a silver sea, | |
| And Father himself a coming home | |
| To Mother and Nancy and me. | |
| [Illustration: FATHER'S BOAT.] | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _A MISTAKE._ | |
| "_MY_ dears, whatever are you at? | |
| You ought to be at home; | |
| I told you not to wet your feet-- | |
| I told you not to roam. | |
| "Oh, dear! I'm sure you will be drowned! | |
| _I_ never saw such tricks | |
| Come home at once, and go to bed, | |
| You naughty naughty chicks." | |
| Now most of them were five days old, | |
| But one, whose age was six-- | |
| "Please, ma'am," said he, "I think we're ducks; | |
| I don't believe we're chicks!" | |
| [Illustration: LITTLE DUCKS.] | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _A SAD TALE._ | |
| "_Who's_ afraid of a cat?" said he; | |
| "I'm not afraid of a cat." | |
| He was a bird who sat on a rail, | |
| With five other birds, and this was his tale. | |
| "I'm not afraid of a cat." | |
| "I _might_ be afraid if I were a mouse, | |
| Or even if I were a rat: | |
| But as I'm a bird | |
| I give you my word | |
| I'm not afraid of a cat." | |
| A cat and her kits came down on the scene, | |
| Five birds flew over the rail; | |
| Our hero was caught | |
| As quick as a thought, | |
| And didn't he alter his tale! | |
| "You've made a mistake, Mister Cat," said he; | |
| "You must please let me go, Mister Cat. | |
| I'm not at all nice, | |
| I don't taste like mice: | |
| You'd much better have a young rat." | |
| Said the cat, "It's no use, | |
| You may be a goose, | |
| I'll not let you go for all that." | |
| _THE CREW OF THE NANCY LEE._ | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _Polly's_ the mate of the Nancy Lee, | |
| And Tom is the skipper bold, | |
| They sail together | |
| In rough wind and weather, | |
| And they are the crew, all told. | |
| In their taut and trim little boat they ride | |
| Away o'er the bright blue sea, | |
| With hands ever ready, | |
| And hearts ever steady, | |
| Whatever the dangers may be. | |
| And a smarter crew will never be found, | |
| Though you may search the whole world round. | |
| [Illustration: HIE FOR CHRISTMAS.] | |
| _HIE FOR CHRISTMAS!_ | |
| _Bring_ Frost, bring Snow, | |
| Come winter, | |
| Bring us holly, | |
| Bring joy at Christmas, | |
| Off with Melancholy! | |
| Sing hie, sing hey, | |
| Sing ho, | |
| Sing holly, | |
| Sing hie for Christmas! | |
| Isn't winter jolly? | |
| Sing Jack, Sing Jill, | |
| Sing Jo, | |
| Sing Polly, | |
| Sing hie for Christmas, | |
| Mistletoe and Holly. | |
| [Illustration: PUTTING AWAY THE TOYS.] | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _BEDTIME._ | |
| "_It's_ bedtime, bedtime, Cissy dear, | |
| It's time to put away, | |
| Your little Noah's ark dear | |
| Until another day, | |
| You know it isn't right at all | |
| To tire yourself with play. | |
| And they too must be tired dear, | |
| The elephants want to go | |
| To bed,--if they're much later, | |
| They'll all be ill I know, | |
| And every well bred camel, | |
| Is in bed long ago. | |
| And surely you can see dear, | |
| It really isn't right, | |
| The little dove's so tired dear, | |
| She scarce can stand upright. | |
| It does not do to keep them up | |
| So very late at night." | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _PUSS IN THE CORNER._ | |
| "_You_ are a naughty pussy-cat, | |
| I think it right to mention that, | |
| To all who see your picture here, | |
| 'Twas you who broke my Bunny dear. | |
| An hour ago, as you can tell, | |
| I left him here, alive and well; | |
| And now he's _dead_ and, what is more, | |
| You've broke his leg I'm pretty sure. | |
| For you my puss I'll never care, | |
| No never, never, never, _there_, | |
| And you are in disgrace you know, | |
| And in the corner you must go. | |
| What crying? Then I must cry too | |
| And I can't bear to punish you; | |
| Perhaps my Bunny isn't dead, | |
| Perhaps you've only stunned his head. | |
| And though I'm sure you broke his leg, | |
| It may be mended with a peg, | |
| And though he's very, very, funny, | |
| My Bunny's not a real Bunny, | |
| And I'll forgive and tell you that, | |
| You're my own precious pussy cat." | |
| [Illustration: PUSS IN THE CORNER.] | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _THE LITTLE HE AND SHE._ | |
| _Once_ there lived, I'm not sure where, | |
| May be Arcadee, | |
| Sweet-Heart and his mistress fair, | |
| Little He and She; | |
| And they danced a measure light, | |
| Danced in very glee. | |
| Hand in hand, a pretty sight, | |
| Little He and She. | |
| When they ceased his bright eyes fell, | |
| Darling must we stay? | |
| Can't we dance so happily | |
| You and I for aye? | |
| Then she clasped his hand again, | |
| Whispered sweet and low, | |
| "Dearest, always hand in hand | |
| You and I will go." | |
| So they danced with merry feet, | |
| E'en in Arcadee, | |
| Happier pair you ne'er will meet, | |
| Little He and She. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _LITTLE BO-PEEP._ | |
| _Little_ Bo-peep has lost her Sheep, | |
| (It's a secret to you I'm confiding.) | |
| At the end of the shelf, | |
| Where she put them herself, | |
| Her Baa-lambs are safely hiding. | |
| If you put a thing carefully, safely away, | |
| You're sure not to find it when wanted next day. | |
| [Illustration: HOPES AND FEARS.] | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _HOPES AND FEARS._ | |
| _Like_ clouds that flit across the sky, | |
| So follow hopes and fears. | |
| What in these clouds see you and me | |
| Dear Sweetheart, smiles or tears? | |
| This little airy fleecy wing, | |
| That flits across the blue, | |
| What message Sweetheart does it bring | |
| Of hope or fear to you? | |
| Pray God it brings you _sunny hours_ | |
| And haply some few _tears_ | |
| To bless like showers your summer flowers | |
| In the long coming years. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _THE STORY BOOK FAIRY._ | |
| _Shall_ I sing you a song, not short and not long, | |
| Of a story-book fairy who hides all among | |
| The covers and leaves of your pictures and prints, | |
| And colors them all with such beautiful tints? | |
| First he kisses the girls with the fairest of curls | |
| Then they blush like red roses and each head whirls. | |
| In each little eye drops a bit of blue sky, | |
| And colors each frock with a wonderful dye. | |
| His breathing I ween is the wonderful sheen, | |
| That clothes trees and meadows with loveliest green, | |
| The buttercups bold, it need hardly be told, | |
| Are gilded by him with the finest of gold. | |
| It is he I suppose who paints the red rose, | |
| And the rest of the flowers which every one knows, | |
| And the same red will do (or a similar hue), | |
| For Robin and little Red Riding Hood too. | |
| He's awake it is said when you are abed, | |
| For the picture-book doggies and cats must be fed, | |
| To the picture-book children some stories he'll tell, | |
| And sometimes he'll read them their verses as well. | |
| The moment you open your picture book he | |
| Is away out of sight as quick as can be, | |
| For fairy law says that a fairy must die | |
| The instant he's seen by one human eye. | |
| _SPRING._ | |
| _The_ tiny crocus is so bold | |
| It peeps its head above the mould, | |
| Before the flowers awaken, | |
| To say that spring is coming, dear, | |
| With sunshine and that winter drear | |
| Will soon be overtaken. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _GOLDEN DAYS._ | |
| _There_ are days of summer sunshine, | |
| Of warm and sunny weather, | |
| When the hedge is full of hawthorn | |
| And hills are glad with heather. | |
| There are days of silent sadness, | |
| Of frost, and snow, and rain, | |
| When we fear that summer's gladness | |
| Will never come again. | |
| And now our songs are minor key, | |
| And now in merry tune; | |
| The windward side will change to lee, | |
| And January to June. | |
| Day and night the sun is shining, | |
| Though he may hide his head; | |
| Each cloud has a silver lining, | |
| The flowers are asleep not dead. | |
| Every day may have its playtime | |
| Made bright by cheerful lays; | |
| And life be one long Maytime, | |
| A year of golden days. | |
| [Illustration: GOLDEN DAYS.] | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _A SLANDER._ | |
| "_Shake_ hands, shake hands my little girl," | |
| Said Mister Crab to Nell, | |
| "I'm very glad to meet you dear, | |
| I hope you are quite well. | |
| I think it's very hot to-day, | |
| I feel it in my shell." | |
| "I can't shake hands with you," said Nell, | |
| "It isn't thought polite, | |
| Without an introduction; | |
| Besides, no doubt it's spite, | |
| It mayn't be true, but still they do, | |
| They do say that you--BITE." | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _A SONG._ | |
| I _hear_ a Song | |
| I think 'tis a thrush's. | |
| He sings to the Wild Rose | |
| See how she blushes! | |
| [Illustration] | |
| [Illustration: THE EVENING HOUR.] | |
| [Illustration] | |
| _NEARLY BEDTIME._ | |
| _Only_ half an hour or so | |
| Before nurse calls them to bed, | |
| And the ruddy light of a cheerful fire | |
| Shines over each curly head. | |
| No trouble have they, no sorrow-- | |
| Their hearts are lighter than air, | |
| No fear that a dark to-morrow | |
| May bring with it want or care. | |
| God send them each on their pathway | |
| Many a wayside flower; | |
| And grant, in the evening of lifetime, | |
| The joy of the evening hour. | |
| * * * * * | |
| [Illustration] | |
| Lithographed | |
| and | |
| printed by | |
| Ernest Nister | |
| of Nuremberg. | |
| +-----------------------------------------+ | |
| |Transcriber's Note: | | |
| | | | |
| |In the first line of the second verse of | | |
| |The Pet Rabbit "than" has been changed to| | |
| |"then". An apostrophe has been added to | | |
| |the title of "Father's Boat" and a hyphen| | |
| |added to "to-night". | | |
| +-----------------------------------------+ | |