love-songs of childhood-第5章
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Or twisted his tail he would never demur；
He seemed to enjoy all our play an' our chaff；
For his tongue 'u'd hang out an' he'd laff an' he'd laff；
An' once； when the Hobart boy fell through the ice；
He wuz drug clean ashore by that bench…legged fyce！
We all hev our choice； an' you； like the rest；
Allow that the dorg which you've got is the best；
I wouldn't give much for the boy 'at grows up
With no friendship subsistin' 'tween him an' a pup！
When a fellow gits old … I tell you it's nice
To think of his youth and his bench…legged fyce！
To think of the springtime 'way back in St。 Joe …
Of the peach…trees abloom an' the daisies ablow；
To think of the play in the medder an' grove；
When little legs wrassled an' little han's strove；
To think of the loyalty； valor； an' truth
Of the friendships that hallow the season of youth！
LITTLE MISS BRAG
Little Miss Brag has much to say
To the rich little lady from over the way
And the rich little lady puts out a lip
As she looks at her own white； dainty slip；
And wishes that she could wear a gown
As pretty as gingham of faded brown！
For little Miss Brag she lays much stress
On the privileges of a gingham dress …
〃Aha；
Oho！〃
The rich little lady from over the way
Has beautiful dolls in vast array；
Yet she envies the raggedy home…made doll
She hears our little Miss Brag extol。
For the raggedy doll can fear no hurt
From wet； or heat； or tumble； or dirt！
Her nose is inked； and her mouth is； too；
And one eye's black and the other's blue …
〃Aha；
Oho！〃
The rich little lady goes out to ride
With footmen standing up outside；
Yet wishes that； sometimes； after dark
Her father would trundle her in the park； …
That； sometimes； her mother would sing the things
Little Miss Brag says her mother sings
When through the attic window streams
The moonlight full of golden dreams …
〃Aha；
Oho！〃
Yes； little Miss Brag has much to say
To the rich little lady from over the way；
And yet who knows but from her heart
Often the bitter sighs upstart …
Uprise to lose their burn and sting
In the grace of the tongue that loves to sing
Praise of the treasures all its own！
So I've come to love that treble tone …
〃Aha；
Oho！〃
THE HUMMING TOP
The top it hummeth a sweet； sweet song
To my dear little boy at play …
Merrily singeth all day long；
As it spinneth and spinneth away。
And my dear little boy
He laugheth with joy
When he heareth the monotone
Of that busy thing
That loveth to sing
The song that is all its own。
Hold fast the string and wind it tight；
That the song be loud and clear；
Now hurl the top with all your might
Upon the banquette here；
And straight from the string
The joyous thing
Boundeth and spinneth along；
And it whirrs and it chirrs
And it birrs and it purrs
Ever its pretty song。
Will ever my dear little boy grow old；
As some have grown before？
Will ever his heart feel faint and cold；
When he heareth the songs of yore？
Will ever this toy
Of my dear little boy；
When the years have worn away；
Sing sad and low
Of the long ago；
As it singeth to me to…day？
LADY BUTTON…EYES
When the busy day is done；
And my weary little one
Rocketh gently to and fro；
When the night winds softly blow；
And the crickets in the glen
Chirp and chirp and chirp again；
When upon the haunted green
Fairies dance around their queen …
Then from yonder misty skies
Cometh Lady Button…Eyes。
Through the murk and mist and gloam
To our quiet； cozy home；
Where to singing； sweet and low；
Rocks a cradle to and fro；
Where the clock's dull monotone
Telleth of the day that's done；
Where the moonbeams hover o'er
Playthings sleeping on the floor …
Where my weary wee one lies
Cometh Lady Button…Eyes。
Cometh like a fleeting ghost
From some distant eerie coast；
Never footfall can you hear
As that spirit fareth near …
Never whisper； never word
From that shadow…queen is heard。
In ethereal raiment dight；
From the realm of fay and sprite
In the depth of yonder skies
Cometh Lady Button…Eyes。
Layeth she her hands upon
My dear weary little one；
And those white hands overspread
Like a veil the curly head；
Seem to fondle and caress
Every little silken tress；
Then she smooths the eyelids down
Over those two eyes of brown …
In such soothing； tender wise
Cometh Lady Button…Eyes。
Dearest； feel upon your brow
That caressing magic now；
For the crickets in the glen
Chirp and chirp and chirp again；
While upon the haunted green
Fairies dance around their queen；
And the moonbeams hover o'er
Playthings sleeping on the floor …
Hush； my sweet！ from yonder skies
Cometh Lady Button…Eyes！
THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE
Play that my knee was a calico mare
Saddled and bridled for Bumpville；
Leap to the back of this steed； if you dare；
And gallop away to Bumpville！
I hope you'll be sure to sit fast in your seat；
For this calico mare is prodigiously fleet；
And many adventures you're likely to meet
As you journey along to Bumpville。
This calico mare both gallops and trots
While whisking you off to Bumpville；
She paces； she shies； and she stumbles； in spots；
In the tortuous road to Bumpville；
And sometimes this strangely mercurial steed
Will suddenly stop and refuse to proceed；
Which； all will admit； is vexatious indeed；
When one is en route to Bumpville！
She's scared of the cars when the engine goes 〃Toot！〃
Down by the crossing at Bumpville；
You'd better look out for that treacherous brute
Bearing you off to Bumpville！
With a snort she rears up on her hindermost heels；
And executes jigs and Virginia reels …
Words fail to explain how embarrassed one feels
Dancing so wildly to Bumpville！
It's bumpytybump and it's jiggytyjog；
Journeying on to Bumpville
It's over the hilltop and down through the bog
You ride on your way to Bumpville；
It's rattletybang over boulder and stump；
There are rivers to ford； there are fences to jump；
And the corduroy road it goes bumpytybump；
Mile after mile to bumpville！
Perhaps you'll observe it's no easy thing
Making the journey to Bumpville；
So I think； on the whole； it were prudent to bring
An end to this ride to Bumpville；
For； though she has uttered no protest or plaint；
The calico mare must be blowing and faint …
What's more to the point； I'm blowed if I ain't！
So play we have got to Bumpville！
THE BROOK
I looked in the brook and saw a face …
Heigh…ho； but a child was I！
There were rushes and willows in that place；
And they clutched at the brook as the brook ran by；
And the brook it ran its own sweet way；
As a child doth run in heedless play；
And as it ran I heard it say：
〃Hasten with me
To the roistering sea
That is wroth with the flame of the morning sky！〃
I look in the brook and see a face …
Heigh…ho； but the years go by！
The rushes are dead in the old…time place；
And the willows I knew when a child was I。
And the brook it seemeth to me to say；
As ever it stealeth on its way …
Solemnly now； and not in play：
〃Oh； come with me
To the slumbrous sea
That is gray with the peace of the evening sky！〃
Heigh…ho； but the years go by …
I would to God that a child were I！
PICNIC…TIME
It's June ag'in； an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy；
For； every June； the Sunday…schools at picnics may be seen；
Where 〃fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green〃；
Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders； bugs； and ants；
An' little boys get grass…stains on their go…to meetin' pants。
It's June ag'in； an' with it all what happiness is mine …
There's goin' to be a picnic； an' I'm goin' to jine！
