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Title: A Little Freckled Person - A Book of Child Verse
Author: Davies, Mary Carolyn
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "A Little Freckled Person - A Book of Child Verse" ***


A Book of Child Verse



With Illustrations by Harold Cue


Boston and New York
Houghton Mifflin Company
The Riverside Press Cambridge

Copyright, 1919, by Mary Carolyn Davies
All Rights Reserved


    A little freckled person who has never much
    to say                                          _Frontispiece_

    A rabbit works its ears, and tries To watch
    you with its rabbit eyes                                     4

    Weed the garden, carry wood                                  8

    I like the kitten of my friends                             30

    Unfinished wings Are such curious things                    36

    While I'm washing dishes, or scraping out
    the skillet                                                 58

    I'd like to be a pirate, A scarlet scarf about
    my neck, a cutlass at my wrist                              80

    They are thirsty, so we give Water first
    that they may live                                         100


  They think I'm just a little girl
    At study, work, or play,--
  A little freckled person who
    Has never much to say.

  They do not know a princess oft
    In golden gown am I,
  With cheeks like apple petals soft
    And eyes like sea or sky.

  They only see my tumbled braids,
    They do not know I wear
  A crown with turquoises and beryls
    Upon my coiled-up hair.

  They do not know adventures dire
    Beset me, land and sea,
  That page and courtier, knight and squire,
    Before me bend the knee.

  That haughty ships with silken sails
    Upon my bidding go--
  All these, and other happy things,
    They cannot, cannot know.

  They only see a little girl
    At study, work, or play,--
  A little freckled person, who
    Has never much to say!


  The sea is very, very wide:
  It takes up all the room outside;
  And when I stand beside the sea,
  It comes right up and pushes me!


  A rabbit works its ears, and tries
  To watch you with its rabbit eyes;
  Its saucy little tail it flounces,
  And when it hits the ground it bounces!



  If I am selfish when I play
  My kitten likes me anyway!


  The next-door people have a bird,
  The yellowest you ever heard!
  It hops, and chirps, and sings--and sings!
  Aren't next-door people pleasant things!


  Mother says:
    If you're thoughtful and polite;
    Go to bed at eight each night;
    Always hasten to do chores
    And give up chairs for visitors,
    Weed the garden, carry wood,
    And be very still and good--

  Mother says:
    If you're faithful in your task;
    Never beg, but only ask;
    Fold your napkin, say your prayers;
    Put no gum upon the chairs;
    Keep your bureau drawer quite neat;
    Never walk through pools, but on
    The sidewalk till the mud is gone;
    And say "Thank you" often, and
    Sit erect and walk and stand;
    And wash well behind your ears;
    Always wait until it clears
    To wear your best clothes, and not fail
    To hang your coat upon its nail--
    You will find the people where
    You live, like to have you there!

       *       *       *       *       *

    Our house has a pleasant yard.
    I am trying very hard!



  You never know, in this great world, what
    wonders there may be--
  Perhaps there's buried treasure out
    beneath our cherry tree!


  The stars are like us children here,
    Not any older grown:
  At night, the little 'fraid stars stay
  Together in the Milky Way--
    The brave ones stand alone!


  The stars are lighted candles
    Upon a Christmas tree;
  (The branches, that they hang upon
    We cannot ever see:)
  On Christmas Eve the angels stand
    About it after tea.

  And if an angel's very good
  He gets a present, as he should.


  Of course I believe in fairies!
    Of course I know they're true!
  --Just think, if you were a fairy,
    And no one believed in you!


  Upon my slate I draw
  Strange things I never saw,
  Nor you, nor any one!
  But oh, it is such fun!


  A fishing-pole's a curious thing:
  It's made of just a stick and string:
  A boy at one end and a wish;
  And on the other end a fish!


 Little fishing-boat, a blur
    On the ocean blue,
  Don't you ever wish you were
    A little taller, too?

  I've a birthday! Look at me
    As you dart and dip!
  Grow, and maybe soon you'll be
    A white-sailed ship!


  The little firs demurely stand
  In studious rows, on either hand,
  On winter days about like these,
  All learning to be Christmas trees.


  The moon's a white cherry,
    For sale in the sky,
  And each one admires it,
    But no one will buy.

  Oh, cherry that lies
    On the shop-window shelf,
  When I have a penny
    I'll buy you myself!


  A kite is very nice to own;
    It never, never grieves you,
  'Cept when it wants to play alone
    And just goes off and leaves you!


  The black notes are the bridegrooms,
    The white notes are the brides!
  And I? Why, I'm the minister and all the guests besides!


  A snowflake is a letter
    A fairy in the sky
  Is sending to the fairies here,
  And, when they've read its message clear,
    Lest any one should spy,
  They purse their little lips and blow
  To melt that tell-tale note of snow.
  Oh, let us see if we can snatch
  And read a Fairyland dispatch!


  A book's a magic sort of thing
  That makes you sailor, chief, or king;
  When I am old, and own a shelf,
  I think I'll have a book myself!


  The sea is so lonely
    Now winter is here,
  I wish we could only
    Go down to the pier,
  And say to him kindly, "Don't think, Mr. Sea,
  We've forgotten you quite, for we haven't, not we!

  "Last summer we scurried
    All sudden, I know,
  From the beach. Don't be worried!
    We hated to go!"
  I should like to go clear to the end of the pier,
  For he's lonesome; and tell him, "We're coming next year!"


  The mountains do not stir, or show
  Emotion when Spring comes, I know;
  But though they are restrained by pride,
  I think that they are glad inside!


  When lights are standing in the street;
  And on the sidewalk all the feet
  Are quiet, and it's growing late,
  And our brown clock is striking eight:

  I pack the animals and ark,
  And push them deep into the dark;
  And in a quiet row I lay
  My cups and saucers 'til the day.

  But who could ever say Good-night
  And leave her doll in such a plight?
  I couldn't let her stay without
  A friend, and hear the dark about!

  So she and I go straight upstairs;
  She shuts her eyes while we say prayers,
  And then we lie and count up sheep
  Until we both are fast asleep.

  It's not because I dread, at all,
  The darkness, that I keep my doll,
  But just because I think that she
  Would be _so_ frightened without _me_!


  The little trees that to the breeze
  Make quaint and timorous courtesies:
  I like to come and play with these.

  Each grown-up pine that stands in line
  Is but a stranger great and fine--
  The _little_ trees are friends of mine!


  Green and yellow cockatoo,
  Won't you let me talk to you?
  Or if you would kinder be
  Won't you come and talk to me?

  Tell me all about the places
  Where the children have black faces,
  Armlets, anklets, copper rings!
  Where the cannibals are kings!

  Has a hungry crocodile
  Ever met you with a smile?
  Have you taken many a trip
  In a rakish pirate ship?

  Cockatoo, cockatoo,
  How I'd like to talk to you!
  But as you can guess, I'd be
  Gladder if you'd talk to me!


  Among the angels--it's a shame
  To tell it--prices are so dear,
  They use the blown-out candle-flame
  To mend the ragged stars, this year!


  I like the kitten of my friends,
    I like its claws caught in my lace,
  I like the way each small ear ends,
    I like the black upon its face.
  I feel its heart beat in my hand,
  And then I somehow understand
  So many things I didn't know:
  I'm kinder, and my voice is low;
  And I close doors more softly, too,
  And do the things I'm told to do,
  Instead of wishing they were done.
  --But mother says we mayn't have one.

  I want a kitten all my own
  To play with when I'm left alone,
  And when the family's gone away
  To shop, and work, and call, and play
  Tennis and other things. It's all
  So queer and lonely in the hall
  And in the parlor, too, and in
  The sitting-room, where words have been
  But are not now. The chairs and I
  Wait through the hours, till by-and-by,
  Our only playmates little fears--
  There's room in all our lives, I think,
  For one small kitten, black as ink
  With two white spots behind its ears.



  Blue skies are very apt to fade;
    Dark colors wear the best, it's true--
  But who would choose a useful shade?
    I want mine blue!


  If shoemakers' children are left with feet bare
  I've wondered and wondered (I don't think it's fair)
  If maybe at Christmas there aren't any toys
  Left over for Santa Claus' own girls and boys!


  A white birch grows
  In the deepest wood.
  If you are good
  And the stars are right
  --Who knows?--
  You may see, some night,
  The nymphs stand under
  The sea-green heave
  Of its boughs, in a row.
  --But if you wonder,
  They will fade and go.
  --You must just believe!


  Last year I played with the country,
    This year, with the sea,
  Now the queer old city
    Stops and plays with me.--

  Stops in its counting of pennies
    (It never, never fails
  To know the time I'm going to bed)--
    And tells me fairy tales.


  The turkey is a mournful bird
  From all that I have ever heard;
  If he could live this day to see
  How very thankful he would be!


  That tree has a nest,
  And if I lie
  Quite still, and if I
  Have luck, I may see
  Two heads or three
  Stretched out. Hark! hark!
  Wings sound! And a dark
  Shadow comes flying
  Through boughs. They are trying
  To reach the food that the large bird brings.
  Unfinished wings
  Are such curious things!
  They are almost old enough to fly,
    The three. If they knew
    As I do, and you,
  That nests are cozier than the sky!



  The sky is a greedy child
    Who holds one
  Yellow orange in her hand:
    It is the sun.

  She holds it primly:
    Then, hid from sight,
  All in the darkness,
    Eats it at night.


  I almost got to Fairyland, one day--
  I walked out straight along the sun-path, so.
  And there were little hummings in the world,
  And moving things went through the grass, and all
  The air was just as glad as if there were
  A party, somewhere, at a fairy's house.
  I knew they had a party, and I knew
  That they had kept a seat for me, if I
  Could only find the right turn in the road.
  I was so near to Fairyland, so near
  That I could almost hear the fairy gates
  Swing open for me, waiting--just for me.
  I was so near to Fairyland--and then,
  Just then, I heard my mother calling me;
  "Come in to supper, dear," I heard her call;
  And so I never got to Fairyland.

  I know that there are fairies, though, because
  I almost got to Fairyland one day.


  A train should never jump the track;
  Such rude behavior shows a lack
  Of poise--it's really a disgrace!
  A train should know its proper place!


  I run as fast as I can go
    When trains run past our place;
  They're bigger far than I, and so
    They always win the race!


  Life seems so sweet! I don't know why,--
  Perhaps 't is just because the sky
  Put on, to-night, to make me glad,
  A dress I didn't know she had.


  Tall ships, tall ships, sailing out to sea,
  Have you in your dreaming hearts any room for me,
  For a little singing maid who would sail with you
  Out to where the ocean miles are blue, blue, blue?

  Tall ships, tall ships, loosening from shore,
  Steering all by star-craft, and sailing evermore,
  Take a little wishful maid with you as you go!
  I would feel the ocean tempests blow, blow, blow!

  Tall ships, tall ships, see, I stretch my hands!
  Pray you, take me with you to far and foreign lands!
  Ships, an eager little maid prays that she may be
  Sailing, as you sail, forever free, free, free!


  The sea is like a garden green,
    The spray like daisies white;
  And one full rose alone is seen,
    The great red sun at night.

  A-fluttering in their loveliness
    The ships against the skies
  Are just--as any one can guess--
    The garden's butterflies!


  The buds have come to town;
    Demure and brown
  Their coats; and under, see,
  How can such fragile, fairy colors be?

  The buds have come to us
    All tremulous.
  We're quite as glad as they.
  Take off your cloaks, dear little buds, and stay!


  The flower cart's coming down the street,
  With tulips red and tulips sweet;
  And from the wagon color spills
  Of hyacinths and daffodils.
  And purple rhododendrons grow
  Beside the roses in a row.

  Oh, let us hasten down to spend,
  Before the flower cart rounds the bend!
  Oh, let us bring our pennies and
  Hold all of Spring within our hand.


  The stars lean down and listen,
    At fairy-story time;
  They twinkle and they glisten
    To hear each happy rhyme;
  To all our cheerful singing
    The little stars beat time.

  The stars lean down and hear us,
    They know it's not polite,
  But then, they cease to fear us,
    About this time of night.
  They creep and edge up near us,
    Although it isn't right.

  Eavesdroppers! But we love them,
    We leave a little space,
  And never crowd or shove them,
    Because, in any case,
  That stretch of blue above them
    Is such a lonely place!


  Bird up in the pine-tree-top,
    Tossing down to me
  Broken songs, to where I sit
    Underneath the tree,--

  Bird up in the pine-tree-top,
    What is it you hear
  That you try to say again
    In your singing clear?

  What is it you see up there
    In the green and blue?
  Does the world look very strange,--
    Strange and fair to you?

  Do you see some happy thing
    That you try to show
  In the eager chirps you toss
    Gayly down below?

  You are singing secrets, bird,
    I am very sure.
  I can understand no word,
    But, oh, try once more!

  Bird up in the pine-tree-top,
    Sing again to me!
  Maybe I can hear it now!
    Maybe I can see!


  No, little brown bird, go away,
  I have no time to dream to-day,
  I must do certain things, you see.
  I know not why, but it must be!
  Here I must study foolish books,
  And not guess how the lilac looks!

  Hush, little bird, and do not sing!
  I have no time to play with Spring!


  The corn's like soldiers in a row.
    We'll stop and cheer them. Let's!
  The tassels are their waving flags;
    The leaves their bayonets.

  They march to meet King Frost, their foe,
    The fight will soon begin.
  King Frost will conquer them, I know--
    But oh, if they _could_ win!


  If a star were to say
  "I will stay
  And watch Dawn bring the day,"--
  If a star were so bold
  Would the Moon-Mother old
  Let it stay in the sky?
  --Try, star, try!


  Dryad, hidden in this tree!
  Break your bonds and talk to me!

  No one's watching, only peep
  From your cave! The town's asleep!

  No one knows I stand here, so
  Come! for they will never know!

  Tell me what you think of here
  When the moon is sharp and clear,

  When the clouds are over you,
  When the ground is wet with dew.

  Dryad, are you happy, say!
  Do you like to live this way?

  I will keep your secrets well,
  I will never, never tell!

  Dryad, hidden in our tree,
  Come, oh, come and talk to me!


  Once a blotter met a blot
  In a still, secluded spot.
  Here's the blotter, brave to see;
  But the blot--Oh, where is he?


  O littlest cloud in all the blue,
    Don't go so fast, for, see,
  I'm just about the size of you!
    Come down and play with me!

  But oh, if that's the only way--
    To come in raindrops, why,
  I'll stay here by myself and play!
    I wouldn't have you cry!


  Cinderella sitting in her dingy chimney corner,
    Delving in the ashes, with the smoke upon her eyes,
  With pots and kettles waiting, all her kinfolk by to scorn her,
    Longed perhaps to meet a prince, handsome, young, and wise.

  Maybe Sleeping Beauty on her couch within the castle,
    While her golden hair crept down to touch her silent feet,
  Dreamed about a rider with a scarlet cap and tassel
    Who would hack away the hedge and cry, "Awaken, sweet!"

  While I'm washing dishes, or scraping out the skillet,
    Or when I am sprinkling, or folding up the clothes,
  Sometimes I too dream; it seems foolish-like to tell it...
    But their princes came at last and ... ah, who knows?



  Babies of Alaska, babies of Japan,
  Babies born to beads, or silk, or fez, or fur, or fan,
  None of all the babies that are toddling anywhere
  Is half so sweet a baby as the baby that's our share!


  If I were Santa's little boy
    (If there's a family
  Of Santa Clauses in the sky
    Or where their home may be),
  If I were Santa's oldest son
  (I only hope that he _has_ one!)
  And my papa should say to me,
  "What Christmas present, son, would be
  The very thing you'd like to see
  Within your stocking Christmas Day?"
  I wouldn't stop to think, (would you?)
  But say,
  "I want to drive the sleigh!"

  And then when Christmas Week had come,
  At nearly dawn on Christmas Day,
  I'd load the sleigh with doll and drum;
  And find where the reindeer were tied,
  And hitch them quickly up, and I'd
  Shout very loudly, "Clear the way!"

  And crack the whip and drive the sleigh
  Down from the Pole and past the clang
  Of loud icicles in a row,
  Blown by the wind, to where the gang
  Lives, in our street, and then I'd shout,
  While frightened heads of boys stuck out
  From opened windows, in surprise,
  With tousled hair and sleepy eyes,
  I'd shout out loudly so that they
  Could hear each single word I'd say,

    "Hey, Dasher, Dancer!
    Faster, Prancer!
    Run as hard now as you can, sir!
    Stop your balking
    When I'm talking!
    We must fill each Christmas stocking
    In a hundred million places!
    Dasher, Dancer, mind your paces!
    Don't you dare to break the traces!"

  Then I'd shake the reins and shout
  To milkmen that might be about,
  "Clear the way
  For Santa's sleigh,
  Because I'm driving it to-day!"


  All year long the timid maple has been dressed in prim and sober
    Little plain utilitarian gowns of quiet tints of green;
  But Spring is gone, and Summer's past, and now that it's October
    The modest little maple tree is costumed like a queen.
  Just look now, through our window, and I'm sure that you'll agree
  That her party dress is pretty as a party dress can be!


  School is like a clock that stops
    In vacation time.
  --Tick, tock; tick, tock--
    A sing-song rhyme.
  Every school day is a minute.
  This clock has long minutes in it!

  In vacation time it stops!
    Not a sound at all!--
  Not a tick, not a tock!
    --Hanging on the wall
  Waits the clock until Fall finds it,
  Stands upon a chair and winds it!


  In proper sentences of purr
    And monosyllables of mews
  When I have told my news to her,
    My kitten tells me kitten news.


  The candle stood beside my bed
    And dropped a little tear;
  I sat up, shivering, and said,
    "I know you're lonesome here;

  "You'd rather have the sky than me;
    You've been too kind by far
  To say so. Now I've guessed, you see,
    That you're a homesick star!

  "I'll send you home again, for I
    Was homesick once, and know;
  And when you're safely in the sky
    And I am here below,

  "Then don't forget me, candle, please,
    But twinkle very plain
  On dark, dark nights about like these
    Above my window pane."

  Then, (though I am afraid at night
    That thieves might be about,)
  I screwed my eyes up very tight
    And blew the candle out!


  There's a dewdrop shining bright
    On the grass by the sun undried,
  It's a tear that fell in the night
    When the lonesomest fairy cried.


  The sky is like a Christmas tree,
  The burning stars its candles be;
  The moon's a bulky gift and odd,
  Marked, "To the World, With Love, From God."


  Forget it soon? It's 'cause I know
  That I'll forget, I'm crying so!


  All the Saturdays met one day
  (Each was very polite, they say),
  They shook each other by the hand,
  And had a party in Fairyland!

  They wouldn't let any Monday in,
  And not one Tuesday at all could win
  Her way past the supercilious crowd!
  And Wednesdays--why, they weren't allowed!

  Thursdays could only stand in the street
  And look through the door at the things to eat!
  And the Fridays and Sundays pretended they
  Didn't like parties, anyway!

  But the Saturdays had the greatest fun!
  They played "Hop-scotch" and "Run-sheep-run,"
  And "Frog-in-the-meadow," and "Pull-away!"
  And everything else they wanted to play!

  They used the Throne for "Musical Chairs"
  As if the Fairy Queen's house were theirs!
  In rooms enchanted they ran and hid,
  And whatever they wished they could do, they did!

  And after they'd played and played and played,
  They had pink straws in their lemonade!
  And the cookies and tarts were like a dream!
  And all the Saturdays had ice-cream!

  I'd my doubts when I heard--And you have yours--
  But strange things happen on Foreign Shores!
  And they say that the best fête ever planned
  Was the Saturdays' party in Fairyland!


  I'm learning to sew; I'm basting
    And hemming, and all that.
  But I wish that the eye were bigger
    Or the thread not quite so fat!


  My mother's garden is the sea
    If it is viewed aright.
  The sweet alyssum borders are
    The ocean's breakers white;

  The butterflies and humming-birds
    Are sea-gulls flying o'er;
  And in our gravel garden path
    I pace a foreign shore!


  The little clock is friends with me,
  It talks as plain as plain can be,
  And says, each morning as it rises,
  "Now, don't forget your exercises!
  Both hands above your head, you know!
  Then lower them very slowly, so;
  Ho, don't get tired and stop, that way!
  _I_ exercise like this, all day!"
  Right in its face then, I say, "Pooh!
  I wouldn't boast of it, like you,
  But I can swing my arms 'round, too!"
  And so the clock then looks at me,
  And I look back, and I and he
  Each single morning, when we rise,
  Just exercise and exercise!


  The fairies called snowflakes all dressed up in white,
  They went to the dance, and were dancing all night.

  And now they lie tired, where sleep chanced to o'ertake them.
  Step lightly, speak softly, take care not to wake them!


  A pirate, a pirate!
      I'd like to be a pirate!
  A black-bearded pirate, with a pistol at my side!
    With a crew to take my orders
    And scour the ocean's borders,
  I'd tramp along the quarterdeck, my ship upon the tide!

  A pirate, a pirate!
      I want to be a pirate
  A-sailing off to Tartary, to India, and Spain!
    I'd show them I was master,
    As we scudded fast and faster,
  We pirates bold, a-search for gold, across the Spanish Main!

  A pirate, a pirate!
      I'd like to be a pirate,
  A scarlet scarf about my neck, a cutlass at my wrist!
    With my boots of shining leather
    Creaking when they rubbed together,
  And a foeman lank, to walk the plank, whenever I'd insist!

  A pirate, a pirate!
      I want to be a pirate!
  To sail the seas for treasure, and to keep it in our hold!
    To fear no foe nor nation--
    What a splendid occupation
  To be a doughty pirate in the daring days of old!

  A pirate, a pirate!
      But if I were a pirate,
  I couldn't have a pair of skates, a football, or a sled!
    So, when I think it over,
    Though I'd _like_ to be a rover,
  I'd rather live in our house, and be myself, instead!



  Our playhouse is so near to Fairyland
  I think the fairies come and peep, to see
        How children play.

  So sometimes when there's something in the grass
  That sounds like fairies' footsteps very faint
        Not far away,

  We sit quite still, all on the playhouse wall;
  But though we wait and wait for them to speak
        They never do.

  Our playhouse is so near to Fairyland
  They'll come some day, and start to play with us,
        I think, don't you?


  It doesn't do you any good to hide,
  Trees! Everybody knows you're there inside!
  Besides, although you think you're hid complete
  --We see your feet!


  Beach birds, beach birds, flying in to me,
  From the wide, blue palaces of your home, the sea,
  What have you to tell about, islands green and fair?
  Stories of the ships that tramp the trail to Everywhere?

  Have you seen a sailor lad dreaming at the wheel?
  Have you seen the great sharks flash, white beneath a keel?
  Have you seen the savages dancing in a ring?
  Have you, on a desert isle, ever seen a king?

  Beach birds, beach birds, flying in to me,
  In some far, blue palace-hall of your home, the sea,
  Will you tell the listening birds how, in a curious land,
  Once--you saw a little maid, playing in the sand?


  The sky stands up to sing before us;
  Each star's a word, the moon's the chorus!


  The new birds tweet, and buds come sweet,
    And puffy clouds are in the sky.
  The world is full of little girls,
    But very few as nice as I!


  We were walking in the zoo,
    And all the animals looked at us;
    The bear and the hippopotamus,
  And quite a few
  Lions and wolves and a yak and a gnu.
  And we were glad some one had made
    Cages around them, so that we
  Could walk there and not be afraid:
    But could just pretend that they were free;
  And could eat us both--if they wanted to.


  The leaves are born; the organ man
    Has got a new, quick tune.
  It's rained. The kitten's gone to sleep:--
    And I'll be six in June!


  Beneath the comfortable sky
  All afternoon I love to lie,
  And think about the books I've read
  And all the things I dream in bed,
  When I am not quite sleeping yet--
  The things that day makes me forget.

  The white clouds looked like ships one day,
  And then like lambkins strayed away;
  And, as I look, I understand
  Just where it is that's Fairyland.

  It's only lying down, you know,
  The clouds make pictures for me, so
  When I stand up to see them, why,
  There's nothing there but clouds and sky!


  A lonely little desert isle
    That was not comforted
  By all the oceans mile on mile
    Sighed wistfully and said,
  "It's hard sometimes to be content.
  I wish I were a continent!"


  Look! Look at me!
  To-day's my birthday, Tree!
  See, let me stand up, so,
  Beside you. How you grow!
  I'm tall, but oh,
  I'll never be as tall as you, I know!
  Tree, when's your birthday, please? Why don't you speak?
  I seem so small,
  And you're so tall,
  Perhaps you have a birthday every week!


  I'm sorry, Trees,
  Your leaves have gone, and left you. But don't cry;
  Don't shiver so. You're luckier than I!
  When Summer's gone, and Fall's here stern and cool,
        I have to go to school.

  Don't tremble, Trees!
  You shouldn't mind. I wish that I were you!
  You don't have fractions, no, nor maps to do,
  And no one tries to make trees keep a rule--
        _I_ have to go to school!


  A star looked down upon the sea,
  And to a lighthouse trim said he,
    "I wonder what you are!"
  The lighthouse twinkled instantly,
  "Why, you're the aristocracy,
    And I'm a working star!"


  It must be hard to stand and stand ...
  But think of pennies in your hand!


  All the day, from dawn till dark,
  Nations play within this park.

  East and West are in that swing,
  Feet that crowd, and hands that cling.

  Europe leans to catch a ball.
  In the shadow of that wall,
  Asia sings and hugs a doll.

  All the day, from dawn till dark,
  Nations play within this park.


  Mountain moons are large and white,
    Mountain moons are round;
  --I have seen the moons at night
    Growing from the ground,--
  And I like the seaside moons,
    In the sea-blue sky.
  But--in town, the moons are all
    So _very_ far and high!


  It often rains in our town. And, you know,
  It always happens when we've planned to go
  On walks or hikes, or somewhere out to play;
  It's curious how it seems arranged that way!

  We used to use those rainy days to pout,
  And stand there at the window looking out
  And wishing things about the weather--oh,
  I never knew a wish to change it, though!

  But now--the gladdest secret! We don't need
  Our dad to tell us stories. We can read!
  We've found that Fairyland is everywhere--
  You open up a book and, why, you're there!


  Gardening is heaps of fun!
  We are partners with the sun,
  For we help him make things grow,
  With our spade and rake and hoe!

  First we spade the ground, then rake it;
  Ready for the seeds we make it;
  Then in furrows carefully
  Plant them as they ought to be.

  Soon above the ground we spy
  Tiny green things push and pry,
  Little plants that from their night
  Wake and climb to find the light.

  They are thirsty, so we give
  Water first that they may live;
  Then the weeds we vanquish, so
  Each wee shoot may thrive and grow.

  Busy raindrops, light, and air,
  Haste to come, our work to share.
  For to them too, every one,
  Gardening is heaps of fun!




  In Fairy Town, in Fairy Town,
  Where Fairy folk go up and down,
  Where Fairy children, wee and gay,
  Frisk and romp in Fairy play,
  Every day's a holiday!
  And every night is sweeter still,
  For when, behind the Fairy hill
  The tiny Fairy sun goes down,
  It's sleepy time in Fairy Town!

    Sleepy time in Fairy Town!
      Sleep, sleep--sleep--
    While the stars of Fairy Town
      Safe watch keep.
    All the Fairy babies, so,
    Off to Dreamland softly go--

  In Fairy Town, in Fairy Town,
  Each baby in a moonlight gown,
  Lies and dreams the livelong night.
  Fairy babies are so white,
  White and pink and wee and bright!
  Petals of a rose a-curl
  Make a Fairy baby girl;
  Autumn leaves, all dear and brown,
  Make the boys of Fairy Town!

    Sleepy time in Fairy Town!
      Sleep, sleep--sleep--
    While the stars of Fairy Town
      Safe watch keep.
    Like the Fairy babies, go
    Off to Dreamland, softly, so--


  I wish my hair would curl!
  There isn't any other little girl
  With hair as straight as mine!
  I try to twine
  It round my finger, so;
  But oh,
  It just won't grow
  That way, no matter how I twist and whirl
  And coax it!--If, to-night,
  I wish upon a star that it would curl--
  Oh, then, to-morrow--do you think it _might_?


  It's eight o'clock now, kitten, see!
  Good-night! Sweet dreams of mice and me!

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "A Little Freckled Person - A Book of Child Verse" ***

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