Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
I know a little girl,
Who is very fond of play:
And if her ma would let her,
Would do nothing else all day.
She has a little doll,
And another one quite large.
She plays she has a little home,
And house cares to discharge.
But when her mamma calls her,
Some real work to do,
She does not like to leave her play,
And pouts till she is through.
Hay Making
In the hay, in the hay,
Toss we and tumble;
No one to say us nay,
All through this Summer's day!
No one to grumble.
In the hat, in the hay,
Arthur we'll smother;
Bring armfuls, heap them high,
Pile them up--now good-bye,
Poor little brother!
In the hay, in the hay,
Snugly reclining,
Shaded from the noontide heat,
Smelling the clover sweet,
See us all dining;
While the haymakers sit
Under the willows,
Each with his bread and cheese
Spread out upon his knees,
Hay for their pillows.
Hark! how the laugh and chat,
Happy, light hearted!
Now to their work they go,
Raking up one long row,
Fit to be carted.
Now comes the wagon near,
Quickly they're loading;
Rake away! rake away!
While it's fine make the hay--
Rain is foreboding.
Now that the sunset ray
Says the day's over,
Homeward we make our way,
In the cart strewn with hay,
Smelling of clover.
Mrs. Hawtrey
[Page 85--Play Land]
Johnny the Stout
"Ho! for a frolic!"
Said Johnny the stout;
"There's coasting and sledding;
I'm going out."
Scarcely had Johnny
Plunged in the snow,
When there came a complaint
Up from his toe:
"We're cold" said the toe,
"I and the rest;
There's ten of us freezing,
Standing abreast."
Then up spoke an ear;
"My, but it's labor--
Playing in winter. Eh!
Opposite neighbour!"
"Pooh!" said his nose,
Angry and red;
"Who wants to tingle?
Go home to bed!"
Eight little fingers,
Four to a thumb,
All cried together--
"Johnny, we're numb!"
But Johnny the stout
Wouldn't listen a minute;
Never a snow-bank
But Johnny was in it.
Tumbling and jumping,
Shouting with glee,
Wading the snow-drifts
Up to his knee.
Soon he forgot them,
Fingers and toes,
Never once thought of
The ear and the nose.
Ah! What a frolic!
All in a glow,
Johnny grew warmer
Out in the snow.
Often his breathing
Came with a joke;
"Blaze away, Johnny!
I'll do the smoke."
"And I'll do the fire,"
Said Johnny the bold.
"Fun is the fuel
For driving off cold."
[Page 86--Play Land]
Training Time
Supper is over,
Now for fun,
This is the season
Children must run;
Papa is reading;
Says, of these boys;
"Pray did you ever
Hear such a noise?"
Riding on "camels"
Over the floor,
See, one's a squirrel
Climbing the door;
There goes the baby
Flat on his nose,
Brother was trying
To tickle his toes.
Little he minds it,
Though he would cry,
Changed it to laughter
As Lyn galloped by;
Order is nowhere,
Fun is the rule;
Think, they are children
Just out of school.
Home is their palace;
They are the kings
Let them be masters,
Of just a few things;
Only one short hour
Out of all day,
Give them full freedom;
Join in their play.
Do not be angry
Do not forget
You liked to make noise
Sometimes do yet;
Home will be sweeter
Till life is done
If you will give them
An hour of fun.
[Page 87--Play Land]
Playtime
Play-time, play-time, hurrah!
Out in the fields together!
Don't let us lose a moment's time,
This fine, bright, glorious weather.
Run, boys! Run, boys! faster!
Ball and the bats for cricket;
Jack, you're the fastest runner here,
Be off, and pitch the wicket.
Football for those who choose--
The goal stick--go, Jim, fix it;
Give us the ball; who's won the toss?
Now, for the first who kicks it.
No lazy ones today;
Off, stretch your legs running!
Now for the hip, hip, hip, hurrah!
And let the noise be stunning.
Hear how it echoes round!
Another and another!
No fear of noise, it won't disturb
Old granny and poor mother.
Hullo there! no foul play!
Dick, what is that you're saying?
No bad words and no cruel sport;
We're come for fun and playing.
Romping
Why now, my dear boys, this is always the way,
You can't be contented with innocent play;
But this sort of romping, so noisy and high,
Is never left off till it ends in a cry.
What! are there no games you can take a delight in,
But kicking and knocking, and tearing, and fighting?
It is a sad thing to be forced to conclude
That boys can't be merry, without being rude.
Now what is the reason you never can play
Without snatching each other's playthings away?
Would it be any hardship to let them alone,
When every one of you has toys of his own?
I often have told you before, my dear boys,
That I do not object to your making a noise;
Or running and jumping about, anyhow,
But fighting and mischief I cannot allow.
So, if any more of these quarrels are heard,
I tell you this once, and I'll keep to my word,
I'll take every marble, and spintop and ball,
And not let you play with each other at all.
Nurse's Song
When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.
"Then come home my children, the sun is gone down
And the dews of the night arise;
Come, come, leave off play, and let us away,
Till the morning appears in the skies."
"No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,
And we cannot go to sleep;
Besides in the sky the little birds fly,
And the hills are covered with sheep."
"Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
And then go home to bed."
The little ones leaped, and shouted and laughed,
And all the hills echoed.
W. Blake
[Page 88--Play Land]
Swinging
Here we go on the garden swing,
Under the chestnut tree.
Up in the branches birdies sing
Songs to Baby and me,
Baby and Kitty and me.
Then up, high up, for the ropes are long,
And down, low down, for the branch is strong.
And there's room on the seat for three,
Just Baby and Kitty and me
Merrily swinging,
Merrily singing,
Under the chestnut tree.
Up to the clustering leaves we go,
Down we sweep to the grass,
Touching the daisies there below,
Bowing to let us pass,
Smiling to us as we pass.
Then up, high up, for the ropes are long,
And down, low down, for the branch is strong.
And there's room on the seat for three,
Just Baby and Kitty and me
Merrily swinging,
Merrily singing,
Under the chestnut tree.
Skating
One day it chanced that Miss Maud did meet
The poet's little son,
"I'm going skating, Sir," she said;
"And so am I," said John.
"If you can skate and I can skate,
Why let me skate with you,
We'll go the whole world round and round,
And skate the whole year through."
They skated left, and skated right,
Miss Maud and little John,
That is--as long as there was ice
For them to skate upon.
And then they did unstrap their skates
Like other girls and men,
And never used them once--until
They put them on again!
The Skipping Rope
Lessons now at last are over,
Books and slates are put away;
Hymns attentively repeated,
Copy without a blot completed,
Now's the time for fun and play.
Lessons done with cheerful spirit
Bring the sure reward of merit,
Smiling face and heart so gay;
In this bright and smiling weather,
Merrily they all together,
With the skipping rope will play;
And if only Tom and Polly
Will come too, it will be jolly!
Here they are now, foot it lightly,
Hand in hand they skip so sprightly,
Bees are humming,
Summer's coming.
Birds are singing as they're bringing
Twigs from many a distant tree;
Lined with down, and moss, and feather,
Where they'll sit and chirp together,
Oh! how snug those homes will be!
O'er the ropes so lightly skipping,
O'er the grass so lightly tripping,
The children are as glads as they.
Lessons are done with cheerful spirit,
Bring the sure reward of merit;
And remember, too, that they
Who work hardest day by day,
Always most enjoy their play.
[Page 89--Play Land]
The Baby's Debut
My brother Jack was nine in May,
And I was eight on New Year's day;
So in Kate Wilson's shop
Papa (he's my papa and Jack's)
Bought me, last week, a doll of wax,
And brother Jack a top.
Jack's in the pouts, and this it is,
He thinks mine came to more than his;
So to my drawer he goes,
Takes out the doll, and, O, my stars!
He pokes her head between the bars,
And melts off half her nose!
Quite cross, a bit of string I beg,
And tie it to his peg-top's peg,
And bang with might and main,
It's head against the parlor door:
Off flies the head, and hits the floor,
And breaks a window-pane.
This made him cry with rage and spite:
Well, let him cry, it serves him right.
A pretty thing, forsooth!
If he's to melt, all scalding hot.
Half my doll's nose, and I am not
To draw his peg-top's tooth!
Aunt Hannah heard the window break,
And cried "O naughty Nancy Lake,
Thus to distress your aunt:
No Drury-lane for you to-day!"
And while papa said "Pooh, she may!"
Mamma said "No she sha'n't!"
Well, after many a sad reproach,
They got into a hackney coach,
And trotted down the street.
I saw them go: one horse was blind,
The tails of both hung down behind,
Their shoes were on their feet.
The chaise in which poor brother Bill
Used to be drawn to Pentonville,
Stood in the lumber-room:
I wiped the dust from off the top,
While molly mopp'd it with a mop,
And brush'd it with a broom.
My uncle's porter, Samuel Hughes,
Came in at six to black the shoes,
(I always talk to Sam:)
So what does he, but takes, and drags
Me in the chaise among the flags,
And leaves me where I am.
My father's walls are made of brick,
But not so tall and not so thick
As these; and, goodness me!
My father's beams are made of wood,
But never, never half so good
As those that now I see.
What a large floor! 'tis like a town!
The carpet, when they lay it down,
Won't hide it, I'll be bound;
And there's a row of lamps!--my eye!
How they do blaze! I wonder why
They keep them on the ground.
Let the Child Play
He who checks a child with terror,
Stops its play and stills its song,