III The Palace Pets4
The Cow
The friendly cow all red and white,
I love with all my heart:
She gives me cream with all her might,
To eat with apple-tart.
She wanders lowing here and there,
And yet she cannot stray,
All in the pleasant open air,
The pleasant light of day;
And blown by all the winds that pass
And wet with all the showers,
She walks among the meadow grass
And eats the meadow flowers.
Robert Louis Stevenson.
The Good Moolly Cow
Come! supper is ready;
Come! boys and girls, now,
For here is fresh milk
From the good moolly cow.
Have done with your fife,
And your row de dow dow,
And taste this sweet milk
From the good moolly cow.
Whoever is fretting
Must clear up his brow,
Or he’ll have no milk
From the good moolly cow.
And here is Miss Pussy;
She means by mee-ow,
Give me, too, some milk
From the good moolly cow.
When children are hungry,
O, who can tell how
They love the fresh milk
From the good moolly cow!
So, when you meet moolly,
Just say, with a bow,
“Thank you for your milk,
Mrs. Good Moolly Cow.”
Eliza Lee Follen.
The Cow
“Pretty Moo-cow, will you tell
Why you like the fields so well?
You never pluck the daisies white,
Nor look up to the sky so bright;
So tell me, Moo-cow, tell me true,
Are you happy when you moo?”
“I do not pluck the daisies white;
I care not for the sky so bright;
But all day long I lie and eat
Pleasant grass, so fresh and sweet,—
Grass that makes nice milk for you;
So I am happy when I moo.”
Mrs. Motherly.
Bossy and the Daisy
Right up into Bossy’s eyes,
Looked the Daisy, boldly,
But, alas! to his surprise,
Bossy ate him, coldly!
Listen! Daisies in the fields,
Hide away from Bossy!
Daisies make the milk she yields,
And her coat grow glossy.
So, each day, she tries to find
Daisies nodding sweetly,
And although it’s most unkind,
Bites their heads off, neatly!
Margaret Deland.
The Clucking Hen
“Will you take a walk with me,
My little wife, to-day?
There’s barley in the barley-field,
And hay-seed in the hay.”
“Thank you,” said the clucking hen;
“I’ve something else to do;
I’m busy sitting on my eggs,
I cannot walk with you.”
“Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck,”
Said the clucking hen;
“My little chicks will soon be hatched,
I’ll think about it then.”
The clucking hen sat on her nest,
She made it in the hay;
And warm and snug beneath her breast,
A dozen white eggs lay.
Crack, crack, went all the eggs,
Out dropt the chickens small!
“Cluck,” said the clucking hen,
“Now I have you all.”
“Come along, my little chicks,
I’ll take a walk with you.”
“Hollo!” said the barn-door cock,
“Cock-a-doodle-do!”
Aunt Effie’s Rhymes.
Chickens in Trouble
“O mother, mother! I’m so cold!”
One little chicken grumbled.
“And, mother!” cried a second chick,
“Against a stone I’ve stumbled.”
“And oh! I am so sleepy now,”
Another chick was moaning;
While chicken fourth of tired wings,
Kept up a constant groaning.
“And, mother! I have such a pain!”
Peeped out the chicken baby;
“That yellow meal did taste so good,
I’ve eaten too much, may be.”
“And there’s a black, black cloud up there,”
Cried all in fear and wonder;
“O mother dear, do spread your wings
And let us all creep under.”
“There, there, my little dears, come here;
Your cries are quite distressing,”
The mother called, and spread her wings
For comfort and caressing.
And soon beneath her feathers warm,
The little chicks were huddled;
“I know what ailed you all,” she said,
“You wanted to be cuddled.”
And as they nestled cosily
And hushed their weak complaining,
She told them that the black, black cloud
Was quite too small for raining.
And one by one they all were soothed,
And out again went straying,
Until five happy little chicks
Were in the farmyard playing.
Emilie Poulsson.
From the Norwegian.
The Funniest Thing in the World5
The funniest thing in the world, I know,
Is watchin’ the monkeys ‘at’s in the show!—
Jumpin’ an’ runnin’ an’ racin’ roun’,
‘Way up the top o’ the pole; nen down!
First they’re here, an’ nen they’re there,
An’ ist a’most any an’ ever’where!—
Screechin’ an’ scratchin’ wherever they go,
They’re the funniest thing in the world, I know!
They’re the funniest thing in the world, I think:—
Funny to watch ’em eat an’ drink;
Funny to watch ’em a-watchin’ us,
An’ actin’ ‘most like grown folks does!—
Funny to watch ’em p’tend to be
Skeerd at their tail ‘at they happen to see;—
But the funniest thing in the world they do
Is never to laugh, like me an’ you!
James Whitcomb Riley.
The Orphan’s Song
I had a little bird,
I took it from the nest;
I prest it and blest it,
And nurst it in my breast.
I set it on the ground,
Danced round and round,
And sang about it so cheerly,
With “Hey, my little bird,
And ho! my little bird,
And oh! but I love thee dearly!”
I make a little feast
Of food soft and sweet,
I hold it in my breast,
And coax it to eat;
I pit, and I pat,
I call this and that,
And I sing about so cheerly,
With “Hey, my little bird,
And ho! my little bird,
And ho! but I love thee dearly!”
Sydney Dobell.
The Darling Birds
The darling birds are warm;
Yes, feather on feather,
All close together,
The darling birds are warm.
They care not whether
’Tis stormy weather,
For they are safe from harm.
With feather on feather,
Tho’ ’tis stormy weather,
The darling birds are warm.
Unknown.
The Lamb
Now, Lamb, no longer naughty be,
Be good and homewards come with me,
Or else upon another day
You shall not with the daisies play.
Did we not bring you, for a treat,
In the green grass to frisk your feet?
And when we must go home again
You pull your ribbon and complain.
So, little Lamb, be good once more,
And give your naughty tempers o’er.
Then you again shall dine and sup
On daisy white and buttercup.
Kate Greenaway.
Four Pets
Pussy has a whiskered face,
Kitty has such pretty ways,
Doggie scampers when I call,
And has a heart to love us all.
The dog lies in his kennel,
And Puss purrs on the rug,
And baby perches on my knee
For me to love and hug.
Pat the dog and stroke the cat,
Each in its degree;
And cuddle and kiss my baby,
And baby dear kiss me.
Christina G. Rossetti.
A Puppy’s Problem
When Midget was a puppy,
And to the farm was brought,
She found that there were many things
A puppy must be taught.
Her mother oft had told her
The first thing to be known
Was how to gnaw and bite, and thus
Enjoy a toothsome bone.
So Midget practiced biting
On everything around,
But that was not approved at all,
To her surprise, she found.
The farmer spoke severely,
Till Midget shook with fright;
The children shouted “No, no, no!
Bad Midget! Mustn’t bite!”
’Twas just the same with barking;
At first they all said “Hark!”
Whenever Midget tried her voice;
“Good puppy! that’s it! Bark!”
But then, as soon as Midget
Could sound a sharp “Bow-wow!”
Alas! the talk was changed to “Hush!
Such noise we can’t allow.”
Now wasn’t that a puzzle?
It seemed a problem dark,
That it was right and wrong to bite
And right and wrong to bark.
A puppy’s hardest lesson
Is when to bark and bite;
But Midget learned it, and became
A comfort and delight.
Emilie Poulsson.
I Like Little Pussy
I like little Pussy,
Her coat is so warm;
And if I don’t hurt her
She’ll do me no harm.
So I’ll not pull her tail,
Nor drive her away,
But Pussy and I
Very gently will play;
She shall sit by my side,
And I’ll give her some food;
And she’ll love me because
I am gentle and good.
I’ll pat little Pussy,
And then she will purr,
And thus show her thanks
For my kindness to her;
I’ll not pinch her ears,
Nor tread on her paw,
Lest I should provoke her
To use her sharp claw;
I never will vex her,
Nor make her displeased,
For Pussy can’t bear
To be worried or teased.
Jane Taylor.
Notes
4 From “Poems and Ballads,” copyright, 1895, 1896, by Chas. Scribner’s Sons.
5 From “Rhymes of Childhood,” copyright 1902, used by special permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company.