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The Infant’s Delight: Poetry

by Anonymous

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Blow-Ing Bub-Bles

Har-ry and Tom, the o-ther day,
  Went out in-to the yard to play;
Their great de-light, in wea-ther bright,
  Is blow-ing bub-bles with pipes of clay.

  Tom took a ba-sin deep and wide,
  And Har-ry brought his mug be-side;
They fil-led them quite with soap-suds white,
  And each to blow the big-gest tried.

  Poor Tom, he blew with might and main,
  And so, of course, he blew in vain;
For all his trou-ble he made no bub-ble,
  But Tom was brave and tried a-gain.

  Till Har-ry said, “Dear Tom, you see,
  You blow too hard; now—look at me.
There! that will rise to-ward the skies,
  And float a-bove the li-lac tree.”

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