Posy Ring: A Book of Verse for Children

<h2>VII</h2><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</SPAN></span></p> <h2>PLAY-TIME</h2> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/3acorns.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="67" alt="decoration" title="" /></div> <div class='poem'> <i>The world's a very happy place,</i><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Where every child should dance and sing,</i></span><br/> <i>And always have a smiling face,</i><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And never sulk for anything.</i></span><br/></div> <div class='signature'><i>Gabriel Setoun.</i></div> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</SPAN></span></p> <hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</SPAN></span></p> <h2>PLAY-TIME</h2> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/3acorns.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="67" alt="decoration" title="" /></div> <div class='center'><br/><i>A Boy's Song</i><br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> Where the pools are bright and deep,<br/> Where the gray trout lies asleep,<br/> Up the river and o'er the lea,<br/> That's the way for Billy and me.<br/> <br/> Where the blackbird sings the latest,<br/> Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,<br/> Where the nestlings chirp and flee,<br/> That's the way for Billy and me.<br/> <br/> Where the mowers mow the cleanest,<br/> Where the hay lies thick and greenest,<br/> There to trace the homeward bee,<br/> That's the way for Billy and me.<br/> <br/> Where the hazel bank is steepest,<br/> Where the shadow falls the deepest,<br/> Where the clustering nuts fall free,<br/> That's the way for Billy and me.<br/> <br/> Why the boys should drive away<br/> Little sweet maidens from the play,<br/> Or love to banter and fight so well,<br/> <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</SPAN></span>That's the thing I never could tell.<br/> <br/> But this I know, I love to play,<br/> Through the meadow, among the hay,<br/> Up the water and o'er the lea,<br/> That's the way for Billy and me.<br/></div> <div class='signature'>James Hogg (The Ettrick Shepherd).</div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/1acorn.png" width-obs="19" height-obs="30" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <div class='center'><br/><i>The Lost Doll</i><br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> I once had a sweet little doll, dears,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The prettiest doll in the world;</span><br/> Her cheeks were so red and white, dears,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And her hair was so charmingly curled.</span><br/> But I lost my poor little doll, dears,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I played on the heath one day;</span><br/> And I cried for her more than a week, dears,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I never could find where she lay.</span><br/> <br/> I found my poor little doll, dears,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I played on the heath one day;</span><br/> Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">For her paint is all washed away,</span><br/> And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And her hair not the least bit curled;</span><br/> Yet for old sake's sake, she is still, dears,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The prettiest doll in the world.</span><br/></div> <div class='signature'>Charles Kingsley</div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/1acorn.png" width-obs="19" height-obs="30" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</SPAN></span></p> <div class='center'><br/><i>Dolladine</i><br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> This is her picture&mdash;Dolladine&mdash;<br/> The beautifullest doll that ever was seen!<br/> Oh, what nosegays! Oh, what sashes!<br/> Oh, what beautiful eyes and lashes!<br/> <br/> Oh, what a precious perfect pet!<br/> On each instep a pink rosette;<br/> Little blue shoes for her little blue tots;<br/> Elegant ribbons in bows and knots.<br/> <br/> Her hair is powdered; her arms are straight,<br/> Only feel, she is quite a weight!<br/> Her legs are limp, though;&mdash;stand up, miss!&mdash;<br/> What a beautiful buttoned-up mouth to kiss!<br/></div> <div class='signature'>William Brighty Rands.</div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/1acorn.png" width-obs="19" height-obs="30" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <div class='center'><br/><i>Dressing the Doll</i><br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> This is the way we dress the Doll:&mdash;<br/> You may make her a shepherdess, the Doll,<br/> If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook,<br/> But this is the way we dress the Doll.<br/></div> <div class='center'><br/><span class="smcap">Chorus</span>.<br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,<br/> But do not crumple and mess the Doll!<br/> <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</SPAN></span>This is the way we dress the Doll.<br/> First, you observe her little chemise,<br/> As white as milk, with ruches of silk;<br/> And the little drawers that cover her knees.<br/> As she sits or stands, with golden bands,<br/> And lace in beautiful filagrees.<br/></div> <div class='center'><br/><span class="smcap">Chorus</span>.<br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,<br/> But do not crumple or mess the Doll!<br/> This is the way we dress the Doll.<br/> <br/> Now these are the bodies: she has two,<br/> One of pink, with ruches of blue,<br/> And sweet white lace; be careful, do!<br/> And one of green, with buttons of sheen,<br/> Buttons and bands of gold, I mean,<br/> With lace on the border in lovely order,<br/> The most expensive we can afford her!<br/></div> <div class='center'><br/><span class="smcap">Chorus</span>.<br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,<br/> But do not crumple or mess the Doll!<br/> This is the way we dress the Doll.<br/> <br/> Then, with black at the border, jacket<br/> And this&mdash;and this&mdash;she will not lack it;<br/> Skirts? Why, there are skirts, of course,<br/> <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</SPAN></span>And shoes and stockings we shall enforce,<br/> With a proper bodice, in the proper place<br/> (Stays that lace have had their days<br/> And made their martyrs); likewise garters,<br/> All entire. But our desire<br/> Is to show you her night attire,<br/> At least a part of it. Pray admire<br/> This sweet white thing that she goes to bed in!<br/> It's not the one that's made for her wedding;<br/> <i>That</i> is special, a new design,<br/> Made with a charm and a countersign,<br/> Three times three and nine times nine:<br/> These are only her usual clothes:<br/> Look, <i>there's</i> a wardrobe! gracious knows<br/> It's pretty enough, as far as it goes!<br/> <br/> So you see the way we dress the Doll:<br/> You might make her a shepherdess, the Doll,<br/> If you gave her a crook with a pastoral hook,<br/> With sheep, and a shed, and a shallow brook,<br/> And all that, out of the poetry-book.<br/></div> <div class='center'><br/><span class="smcap">Chorus</span>.<br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,<br/> But do not crumple and mess the Doll!<br/> This is the way we dress the Doll;<br/> If you had not seen, could you guess the Doll?<br/></div> <div class='signature'>William Brighty Rands.</div> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</SPAN></span></p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/1acorn.png" width-obs="19" height-obs="30" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <div class='center'><br/><i>The Pedlar's Caravan</i><br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> I wish I lived in a caravan,<br/> With a horse to drive, like a pedlar-man!<br/> Where he comes from nobody knows,<br/> Or where he goes to, but on he goes!<br/> <br/> His caravan has windows two,<br/> And a chimney of tin, that the smoke comes through;<br/> He has a wife, with a baby brown,<br/> And they go riding from town to town.<br/> <br/> Chairs to mend, and delf to sell!<br/> He clashes the basins like a bell;<br/> Tea-trays, baskets ranged in order,<br/> Plates with the alphabet round the border!<br/> <br/> The roads are brown, and the sea is green,<br/> But his house is just like a bathing-machine;<br/> The world is round, and he can ride,<br/> Rumble and splash, to the other side!<br/> <br/> With the pedlar-man I should like to roam,<br/> And write a book when I came home;<br/> All the people would read my book,<br/> Just like the Travels of Captain Cook!<br/></div> <div class='signature'>William Brighty Rands.</div> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</SPAN></span></p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/1acorn.png" width-obs="19" height-obs="30" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <div class='center'><br/><i>A Sea-Song from the Shore</i><br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Hail! Ho!</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Sail! Ho!</span><br/> Ahoy! Ahoy! Ahoy!<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Who calls to me,</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">So far at sea?</span><br/> Only a little boy!<br/> <br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Sail! Ho!</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Hail! Ho!</span><br/> The sailor he sails the sea:<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">I wish he would capture a little sea-horse</span><br/> And send him home to me.<br/> <br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">I wish, as he sails</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Through the tropical gales,</span><br/> He would catch me a sea-bird, too,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">With its silver wings</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And the song it sings,</span><br/> And its breast of down and dew!<br/> <br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">I wish he would catch me a</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Little mermaid,</span><br/> Some island where he lands,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">With her dripping curls,</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And her crown of pearls,</span><br/> <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</SPAN></span>And the looking-glass in her hands!<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Hail! Ho!</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Sail! Ho!</span><br/> Sail far o'er the fabulous main!<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And if I were a sailor,</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">I'd sail with you,</span><br/> Though I never sailed back again.<br/></div> <div class='signature'>James Whitcomb Riley.</div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/1acorn.png" width-obs="19" height-obs="30" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <div class='center'><br/><i>The Land of Story-Books</i><SPAN name="FNanchor_J_10" id="FNanchor_J_10"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_J_10" class="fnanchor">[J]</SPAN><br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> At evening when the lamp is lit,<br/> Around the fire my parents sit;<br/> They sit at home and talk and sing,<br/> And do not play at anything.<br/> <br/> Now, with my little gun, I crawl<br/> All in the dark along the wall,<br/> And follow round the forest track<br/> Away behind the sofa back.<br/> <br/> There, in the night, where none can spy,<br/> All in my hunter's camp I lie,<br/> And play at books that I have read<br/> Till it is time to go to bed.<br/> <br/> These are the hills, these are the woods,<br/> These are my starry solitudes;<br/> And there the river by whose brink<br/> <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</SPAN></span>The roaring lions come to drink.<br/> <br/> I see the others far away<br/> As if in firelit camp they lay,<br/> And I, like to an Indian scout,<br/> Around their party prowled about.<br/> <br/> So, when my nurse comes in for me,<br/> Home I return across the sea,<br/> And go to bed with backward looks<br/> At my dear land of Story-books.<br/></div> <div class='signature'>Robert Louis Stevenson.</div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/1acorn.png" width-obs="19" height-obs="30" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <div class='center'><br/><i>The City Child</i><br/><br/></div> <div class='poem2'> Dainty little maiden, whither would you wander?<br/> Whither from this pretty home, the home where mother dwells?<br/> "Far and far away," said the dainty little maiden,<br/> "All among the gardens, auriculas, anemones,<br/> Roses and lilies and Canterbury bells."<br/> <br/> Dainty little maiden, whither would you wander?<br/> Whither from this pretty house, this city-house of ours?<br/> "Far and far away," said the dainty little maiden,<br/> "All among the meadows, the clover and the clematis,<br/> Daisies and kingcups and honeysuckle-flowers."<br/></div> <div class='signature'>Alfred, Lord Tennyson.</div> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</SPAN></span></p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/1acorn.png" width-obs="19" height-obs="30" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <div class='center'><br/><i>Going into Breeches</i><br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> Joy to Philip! he this day<br/> Has his long coats cast away,<br/> And (the childish season gone)<br/> Put the manly breeches on.<br/> Officer on gay parade,<br/> Red-coat in his first cockade,<br/> Bridegroom in his wedding-trim,<br/> Birthday beau surpassing him,<br/> Never did with conscious gait<br/> Strut about in half the state<br/> Or the pride (yet free from sin)<br/> Of my little <span class="smcap">manikin</span>:<br/> Never was there pride or bliss<br/> Half so rational as his.<br/> Sashes, frocks, to those that need 'em,<br/> Philip's limbs have got their freedom&mdash;<br/> He can run, or he can ride,<br/> And do twenty things beside,<br/> Which his petticoats forbade;<br/> Is he not a happy lad?<br/> Now he's under other banners<br/> He must leave his former manners;<br/> Bid adieu to female games<br/> And forget their very names;<br/> Puss-in-corners, hide-and-seek,<br/> <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</SPAN></span>Sports for girls and punies weak!<br/> Baste-the-bear he now may play at;<br/> Leap-frog, foot-ball sport away at;<br/> Show his skill and strength at cricket,<br/> Mark his distance, pitch his wicket;<br/> Run about in winter's snow<br/> Till his cheeks and fingers glow;<br/> Climb a tree or scale a wall<br/> Without any fear to fall.<br/> If he get a hurt or bruise,<br/> To complain he must refuse,<br/> Though the anguish and the smart<br/> Go unto his little heart;<br/> He must have his courage ready,<br/> Keep his voice and visage steady;<br/> Brace his eyeballs stiff as drum,<br/> That a tear may never come;<br/> And his grief must only speak<br/> From the colour in his cheek.<br/> This and more he must endure,<br/> Hero he in miniature.<br/> This and more must now be done,<br/> Now the breeches are put on.<br/></div> <div class='signature'>Charles and Mary Lamb.</div> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</SPAN></span></p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/1acorn.png" width-obs="19" height-obs="30" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <div class='center'><br/><i>Hunting Song</i><br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> Up, up! ye dames and lasses gay!<br/> To the meadows trip away.<br/> 'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,<br/> And scare the small birds from the corn,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Not a soul at home may stay:</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">For the shepherds must go</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">With lance and bow</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.</span><br/> <br/> Leave the hearth and leave the house<br/> To the cricket and the mouse:<br/> Find grannam out a sunny seat,<br/> With babe and lambkin at her feet.<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Not a soul at home may stay:</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">For the shepherds must go</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">With lance and bow</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.</span><br/></div> <div class='signature'>Samuel Taylor Coleridge.</div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/1acorn.png" width-obs="19" height-obs="30" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <div class='center'><br/><i>Hie Away</i><br/><br/></div> <div class='poem'> Hie away, hie away!<br/> Over bank and over brae,<br/> Where the copsewood is the greenest,<br/> Where the fountains glisten sheenest,<br/> Where the lady fern grows strongest,<br/> <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</SPAN></span>Where the morning dew lies longest,<br/> Where the blackcock sweetest sips it,<br/> Where the fairy latest trips it:<br/> Hie to haunts right seldom seen,<br/> Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green,<br/> Over bank and over brae,<br/> Hie away, hie away!<br/></div> <div class='signature'>Sir Walter Scott.</div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/1acorn.png" width-obs="19" height-obs="30" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</SPAN></span></p> <hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</SPAN></span></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />