[Illustration] SPEECH ECONOMY Since he began to talk and sing, I've learned one interesting thing-- The value of a verb is small; In fact, it has no worth at all. Why waste the breath required to say, "While toddling through the park today, I saw a bird up in a tree," When "Twee, pahk, birt," does splendidly? Why should one say, "Please pass the bread," When "Ba-ba me" is easier said? And why "I'm starved. Have supper quick," When "LUNCH!" yelled loudly, does the trick? Why "I've been riding on a train," When "By-by, Choo-choo" makes it plain? "Let words be few," the poet saith, So leave out words and save your breath. [Illustration] [Illustration] WELCOME TO SPRING Spring, you are welcome, for you are the friend of Fathers of all little girlies and chaps. Spring, you are welcome, for you mean the end of Bundling them up in their cold-weather wraps. Breathes there a parent of masculine gender, One whose young hopeful is seven or less, Who never has cursed the designer and vender Of juvenile-out-of-doors-winter-time dress? Leggings and overcoat, rubbers that squeeze on, Mittens and sweater a trifle too small; Not in the lot is one thing you can ease on, One that's affixed with no trouble at all. Spring, you are welcome, thrice welcome to father; Not for your flowers and birds, I'm afraid, As much as your promised relief from the bother Of bundling the kid for the daily parade. [Illustration] [Illustration] TASTE I can't understand why you pass up the toys That Santa considered just right for small boys; I can't understand why you turn up your nose At dogs, hobby-horses, and treasures like those, And play a whole hour, sometimes longer than that, With a thing as prosaic as daddy's old hat. The tables and shelves have been loaded for you With volumes of pictures--they're pretty ones, too-- Of birds, beasts, and fishes, and old Mother Goose Repines in a corner and feels like the deuce, While you, on the floor, quite contentedly look At page after page of the telephone book. [Illustration] [Illustration] RIDDLES If it's fun to take books from the bookcase, If you really believe it's worth while To carry them out to the kitchen And build them all up in a pile, Why isn't it just as agreeable then To carry them back to the bookcase again? If it's fun to make marks with a pencil In books that one cares for a heap; To tear out the pages from volumes One likes and is anxious to keep, Why isn't it pleasure to put on the hummer A magazine read and discarded last summer? [Illustration] [Illustration] HESITATION I've orders to waken you from your nap, And orders are orders, my little chap. But I hate to do it, because it seems A shame to break in on your blissful dreams.