My doll, my doll, my Annabel, She's really feeling far from well! Her wig is gone, her eyes are out, Her legs are left somewhere about, Her arms were stolen by the pup, The hens ate all her sawdust up, So all that's really left of her Is just her clothes and character. THE CAPITALIST. I always buy at the lollipop-shop, On the very first day of spring, A bag of marbles, a spinning-top, And a pocketful of string. IN MERRY ENGLAND. BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS. In merry, merry England, In the merry month of May, Miss Mary Ella Montague Went out in best array. Her wise mama called out to her, "My darling Mary Ella, It looks like rain to-day, my dear; You'd best take your umbrella!" That silly girl she paid no heed To her dear mother's call. She walked at least six miles that day, And it never rained at all! THE GOOSE GIRL. BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS. Oh, I'm a goose, and you're a goose, and we're all geese together. We wander over hill and dale, all in the sweet June weather, While wise folk stay indoors and pore O'er dusty books for learning lore. How glad I am--how glad you are--that we're birds of a feather: That you're a goose, and I'm a goose, and we're all geese together! THE PHILOSOPHER BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS Let me make you acquainted with Mrs. O'Toole, Though she's had little learning, she's nobody's fool, She loves her fine geese, but when they are dead She'll comfort herself with a new feather bed. EVERY-DAY VERSES BY ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE PICTURES BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE THIRSTY FLOWERS I have a little wat'ring-pot, It holds two quarts I think, And when the days are very hot I give the plants a drink. They lift their heads as flowers should, And look so green and gay; I'm sure that if they only could, "We thank you, Sir," they'd say. SHARING WITH OTHERS Sometimes Mother gives to me Such a lot of money--See! But it's very hard to buy All the things you'd like to try, And you always share your penny With a child who hasn't any. POCKETS Pockets are fine For marbles and twine, For knives and rubber bands; So, stuff them tight From morning till night With anything else but hands! WAITING FOR DINNER When one is very hungry, It's hard to wait, I know, For minutes seem like hours And the clock is always slow. There isn't time to play a game, You just sit down and wait, While Mother says, "Be patient, Our cook is never late." It's best when one is hungry, To think of other things, For then, before you know it, The bell for dinner rings. THE CRITIC