Which having done as to have earned The sweet rewards of fame, In what same style I did begin I now shall end the same. So let us sing: Long live the King, Long live the Queen and Jack, Long live the ten-spot and the ace, And also all the pack! THE ROCK-A-BY LADY. The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby Street Comes stealing; comes creeping; The poppies they hang from her head to her feet, And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet-- She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet, When she findeth you sleeping! There is one little dream of a beautiful drum-- "Rub-a-dub!" it goeth; There is one little dream of a big sugar-plum, And lo! thick and fast the other dreams come Of popguns that bang, and tin tops that hum, And a trumpet that bloweth! And dollies peep out of those wee little dreams With laughter and singing; And boats go a-floating on silvery streams, And the stars peek-a-boo with their own misty gleams, And up, up, and up, where the Mother Moon beams, The fairies go winging! [Illustration: ROSWELL FRANCIS FIELD, EUGENE FIELD'S YOUNGEST SON AND THE INSPIRER OF "THE ROCK-A-BY LADY," "BOOH," AND MANY OTHER POEMS IN THE VOLUME "LOVE-SONGS OF CHILDHOOD." From a photograph by Stein, Chicago.] Would you dream all these dreams that are tiny and fleet? They'll come to you sleeping; So shut the two eyes that are weary, my sweet, For the Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby Street, With poppies that hang from her head to her feet, Comes stealing; comes creeping. "BOOH!" On afternoons, when baby boy has had a splendid nap, And sits, like any monarch on his throne, in nurse's lap, In some such wise my handkerchief I hold before my face, And cautiously and quietly I move about the place; Then, with a cry, I suddenly expose my face to view, And you should hear him laugh and crow when I say "Booh!" Sometimes the rascal tries to make believe that he is scared, And really, when I first began, he stared, and stared, and stared; And then his under lip came out and farther out it came, Till mamma and the nurse agreed it was a "cruel shame"-- But now what does that same wee, toddling, lisping baby do But laugh and kick his little heels when I say "Booh!" He laughs and kicks his little heels in rapturous glee, and then In shrill, despotic treble bids me "do it all aden!" And I--of course I do it; for, as his progenitor, It is such pretty, pleasant play as this that I am for! And it is, oh, such fun! and I am sure that we shall rue The time when we are both too old to play the game of "Booh!" THE DUEL.