Mother Truth's Melodies. Common Sense For Children. A KindergartenMiller, E. P., Mrs.
Philosophy
Mother Truth's Melodies. Common Sense For Children. A Kindergarten
Miller, E. P., Mrs.
Children's songs
FOUR 2s are 8,
And if so we must wait,
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FIVE 2s are 10,
Till he's trained by the men;--
Six 2s are 12,
Before trusting ourselves,
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SEVEN 2s are 14,
To ride him out sporting;
EIGHT 2s are 16,
But we can be fixing
NINE 2s are 18,
His food while we're waiting;
TEN 2s are 20,
Oh, yes, give him plenty,--
ELEVEN 2s are 22,
For then he will be gentle to--
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TWELVE 2s are 24,
Us who feed and pet him more.
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_BABY'S RECKONING_.
One little head, Ah! but what does it hold?
No matter,--it's worth its whole weight in pure gold.
Two big brown eyes, soft with Heaven's own dew;
No diamonds so precious, so sparkling, so true.
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Three cunning dimples, one deep in her chin,
And one in each cheek--Ah! they're just twin and twin.
Four little fingers to clutch mamma's hair,
But sweeter than honeycomb, even when there.
Five, we may call it, with little Tom Thumb,
And that fist in her mouth is as sweet as a plum.
Six wonderful pearls her bright coral lips hide,
And the Kohinoor's nothing these pure pearls beside.
Seven brown wavelets are ever in motion,
And silken floss to them is naught, to our notion.
Eight little giggles run over with glee--
And more if you call them, so merry is she.
Nine songs, (they're Greek tho' to all but mamma),
Make us think she is destined, an Opera Star.
Ten toddling steps, but to us full of grace,
For our babe in our hearts ever holds the first place.
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_TWO LITTLE PINK SHOES_.
Two little pink shoes standing by the head
Of our Nanny sleeping in the trundle-bed;
On the little table, waiting for the morn,
Two little pink shoes, our Nanny to adorn.
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Two little bright eyes, peeping open wide,
Spied the little table, and the pink shoes spied.
Two little fat hands climbing up to catch;
Two little fat feet following to match.
Two little fat arms hug them to her breast;
Two little fat legs run to show the rest.
Never more a treasure can our Nancy choose,
That will give such pleasure as these two pink shoes.
* * * * *
In your work or your play,
When you read, talk, or write,
Sit always, my child,
With your back to the light,
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_BABY PEARL_.
Now listen while I tell you, child,
That I am quite a grown-up girl,
For I can read, and spell my name,
While you,--why, you're just Baby Pearl.
I help mamma to "house-keep," too,
Although she says I make a whirl!
But I can wipe the forks and spoons,
While you, Ah, you're just Baby Pearl.
And then I dress myself, you see,
And comb my hair when not in curl,
And I can make my dolly's clothes,
While you, you're only Baby Pearl.
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Tis true, mamma says I must be
"A very pattern little girl,"
Just all for you, and I shall try
Because, because, you're Baby Pearl.
* * * * *
_MY VALENTINE_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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