Dearest little lover mine, Sweetest, pertest valentine; "Desht I'm two years old," he says,-- Blessings on his pretty ways,-- "'Tan't I be your valentine?" Yes forever, lover mine, Shalt thou be my valentine. {92} _FEE-FI-FO-FUM_. FEE-FI-FO-FUM, From the Spruce-tree comes the gum; From the Pine the turpentine, Tar and pitch, And timber which Is very choice and fine. Fee-fi-fo-fum, How from Spruce-tree comes the gum? Soft enough;--the sticky stuff, From seam and cleft, Both right and left, Flows out, and hardens, rough. {93} Fay-fi-fo-fee, Nut-galls grow on the Oak-tree; By tiny worms the nut-gall forms, Like little ball; And from Nut-gall The Gallic Acid comes. Fee-fi-fo-fade, From Nut-galls, too, the Tannin's made; While Acorns grow in group or row;-- And Live-oak long, Makes ship-knees, strong, That round the world may go. {94} Fee-fi-fo-fap, We tap the Maples, and the sap We find as sweet as sugar-beet, Then boiling hard, Our sure reward, The maple-sugar treat. {95} Fay-fi-fo-fee, See the graceful White-Birch tree, With bark so light, so tough and tight That Indians wrought Canoes we're taught, And paddled out of sight. {96} Fee-fi-fo-fap, Hark and hear the Hemlock snap;-- Little spine so full of wind, Heated, hops, And jumping, pops, And makes the bright eyes shine. Fee-fi-fo-fur, See the curious chestnut-burr; Green and round, then turning brown. Frost opens wide Each prickly side, And out the chestnuts bound. {97} Fee-fi-fo-fay, Now the farmer makes his hay; Grasses grow, which workmen mow,-- Toss every-wise, Till sunshine dries, Then into stacks, they stow. Fay-fee-fi-fo, See the farmer wield his hoe, Lettuce, greens, then corn and beans, With pumpkin-vines Along the lines, Where many a weed o'er-leans. {98} Fee-fi-fo-fog, See the wriggling pollywog,*-- With funny tail; but without fail This pollywog Will grow a frog, And lose his wiggle-tail. [Footnote: Pollywog--Common name for poll wig, or tadpole.] Fee-fi-fo-faint, Colors, seven, the Rainbow paint; Violet bright is first in sight-- Then indigo, Blue, green, yellow, Orange and Red,--the seven, WHITE. {99} Fay-fee-fi-fo, Now you ask, "What makes Rainbow?" It is the sun, my darling one, Shines through the rain, O'er hill and plain, But see, the beauty's flown. Fay-fi-fo-fear, Don't you understand it, dear? Raindrops fall, Sun shines through all, Reflects beyond, This beauteous wand Which we the Rainbow call. {100} _THE OXEN_. The oxen are such clever beasts, They'll drag the plough all day; They're very strong and tug along Great loads of wood or hay.