The winds that sigh about me Return again to him; So I would fly, if only I Were light of limb. The dear old woman in the lane Is sick and sore with pains and aches, We’ll go to her this afternoon, And take her tea and eggs and cakes. We’ll stop to make the kettle boil, And brew some tea, and set the tray, And poach an egg, and toast a cake, And wheel her chair round, if we may. Swift and sure the swallow, Slow and sure the snail: Slow and sure may miss his way, Swift and sure may fail. “I dreamt I caught a little owl And the bird was blue—” “But you may hunt for ever And not find such an one.” “I dreamt I set a sunflower, And red as blood it grew—” “But such a sunflower never Bloomed beneath the sun.” What does the bee do? Bring home honey. And what does Father do? Bring home money. And what does Mother do? Lay out the money. And what does baby do? Eat up the honey. I have a Poll parrot, And Poll is my doll, And my nurse is Polly, And my sister Poll. “Polly!” cried Polly, “Don’t tear Polly dolly”— While soft-hearted Poll Trembled for the doll. A house of cards Is neat and small Shake the table, It must fall. Find the Court cards One by one; Raise it, roof it,— Now it’s done:— Shake the table! That’s the fun. The rose with such a bonny blush, What has the rose to blush about? If it’s the sun that makes her flush, What’s in the sun to flush about? The rose that blushes rosy red, She must hang her head; The lily that blows spotless white, She may stand upright. Oh, fair to see Bloom-laden cherry tree, Arrayed in sunny white; An April day’s delight, Oh, fair to see! Oh, fair to see Fruit-laden cherry tree, With balls of shining red Decking a leafy head, Oh, fair to see! Clever little Willie wee, Bright-eyed, blue-eyed little fellow; Merry little Margery With her hair all yellow. Little Willie in his heart Is a sailor on the sea, And he often cons a chart With sister Margery. The peach tree on the southern wall Has basked so long beneath the sun, Her score of peaches great and small Bloom rosy, every one. A peach for brothers, one for each, A peach for you and a peach for me; But the biggest, rosiest, downiest peach For Grandmamma with her tea. A rose has thorns as well as honey, I’ll not have her for love or money; An iris grows so straight and fine, That she shall be no friend of mine; Snowdrops like the snow would chill me; Nightshade would caress and kill me; Crocus like a spear would fright me; Dragon’s-mouth might bark or bite me; Convolvulus but blooms to die; A wind-flower suggests a sigh Love-lies-bleeding makes me sad; And poppy-juice would drive me mad But give me holly, bold and jolly, Honest, prickly, shining holly; Pluck me holly leaf and berry For the day when I make merry. Is the moon tired? she looks so pale Within her misty veil: She scales the sky from east to west, And takes no rest. Before the coming of the night The moon shows papery white; Before the dawning of the day She fades away.