Pat the dog and stroke the cat, Each in its degree; And cuddle and kiss my baby, And baby kiss me. If hope grew on a bush, And joy grew on a tree, What a nosegay for the plucking There would be! But oh! in windy autumn, When frail flowers wither, What should we do for hope and joy, Fading together? I planted a hand And there came up a palm, I planted a heart And there came up balm. Then I planted a wish, But there sprang a thorn, While heaven frowned with thunder And earth sighed forlorn. Under the ivy bush One sits sighing, And under the willow tree One sits crying:— Under the ivy bush Cease from your sighing, But under the willow tree Lie down a-dying. I am a King, Or an Emperor rather, I wear crown-imperial And prince’s-feather; Golden-rod is the sceptre I wield and wag, And a broad purple flag-flower Waves for my flag. Elder the pithy With old-man and sage, These are my councillors Green in old age; Lords-and-ladies in silence Stand round me and wait, While gay ragged-robin Makes bows at my gate. There is one that has a head without an eye, And there’s one that has an eye without a head: You may find the answer if you try; And when all is said, Half the answer hangs upon a thread! If a mouse could fly, Or if a crow could swim, Or if a sprat could walk and talk, I’d like to be like him. If a mouse could fly, He might fly away; Or if a crow could swim, It might turn him grey; Or if a sprat could walk and talk, What would he find to say? Sing me a song— What shall I sing?— Three merry sisters Dancing in a ring, Light and fleet upon their feet As birds upon the wing. Tell me a tale— What shall I tell?— Two mournful sisters, And a tolling knell, Tolling ding and tolling dong, Ding dong bell. The lily has an air, And the snowdrop a grace, And the sweetpea a way, And the heartsease a face,— Yet there’s nothing like the rose When she blows. Margaret has a milking-pail, And she rises early; Thomas has a threshing-flail, And he’s up betimes. Sometimes crossing through the grass Where the dew lies pearly, They say “Good morrow” as they pass By the leafy limes. In the meadow—what in the meadow? Bluebells, buttercups, meadowsweet, And fairy rings for the children’s feet In the meadow. In the garden—what in the garden? Jacob’s-ladder and Solomon’s-seal, And Love-lies-bleeding beside All-heal In the garden. A frisky lamb And a frisky child Playing their pranks In a cowslip meadow: The sky all blue And the air all mild And the fields all sun And the lanes half shadow. Mix a pancake, Stir a pancake, Pop it in the pan; Fry the pancake, Toss the pancake,— Catch it if you can. The wind has such a rainy sound Moaning through the town, The sea has such a windy sound,— Will the ships go down? The apples in the orchard Tumble from their tree.— Oh, will the ships go down, go down, In the windy sea? Three little children On the wide wide earth, Motherless children— Cared for from their birth By tender angels.