Sometimes I keep From going to sleep, To hear the katydids "cheep-cheep!" And think they say Their prayers that way; But _katydids_ don't have to _pray_! [Illustration] I listen when They cheep again And so, I think, they're _singing_ then! But, no; I'm wrong,-- The sound's too long And all-alike to be a song! I think, "Well, there! I do declare, If it is neither song nor prayer, It's _talk_--and quite Too vain and light For me to listen to all night!" And so, I smile, And think,--"Now I'll Not listen for a little while!"-- Then, sweet and clear, Next "_cheep_" I hear 'S a _kiss_.... Good morning, Mommy dear! [Illustration] * * * * * BILLY AND HIS DRUM Ho! it's come, kids, come! "With a bim! bam! bum! Here's little Billy bangin' on his big bass drum! He's a-marchin' round the room, With his feather-duster plume A-noddin' an' a-bobbin' with his bim! bom! boom! Looky, little Jane an' Jim! Will you only look at him, A-humpin' an' a-thumpin' with his bam! bom! bim! Has the Day o' Judgment come Er the New Mi-len-nee-um? Er is it only Billy with his bim! bam! bim! * * * * * [Illustration: "HE'S A-MARCHIN' ROUND THE ROOM."] * * * * * I 'm a-comin'; yes, I am-- Jim an' Sis, an' Jane an' Sam! We'll all march off with Billy an' his bom! bim! bam! Come _hurrawin'_ as you come, Er they'll think you're deef-an'-dumb Ef you don't hear little Billy an' his big bass drum! * * * * * THE NOBLE OLD ELM O big old tree, so tall an' fine, Where all us childern swings an' plays, Though neighbers says you're on the line Between Pa's house an' Mr. Gray's,-- Us childern used to almost fuss, Old Tree, about you when we 'd play.-- We'd argy you belonged to _us_, An' them Gray-kids the other way! Till _Elsie_, one time _she_ wuz here An' playin' wiv us--Don't you mind, Old Mister Tree?--an' purty near She scolded us the hardest kind Fer quar'llin' 'bout you thataway, An' say _she'll_ find--ef we'll keep still-- Whose tree you air _fer shore_, she say, An' settle it _fer good_, she will! * * * * * [Illustration: "THE OLD TREE SAYS HE'S ALL OUR TREE."] * * * * * So all keep still: An' nen she gone An' pat the Old Tree, an' says she,-- "Whose air you, Tree?" an' nen let on Like she's a-list'nin' to the Tree,-- An' nen she say, "It's settled,--'cause The Old Tree says he's _all_ our tree-- His _trunk_ belongs to bofe your Pas, But _shade_ belongs to you an' me." * * * * * THE PENALTY OF GENIUS [Illustration]