Now Lizzie knows that gran’ma’s there To see that everything is right, Yet Lizzie thinks that gran’ma’s care Ain’t good enuff f’r baby, quite; Yet what am I to answer when She kind uv fidgets at my side, An’ asks me every now and then: “I wonder if the baby cried?” Seems like she seen two little eyes A-pinin’ f’r their mother’s smile-- Seems like she heern the pleadin’ cries Uv one she thinks uv all the while; An’ so she’s sorry that she come, An’ though she allus tries to hide The truth, she’d ruther stay to hum Than wonder ef the baby cried. Yes, wimmin folks is all alike-- By Lizzie you kin jedge the rest; There never wuz a little tyke, But that his mother loved him best. And nex’ to bein’ what I be-- The husband uv my gentle bride-- I’d wisht I wuz that croodlin’ wee, With Lizzie wonderin’ ef I cried. AT THE DOOR I thought myself, indeed, secure So fast the door, so firm the lock; But, lo! he toddling comes to lure My parent ear with timorous knock. My heart were stone could it withstand The sweetness of my baby’s plea,-- That timorous, baby knocking and “Please let me in,--it’s only me.” I threw aside the unfinished book, Regardless of its tempting charms, And, opening wide the door, I took My laughing darling in my arms. Who knows but in Eternity, I, like a truant child, shall wait The glories of a life to be, Beyond the Heavenly Father’s gate? And will that Heavenly Father heed The truant’s supplicating cry, As at the outer door I plead, “‘Tis I, O Father! only I?” HUGO’S “CHILD AT PLAY” A child was singing at his play-- I heard the song, and paused to hear; His mother moaning, groaning lay, And, lo! a specter stood anear! The child shook sunlight from his hair, And caroled gaily all day long-- Aye, with that specter gloating there, The innocent made mirth and song! How like to harvest fruit wert thou, O sorrow, in that dismal room-- God ladeth not the tender bough Save with the joy of bud and bloom! HI-SPY Strange that the city thoroughfare, Noisy and bustling all the day, Should with the night renounce its care And lend itself to children’s play! Oh, girls are girls, and boys are boys, And have been so since Abel’s birth, And shall be so till dolls and toys Are with the children swept from earth. The selfsame sport that crowns the day Of many a Syrian shepherd’s son, Beguiles the little lads at play By night in stately Babylon. I hear their voices in the street, Yet ’tis so different now from then! Come, brother! from your winding-sheet, And let us two be boys again! LITTLE BOY BLUE