14

INTRY-MINTRY

And into the winter I come alone,

Cheered by that mournful requiem, Soothed by the dolorous monotone

That shall count me off as it counted

them

The solemn voice of old Father Time

Chanting the homely nursery rime

He learned of the children a summer morn
When, with "apple-seed and apple-thorn,"
Life was full of the dulcet cheer

That bringeth the grace of heaven anear—
The sound of the little ones hard at play—
Willie and Bess, Georgie and May.

PITTYPAT AND TIPPYTOE

A

LL day long they come and go-
Pittypat and Tippytoe;

Footprints up and down the hall,

Playthings scattered on the floor, Finger-marks along the wall,

Tell-tale smudges on the doorBy these presents you shall know Pittypat and Tippytoe.

How they riot at their play!

And a dozen times a day

In they troop, demanding bread-
Only buttered bread will do,
And that butter must be spread

Inches thick with sugar too!

And I never can say "No,

Pittypat and Tippytoe!"

16

PITTYPAT AND TIPPYTOE

Sometimes there are griefs to soothe,
Sometimes ruffled brows to smooth;
For (I much regret to say)
Tippytoe and Pittypat
Sometimes interrupt their play

With an internecine spat;
Fie, for shame! to quarrel so-
Pittypat and Tippytoe!

Oh the thousand worrying things
Every day recurrent brings!

Hands to scrub and hair to brush,
Search for playthings gone amiss,
Many a wee complaint to hush,
Many a little bump to kiss;
Life seems one vain, fleeting show
To Pittypat and Tippytoe!

And when day is at an end,

There are little duds to mend:

Little frocks are strangely torn,

Little shoes great holes reveal,
Little hose, but one day worn,

Rudely yawn at toe and heel!

PITTYPAT AND TIPPYTOE

Who but you could work such woe,
Pittypat and Tippytoe?

But when comes this thought to me: "Some there are that childless be," Stealing to their little beds,

With a love I cannot speak,
Tenderly I stroke their heads ·
Fondly kiss each velvet cheek.
God help those who do not know
A Pittypat or Tippytoe!

On the floor and down the hall,
Rudely smutched upon the wall,
There are proofs in every kind

Of the havoc they have wrought,
And upon my heart you 'd find

17

Just such trade-marks, if you sought;

Oh, how glad I am 't is so,

Pittypat and Tippytoe!

BALOW, MY BONNIE

USH, bonnie, dinna greit;

HUS

Moder will rocke her sweete,—

Balow, my boy!

When that his toile ben done,

Daddie will come anone,—·

Hush thee, my lyttel one;
Balow, my boy!

Gin thou dost sleepe, perchaunce
Fayries will come to daunce,—
Balow, my boy!

Oft hath thy moder seene

Moonlight and mirkland queene

Daunce on thy slumbering een,-
Balow, my boy!