A Child-World | Page 3

by his inquiring turn of mind,--?"My Gran'ma she's read all books--ever' kind?They is, 'at tells all 'bout the land an' sea?An' Nations of the Earth!--An' she is the?Historicul-est woman ever wuz!"?(Forgive the verse's chuckling as it does?In its erratic current.--Oftentimes?The little willowy waterbrook of rhymes?Must falter in its music, listening to?The children laughing as they used to do.)
Who shall sing a simple ditty all about the Willow,?Dainty-fine and delicate as any bending spray?That dandles high the happy bird that flutters there to trill a Tremulously tender song of greeting to the May.
Ah, my lovely Willow!--Let the Waters lilt your graces,-- They alone with limpid kisses lave your leaves above, Flashing back your sylvan beauty, and in shady places?Peering up with glimmering pebbles, like the eyes of love.
Next, Maymie, with her hazy cloud of hair,?And the blue skies of eyes beneath it there.?Her dignified and "little lady" airs?Of never either romping up the stairs?Or falling down them; thoughtful everyway?Of others first--The kind of child at play?That "gave up," for the rest, the ripest pear?Or peach or apple in the garden there?Beneath the trees where swooped the airy swing--?She pushing it, too glad for anything!?Or, in the character of hostess, she?Would entertain her friends delightfully?In her play-house,--with strips of carpet laid?Along the garden-fence within the shade?Of the old apple-trees--where from next yard?Came the two dearest friends in her regard,?The little Crawford girls, Ella and Lu--?As shy and lovely as the lilies grew?In their idyllic home,--yet sometimes they?Admitted Bud and Alex to their play,?Who did their heavier work and helped them fix?To have a "Festibul"--and brought the bricks?And built the "stove," with a real fire and all,?And stovepipe-joint for chimney, looming tall?And wonderfully smoky--even to?Their childish aspirations, as it blew?And swooped and swirled about them till their sight?Was feverish even as their high delight.?Then Alex, with his freckles, and his freaks?Of temper, and the peach-bloom of his cheeks,?And "amber-colored hair"--his mother said?'Twas that, when others laughed and called it "red"?And Alex threw things at them--till they'd call?A truce, agreeing "'t'uz n't red ut-tall!"
But Alex was affectionate beyond?The average child, and was extremely fond?Of the paternal relatives of his?Of whom he once made estimate like this:--?"I'm_ only got _two_ brothers,--but my _Pa?He's got most brothers'n you ever saw!--?He's got seben brothers!--Yes, an' they're all my?Seben Uncles!--Uncle John, an' Jim,--an' I'?Got Uncle George, an' Uncle Andy, too,?An' Uncle Frank, an' Uncle Joe.--An' you?Know_ Uncle _Mart_.--An', all but _him, they're great?Big mens!--An' nen s Aunt Sarah--she makes eight!--?I'm got eight_ uncles!--'cept Aunt Sarah _can't?Be ist my uncle_ 'cause she's ist my _aunt!"
Then, next to Alex--and the last indeed?Of these five little ones of whom you read--?Was baby Lizzie, with her velvet lisp,--?As though her Elfin lips had caught some wisp?Of floss between them as they strove with speech,?Which ever seemed just in yet out of reach--?Though what her lips missed, her dark eyes could say?With looks that made her meaning clear as day.
And, knowing now the children, you must know?The father and the mother they loved so:--?The father was a swarthy man, black-eyed,?Black-haired, and high of forehead; and, beside?The slender little mother, seemed in truth?A very king of men--since, from his youth,?To his hale manhood now--(worthy as then,--?A lawyer and a leading citizen?Of the proud little town and county-seat--?His hopes his neighbors', and their fealty sweet)--?He had known outdoor labor--rain and shine--?Bleak Winter, and bland Summer--foul and fine.?So Nature had ennobled him and set?Her symbol on him like a coronet:?His lifted brow, and frank, reliant face.--?Superior of stature as of grace,?Even the children by the spell were wrought?Up to heroics of their simple thought,?And saw him, trim of build, and lithe and straight?And tall, almost, as at the pasture-gate?The towering ironweed the scythe had spared?For their sakes, when The Hired Man declared?It would grow on till it became a tree,?With cocoanuts and monkeys in--maybe!
Yet, though the children, in their pride and awe?And admiration of the father, saw?A being so exalted--even more?Like adoration was the love they bore?The gentle mother.--Her mild, plaintive face?Was purely fair, and haloed with a grace?And sweetness luminous when joy made glad?Her features with a smile; or saintly sad?As twilight, fell the sympathetic gloom?Of any childish grief, or as a room?Were darkened suddenly, the curtain drawn?Across the window and the sunshine gone.?Her brow, below her fair hair's glimmering strands,?Seemed meetest resting-place for blessing hands?Or holiest touches of soft finger-tips?And little roseleaf-cheeks and dewy lips.
Though heavy household tasks were pitiless,?No little waist or coat or checkered dress?But knew her needle's deftness; and no skill?Matched hers in shaping pleat or flounce or frill;?Or fashioning, in complicate design,?All rich embroideries of leaf and vine,?With tiniest twining tendril,--bud and bloom?And fruit, so like, one's fancy caught perfume?And dainty touch and taste of them, to see?Their semblance wrought in such rare verity.
Shrined in her sanctity of home and