Peacock Pie, A Book of Rhymes | Page 5

she,?Floated some seed?Down her gull-e-t;?And look you once,?And look you twice,?Poor old Tillie?Was gone in a trice.?But oh, when the wind?Do a-moaning come,?'Tis poor old Tillie?Sick for home;?And oh, when a voice?In the mist do sigh,?Old Tillie Turveycombe's?Floating by.
JIM JAY
Do diddle di do,
Poor Jim Jay?Got stuck fast
In Yesterday.?Squinting he was,
On Cross-legs bent,?Never heeding
The wind was spent.?Round veered the weathercock,
The sun drew in -?And stuck was Jim
Like a rusty pin...?We pulled and we pulled
From seven till twelve,?Jim, too frightened
To help himself.?But all in vain.
The clock struck one,?And there was Jim
A little bit gone.?At half-past five
You scarce could see?A glimpse of his flapping
Handkerchee.?And when came noon,
And we climbed sky-high,?Jim was a speck
Slip - slipping by.?Come to-morrow,
The neighbours say,?He'll be past crying for;
Poor Jim Jay.
MISS T.
It's a very odd thing -----
As odd as can be ---?That whatever Miss T. eats
Turns into Miss T.;?Porridge and apples,
Mince, muffins and mutton,?Jam, junket, jumbles ----
Not a rap, not a button?It matters; the moment
They're out of her plate,?Though shared by Miss Butcher
And sour Mr. Bate;?Tiny and cheerful,
And neat as can be,?Whatever Miss T. eats
Turns into Miss T.
THE CUPBOARD
I know a little cupboard,?With a teeny tiny key,?And there's a jar of Lollypops
For me, me, me.
It has a little shelf, my dear,?As dark as dark can be,?And there's a dish of Banbury Cakes
For me, me, me.
I have a small fat grandmamma,?With a very slippery knee,?And she's the Keeper of the Cupboard
With the key, key, key.
And I'm very good, my dear,?As good as good can be,?There's Branbury Cakes, and Lollypops
For me, me, me.
THE BARBER'S
Gold locks, and black locks,
Red locks and brown,?Topknot to love-curl
The hair wisps down;?Straight above the clear eyes,
Rounded round the ears,?Snip-snap and snick-a-snick,
Clash the Barber's shears;?Us, in the looking-glass,
Footsteps in the street,?Over, under, to and fro,
The lean blades meet;?Bay Rum or Bear's Grease,
A silver groat to pay -?Then out a-shin-shan-shining
In the bright, blue day.
HIDE AND SEEK
Hide and seek, says the Wind,
In the shade of the woods;?Hide and seek, says the Moon,
To the hazel buds;?Hide and seek, says the Cloud,
Star on to star;?Hide and seek, says the Wave,
At the harbour bar;?Hide and seek, say I,
To myself, and step?Out of the dream of Wake
Into the dream of Sleep.
BOYS AND GIRLS
THEN
Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty
A hundred years ago,?All through the night with lantern bright
The Watch trudged to and fro,?And little boys tucked snug abed
Would wake from dreams to hear -?'Two o' the morning by the clock,
And the stars a-shining clear!'?Or, when across the chimney-tops
Screamed shrill a North-East gale,?A faint and shaken voice would shout,
'Three! And a storm of hail!'
THE WINDOW
Behind the blinds I sit and watch?The people passing - passing by;?And not a single one can see
My tiny watching eye.
They cannot see my little room,?All yellowed with the shaded sun;?They do not even know I'm here;
Nor'll guess when I am gone.
POOR HENRY
Thick in its glass
The physic stands,?Poor Henry lifts
Distracted hands;?His round cheek wans
In the candlelight,?To smell that smell!
To see that sight!
Finger and thumb
Clinch his small nose,?A gurgle, a gasp,
And down it goes;?Scowls Henry now;
But mark that cheek,?Sleek with the bloom
Of health next week!
FULL MOON
One night as Dick lay half asleep,
Into his drowsy eyes?A great still light begins to creep
From out the silent skies.?It was lovely moon's, for when
He raised his dreamy head,?Her surge of silver filled the pane
And streamed across his bed.?So, for a while, each gazed at each -
Dick and the solemn moon -?Till, climbing slowly on her way,
She vanished, and was gone.
THE BOOKWORM
'I'm tired - Oh, tired of books,' said Jack,
'I long for meadows green,?And woods, where shadowy violets
Nod their cool leaves between;?I long to see the ploughman stride
His darkening acres o'er,?To hear the hoarse sea-waters drive
Their billows 'gainst the shore;?I long to watch the sea-mew wheel
Back to her rock-perched mate;?Or, where the breathing cows are housed,
Lean dreaming o'er the gate.?Something has gone, and ink and print
Will never bring it back;?I long for the green fields again,
I'm tired of books,' said Jack.
THE QUARTETTE
Tom sang for joy and Ned sang for joy and old Sam sang for joy; All we four boys piped up loud, just like one boy;?And the ladies that sate with the Squire - their cheeks were all wet, For the noise of the voice of us boys, when we sang our Quartette.
Tom he piped low and Ned he piped low and old Sam he piped low; Into a sorrowful fall did our music flow;?And the ladies that sate with the Squire vowed they'd never forget How the eyes of them cried for delight, when we sang our Quartette.
MISTLETOE
Sitting under the mistletoe?(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),?One last candle burning low,?All the sleepy dancers gone,?Just one candle burning on,?Shadows lurking everywhere:?Some one came, and kissed me there.
Tired I was; my head would go?Nodding under the mistletoe?(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),?No footsteps came, no voice, but only,?Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,?Stooped in the still and shadowy air?Lips unseen - and kissed me there.
THE