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When all is young

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-By 'the J\c\isX
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3 9343 00692070 5
THEE10ISERAMSEY COLLECTION





TUSSr'S ‘BJt'BIES.


/Ml
ij ^•
^idrnt [I MB
London
Ernest Ni^ter
24.,5t. Bride Street
Printed at Nuremberg


WHEN^ ALL THE
I VO I(L T> IS
IlfJDS in the branches
Singing loud and clear;
Big bird and little bird
Nesting everywhere.
All the trees with blossom
Pink and white are hung,
Little breezes whispering,
All the world is young.
Lambs in the meadow
Frolic all the day ;
Chattering little streamlet
Hurrying on your way;
Everything is telling,
In its own sweet tongue,
Nature’s in her childhood,
All the world is young.
KAlV\5rj
MfeJ
SM
1
rouwjg.


/I LITTLE lamb says Ba—a;
"j[ The baby says Mam—ma ;
. A little colt saj's Neigh—
And that’s all it can say.
B A little calf says Moo—o ;
HP A little dove says Coo—o j
B A kitten says Miow—!
bk A dog says Bow-wow-wow !
D A little pig says Squeak—!
H As plain as it can speak.
Ot A donkey sa) f s He—Haw.
■ At least the one I saw.


MOTHER W*AS *A LITTLeAgi^L
CT^yT^ET'IT little mother
J_ She was, long ago,
Just a child, you know,
Just like any other.
Not like any other—
She was sweeter far
Than we children are,
Father says, and so,
Sure he ought to know,
Pretty little mother.
Dearest little mother—
Though we cannot be
Prettier than she,
Father says we could
Learn to be as good,
Dearest little mother.


‘P^errr little imothei^.


*
a %Hrswe.
two, three, four, five,
Little chickens all alive;
Five, four, three, two, one,
Now my little song’s begun.
'sV -5
But thefe ‘should be more than five
Little chickens all alive;
For I met the mother hen,
And she told me there were ten.
That may be, but I’ve no time
Left to make another rhyme;
Though, no doubt, there are some more
It is as I said before:—
One, two, three, four, five,
Little chickens all alive;
Five, four, three, two, one,
Now my little son^ is donpy


FIVJT STETS.
ET^ES our little baby brother,
He can walk like any other.
One foot high,
And one foot low,
Not too fast,
d not too slow;
’s the way
e babies go.
He’s the sweetest baby brother,
He was given to us and mother,
Never was there such another.
By-and-bye
He will grow,
To a great
man you know

Not too fast,
And not too slow,
That’s the way
Good babies grow.


ome, 'lu-Rjue, come.
‘BI'RJDie come, birdie come,
See, I’ve spread thee many a crumb,
Many a crumb of soft white bread,
Robin Red.
See, the window’s opened wide,
Here is warmth and food inside—
Come, then, take thy crumbs of bread,
Robin Red.
Pretty, pretty little thing
Why art fluttering thy wing ?
Thou shalt go when thou'rt fed,
Robin Red.



Jt HJFTTT F-JM1LT.
UT /f\^_ the meadow in sunshiny weather,
The duck and the drake went strolling together.
The drake wore a necktie and carried a cane,
The duck wore an ulster in case it should rain.
The little ducks followed and cackled with glee,
And they were as happy as ducklings could be.
You may see for yourself how happy they look,
You’ll find them again at the end of the book.
THE 'DIFFE'Uf^CS.
KJTIEEN^ one knows,
Licks its toes;
But a baby, come,
Sucks its thumb.
FUT^ IF FT IFEJTHEK^.
/ F it should rain don’t pout and fret,
For rainy weather we must get.
To cry, my dear, is worse than vain,
Take my advice, and let it rain.


/,X the fields.
V
7"’5 far the pleasantest kind of play
To run in the fields on a srveet-Spring day.
To pick the May that grows in the lane,
gather the daisiesTfod make a chain.
To pluck the flowers
at the water's edge
To make a picnic
under a hedge.
I
o lie in the grass and roll about;
To call to each other with merry shout.
We always feel so happy and good,
We’d live in the meadows if we could.


the c^eir frjjcKj


JI ‘DOLL'S D’RJSSLM'AKJK^.
’YOU know of a Dolly’s Dressmaker?
My youngest doll (there, I could shake her;
I’ll give her to you if you’ll take her).
She hasn’t a dress that will fit her,
Except an old one that I knit her.
(Isn't the room in a litter).
The fact is that nothing will last her,
She wears them out faster and faster;
She's always in some- new disaster.
I’m sure I don’t know what to get her,
I thought that perhaps if I let her
Wear this, she might try to do better.
I'll make her a blue silk, I’ve told her,
For really I don’t like to scold her
She’ll learn better ways when she's older.


/
'F you please, kind Sir, do you chance to know
Chance to know, chance to know,
The best way to make a donkey go
On the sands of a Summer morning.
We’ve whipped him, and pushed him, and cried gee wo,
Cried gee wo, cried gee wo.
We can’t make him go any faster, yotl k^fow,
Along the sands this morning.
V*


Said I, “why its easy to make him go,
To make him go, to make him go.
You must tell him in donkey language, you know,
You wish to go faster this morning.
“ And pat him, and pet him, and stroke him, so,
Stroke him so, stroke him so,
Its kindness that makes the donkey go,
On the sands, of a Summer morning."


■A Q’RJ-JT seC\£T.
IT7LE kitten said to me,
As I passed by the apple tree:
'“-Please, have you seen my mistress, sir.
I’m playing hide-and-seek with her.”
And as I passed the mulberry bush,
A little maiden whispered, “ Hush !
If you should see my pussy, dear,
You must not say you’ve seen me here.”
So in my breast secure and deep,
This awful secret I must keep.
But don't you think Miss Whats-Your-Name
You’d better hide behind the frame,
Or else I have but little doubt
That pussy soon will find you out.


'3CLIH OS 33 rid, aoob r



LITTLE Blue Apron,
How litf you do ?
Never a stocking
And never a shoe.
Little Blue Apron
She answered i me :
“You don’t wear i stockings
And shoes bj the sea.’
Little Blue Apron,
Never a hat,
How do you manage
To go out like that ?
“ Why, what is the use
Of a hat,” said she,
“ You never wear hats
When you’re by


Why, little Blue Apron, it seems to me
Very delightful to live by the sea;
But what would hatters and shoemakers do,
If everyone lived by the sea like you ? ”


'was i inOujia v


fltAT is the matter my poor little man ?
Why do they keep you so late ?
You are so small and the sums are so big—
There now, let me see the slate.
mean nothing, but apples we know;
We’ll call them apples to-day ?
See, there are three on the old apple tree,
Pull one and take it away.
Put it up there at the top of the slate—
Look in the grass for some more.
Yes, there are three, you must bring them to me,
And now you have gathered me four.
Four little apples wont make me a pie,
We must go back to the tree—
Nineteen will be quite sufficient for me,
Nineteen and four—twenty-three.
'■is.
There, we’ve enough, and the sum is quite right,
Isn’t it easy this way;
Put away copy-book, speller, and slate,
No more hard lessons to-day.



YOU TELL.
y^'-OU^e is brown and one is black,
^ One’s called Billy, one’s called Jack
“ My two Bunnies” said Miss Milly,
“ Can you tell me which is Billy ? ”
Thouj^r I must seem very silly,
I don’t know, Miss, which is Billy
Is he brown, or is he black ?
Also, which of them is Jack?
Which is Billy ?
Who is black ?
Who is browm ?
And which is Jack ?


TH%ee FISH6RJ.
m<Rj4r, little fishermen, how do you tare?
How many fish have you caught down there ?
“ We’ve
both been fishing
the whole of the day,
But we haven’t caught any
k as yet," said they;
i “ We re fishing and fishing
with all our might,
But, somehow or other,
the fish won’t bite."


cowjrewjraiew; r.
compare.
S WHS a frog and she was a frog,
And they built a house in a hollow log.
He was a fine big handsome fellow ;
She was a beauty, gr^en and yellow.
He said that she was a wire most rare ;
She said that he was beyon^ compare.
\
While as for their home ii
It was just a palace, decla
And as for their IQby frog.
Was just a marvellous prodigy
If he did but open his moutlf
They laughed, and thought it a spl^
I tell you this sf6ry that you may jye
How happy a frog and his wife may


77/£ F/'1{ST S 0^0 IF


H€ RjS came the snowflakes out of the skv—
They turned to the clouds to say good-bye,
Who lazily wondered the reason why.
Why little snowflakes should think it best
To hurry away with never a rest,
On that long journey to earth’s cold breast.
“We are going- to Earth," the snowflakes said,
“ To cover the flowers asleep in bed ;
We must away or they’ll soon be dead."
Then trembling, they said, “ Sweet clouds, good-bye;
And fluttered and fell far out of the skv,
Till they touched the earth with gentle sigh.
And there, for many a winter day,
Like a soft blanket the snowflakes lay,
Till the time came for them to go away.
A new friend came to the flowers—the Sun,
And out of the bed peeped every one,
And the little snowflakes task was d<jhe. v
As soon as the Sun began to rise,
They climbed on a sunfieam to the skie§
But the flowers had sorrowful tearful Sy
I


tASHO %E.
OlVd^ by the sea, Sailor,
Down b) r the blue, blue, sea,
A ship is rocking her masts, Sailor,
Close to the harbor quay.
Her sails are set, Sailor,
And the wind is fair, is fair,
They’re only waiting for you, Sailor,
Waiting for you down there.


Ah, me, she may heave her anchor,
She may sail away from the bay
I know of one little sailor
Who won't go a’ sailing to-day.


WHO'S TU3WT.
T) UZM TETT, bumpety, bump,
/) With a hop, a skip, and a jump,
My mother said, “ Daughter,
Bring me some water,
There’s a good child, from the pump."
Jumpety, jumpety, jump,
Whoever is that at the pump ?
“ My name is Jim Crow,
It's my pump, you know,”
Stumpety, stumpety, stump.
Trumpery, trumpery, trump,
“You know that it isn't your pump,
It’s mother’s, and so
Make haste and go,”
Said little Pink Bonnet,
“ You’ve no business on it.”
Jumpety, jumpety, jump.


FI‘/{ST COME Fl%$r*m%y£T>.


WHO' LL 'BUY.
s
UQ'A'R^ and spice and all that's nice—
Everything at the lowest price.
Good morning, ladies! will you try
My goods ? the best that you can buy;
Apples and Pears are cheap to-day;
The plums are beauties I think you 11 say.
But the customers thought the prices dear,
And the fruit not fine for the time of year.
The shopman didn't sell much that day,
So he shut up the shop and moved away.



1
I
02^ THE S.J-E\JDS.
r ! ^HE%E were three little crabs who met together,
J And asked of themselves the question whether,
Whether it was right the children should play
On the rocks and sands of Roughwater Bay.
Said one who was dressed in a suit of drab,
“I give you my word as an honest crab,
Why one hasn’t a moments piece of mind,
You’re certain the children are close behind.
“ They bring down their buckets and spades and nets,
That’s all the return and the thanks one gets
For letting them play their games on the shore;
I declare I’ll let them do it no more.”
No doubt he’d have been as good as his word,
A crab ’s an obstinate fellow I’ve heard;
But the children came that very minute
With a wooden pail and put him in it.



w ^
HE ,M~JKjeK^Q of the music."
muH\E us a song, mother dear!
Sweet to think of, and sweet to sing,”
Said the little daughter and the little son;
Their lips were gay, and their eyes were clear.
“And let the song be an easy one,
Sweet to think of, and sweet to sing.”
“ Sweet to think of, and sweet to hear ?—
How shall I make it, children dear ?
The night is falling, the winds are rough ;
What will you give me to make it of?"
“No, mother dear, the winds are soft,
And the sky is blue and clear aloft ;
And, oh 1 we can give you things enough
To make the beautiful music of.
“We will give you the morning and afternoon ;
We will give you the sun and a whiteffull moon ;


V LV\,g 77 T/f </go.


You shall have all our prettiest toys,
And fields and flowers, and girls and boys.
“We will give you a bird, and a ship at sea,
And a golden cloud, and an almond-tree,
A picture gay, a river that runs,
A chime of bells, and hot-cross buns.
“You may have roses and rubies rare,
And silks and satins beyond compare,
A sceptre, a crown, a queen, a king,
And beautiful dreams, and everything!
We will give you all that we think or know.
The song will be sweet if you make it so.”
Then the mother smiled as she began
To make the music, and sweet it ran,
And easy enough for a strain or two;
And the children said, “ Mother, the song will do.”
A
But soon the melody ran less clear ; ^
There came a pause, and a wandering tear,
And a thought that went back many a year;
And the children fancied the music loafe-
And asked, “ What have you put into'tSf song
That we did not tell you, mother dear,
ledcd.


/ F^I K)- spider spun golden thread,
The fairies saw it, and laughing, said,
“ Twill do to cover the baby’s head.”
Motiving would do but they must devise
The sweetest plan for the baby's eyes—
; They stole the blue from out of the skies.
They painted her lips with cherry stain—
On her cheeks the peach's bloom have lain
Fixed so that it wont come out again.
They pressed two dimples in baby’s cheek—
A smile from the face of Cod they seek—
They do all but make the baby speak.
And when they've finished a babe like this
They give her the sweetest fain- kiss.


D^T © T{£jtMS.


«9>
where the leallets lling,
Softest shade o’er everything.
Wide awake beneath blue sky,
Yet the sweetest dreams have I.
Day dreams, you are sweeter far
Than the dreams of night-time are.
Dreams of once upon a time,
Dreams of fairy bells a’chime.
Dreams of elfins, goblins, sprites,
Great big giants, little mites.
Dreams about the deep blue sea,
Where the happy mermaids be.
Isn’t this the sweetest thing,
Dreaming dav-drcams in the swing.


THE -\E1T pers.


I 1 1D0 is washing her puppies—
i’ Four little puppies has she : t'
Three of them brown like their mother,
One of them black as can be.
Here in her own little basket,
Lined with a soft woollen rug:
Four little puppies beside her,
Isn’t she keeping them snug.
Licking their round little faces,
Washing their soft little toes;
Washing them over and over,
Down to the tip of each nose.
Please may we play with them, Fido ?


XJTAlHblH 3HZ


\ JOW nurse has brought me home again, I’m glad to go to bed,
J\J I've had my tea and been to see my bunny in the shed:
His fluffy fur is soft and brown, his eyes are mild and pink,
He's just the size he used to be, I hope he’ll never shrink.
For oh, the lawn and garden paths they’re not the same at all,
The steps have got quite narrow now that lead into the hall.
I'm in my bed, and now the sun has just gone down to his,
I’ll lie and think a little while, and wonder how it is.
The staircase and the landing, too, have grown so very small,
The doorways and the sideboard, why, they are not half so tall
As when I went a month ago to stay with Auntie Kate,
And how the wooden pump has shrunk that stands inside the gate !
My father and my mother came to meet me at the door,
And they look just as big as when I left them here before;
I think they might have let me know, but no one wrote to say,
How small the things were getting all the time I was away.
It:J. Wocd


SMVQH .5\<7££%
£ IQHT little ducklings yellow swimming in a pool,
y ' Isn’t tluit much nicer than learning sums at school
Seven little piggy-wigs without coat 01 hat,
iJrWt ^ >ul1 ’ 1 y° u w ’ s * 1 y° ur mother would let you go like that:
* Six leaden soldier-men all painted blue and red,
.Isn't it a pity, they aren’t all made of lead?
V
ive little froggy-woggies jumping high and low,
Isn’t that much better than walking in a row?
Four little baby birdies nesting in the tree,
Don’t you think it would be the very place for me ?
Three little baby owls who always sit up late,
Isn’t that much nicer than going to bed at eight?
, Two little rosebuds red waiting for a showe
Do they think it nicer to be a grown up flower.
One little rhymelet forgotten in an hour.


(/’p • 677/^ /z<9 / zy/M a merry laugh,
£df some ducks and the farmer's calf.
ren ilittle ducklings black and yellow
Itque of them an impudent fellow,
'
Remarked to his friends, with his rudest laugh
He d’dn't think much of the farmer’s calf.
There couldn’t be very much use for him,
An ignorant fellow who couldn't swim.
Said the calf, “my friend, it is time to talk
When you and your brothers have learned to walk.
“ Did ever one hear such tiresome twaddle
From a poor creature that can’t even waddle."


VEI^Y night, when sinks the sun
£. Deep into the west,
E. little birdie sleeps
0- Safe within its nest,
ad my little sweet one, thou,
, Thou must go to rest.
Thou must pray, God keep thee
Safe from fear and fright;
Thou must pray Him keep thy friends
Safe till morning light;
Father, mother, all thou lov’st,
Kiss them all—Good night.
For the dear old dustman comes,
With his sleepy sand—
Shut eyes close my little one,
Let him take thy hand—
He will gently carry thee
To the sleepy land.



Printed by ERNEST NISTER, at Nuremberg.
Copyright. All rights reserved,


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