Children's Literature Part 113

The wind one morning sprang up from sleep, Saying, "Now for a frolic! now for a leap!

Now for a madcap galloping chase!

I'll make a commotion in every place!"

So it swept with a bustle right through a great town, Cracking the signs and scattering down Shutters; and whisking, with merciless squalls, Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls, There never was heard a much l.u.s.tier shout, As the apples and oranges trundled about; And the urchins that stand with their thievish eyes For ever on watch, ran off each with a prize.

Then away to the field it went, bl.u.s.tering and humming, And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming; It plucked by the tails the grave matronly cows, And tossed the colts' manes all over their brows; Till, offended at such an unusual salute, They all turned their backs, and stood sulky and mute.

So on it went capering and playing its pranks, Whistling with reeds on the broad river's banks, Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray, Or the traveller grave on the king's highway.

It was not too nice to hustle the bags Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags;

'Twas so bold that it feared not to play its joke With the doctor's wig or the gentleman's cloak.

Through the forest it roared, and cried gaily, "Now, You st.u.r.dy old oaks, I'll make you bow!"

And it made them bow without more ado, Or it cracked their great branches through and through.

Then it rushed like a monster on cottage and farm, Striking their dwellers with sudden alarm; And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm;--

There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their caps, To see if their poultry were free from mishaps; The turkeys they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud, And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd; There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on, Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone.

But the wind had swept on, and had met in a lane With a schoolboy, who panted and struggled in vain; For it tossed him and twirled him, then pa.s.sed, and he stood With his hat in a pool and his shoes in the mud.

Then away went the wind in its holiday glee, And now it was far on the billowy sea, And the lordly s.h.i.+ps felt its staggering blow, And the little boats darted to and fro.

But lo! it was night, and it sank to rest On the sea-bird's rock in the gleaming West, Laughing to think, in its fearful fun, How little of mischief it really had done.

Ann Taylor (1782-1866) and Jane Taylor (1783-1824), English writers of verse and prose for children, have earned a permanent place in the history of juvenile literature on account of the real worth of their work and because they were among the first authors to write poetry especially for children. They published jointly three volumes of verse for children: _Original Poems for Infant Minds_, _Rhymes for the Nursery_, and _Hymns for Infant Minds_.

Many of their poems seem a little too didactic, but they were genuine in their ethical earnestness and largely succeeded in putting things in terms of the child's own comprehension. The four poems given here represent them at their best, which was good enough to win the admiration of Sir Walter Scott.

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THE COW

ANN TAYLOR

Thank you, pretty cow, that made Pleasant milk to soak my bread, Every day and every night, Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white.

Do not chew the hemlock rank, Growing on the weedy bank; But the yellow cowslips eat, That will make it very sweet.

Where the purple violet grows, Where the bubbling water flows, Where the gra.s.s is fresh and fine, Pretty cow, go there and dine.

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MEDDLESOME MATTY

ANN TAYLOR

One ugly trick has often spoiled The sweetest and the best; Matilda, though a pleasant child, One ugly trick possessed, Which, like a cloud before the skies, Hid all her better qualities.

Sometimes she'd lift the tea-pot lid, To peep at what was in it; Or tilt the kettle, if you did But turn your back a minute.

In vain you told her not to touch, Her trick of meddling grew so much.

Her grandmamma went out one day And by mistake she laid Her spectacles and snuff-box gay Too near the little maid; "Ah! well," thought she, "I'll try them on, As soon as grandmamma is gone."

Forthwith she placed upon her nose The gla.s.ses large and wide; And looking round, as I suppose, The snuff-box too she spied: "Oh! what a pretty box is that; I'll open it," said little Matt.

"I know that grandmamma would say, 'Don't meddle with it, dear,'

But then, she's far enough away, And no one else is near: Besides, what can there be amiss In opening such a box as this?"

So thumb and finger went to work To move the stubborn lid, And presently a mighty jerk The mighty mischief did; For all at once, ah! woeful case, The snuff came puffing in her face.

Poor eyes, and nose, and mouth beside A dismal sight presented; In vain, as bitterly she cried, Her folly she repented.

In vain she ran about for ease; She could do nothing else but sneeze.

She dashed the spectacles away, To wipe her tingling eyes, And as in twenty bits they lay, Her grandmamma she spies.

"Heyday! and what's the matter now?"

Says grandmamma with lifted brow.

Matilda, smarting with the pain, And tingling still, and sore, Made many a promise to refrain From meddling evermore.

And 'tis a fact, as I have heard, She ever since has kept her word.

311

"I LIKE LITTLE p.u.s.s.y"

JANE TAYLOR

I like little p.u.s.s.y, Her coat is so warm; And if I don't hurt her She'll do me no harm.

So I'll not pull her tail, Nor drive her away, But p.u.s.s.y and I Very gently will play; She shall sit by my side, And I'll give her some food; And she'll love me because I am gentle and good.

I'll pat little p.u.s.s.y, And then she will purr, And thus show her thanks For my kindness to her; I'll not pinch her ears, Nor tread on her paw, Lest I should provoke her To use her sharp claw; I never will vex her, Nor make her displeased, For p.u.s.s.y can't bear To be worried or teased.

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