Love-Songs of Childhood Part 6

"What ho there!" they cry, As he flourishes by With a whisk of his beautiful tail; And the fish in the sea Are as scared as can be, From the nautilus up to the whale!

And the Fly-Away Horse seeks those faraway lands You little folk dream of at night-- Where candy-trees grow, and honey-brooks flow, And corn-fields with popcorn are white; And the beasts in the wood are ever so good To children who visit them there-- What glory astride of a lion to ride, Or to wrestle around with a bear!

The monkeys, they say: "Come on, let us play,"

And they frisk in the cocoanut-trees: While the parrots, that cling To the peanut-vines, sing Or converse with comparative ease!

Off! scamper to bed--you shall ride him tonight!

For, as soon as you've fallen asleep, With a jubilant neigh he shall bear you away Over forest and hillside and deep!

But tell us, my dear, all you see and you hear In those beautiful lands over there, Where the Fly-Away Horse wings his faraway course With the wee one consigned to his care.

Then grandma will cry In amazement: "Oh, my!"

And she'll think it could never be so; And only we two Shall know it is true-- You and I, little precious! shall know!

SWING HIGH AND SWING LOW

Swing high and swing low While the breezes they blow-- It's off for a sailor thy father would go; And it's here in the harbor, in sight of the sea, He hath left his wee babe with my song and with me: "Swing high and swing low While the breezes they blow!"

Swing high and swing low While the breezes they blow-- It's oh for the waiting as weary days go!

And it's oh for the heartache that smiteth me when I sing my song over and over again: "Swing high and swing low While the breezes they blow!"

"Swing high and swing low "-- The sea singeth so, And it waileth anon in its ebb and its flow; And a sleeper sleeps on to that song of the sea Nor recketh he ever of mine or of me!

"Swing high and swing low While the breezes they blow-- 'T was off for a sailor thy father would go!"

WHEN I WAS A BOY

Up in the attic where I slept When I was a boy, a little boy, In through the lattice the moonlight crept, Bringing a tide of dreams that swept Over the low, red trundle-bed, Bathing the tangled curly head, While moonbeams played at hide-and-seek With the dimples on the sun-browned cheek-- When I was a boy, a little boy!

And, oh! the dreams--the dreams I dreamed!

When I was a boy, a little boy!

For the grace that through the lattice streamed Over my folded eyelids seemed To have the gift of prophecy, And to bring me glimpses of times to be When manhood's clarion seemed to call-- Ah! that was the sweetest dream of all, When I was a boy, a little boy!

I'd like to sleep where I used to sleep When I was a boy, a little boy!

For in at the lattice the moon would peep, Bringing her tide of dreams to sweep The crosses and griefs of the years away From the heart that is weary and faint to-day; And those dreams should give me back again A peace I have never known since then-- When I was a boy, a little boy!

AT PLAY

Play that you are mother dear, And play that papa is your beau; Play that we sit in the corner here, Just as we used to, long ago.

Playing so, we lovers two Are just as happy as we can be, And I'll say "I love you" to you, And you say "I love you" to me!

"I love you" we both shall say, All in earnest and all in play.

Or, play that you are that other one That some time came, and went away; And play that the light of years agone Stole into my heart again to-day!

Playing that you are the one I knew In the days that never again may be, I'll say "I love you" to you,"

And you say "I love you" to me!

"I love you!" my heart shall say To the ghost of the past come back to-day!

Or, play that you sought this nestling-place For your own sweet self, with that dual guise Of your pretty mother in your face And the look of that other in your eyes!

So the dear old loves shall live anew As I hold my darling on my knee, And I'll say "I love you" to you, And you say "I love you" to me!

Oh, many a strange, true thing we say And do when we pretend to play!

A VALENTINE

Go, Cupid, and my sweetheart tell I love her well.

Yes, though she tramples on my heart And rends that bleeding thing apart; And though she rolls a scornful eye On doting me when I go by; And though she scouts at everything As tribute unto her I bring-- Apple, banana, caramel-- Haste, Cupid, to my love and tell, In spite of all, I love her well!

And further say I have a sled Cus.h.i.+oned in blue and painted red!

The groceryman has promised I Can "hitch" whenever he goes by-- Go, tell her that, and, furthermore, Apprise my sweetheart that a score Of other little girls implore The boon of riding on that sled Painted and hitched, as aforesaid;-- And tell her, Cupid, only she Shall ride upon that sled with me!

Tell her this all, and further tell I love her well.

LITTLE ALL-ALONEY

Little All-Aloney's feet Pitter-patter in the hall, And his mother runs to meet And to kiss her toddling sweet, Ere perchance he fall.

He is, oh, so weak and small!

Yet what danger shall he fear When his mother hovereth near, And he hears her cheering call: "All-Aloney"?

Little All-Aloney's face It is all aglow with glee, As around that romping-place At a terrifying pace Lungeth, plungeth he!

And that hero seems to be All unconscious of our cheers-- Only one dear voice he hears Calling rea.s.suringly: "All-Aloney!"

Though his legs bend with their load, Though his feet they seem so small That you cannot help forebode Some disastrous episode In that noisy hall, Neither threatening b.u.mp nor fall Little All-Aloney fears, But with sweet bravado steers Whither comes that cheery call: "All-Aloney!"

Ah, that in the years to come, When he shares of Sorrow's store,-- When his feet are chill and numb, When his cross is burdensome, And his heart is sore: Would that he could hear once more The gentle voice he used to hear-- Divine with mother love and cheer-- Calling from yonder spirit sh.o.r.e: "All, all alone!"

SEEIN' THINGS

I ain't afeard uv snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice, An' things 'at girls are skeered uv I think are awful nice!

I'm pretty brave, I guess; an' yet I hate to go to bed, For, when I'm tucked up warm an' snug an' when my prayers are said, Mother tells me "Happy dreams!" and takes away the light, An' leaves me lyin' all alone an' seein' things at night!

Sometimes they're in the corner, sometimes they're by the door, Sometimes they're all a-standin' in the middle uv the floor; Sometimes they are a-sittin' down, sometimes they're walkin' round So softly an' so creepylike they never make a sound!

Sometimes they are as black as ink, an' other times they're white-- But the color ain't no difference when you see things at night!

Once, when I licked a feller 'at had just moved on our street, An' father sent me up to bed without a bite to eat, I woke up in the dark an' saw things standin' in a row, A-lookin' at me cross-eyed an' p'intin' at me--so!

Oh, my! I wuz so skeered that time I never slep' a mite-- It's almost alluz when I'm bad I see things at night!

Lucky thing I ain't a girl, or I'd be skeered to death!