On the Tree Top Part 7

And they made a mixed but a merry throng, For those who had children took them along.

They pitched their tent and made their camp, Shelter from possible cold and damp.

'Twas novel, and each in his own way Sought to make happy the holiday.

Gra.s.shopper took his youngest daughter Out for a stroll along the water; She shrieked with joy, "O, see the cherries!"

When they found some low-bush huckleberries.

Dame Spider, with mischief in her eye, Thought she would angle for a fly; So, spinning a silk thread, long and fine, With wicked skill she cast the line; While b.u.mble Bee, in his gold-laced clothes, In the shade of a clover leaf lay for a doze.

Miss Worm, who was full of sentiment, With the maiden Ant for a ramble went; Here was a flower, and there a flower-- But suddenly rose a thunder shower.

They screamed; but they got on very well, For they found what the Ant called an "umberell."

A leaf on the water lay afloat, Which the blundering Beetle thought a boat.

Far down in his heart his dearest wish Was to find some hitherto unfound fish.

He never came back from that fatal swim, So 'twas always thought that a fish found him.

At night when the cheery fire was lit They heaped dry branches over it, And in the light of the crackling blaze Told funny stories of other days, And smoked, till the Ant yawned wide and said: "'Tis time we folks were all abed!"

But scarce was each to his slumber laid, When the country folks came to serenade; With tw.a.n.g of fiddle, and toot of horn, And shriek of fife, they stayed till morn!

Poor Campers! never a wink got they!

So they started for home at break of day.

DAME SPIDER.

By Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.

Little Dame Spider had finished her spinning, Just as the warm summer day was beginning, And the white threads of her beautiful curtain Tied she and glued she to make them more certain.

Dressed in her old-fas.h.i.+oned feathers and fringes, Then she sat down to wait; on silken hinges Swung the light fleece with a moons.h.i.+ny glisten; Nothing for her but to watch and to listen.

Presently, going off early to labor,-- Bowing politely, as neighbor to neighbor, When he caught sight of this little old woman,-- Sailed by a honey-bee, serge-clad and common.

"Are you so scornful because I am humble?

Many a time your rich relatives, b.u.mble, Pause in their flying to chat for an hour!"

She called out after him, half gay, half sour.

"O, no," he cried. "I am off to discover What I can find fresh in the way of white clover; But since your window is cosy and shady, I _will_ sit down half a minute, dear Lady."

Little Dame Spider arose with a rustle, Welcomed him with ceremonious bustle; Quick as a flash threw her long arms around him, Heeded no buzzing, but held him and bound him;

Tied knots so tight that he could not undo them; Wove snares so strong that he could not break through them; Then, with a relish, stood chuckling and grinning, "This is to pay me for my early spinning!"

At the home-hive the bees going and coming Kept up all day their industrious humming, Nor did it one of their busy heads bother That Madame Spider had dined off their brother.

HICKORY d.i.c.kORY DOCK.

by

Clara Doty Bates

Tick-Tack! tick-tack!

This way, that way, forward, back, Swings the pendulum to and fro, Always regular, always slow.

Grave and solemn on the wall,-- Hear it whisper! hear it call!

Little Ginx knows naught of Time, But has heard the mystic rhyme,-- "Hickory, d.i.c.kory, dock!

The mouse ran up the clock!"

Tick-tack! tick-tack!

White old face with figures black!

So when dismal, stormy days Keep him from his out-door plays, Most that he cares for is to sit Watching, always watching it.

And when the hour strikes he thinks,-- (A dear, wise head has the little Ginx!) "The clock strikes one, The mice ran down!"

Tick-tack! tick-tack!

This way, that way, forward, back!

Though so measured and precise, Ginx believes it full of mice.

A mouse runs up at every tick, But when the stroke comes, scampering quick, Mice run down again; so they go, Up and down, and to and fro!

Hickory, d.i.c.kory, dock, Full of mice is the clock!

DAME FIDGET AND HER SILVER PENNY.

Versified by Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.

A Wee, wee woman Was little old Dame Fidget, And she lived by herself In a wee, wee room, And early every morning, So tidy was her habit, She began to sweep it out With a wee, wee broom.

To sweep for the cinders, Though never were there any, She whisked about, and brushed about, Humming like a bee; When, odd enough, one day She found a silver penny, s.h.i.+ning in a corner, As bright as bright could be.

She eyed it, she took it Between her thumb and finger; She put it in the sugar bowl And quickly shut the lid; And after planning over carefully The way to spend it, She resolved to go to market And to buy herself a kid.

And that she did next day; but, ah, The kid proved very lazy!

And it moved toward home so slowly She could scarcely see it crawl; At first she coaxed and petted it, And then she stormed and scolded, Till at last, when they had reached the bridge, It would not go at all.

Just then Dame Fidget saw a dog run by, And whistled to him, And cried:--"Pray dog bite kid, Kid won't go!

I see by the moonlight 'Tis almost midnight, And time kid and I were home Half an hour ago!"

But no, he said he wouldn't; So to the stick she pleaded:-- "Pray stick beat dog, dog won't bite kid, Kid won't go!

I see by the moonlight 'Tis almost midnight, And time kid and I were home Half an hour ago!"

But the stick didn't stir, So she called upon the fire:-- "Pray fire burn stick, stick won't beat dog, Dog won't bite kid, Kid won't go!