Verses for Children Part 1

Verses for Children.

by Juliana Horatia Ewing.

PREFACE

It has been decided in publis.h.i.+ng this volume to reproduce the ill.u.s.trations with which the verses originally appeared in _Aunt Judy's Magazine_. In all cases Mrs. Ewing wrote the lines to fit the pictures, and it is worthy of note to observe how closely she has introduced every detail into her words. Most of the woodcuts are by German artists, Oscar Pletsch, Fedor Flinzer, and others; but the frontispiece is from an original sketch by Mr. Gordon Browne. In accordance with his special desire, it has only been used for Mrs. Ewing's poem, as the Convalescent was a little friend of the artist, who did not live to complete his recovery. The poem is the last that Mrs. Ewing wrote for children, and it was penned when she herself was enduring the discomforts of convalescence with all the courage she so warmly advocates.

Mr. Randolph Caldecott's ill.u.s.trations to "Mother's Birthday Review"

first appeared in his _Sketch Book_, but the letterpress that accompanied them was very brief, and Mrs. Ewing could not resist asking permission to write some verses to the pictures, and publish them in _Aunt Judy's Magazine_. This favour was kindly granted, and by Mrs.

Caldecott's further kindness the sketches are again used here.

The contents of this volume have been arranged chronologically as far as is possible.

"The Willow Man" and "Grandmother's Spring" were both written to protest against wantonly wasting Dame Nature's gifts, and the Note on page 69 shows that Mrs. Ewing had learnt this lesson herself in childhood. My Father has lately recalled an incident which he believes first roused our Mother to teach the lesson to us. They were driving to Sheffield one day, when on Bolsover Hill they saw a well-known veterinary surgeon of the district, Mr. Peech, who had dismounted from his horse, and was carefully taking up a few roots of white violets from a bank where they grew in some profusion. He showed Mrs. Gatty what he was gathering, but told her he was taking care to _leave a bit behind_. This happened fully forty years ago, long before the Selborne and other Societies for the preservation of rare plants and birds had come into existence, and Mother was much impressed and pleased by Mr. Peech's delicate scrupulousness.

"A Soldier's Children" was written in 1879, whilst many friends were fighting in South Africa, and ten years before a story bearing the same name was issued by the writer of _Bootles' Baby_.

The "Songs for Music" appeared in 1874 in a volume called _Songs by Four Friends_, except the two last poems, "Anemones" and "Autumn Tints." The former was given by Mrs. Ewing to her brother, Mr. Alfred Scott-Gatty, to set to music, and it has recently been published by Messrs. Boosey.

"Autumn Tints" was found amongst Mrs. Ewing's papers after her death, and is now printed for the first time.

HORATIA K.F. EDEN.

_June 1895._

VERSES FOR CHILDREN.

THE BURIAL OF THE LINNET.

Found in the garden--dead in his beauty.

Ah! that a linnet should die in the spring!

Bury him, comrades, in pitiful duty, m.u.f.fle the dinner-bell, solemnly ring.

Bury him kindly--up in the corner; Bird, beast, and gold-fish are sepulchred there; Bid the black kitten march as chief mourner, Waving her tail like a plume in the air.

Bury him n.o.bly--next to the donkey; Fetch the old banner, and wave it about: Bury him deeply--think of the monkey, Shallow his grave, and the dogs got him out.

Bury him softly--white wool around him, Kiss his poor feathers,--the first kiss and last; Tell his poor widow kind friends have found him: Plant his poor grave with whatever grows fast.

Farewell, sweet singer! dead in thy beauty, Silent through summer, though other birds sing; Bury him, comrades, in pitiful duty, m.u.f.fle the dinner-bell, mournfully ring.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MASTER FRITZ.]

Fritz and I are not brother and sister, but we're next-door neighbours; for we both live next door.

I mean we both live next door to each other; for I live at number three, and Fritz and Nickel the dog live at number four.

In summer we climb through the garret windows and sit together on the leads, And if the sun is too hot Mother lends us one big kerchief to put over both our heads.

Sometimes she gives us tea under the myrtle tree in the big pot that stands in the gutter.

(One slice each, and I always give Fritz the one that has the most b.u.t.ter.) In winter we sit on the little stool by the stove at number four; For when it's cold Fritz doesn't like to go out to come in next door.

It was one day in spring that he said, "I should like to have a house to myself with you Grethel, and Nickel." And I said, "Thank you, Fritz."

And he said, "If you'll come in at tea-time and sit by the stove, I'll tell you tales that'll frighten you into fits.

About boys who ran away from their homes, and were taken by robbers, and run after by wolves, and altogether in a dreadful state.

I saw the pictures of it in a book I was looking in, to see where perhaps I should like to emigrate.

I've not quite settled whether I shall, or be cast away on a desert island, or settle down nearer home; But you'd better come in and hear about it, and then, wherever it is, you'll be sure to be ready to come."

So I took my darling Katerina in my arms, and we went in to tea.

I love Katerina, though she lost her head long ago, poor thing; but Fritz made me put her off my knee, For he said, "When you're hushabying that silly old doll I know you're not attending to me.

Now look here, Grethel, I think I have made up my mind that we won't go far; For we can have a house, and I can be master of it just as well where we are.

Under the stairs would be a good place for a house for us if there's room.

It's very dirty, but you're the housewife now, and you must sweep it out well with the broom.

I shall expect you to keep my house very comfortable, and have my meals ready when there's anything to eat; And when Nickel and I come back from playing outside, you may peep out and pretend you're watching for us coming up the street.

You've kept your apple, I see--I've eaten mine--well, it will be something to make a start, And I'll put by some of my cake, if you'll keep some of yours, and remember Nickel must have part.

I call it your cake and your apple, but of course now you're my housewife everything belongs to me; But I shall give you the management of it, and you must make it go as far as you can amongst three.

And if you make nice feasts every day for me and Nickel, and never keep us waiting for our food, And always do everything I want, and attend to everything I say, I'm sure I shall almost always be good.

And if I am naughty now and then, it'll most likely be your fault; and, if it isn't, you mustn't mind; For even if I seem to be cross, you ought to know that I mean to be kind.

And I'm sure you'll like combing Nickel's hair for my sake; it'll be something for you to do, and it bothers me so!

But it must be done regularly, for if it's not, his curls tangle into lugs as they grow.

I think that's all, dear Grethel, for I love you so much that I'm sure to be easy to please.

Only remember--it's a trifle--but when I want you, never keep that headless doll on your knees.

I'd much rather not have her in my house--there, don't cry! if you will have her, I suppose it must be; Though I can't think what you want with Katerina when you've got Nickel and me."

So I said, "Thank you, dear Fritz, for letting me bring her, for I've had her so long I shouldn't like to part with her now; And I'll try and do everything you want as well as I can, now you've told me how."

But next morning I heard Fritz's garret-window open, and he put out his head, And shouted, "Grethel! Grethel! I want you. Be quick! Haven't you got out of bed?"

I ran to the window and said, "What is it, dear Fritz?" and he said, "I want to tell you that I've changed my mind.

Hans-Wandermann is here, and he says there are real sapphires on the beach; so I'm off to see what I can find."

"Oh, Fritz!" I said, "can't I come too?" but he said, "You'd better not, you'll only be in the way.

You can stop quietly at home with Katerina, and you may have Nickel too, if he'll stay."

But Nickel wouldn't. I give him far more of my cake than Fritz does, but he likes Fritz better than me.

So dear Katerina and I had breakfast together on the leads under the old myrtle tree.

THE WILLOW-MAN.

There once was a Willow, and he was very old, And all his leaves fell off from him, and left him in the cold; But ere the rude winter could buffet him with snow, There grew upon his h.o.a.ry head a crop of Mistletoe.

All wrinkled and furrowed was this old Willow's skin, His taper fingers trembled, and his arms were very thin; Two round eyes and hollow, that stared but did not see, And sprawling feet that never walked, had this most ancient tree.

A Dame who dwelt near was the only one who knew That every year upon his head the Christmas berries grew; And when the Dame cut them, she said--it was her whim-- "A merry Christmas to you, Sir!" _and left a bit for him_.

"Oh, Granny dear, tell us," the children cried, "where we May find the s.h.i.+ning Mistletoe that grows upon the tree?"