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Ever its pretty song。
Will ever my dear little boy grow old；
As some have grown before？
Will ever his heart feel faint and cold；
When he heareth the songs of yore？
Will ever this toy
Of my dear little boy；
When the years have worn away；
Sing sad and low
Of the long ago；
As it singeth to me to…day？
LADY BUTTON…EYES
When the busy day is done；
And my weary little one
Rocketh gently to and fro；
When the night winds softly blow；
And the crickets in the glen
Chirp and chirp and chirp again；
When upon the haunted green
Fairies dance around their queen …
Then from yonder misty skies
Cometh Lady Button…Eyes。
Through the murk and mist and gloam
To our quiet； cozy home；
Where to singing； sweet and low；
Rocks a cradle to and fro；
Where the clock's dull monotone
Telleth of the day that's done；
Where the moonbeams hover o'er
Playthings sleeping on the floor …
Where my weary wee one lies
Cometh Lady Button…Eyes。
Cometh like a fleeting ghost
From some distant eerie coast；
Never footfall can you hear
As that spirit fareth near …
Never whisper； never word
From that shadow…queen is heard。
In ethereal raiment dight；
From the realm of fay and sprite
In the depth of yonder skies
Cometh Lady Button…Eyes。
Layeth she her hands upon
My dear weary little one；
And those white hands overspread
Like a veil the curly head；
Seem to fondle and caress
Every little silken tress；
Then she smooths the eyelids down
Over those two eyes of brown …
In such soothing； tender wise
Cometh Lady Button…Eyes。
Dearest； feel upon your brow
That caressing magic now；
For the crickets in the glen
Chirp and chirp and chirp again；
While upon the haunted green
Fairies dance around their queen；
And the moonbeams hover o'er
Playthings sleeping on the floor …
Hush； my sweet！ from yonder skies
Cometh Lady Button…Eyes！
THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE
Play that my knee was a calico mare
Saddled and bridled for Bumpville；
Leap to the back of this steed； if you dare；
And gallop away to Bumpville！
I hope you'll be sure to sit fast in your seat；
For this calico mare is prodigiously fleet；
And many adventures you're likely to meet
As you journey along to Bumpville。
This calico mare both gallops and trots
While whisking you off to Bumpville；
She paces； she shies； and she stumbles； in spots；
In the tortuous road to Bumpville；
And sometimes this strangely mercurial steed
Will suddenly stop and refuse to proceed；
Which； all will admit； is vexatious indeed；
When one is en route to Bumpville！
She's scared of the cars when the engine goes 〃Toot！〃
Down by the crossing at Bumpville；
You'd better look out for that treacherous brute
Bearing you off to Bumpville！
With a snort she rears up on her hindermost heels；
And executes jigs and Virginia reels …
Words fail to explain how embarrassed one feels
Dancing so wildly to Bumpville！
It's bumpytybump and it's jiggytyjog；
Journeying on to Bumpville
It's over the hilltop and down through the bog
You ride on your way to Bumpville；
It's rattletybang over boulder and stump；
There are rivers to ford； there are fences to jump；
And the corduroy road it goes bumpytybump；
Mile after mile to bumpville！
Perhaps you'll observe it's no easy thing
Making the journey to Bumpville；
So I think； on the whole； it were prudent to bring
An end to this ride to Bumpville；
For； though she has uttered no protest or plaint；
The calico mare must be blowing and faint …
What's more to the point； I'm blowed if I ain't！
So play we have got to Bumpville！
THE BROOK
I looked in the brook and saw a face …
Heigh…ho； but a child was I！
There were rushes and willows in that place；
And they clutched at the brook as the brook ran by；
And the brook it ran its own sweet way；
As a child doth run in heedless play；
And as it ran I heard it say：
〃Hasten with me
To the roistering sea
That is wroth with the flame of the morning sky！〃
I look in the brook and see a face …
Heigh…ho； but the years go by！
The rushes are dead in the old…time place；
And the willows I knew when a child was I。
And the brook it seemeth to me to say；
As ever it stealeth on its way …
Solemnly now； and not in play：
〃Oh； come with me
To the slumbrous sea
That is gray with the peace of the evening sky！〃
Heigh…ho； but the years go by …
I would to God that a child were I！
PICNIC…TIME
It's June ag'in； an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy；
For； every June； the Sunday…schools at picnics may be seen；
Where 〃fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green〃；
Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders； bugs； and ants；
An' little boys get grass…stains on their go…to meetin' pants。
It's June ag'in； an' with it all what happiness is mine …
There's goin' to be a picnic； an' I'm goin' to jine！
One year I jined the Baptists； an' goodness！ how it rained！
（But grampa says that that's the way 〃baptizo〃 is explained。）
And once I jined the 'Piscopils an' had a heap o' fun …
But the boss of all the picnics was the Presbyteriun！
They had so many puddin's； sallids； sandwidges； an' pies；
That a feller wisht his stummick was as hungry as his eyes！
Oh； yes； the eatin' Presbyteriuns give yer is so fine
That when they have a picnic； you bet I'm goin' to jine！
But at this time the Methodists have special claims on me；
For they're goin' to give a picnic on the 21st； D。 V。；
Why should a liberal universalist like me object
To share the joys of fellowship with every friendly sect？
However het'rodox their articles of faith elsewise may be；
Their doctrine of fried chick'n is a savin' grace to me！
So on the 21st of June； the weather bein' fine；
They're goin' to give a picnic； and I'm goin' to jine！
SHUFFLE…SHOON AND AMBER…LOCKS
Shuffle…shoon and Amber…Locks
Sit together； building blocks；
Shuffle…Shoon is old and gray；
Amber…Locks a little child；
But together at their play
Age and Youth are reconciled；
And with sympathetic glee
Build their castles fair to see。
〃When I grow to be a man〃
（So the wee one's prattle ran）；
〃I shall build a castle so …
With a gateway broad and grand；
Here a pretty vine shall grow；
There a soldier guard shall stand；
And the tower shall be so high；
Folks will wonder； by and by！〃
Shuffle…Shoon quoth： 〃Yes； I know；
Thus I builded long ago！
Here a gate and there a wall；
Here a window； there a door；
Here a steeple wondrous tall
Riseth ever more and more！
But the years have leveled low
What I builded long ago！〃
So they gossip at their play；
Heedless of the fleeting day；
One speaks of the Long Ago
Where his dead hopes buried lie；
One with chubby cheeks aglow
Prattleth of the By and By；
Side by side； they