In My Nursery

Now a wreath for you I'll twine.
I will set you on a throne
Where the damask rose has blown,
Dropping all her velvet bloom,
Carpeting your leafy room:
Here while you shall sit in pride,
Butterflies all rainbow-pied,
Dandy beetles gold and green,
Creeping, flying, shall be seen,
Every bird that shakes his wings,
Every katydid that sings,
Wasp and bee with buzz and hum.
Hither, hither see them come,
Creeping all before your feet,
Rendering their homage meet.
But 'tis I that call you mine,
Valentine, O Valentine!

THE RAIN

The rain came down from the sky,
And we asked it the reason why
It would ne'er stay away
On washing day,
To let our poor clothes get dry.

The rain came down on the ground,
With a clattering, pelting sound,
"Indeed, if I stayed
Till you called me," it said,
"I should not come all the year round!"

The Ballad Of The Fairy Spoon

The little wee baby came tripping
All out of the fairy land,
With a nosegay of fairy flowers
Clasped close in each little wee hand;

The flower of baby beauty,
The flower of baby health,
And all the blossomy sweetness
That makes up a baby's wealth.

But still he kept sighing and sobbing,
Sighing and sobbing away,
Till I said, "Now what ails my Baby,
And why does he cry all day?"

And he answered, "Oh! as I came tripping,
I spied a rose by the way:
And on it the loveliest dewdrop
I'd seen since I came away.

"But as I was stooping to sip it,
A wind came up from the south;
And it blew my little wee spoonie
Away from my little wee mouth."

"And what was your little wee spoonie?
And what does my Baby mean?"
"Oh! the little wee fairy spoonie
That was given me by the queen.

"For whenever a baby leaves her,
The queen she grants him a boon, —
She fills both his hands with flowers,
And puts in his mouth a spoon.

"And some are made of the hazel,
And some are made of the horn;
And some are made of the silver white,
For the good-luck babes that are born."

"But what are they for, my Baby?"
"Nay! that part I cannot tell!
But send for the fairy Spoonman,
For he knows it all right well.

"Oh! the little old fairy Spoonman,
He lives in the white, white moon.
Send a whisper up by a moonbeam,
And he will be down here soon."

Then I whispered along a moonbeam
That silvered the grass so clear,
"Oh! little old fairy Spoonman,
Come down and comfort my dear!"

Then something came sliding, sliding
Down out of the white, white moon.
And something came gliding, gliding
Straight in at my window soon.

And there stood a little old fairy,
All bent and withered and black,
With a leathern apron about him,
And a bundle of spoons at his back.

And first he looked at my baby,