Once Upon a Time and Other Child-Verses

a-calling,
"Pussy, pussy, pussy!" Her voice rang sweet,
and shrill-o.
Yet still her pussy lingered; but, on a bush
beside her,
Crept softly out in answer, a little pussy-
willow.

THE TRUE AND LAST STORY OF LITTLE BOY BLUE

LITTLE white clouds flew east thro' the sky,
The bee, with his honey-sacks, scur-
ried by
En route to his hive with his stolen sweet,
With the gold of roses caught round his feet;
And the farmer's dear little daughter, too,
Came tripping along in her ribbons blue;
And the sweet little girl had a silver tongue,
And she sang, as she came, a sweet little song:
"At Whitehall waited the Prince's boat;
The lark unravelled his silver note
As the river and garden he soared above;
The brave knight thought of his absent love.
"The world wags merrily on, 'tis said,
And the prince and the knight and the lark
dead.

Then the little girl stopped to take a breath,
With never a thought of love or death.

Green apple-boughs met o'er the country lane:
She sang her sweet little song again;
In the meadow beside her red clover grew,
And yellow-winged butterflies o'er it flew;

And here and there moved a woolly back,
For there were the farmer's sheep, alack!
And the bluè-eyed boy, who was told to keep
Out of the clover the frolic sheep,

Under the hay-stack sleeping lay,
The golden noon of that summer day.
"Alack, alack!" cried the little girl,
"See Rosie and Lily and Star and Pearl,

"And all the lambs in the clover-patch!
The five-barred gate he did not latch.
Oh, where are you wand'ring, little Boy Blue?
How my father would scold if he ever knew!

"Ho, Rosie! Rosie! out of the clover!
Lily! Lily! you naughty rover,
Out of the clover! out, I say!
Violet! Violet! Lady May! "

Here and there, with her shrill, sweet shout,
At last she had driven the sheep all out;
Then she carefully shut the five-barred gate;
And little Boy Blue, with his curly pate,

Still untroubled by aught like sheep,
Lay 'neath the hay-stack fast asleep.
Oh, what is that rustling amongst the corn?
Oh! little Boy Blue, come blow your horn!

"The cows are eating the golden grain!"
The little boy stirred – then slept again.
"Ho! Buttercup! Buttercup! out of the corn!
Daisy! Clover-leaf! Silver-horn!"

She drove them all out and shut the gate;
Then little Boy Blue, with his curly pate,
Still troubled by nothing like cows or sheep,
She spied, 'neath the hay-stack, fast asleep.

The dear little girl, with artless joy,
Stood looking down at the sleeping boy,
"I have saved him a whipping, I know,"
she said, —
"How the little curls shine on his pretty head!

"He ought to remember my father's sheep,
But he looks so lovely there, fast asleep —
Good-by, little Boy Blue, sleep well,
The sheep are all safe, and I'll never tell! "

Then she kept on her way thro' the fragrant
lane,
And she sang her sweet little song again.
Little Boy Blue woke by and by,
When the sun was scarcely a half-hour high,

And rubbing his blue eyes, dim with sleep,
Slowly home he drove the cows and sheep;
Then he ate his supper and went to bed
With never a thought in his pretty head;

And he lived till his bonny gold hair was gray.
But the little maiden – ah, well-a-day!
"Here lieth a sweet maid, aged ten,