me, me.

  It has a little shelf, my dear,
  As dark as dark can be,
  And there's a dish of Banbury Cakes
        For me, me, me.

  I have a small fat grandmamma,
  With a very slippery knee,
  And she's the Keeper of the Cupboard
        With the key, key, key.

  And I'm very good, my dear,
  As good as good can be,
  There's Branbury Cakes, and Lollypops
        For me, me, me.

THE BARBER'S

  Gold locks, and black locks,
     Red locks and brown,
  Topknot to love-curl
     The hair wisps down;
  Straight above the clear eyes,
     Rounded round the ears,
  Snip-snap and snick-a-snick,
     Clash the Barber's shears;
  Us, in the looking-glass,
     Footsteps in the street,
  Over, under, to and fro,
     The lean blades meet;
  Bay Rum or Bear's Grease,
     A silver groat to pay -
  Then out a-shin-shan-shining
     In the bright, blue day.

HIDE AND SEEK

  Hide and seek, says the Wind,
     In the shade of the woods;
  Hide and seek, says the Moon,
     To the hazel buds;
  Hide and seek, says the Cloud,
     Star on to star;
  Hide and seek, says the Wave,
     At the harbour bar;
  Hide and seek, say I,
     To myself, and step
  Out of the dream of Wake
     Into the dream of Sleep.

BOYS AND GIRLS

THEN

  Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty
     A hundred years ago,
  All through the night with lantern bright
     The Watch trudged to and fro,
  And little boys tucked snug abed
     Would wake from dreams to hear -
  'Two o' the morning by the clock,
     And the stars a-shining clear!'
  Or, when across the chimney-tops
     Screamed shrill a North-East gale,
  A faint and shaken voice would shout,
     'Three! And a storm of hail!'

THE WINDOW

  Behind the blinds I sit and watch
  The people passing - passing by;
  And not a single one can see
     My tiny watching eye.

  They cannot see my little room,
  All yellowed with the shaded sun;
  They do not even know I'm here;
     Nor'll guess when I am gone.

POOR HENRY

  Thick in its glass
     The physic stands,
  Poor Henry lifts
     Distracted hands;
  His round cheek wans
     In the candlelight,
  To smell that smell!
     To see that sight!

  Finger and thumb
     Clinch his small nose,
  A gurgle, a gasp,
     And down it goes;
  Scowls Henry now;
     But mark that cheek,
  Sleek with the bloom
     Of health next week!

FULL MOON

  One night as Dick lay half asleep,
     Into his drowsy eyes
  A great still light begins to creep
     From out the silent skies.
  It was lovely moon's, for when
     He raised his dreamy head,
  Her surge of silver filled the pane
     And streamed across his bed.
  So, for a while, each gazed at each -
     Dick and the solemn moon -
  Till, climbing slowly on her way,
     She vanished, and was gone.

THE BOOKWORM

  'I'm tired - Oh, tired of books,' said Jack,
     'I long for meadows green,
  And woods, where shadowy violets
     Nod their cool leaves between;
  I long to see the ploughman stride
     His darkening acres o'er,
  To hear the hoarse sea-waters drive
     Their billows 'gainst the shore;
  I long to watch the sea-mew wheel
     Back to her rock-perched mate;
  Or, where the breathing cows are housed,
     Lean dreaming o'er the gate.
  Something has gone, and ink and print
     Will never bring it back;
  I long for the green fields again,
     I'm tired of books,' said Jack.

THE QUARTETTE

  Tom sang for joy and Ned sang for joy and old Sam sang for joy;
  All we four boys piped up loud, just like one boy;
  And the ladies that sate with the Squire - their cheeks were all wet,
  For the noise of the voice of us boys, when we sang our Quartette.

  Tom he piped low and Ned he piped low and old Sam he piped low;
  Into a sorrowful fall did our music flow;
  And the ladies that sate with the Squire vowed they'd never forget
  How the eyes of them cried for delight, when we sang our Quartette.

MISTLETOE

  Sitting under the mistletoe
  (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
  One last candle burning low,
  All the sleepy dancers gone,
  Just one candle burning on,
  Shadows lurking everywhere:
  Some one came, and kissed me there.

  Tired I was; my head would go
  Nodding under the mistletoe
  (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
  No footsteps came, no voice, but only,
  Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,
  Stooped in the still and shadowy air
  Lips unseen - and kissed me there.

THE LOST SHOE

  Poor little Lucy
     By some mischance,
  Lost her shoe
     As she did dance -
  'Twas not on the stairs,
     Not in the hall;
  Not where they sat
     At supper at all.
  She looked in the garden,
     But there it was not;
  Henhouse, or kennel,
     Or high dovecote.
  Dairy and meadow,
     And wild woods through
  Showed not a trace
     Of Lucy's shoe.
  Bird nor bunny
     Nor glimmering moon
  Breathed a whisper
     Of where 'twas gone.
  It was cried and cried,
     Oyez and Oyez!
  In French, Dutch, Latin,
     And Portuguese.
  Ships the dark seas
     Went plunging through,
  But none brought news
     Of Lucy's shoe;
  And still she patters
     In silk and leather,
  O'er snow, sand, shingle,
     In every weather;
  Spain, and Africa,
     Hindustan,
  Java, China,
     And lamped Japan;
  Plain and desert,
     She hops-hops through,
  Pernambuco
     To gold Peru;
  Mountain and forest,
     And river too,
  All the world over
     For her lost shoe.

THE TRUANTS

  Ere my heart beats too coldly and faintly
     To remember sad things, yet be gay,
  I would sing a brief song of the world's little children
     Magic hath stolen away.

  The primroses scattered by April,
     The stars of the wide