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but here's a squadron a-rowing on the sea—

        Cattle on the meadow a-charging with a roar!

      Quick, and we'll escape them, they're as mad as they can be,

        The wicket is the harbour and the garden is the shore.

      POEMS BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

      LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE

      Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,

      An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,

      An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,

      An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board an' keep;

      An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,

      We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun

      A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,

      An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you

              Ef you

                  Don't

                      Watch

                          Out!

      Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,—

      An' when he went to bed at night, away upstairs,

      His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,

      An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!

      An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,

      An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever' wheres, I guess;

      But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout:—

      An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you

              Ef you

                  Don't

                      Watch

                          Out!

      An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,

      An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;

      An' wunst, when they was "company," an' ole folks wuz there,

      She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!

      An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,

      They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,

      An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!

      An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you

              Ef you

                  Don't

                      Watch

                          Out!

      An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,

      An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!

      An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,

      An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,—

      You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,

      An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,

      An' help the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,

      Er the Gobble-uns'll git you

              Ef you

                  Don't

                      Watch

                          Out!

      THE BROOK-SONG

        Little brook! Little brook!

        You have such a happy look—

      Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and

           curve and crook—

        And your ripples, one and one,

        Reach each other's hands and run

      Like laughing little children in the sun!

        Little brook, sing to me:

        Sing about a bumblebee

      That tumbled from a lily-bell and grumbled

           mumblingly,

        Because he wet the film

        Of his wings, and had to swim,

      While the water-bugs raced round and laughed

           at him!

        Little brook—sing a song

        Of a leaf that sailed along

      Down the golden-braided center of your current

           swift and strong,

        And a dragon-fly that lit

        On the tilting rim of it,

      And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.

        And sing—how oft in glee

        Came a truant boy like me,

      Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting

           melody,

        Till the gurgle and refrain

        Of your music in his brain

      Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain.

        Little brook—laugh and leap!

        Do not let the dreamer weep;

      Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in

           softest sleep;

        And then sing soft and low

        Through his dreams of long ago—

      Sing back to him the rest he used to know!

      A LIFE LESSON

      There! little girl! don't cry!

        They have broken your doll, I know;

          And your tea-set blue,

          And your play-house, too,

        Are things of long ago;

      But childish troubles will soon pass by,

             There! little girl! don't cry!

      There! little girl! don't cry!

        They have broken your slate, I know;

          And the glad wild ways

          Of your school-girl days

        Are things of the long ago;

      But life and love will soon come by,

             There! little girl! don't cry!

      There! little girl! don't cry!

        They have broken your heart, I know;

          And the rainbow gleams

          Of your youthful dreams

        Are things of the long ago;

      But heaven holds all for which you sigh,

             There!

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