Once Upon a Time and Other Child-Verses. Freeman Mary Eleanor Wilkins

      BONNY sweet-marjoram was in flower,

      The pinks had come with their spices

      sweet;

      Thro' the village sounded the Sabbath-bell,

      And the reverent people flocked down the

      street.

      Little Elizabeth, prim and pale,

      A decorous little Puritan maid,

      Walked soberly up the meeting-house hill,

      With a look on her face as if she prayed.

      Her catechism was in her hand,

      Unvexed was she by the scholar's art;

      Her simple lesson she simply learned,

      And loved the Father with all her heart.

      Her little kerchief was white as snow,

      Like a rose she looked in her Sunday gown

      As she soberly climbed the meeting-house

      hill,

      With her pretty eyes east meekly down.

      Little Elizabeth sat alone

      In the queer old-fashioned oaken pew,

      And earnestly on the parson bent

      Her modest, innocent eyes of blue.

      But, ah! the sermon was deep and long,

      The parson spoke with a weary drone;

      And she heard the honey-bees out of doors

      Hum, in a drowsy monotone;

      The very wind had a sleepy sound —

      Little Elizabeth began to nod,

      Though she told herself 'twas a dreadful thing

      To fall asleep in the house of God.

      "My fourthly is," the parson droned; —

      "I pray the Lord my soul to keep,"

      Mused little Elizabeth in a maze —

      And then – ah me! she fell asleep.

      The tithing-man crept down the aisle

      In solemn state, with his awful rod,

      To chide the folk in the meeting-house

      Who dared to whisper, or smile, or nod.

      Little Elizabeth soundly slept,

      All by herself, in the oaken pew,

      With the heavy gold-fringed eyelids drooped

      Over her innocent eyes of blue.

      Close to her tiptoed the tithing-man,

      And over her reached his awful rod,

      And poked the little Puritan maid

      For falling asleep in the house of God.

      Dear little Elizabeth, prim and pale!

      How her poor heart jumped when she

      woke and found

      The dreaded tithing-man at her side,

      And the queer poke-bonnets all turning

      round!

      Then she sat straight up in the old oak pew,

      Grave and pale as a lily-flower;

      But she thought the people all looked at her,

      While all their eyes did lower and glower;

      And, going home, she fancied the birds

      Called back and forth, with a knowing nod:

      "There's the little maid whom the tithing-

      man

      Caught fast asleep in the house of God."

      O THE Barley-Candy Boy! O the Bar-

      ley-Candy Boy!

      Who lived in the toy-man's window, 'tis little

      he had of joy!

      For he could not eat a bit of sweet, nor any

      sugar at all,

      Unless he ran a fearful risk of being a can-

      nibal.

      MID feeding lambs and springing grass

      There sat a little lad and lass,

      A green umbrella overhead,

      The flickering shade of boughs instead,

      And read a book of fairy rhyme,

      All in their gay vacation time.

      Quoth he: "The dearest, queerest story

      Was that one of the fairy prince,

      Who sailed down stream in his pearl dory,

      Neath boughs of rose and flowering quince,

      To save the lovely princess whom

      The wicked, white-haired, old witch-lady

      Kept in a tower of awful gloom,

      Deep in a magic forest shady:

      How proud he tossed his plumèd head

      Before the witch's door, and said " —

      Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Honey-sweet the clover's

      blowing

      Ba-a, ba-a! Juicy-green the grass is

      growing.

      "I think," quoth she, "there's one that's

      better:

      About that little fairy girl,

      Who bound the ogre with a fetter

      Of spiderwort and grass and pearl;

      Then singing in the gateway sat,

      Till up the road the prince came prancing,

      A jewelled feather in his hat,

      And set the cherry-boughs a-dancing.

      How low he bent his handsome head

      Before the fairy girl, and said " —

      Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Who the day so sweetly

      passes

      As a lamb who never stops,

      But from dawn to twilight crops

      Clover-heads and dewy grasses?

      "Well, by and by I think I'll be

      A fairy prince as brave as he:

      I'll wind a silver bugle clear,

      Low and dim you'll hear it, dear;

      A sword with jewelled hilt I'll bear,

      A cap and heron-plume I'll wear,

      And I will rescue you," quoth

      he.

      "Fast to the witch's tower I'll

      And beat upon the gate, and

      cry

      Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Sweet the

      simple life we're leading,

      In the sweet green pasture

      feeding!

      Then quoth the little reader

      fair.

      "I've