Brown eyes, Straight nose; Dirt pies, Rumpled clothes; Torn books, Spoilt toys; Arch looks, Unlike a boy's; Little rages, Obvious arts; (Three her age is,) Cakes, tarts; Falling down Off chairs; Breaking crown Down stairs; Catching flies On the pane; Deep sighs,— Cause not plain. Bribing you With kisses For a few Farthing blisses; Wide awake, As you hear, "Mercy's sake, Quiet, dear!" New shoes, New frock; Vague views Of what's o'clock When it's time To go to bed, And scorn sublime Of what is said; Folded hands, Saying prayers, Understands Not, nor cares; Thinks it odd, Smiles away; Yet may God Hear her pray! Bedgown white, Kiss Dolly; Good-night!— That's Polly, Fast asleep, As you see; Heaven keep My girl for me!
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William Brighty Rands
William Brighty Rands (24 December 1823, Chelsea, Middlesex — 23 April 1882, East Dulwich, London) was a British writer and one of the major aut…
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