JULY
SUSAN HARTLEY SWETT(1843-1907)
******
When the scarlet cardinal tells
Her dream to the dragonfly,
And the lazy breeze makes a nest in the trees,
And murmurs a lullaby,
It's July.
When The tangled cobweb pulls
The cornflower's cap awry,
And the lilies tall lean over the wall
To bow to the butterfly,
It's July.
When the heat like a mist veil floats,
And poppies flame in the rye,
And the silver note in the streamlet's throat
Has softened almost to a sigh,
It's July.
When the hours are so still that time
Forgets them, and lets them lie
Underneath petals pink till the night stars wink
At the sunset in the sky,
It's July.
***
OLD MOTHER HUBBARD
SARAH CATHERINE MARTIN(1768-1826)
*****
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To fetch her poor dog a bone;
But when she came there
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.
She took a clean dish
To get him some tripe;
But when she came back
He was smoking a pipe.
She went to the grocer's
To buy him some fruit;
But when she came back
He was playing the flute.
She went to the baker's
To buy him some bread;
But when she came back
The poor dog was dead.
She went to the undertaker's
To buy him a coffin;
But when she came back
The poor dog was laughing.
She went to the hatter's
To buy him a hat;
But when she came back
He was feeding the cat.
The dame made a curtsey,
The dog made a bow;
The dame said, "Your servant."
The dog said, "Bow wow!
***
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