Cross Looks.

Why, what a frightful face is this!
And what has happened, sir, amiss?
Come, let me wipe these tears away,
And see no more cross looks to-day.

If Kate did throw your blocks about,
She's very sorry, I've no doubt;
And here she stands to tell you so,
And build another house, I know.

No tears and crying here must be,
So have a pleasant smile for me.
There, that will do,--now run away,
And kindly with your sister play.

H. P. Nichols

No biography available

H. P. Nichols

The Child And The Flower-Elf.

H. P. Nichols, Simple Poetry

The Baby.

H. P. Nichols, Simple Poetry

The Spider.

H. P. Nichols, Simple Poetry

The Meddlesome Child.

H. P. Nichols, Simple Poetry

English

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Evening.

Kate! if e'er thy light foot lingers
On the lawn, when up the fells
Steals the Dark, and fairy fingers
Close unseen the pimpernels:
When, his thighs with sweetness laden,
From the meadow comes the bee,
And the lover and the maiden
Stand beneath the trysting tree:-

Lingers on, till stars unnumber'd
Tremble in the breeze-swept tarn,
And the bat that all day slumber'd
Flits about the lonely barn;
And the shapes that shrink from garish
Noon are peopling cairn and lea;
And thy sire is almost bearish
If kept waiting for his tea:-

And the screech-owl scares the peasant
As he skirts some churchyard drear;
And the goblins whisper pleasant
Tales in Miss Rossetti's ear;
Importuning her in strangest,
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Cousin Kate

I was a cottage maiden
    Hardened by sun and air,
Contented with my cottage mates,
    Not mindful I was fair.
Why did a great lord find me out,
    And praise my flaxen hair?
Why did a great lord find me out
    To fill my heart with care?

He lured me to his palace home--
    Woe's me for joy thereof--
To lead a shameless shameful life,
    His plaything and his love.
He wore me like a silken knot,
    He changed me like a glove;
So now I moan, an unclean thing,
    Who might have been a dove.

O Lady Kate, my cousin Kate,
    You grew more fair than I:
He saw you at your father's gate,
    Chose you, and cast me by.
He watched your steps along the lane,
    Your work among the rye;
He lifted you from mean estate

Christina Georgina Rossetti

The Ploughboy.

I wonder what he is thinking
    In the ploughing field all day.
He watches the heads of his oxen,
    And never looks this way.

And the furrows grow longer and longer,
    Around the base of the hill,
And the valley is bright with the sunset,
    Yet he ploughs and whistles still.

I am tired of counting the ridges,
    Where the oxen come and go,
And of thinking of all the blossoms
    That are trampled down below.

I wonder if ever he guesses
    That under the ragged brim
Of his torn straw hat I am peeping
    To steal a look at him.

The spire of the church and the windows
    Are all ablaze in the sun.
He has left the plough in the furrow,
    His summer day's work is done.

And I hear him carolling softly

Kate Seymour Maclean

Gone With A Handsomer Man.

JOHN:

I'VE worked in the field all day, a-plowin' the "stony streak;"
I've scolded my team till I'm hoarse; I've tramped till my legs are weak;
I've choked a dozen swears (so's not to tell Jane fibs)
When the plow-p'int struck a stone and the handles punched my ribs.

I've put my team in the barn, and rubbed their sweaty coats;
I've fed 'em a heap of hay and half a bushel of oats;
And to see the way they eat makes me like eatin' feel,
And Jane won't say to-night that I don't make out a meal.

Well said! the door is locked! but here she's left the key,
Under the step, in a place known only to her and me;
I wonder who's dyin' or dead, that she's hustled off pell-mell:
But here on the table's a note, and probably this will tell.

Good God! my wife is gone! ...

William McKendree Carleton

Last Night

(Macmillan's Magazine, May 1865.)


Where were you last night? I watched at the gate;
I went down early, I stayed down late.
    Were you snug at home, I should like to know,
Or were you in the coppice wheedling Kate?

She's a fine girl, with a fine clear skin;
Easy to woo, perhaps not hard to win.
    Speak up like a man and tell me the truth:
I'm not one to grow downhearted and thin.

If you love her best speak up like a man;
It's not I will stand in the light of your plan:
    Some girls might cry and scold you a bit,
And say they couldn't bear it; but I can.

Love was pleasant enough, and the days went fast;
Pleasant while it lasted, but it needn't last;
    Awhile on the wax and awhile on the wane,
Now dropped away into the...

Christina Georgina Rossetti

The Looking-Glass (A Country Dance)

Queen Bess was Harrys daughter. Stand forward partners all!
In ruff and stomacher and gown
She danced King Philip down-a down,
And left her shoe to show twas true,
(The very tune Im playing you)
In Norgem at Brickwall!

The Queen was in her chamber, and she was middling old,
Her petticoat was satin, and her stomacher was gold.
Backward and forward and sideways did she pass,
Making up her mind to face the cruel looking-glass.
The cruel looking-glass that will never show a lass
As comely or as kindly or as young as what she was!

Queen Bess was Harrys daughter. Now hand your partners all!

The Queen was in her chamber, a-combing of her hair.
There came Queen Marys spirit and It stood behind her chair,
Singing Backward and forward and sideways may...

Rudyard