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Names and Faces
I do not ask a store of wealth,
Nor special gift of power;
I hope always for strength and health
To brave each troubled hour.
But life would be distinctly good,
However low my place is,
Had I a memory that could
Remember names and faces.
I am not troubled by the fact
That common skill is mine ;
I care not that my life has lacked
The glory of the fine.
But, oh, when someone speaks to me,
My cheeks grow red with shame
Because I’m sure that he must see
That I hav.e lost his name.
Embarrasment, where’er I go,
Pursues me night and day ;
I hear some good friend’s glad ” Hello,”
And stop a word to say.
His voice melodiously may ring,
But that’s all lost on me,
For all the time I’m wondering
Whoever can he be.
I envy no man’s talent rare
Save his who can repeat
The names of men, no matter where
It is they chance to meet.
For he escapes the bitter blow,
The sorrow and regret,
Of greeting friends he ought to know
As though they’d never met.
I do not ask a store of gold,
High station here, or fame;
I have no burning wish to hold
The popular acclaim;
Life’s lanes I’d gladly journey through,
Nor mind the stony places,
Could I but do as others do
And know men’s names and faces !
At Dawn
They come to my room at the break of the day,
With their faces all smiles and their minds full
of play;
They come on their tip-toes and silentiy creep
To the edge of the bed where I’m lying asleep,
And then at a signal, on which they agree,
With a shout of delight they jump right onto me.
They lift up my eyelids and tickle my nose,
And scratch at my cheeks with their little pink
toes;
And sometimes to give them a laugh and a scare
I snap and I growl like a cinnamon bear ;
Then over I roll, and with three kids astride
I gallop away on their feather-bed ride.
I’ve thought it all over. Man’s biggest mistake
Is in wanting to sleep when his babes are awake ;
When they come to his room for that first bit of
fun
He should make up his mind that his sleeping is
done;
He should share in the laughter they bring to his
side
And start off the day with that feather-bed ride.
Oh they’re fun at their breakfast and fun at their
lunch ;
Any hour of the day they’re a glorious bunch !
When they’re togged up for Sundays they’re cer
tainly fine,
And I’m glad in my heart I can call them all mine,
But I think that the time that I like them the best
Is that hour in the morning before they are
dressed.
Tonsils
One day the doctor came because my throat was
feeling awful sore,
And when he looked inside to see he said : ” It’s
like it was before;
It’s tonserlitis, sure enough. You’d better tell
her Pa to-day
To make his mind up now to have that little
party right away.”
I’d heard him talk that way before when Bud
was sick, and so I knew
That what they did to him that time, to me they
planned to come and do.
An’ when my Pa came home that night Ma said :
” She can’t grow strong and stout
Until the doctor comes an’ takes her addynoids
an’ tonsils out.”
An’ then Pa took me on his knee and kissed me
solemn-like an’ grave,
An’ said he guessed it was the best, an’ then he
asked me to be brave.
Ma said : ” Don’t look at her like that, it’s
nothing to be scared about ” ;
An Pa said : ” True, but still I wish she needn’t
have her tonsils out.”
Next morning when I woke, Ma said I couldn’t
have my breakfast then,
Because the doctors and the nurse had said they
would be here by ten.
When they got here the doctor smiled an’ gave
me some perfume to smell,
An’ told me not to cry at all, coz pretty soon
I would be well.
When I woke up Ma smiled an’ said : ” It’s all
right now ” ; but in my head
It seemed like wheels were buzzing round and
everywhere I looked was red.
An’ I can’t eat hard cookies yet, nor use my
voice at all to shout,
But Pa an’ Ma seem awful glad that I have had
my tonsils out.