And baby laughs, and baby crows;
And baby being right, she knows
  That nothing can be wrong;
And so with troubled heart, yet stout,
She plans how ever to get out,
  With meditations long.

The bank is higher than her head,
And slippery too, as I have said;
  And what to do with baby? 
For even the monkey, when he goes,
Needs both his fingers and his toes.—­
  She is perplexed as may be.

But all her puzzling was no good,
Though staring up the bank she stood,
  Which, as she sunk, grew higher;
Until, invaded with dismay,
Lest baby’s patience should give way,
  She frees her from the mire.

And up and down the ditch, not glad,
But patient, she did promenade;
  Splash! splash! went her poor feet. 
And baby thought it rare good fun,
And did not want it to be done;
  And the ditch flowers were sweet.

But, oh! the world that she had left,
The meads from her so lately reft,
  An infant Proserpine,
Lay like a fabled land above,
A paradise of sunny love,
  In warmth and light divine.

While, with the hot sun overhead,
She her low watery way did tread,
  ’Mid slimy weeds and frogs;
While now and then from distant field
The sound of laughter faintly pealed,
  Or bark of village dogs.

And once the ground began to shake,
And her poor little heart to quake
  For fear of added woes;
Till, looking up, at last, perforce,
She saw the head of a huge horse
  Go past upon its nose.

And with a sound of tearing grass,
And puffing breath that awful was,
  And horns of frightful size,
A cow looked through the broken hedge,
And gazed down on her from the edge,
  With great big Juno eyes.

And so the sun went on and on,
And horse and cow and horns were gone,
  And still no help came near;
Till at the last she heard the sound
Of human footsteps on the ground,
  And then she cried:  “I’m here!”

It was a man, much to her joy,
Who looked amazed at girl and boy,
  And reached his hand so strong. 
“Give me the child,” he said; but no,
She would not let the baby go,
  She had endured too long.

So, with a smile at her alarms,
He stretched down both his lusty arms,
  And lifted them together;
And, having thanked her helper, she
Did hasten homeward painfully,
  Wet in the sunny weather.

At home at length, lo! scarce a speck
Was on the child from heel to neck,
  Though she was sorely mired;
Nor gave she sign of grief’s unrest,
Till, hid upon her mother’s breast,
  She wept till she was tired.

And intermixed with sobbing wail,
She told her mother all the tale,—­
  “But”—­here her wet cheeks glow—­
“Mother, I did not, through it all,
I did not once let baby fall—­
  I never let him go.”