A peerless Princess thou shalt be,
  Through wit of love’s rare sorcery: 
  To crown the crown of thy gold hair
  Thou shalt have rubies, bleeding there
  Their crimson splendor midst the marred
  Pulp of great pearls, and afterward

[Illustration]

  Leaking in fainter ruddy stains
  Adown thy neck-and-armlet-chains
  Of turquoise, chrysoprase, and mad
  Light-frenzied diamonds, dartling glad
  Swift spirts of shine that interfuse
  As though with lucent crystal dews
  That glance and glitter like split rays
  Of sunshine, born of burgeoning Mays
  When the first bee tilts down the lip
  Of the first blossom, and the drip
  Of blended dew and honey heaves
  Him blinded midst the underleaves. 
  For raiment, Fays shall weave for thee—­
  Out of the phosphor of the sea
  And the frayed floss of starlight, spun
  With counterwarp of the firm sun—­
  A vesture of such filmy sheen
  As, through all ages, never queen
  Therewith strove truly to make less
  One fair line of her loveliness. 
  Thus gowned and crowned with gems and gold,
  Thou shalt, through centuries untold,
  Rule, ever young and ever fair,
  As now thou rulest, smiling there.

* * * * *

OLD MAN WHISKERY-WHEE-KUM-WHEEZE

Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze Lives ‘way up in the leaves o’ trees.  An’ wunst I slipped up-stairs to play In Aunty’s room, while she ’uz away; An’ I clumbed up in her cushion-chair An’ ist peeked out o’ the winder there; An’ there I saw—­wite out in the trees—­ Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze!

  An’ Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze
  Would bow an’ bow, with the leaves in the breeze,
  An’ waggle his whiskers an’ raggledy hair,
  An’ bow to me in the winder there! 
  An’ I ‘d peek out, an’ he’d peek in
  An’ waggle his whiskers an’ bow ag’in,
  Ist like the leaves’u’d wave in the breeze—­
  Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “BOW TO ME IN THE WINDER THERE!”]

* * * * *

  An’ Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze,
  Seem-like, says to me:  “See my bees
  A-bringin’ my dinner?  An’ see my cup
  O’ locus’-blossoms they’ve plum’ filled up?”
  An’ “Um-yum, honey!” wuz last he said,
  An’ waggled his whiskers an’ bowed his head;
  An’ I yells, “Gimme some, won’t you, please,
  Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze?”

[Illustration]

* * * * *

[Illustration]

LITTLE-GIRL-T
WO-LITTLE-GIRLS

  I’m twins, I guess, ’cause my Ma say
    I’m two little girls.  An’ one o’ me
    Is Good little girl; an’ th’other ‘n’ she
    Is Bad little girl as she can be!
  An’ Ma say so, ‘most ever’ day.