Polly

Brown eyes,
Straight nose;
Dirt pies,
Rumpled clothes;

Torn books,
Spoilt toys;
Arch looks.
Unlike a boy's;

Little rages
Obvious arts;
(Three her age is,)
Cakes, tarts;

Falling down
Off chairs;
Breaking crown
Down stairs;

Catching flies
On the pane;
Deep sighs, —
Cause not plain;

Bribing you
With kisses
For a few
Farthing blisses;

Wide awake,
As you hear,
" Mercy's sake.
Quiet dear! "

New shoes,
New frock;
Vague views
Of what's o'clock

When it's time
To go to bed,
And scorn sublime
For what is said;

Folded hands,
Saying prayers,
Understands
Not, nor cares;

Thinks it odd.
Smiles away;
Yet may God
Hear her pray!

Bedgown white
Kiss Dolly;
Good night! —
That's Polly.

Fast asleep,
As you see;
Heaven keep
My girl for me!