Part 1

THE LITTLE WHITE GATE

_By_

FLORENCE HOATSON

_Illustrated by_

MARGARET W. TARRANT

GEORGE G. HARRAP & CO. LTD

LONDON CALCUTTA SYDNEY

_To_ MY FATHER

_First published_ 1925 _by_ GEORGE G. HARRAP & Co. LTD. 39-41 _Parker Street, Kingsway, London, W.C._2

_Printed in Great Britain by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, Edinburgh

Acknowledgment

The author's best thanks are due to the Editor of _The Schoolmistress_ for permission to include many verses which have appeared in that journal; also to the Editor and Proprietors of _Punch_ for courteously allowing the inclusion of "Hyde Park"; and to the Editor of the _Daily News_ for permission to reprint "Christmas Eve."

Contents

I. _Field and Garden_ (_All the Year Round_)

The First Lamb The First Shoot The Bulb House God's Pictures Yellow Grey Girl Buttercup Gold The Green Bank of England A Day A Summer Picture Leap Year Songs of the Pine-wood A Poppy Song The Bird Bath Autumn Who? The Friend of Santa Claus Christmas Eve

II. _Fairies_

Hyde Park Moss Little Moth Fairies in the Cupboard Fairy Frilly The Snail and the Fairy When Fairies have a Picnic Fairy Gramophone A Wish

III. _Home_

Granny Blossoms Aunty's Album Aunt Matilda Aunt Matilda Again When Mummy has a Headache To Mummy Naughty The Little Drawer Mother and the Dark Influenza The Little Boy Next Door A Little Boy's Thoughts Two Dolls Tibby The Thin Cat Pussy Language Estella Dreams

IV. _Stories_

The Pixies on the Moor Jerry The Toys in the Cupboard The Pencil's Story New Year Brother Francis The Little Red Lamp

_The Little White Gate_

_A gate is made for shutting, and that is always right, But only when it's black, and brown, NEVER when it's white, Never when it's white, dears, and very tiny too; It always must be open for the fairies to slip through!_

_They choose a little white gate became it's clean and neat, They sit upon the topmost bar and swing their fairy feet; And if you say you love them they'll make a fairy din, And open wide the little gate and simply pull you in!_

I

_FIELD AND GARDEN_

(_All the Year Round_)

_The First Lamb_

Take a bit of woolly stuff, Kiss it till it's warm enough, Roll it up with play and fun, That's a lamb--a little one!

_The First Shoot_

He peeped up through the winter snow, His little hands together--so, I almost think I heard his prayer; He did not know that I was there.

_The Bulb House_

The little bulb house is a house of brown, Its doors are locked and its blinds are down Winds may whistle and winds may creep, The little brown house is a house of sleep.

But when the sun gives a golden knock The blinds go up and the doors unlock. The sleepy tenant will softly stir, And throw off the garment that covers her.

And she will put on her dress with care, A Hyacinth lady, tall and fair. All this magic in scent and blue You may buy in the shop for a copper or two!

_God's Pictures_

God keeps His pictures in the big Outside, And some are narrow ones and some are wide.

I like His picture of the field the best, With grass, and sky that meets it, and the rest

Of very lovely things I cannot name-- The hawthorn hedge around it is the frame.

_Yellow_

Of all the colours God has made I love the pretty yellow shade-- The colour of canaries' wings, Of baby ducks, and fluffy things; I think He must have spilt the sun Upon the darlings, every one!

Grey Girl

A little Grey Girl in a little Grey Cloak Came over the hill by the lane-- She carried a bundle which suddenly broke. "Oh, dear," cried the Girl in the little Grey Cloak, "I am losing my beautiful rain!"

_Buttercup Gold_

There are rich little boys in the big, wide world, And rich little girls, I'm told. But the poorest child is the richest child If he gathers Buttercup gold.

God puts it out in the grassy fields For anyone passing there. Come, gather the Buttercup gold with me, There's more than enough to spare!

_The Green Bank of England_

Have you seen the gold in the Green Bank of England? Wonderful, beautiful, lovely to behold-- Aconite and coltsfoot, buttercup and daffodil, Crocus and celandine, and dandelion bold!

Have you found the gold in the Green Bank of England? You may go and take it--none of it is sold. Gorse, broom, and ragwort, bedstraw and cowslip, Kingcup and pansy, and silver-weed gold.

Yours is the gold in the Green Bank of England, Yours for the asking--treasury untold; Potentilla, primrose, yellow vetch, and trefoil, Pimpernel and hawkweed, and pussy-willow gold.

_A Day_

Morning came to Baby, her feet all wet with dew, Her hair was yellow sunshine, her eyes were skyey blue, And she said, "Wake up, my darling, I have brought a day for you."

_Summer Picture_

Some red, red earth and a hawthorn hedge, And a dear little round front door; A nibble, nibble, along the edge, And one little nibble more.

A whispering rustle in yellow wheat, The clink of a milking-pail, And a sudden scamper of furry feet, And the bob of a little white tail.

_Leap Year_

Froggie hopped the other day Very, very high; Mrs Frog said, "Well, I never, Didn't know you were so clever, Tell the reason why!"

Froggie gave another hop, Winked his little eye-- "As the year is Leap Year, Mother, I can really do no other-- That's the reason why!"

_Songs of the Pine-wood_

There was a little seaside breeze who loved to dance and play; He'd rush along the yellow sands and fly across the bay; And when the frothy billows began to sway and roll, He'd find the highest seaweed rock and rest his little soul.

But other breezes came along, ten thousand and a score; They pushed and jostled all the day upon the sea and shore; And little breeze got weary of rough and noisy play, Said he, "I'll find another home--it's time I went away."

He spread his wings of silver light and flew across the foam, And in a wood of scented pines he found his little home. So, if you stop and listen, you'll hear the little breeze As he sings his sweet sea-music in the branches of the trees.

_A Poppy Song_

When the sun comes peeping Baby Poppy wakes herself, Twists herself and shakes herself, Throws aside her greeny bonnet With the silver down upon it, Says good-bye to sleeping When the sun comes peeping.

When the bees come wooing Lady Poppy crowns herself, Nods her head and gowns herself In the prettiest of dresses, Scarlet crinkled frillinesses, Knows what she is doing When the bees come wooing.

When the wind comes calling Mother Poppy shakes herself, Brown and crinkled makes herself, Opens little windows wide, Drops her babies down outside, Sees them softly falling When the wind comes calling.

_The Bird Bath_

There is a bird bath on our grass, I wait to watch it as I pass, And see the little sparrow things Stand on the edge with flapping wings. They give each eye a merry wink And stoop to take a little drink, And then, before I'm fairly gone, They bath with all their clothing on!

_Autumn_

Yellow the bracken, Golden the sheaves, Rosy the apples, Crimson the leaves; Mist on the hillside, Clouds grey and white. Autumn, good morning! Summer, good night!

_Who?_

Who will feed the dicky-birds on the garden wall? Winter-time is very big--they are very small!

Who will feed the dicky-birds on the frozen trees? Every little twitter means, "Feed us, if you please!"

Who will feed the dicky-birds in the frost and snow? See them on the chimney-pot, cuddled in a row!

Who will feed the dicky-birds till the days of spring? Think of what they do for you and the songs they sing!

_I will feed the dicky-birds, and when Spring-time comes, Every little song will mean,_ "_Thank you for the crumbs!_"

_The Friend of Santa Claus_

She is the friend of Santa Claus, You never hear her step, because In velvet shoes she likes to creep To put the boys and girls to sleep.

They like to stay awake and try To see the dear old man come by, But little Sleep, who is so wise, Puts velvet fingers on their eyes.

She steals across a thousand floors, This faithful friend of Santa Claus; So even if you stay awake She'll leave you sleeping for his sake!

_Christmas Eve_

"Tick-tock," said the Nursery Clock, "Please remember that little sock; Nannie, mend the hole in the toe, The goodies will tumble out, you know. Tick-tock, tick-tock," Said the clickity-clackity Nursery Clock.

"Hush, hush," said Santa Claus, As he peeped inside the bedroom doors, "I am looking around for a little sock, Do you know where it is, please, Mr Clock?" "Tick-tock, tick-tock, It hangs over there," said the Nursery Clock.

"Tick-tock," said the Nursery Clock, And pointed straight at the little sock. Oh, yes, he did, for don't you see, A clock has hands like you and me.... "Tick-tock, tick-tock, I am always _right_," said the Nursery Clock.

II

_FAIRIES_

_Hyde Park_

The fairies live in Hyde Park--the London ones, I mean; They love to see the blue sky and feel a bit of green; They look out for the children, and beckon as they pass, And fix up fairy notices, "Please keep ON the grass."

The fairies live in Hyde Park because they love to hide; They tell the roar of London Town to keep itself outside, For there are all the furry things, the birds and woolly lambs, And little new-born fairy-folk asleep inside their prams.

The fairies live in Hyde Park, and in the month of March A little girl comes riding underneath the Marble Arch; She goes by way of Hyde Park, the fairies say she can-- A busy little Wendy girl, to stay with Peter Pan.

_Moss_

Very wee and low, Creeping, as you know, Up and then across, Is the little moss.

Fairy fronds of green, Spreading out are seen, Very soft and neat, Fit for fairy feet.

If you see it there, Will you please take care? Always step across When you see the moss.

_Little Moth_

He didn't know a lamp could burn, Poor dainty little thing, So back again he did return, And burnt his tiny wing!

A fairy heard him crying there, So like a loving elf She found she had a wing to spare, The kind she wore herself.

She fixed it on--her dainty wing-- With bits of softest cloth; Now half of him's a fairy thing, The other half is _moth_!

_Fairies in the Cupboard_

I _know_ they're in our cupboard; Shall I tell you why? I hear them laughing, talking, As I am passing by. A teeny-weeny rustle, The way that dry leaves go-- Oh, yes, they're in our cupboard, 'Cos I _know_!

I _know_ they're in our cupboard-- One night I heard a chink, I guess they like our china, It's rather thin and pink! It's very smooth and shiny, For a tiny fairy toe-- Oh, yes, they're in our cupboard, 'Cos I _know_!

And once when I was peeping, And it was rather late, I saw a ring of fairies Upon the biggest plate! And there, upon the teapot, I saw a _perfect row_-- Oh, yes, they're in our cupboard, 'Cos I _know_!

I _know_ they're in our cupboard, I've _heard_ them in the jug; They scramble on the saucers, And hide inside my mug. Their babies _love_ the egg-cups-- They stand inside them--so! Oh, yes, they're in our cupboard, 'Cos I _know_!

_Fairy Frilly_

Fairy Frilly for half an hour Went to sleep in a poppy flower-- Went to sleep in her little green frock, And the time of the ball was ten o'clock. Quarter to ten and five to ten Ticked from the dandelion clock again, But Fairy Frilly was deaf to all, _And ten was the time of the fairy ball!_

Little West Wind came by that way, And he pulled off the petal where Frilly lay, Pulled it off with the fairy on it, And blew with a great big breath upon it. Off sailed the petal, Frilly and all-- And _that's_ how she managed to get to the ball.

_The Snail and the Fairy_

A fairy went a walk one day And found that she had lost her way. "Oh, dear," she cried, "what shall I do, I promised I'd be in by two!"

Now Brother Snail was passing by; He heard the little fairy cry; He stopped awhile and then turned back, And made for her a silver track!

So if _you_ take a walk to-day, Don't tread the silver tracks away. Remember, as you walk along, To nervous fairies they belong!

_When Fairies have a Picnic_

When fairies have a picnic they always tidy up; It would be a disgraceful thing to leave a broken cup. They roll up bits of paper, and hide the orange-skin, And find a most convenient hole to put the rubbish in!

When fairies have a picnic they see the fire is out, For fear that Brother Wind may come and scatter it about. They leave a pile of brushwood, as that is nice and dry, For other picnic people who are certain to pass by!

When fairies have a picnic they never break the trees, They smooth the grass and daisy-buds as gently as you please, And packing up their baskets they softly steal away, And leave the place all beautiful for some one else to play!

_Fairy Gramophone_

When you're still and quite alone Hear the fairy gramophone, Now a march for fairy feet, Now a lullaby so sweet; Overture from fairy play, Melody of little fay. Sit upon this mossy stone-- Play on, fairy gramophone!

Sweet the fairy records are, Sun, and moon, and twinkling star, Winds that call and streams that rush, Song of Tit, and Brother Thrush, Call of little furry things, Rustle of a hundred wings-- Hear the fairy gramophone When you're still and quite alone!

_A Wish_

I wished a wish the other night as hard as hard could be, That just a fairy would peep in and come and talk to me.

I cuddled tightly in my bed, the clothes up round my chin, And kept my eyes awake to watch the fairy coming in.

I counted patterns on the wall and pictures just the same, To help to while the time away until the fairy came.

The little clock went tick-a-tock, the wind sang round the house, I heard a step upon the floor as soft as any mouse.

I watched the door so carefully--I didn't want to miss, But it was only _Mother dear_ who came to have a kiss.

I told my daddy the next day how silly I had been; He said, "Your wish came _more_ than true---_you saw the fairy Queen!_"

III

_HOME_

_Granny_

When Granny comes to stop with us she always loves to play; She talks to every single doll and knows just what to say. You haven't got to tell her why and lots of things explain, She's been a little girl like me and wants to be again!

She knows Eliza's got a cough and only has one lung, She knows Matilda's very bad and says, "Put out your tongue." She always has a penny for the sweetshop in the lane, She's been a little girl like me and wants to be again!

She knows a lot of lovely songs and every nursery rime, She always knows that three o'clock is such a hungry time; She lets me hold all by myself the 'brella in the rain-- I'm glad she's been a little girl and wants to be again!

_Blossoms_

Little baby blossoms Swinging in the trees, Laughing at the daisies, Kissing all the bees. Little baby blossoms Are very sweet and small, But Mother's little blossom Is sweeter than them all!

Little baby blossoms, Dress in white and pink, Holding cups of honey For the bees to drink; But Mother's little blossom Has eyes, and nose, and chin, With the sweetest little dimple To tuck the kisses in!

Every baby blossom Swinging gaily there Grows into an apple, Or perhaps a pear; But Mother's little blossom, Deny it if you can, Will wear a coat and trousers, And grow into a man!

_Aunty's Album_

When Aunty says that I may look Inside her precious album-book I have to sit upon a chair And take it on my lap _with care_!

There's Uncle John Josiah Brown (He has a frame all blue and brown); He wears a tie all long and wide, And whiskers growing on each side!

There's Great-Aunt Henrietta too (_Her_ frame is pink and green and blue), Her curls hang down beneath her cap, And you should see her satin lap!

There's Grandpapa, with snow-white hair, And Grandmamma upon a chair; There are three cousins, if you please, With hands put stiffly on their knees.

There's Mummy in the queerest hat, And Daddy looking very fat; There's Aunty Bess and Uncle Jim-- It's really very good of him!

But quite the queerest thing I see Is somebody they say is _me_! A horrid little stuck-up girl, With hair done up in one big curl!

Says Aunty softly in my ear, "_Be careful of the album, dear._" And then she puts it right away, Until I come another day.

_Aunt Matilda_

When Aunt Matilda's in the house I have to walk just like a mouse.

I dare not make a noise, you see, Because her eye just looks at me.

And if I want to leave my crust I eat it 'cos I feel I must.

She has a Sunday-morning look, And reads a fat, improving book.

And once, when she was rather ill, She said she'd put me in her _will_!

I ran away, I didn't care, For fear that she _should put me there_!

But when I told my daddy, he Just laughed and laughed and laughed at me!

_Aunt Matilda Again_

When Aunt Matilda stays with us We have to be so neat and clean, And Father makes a dreadful fuss, Till after Aunty's been.

We never have to make a noise, It's so unladylike, you see, For girls to act like great rough boys. (I'm sure that's meant for me!)

We go to bed at seven P.M., That is the hour that Aunties keep When they are young! (I pity them-- However _did_ they sleep!)

We have to be so very good-- At meal-times never once be late, And eat up every scrap of food Upon the dinner-plate.

On Sundays we must always wear Our dresses with clean 'tuckers' in; I really don't know how I bear The pricking on my chin!

But Father dear forgets to frown, And Mother looks quite young again, When Aunty gets the _Bradshaw_ down, And finds a morning train.

_When Mummy has a Headache_

When Mummy has a headache I help her all I can; I put scent on a hankie, And fan her with a fan.

I play with little Jackie (He's very nearly three), And then I lay the table, And make the toast for tea.

When Mummy has a headache, I kiss her on her hair, And tell her not to worry, 'Cause I am ready there.

And Mummy's head gets better-- And once I heard her say, A darling little fairy Had sent it _quite_ away!

_To Mummy_

I shall never leave you, Mummy, Even when I'm tall. I'll build a darling little house Beside our garden wall. And you'll never see me grown-up, You'll only see me small.

I'll never leave you, Mummy, Because you'd miss me so, But Daddy says it's awkward (And Daddy ought to know), And so I've _quite_ decided _I don't intend to grow!_

_Naughty_

I ain't a-goin' to wash myself, nor brush and comb my hair, I call it just a waste of time, for dust is everywhere; I get myself as black as black a hundred times a day, So what's the good o' washing, anyway?

I ain't a-going to bed at all; the best time for a lark Is when the inside is lit up and outside all is dark; And if you go to bed at night you get up when it's day, So what's the good o' goin', anyway?

_The Little Drawer_

Mother has a little drawer Which she will unlock for me, When I'm very, very good, With a tiny key!

In it are the nicest things, Little socks and baby's shoes; Just the ones I like the best Mother lets me choose.

There are tiny pinafores, And a faded frock, I see. Mother says the little frock Once belonged to me.

There's a tiny hat as well, Made of lace with crumpled strings; And the teeny-weeny bibs Are such darling things!

Lavender is here and there In the cosy little drawer; And I beg to look again, Just a little more!

"Why does Mother keep them all?" But she only strokes my hand: When I'm big as Mother dear I shall understand!

_Mother and the Dark_

When Mother tucks me up in bed and kisses me good-night I often wish she'd leave the lamp a weeny bit alight, For whispers seem to float about and little shadows creep, And though I try so very hard I cannot go to sleep!

The pillow gets into a lump and sticks into my head, The bedclothes go and twist themselves and tumble off the bed; There was a biscuit that I ate (I saved it from my tea), And every tiny little crumb seems sticking into me!

I see the Dark come riding by--he looks so big and tall, And when I think I am asleep I'm not asleep at all; And so I pull the bedclothes up and tuck them round my chin To stop the little bits of Dark from trying to get in.

But somehow all the horrid clothes seem slipping off from me, The silly counterpane is where the blanket ought to be; I pull and pull like anything to get them round my feet, But all that I can find is just a little bit of sheet!

But somebody is at the door, for I can see her peep, And somebody is whispering, "Is little Boy asleep?" And Mother comes and tucks me up and drives the Dark away, For Dark and mothers can't agree, whatever you may say!

_Influenza_

My daddy had an aching head And looked so ill that Mother said, "Don't make a noise, for Dad's in bed, _In bed with Influenza_."

I crept up like a mouse would creep, In case dear Daddy was asleep, And round the door I tried to peep _To look at Influenza!_

I only saw dear Daddy's head Upon the pillow on the bed. He was alone ... yet Mother said _He was with Influenza!_

_The Little Boy Next Door_

There is a little boy next door, He often peeps at me When Nursie takes me for a walk Before I have my tea. And when I take my dollies out He watches more and more-- I wonder why he doesn't play-- The little boy next door!

His eyes are very big and brown, His hair is soft and bright; But I am sure he's ill, because His face is thin and white. He never walks a single step, Although I'm sure he's four-- His nursie always carries him-- The little boy next door!

Sometimes he waves his hand to me And beckons me--like this: And I just climb up on my chair And blow him back a kiss. He loves to watch the sunbeams dance, Or great big raindrops pour; And every tiny birdie knows The little boy next door!

But yesterday--I can't forget-- I stood up in my chair To beckon to the little boy; But, oh! he wasn't there. And Nursie said he'd gone away-- She wouldn't tell me more-- I wonder if he thinks of me-- The little boy next door!

_A Little Boy's Thoughts_

I'm tired of being tidy, And having to "take care"; I wish I hadn't collars, I wish I hadn't hair. I'd rather be a tiger, An elephant, or bear, A Hottentot or Zulu, Or lion in his lair. I'd rather have an island, Away just anywhere, Than go on being tidy-- So there!

I'm tired of being tidy, And having clothes to wear; They always lose their buttons, Or split themselves and tear. I'd rather be an eagle And soar up in the air; I'd rather be a leopard With yellow eyes that stare; I'd rather be a cowboy (If I could only dare!) Than go on being tidy-- So there!

_Two Dolls_