Part 4
I was just a little thing When a fairy came and kissed me; Floating in upon the light Of a haunted summer night, Lo, the fairies came to sing Pretty slumber songs and bring Certain boons that else had missed me. From a dream I turned to see What those strangers brought for me, When that fairy up and kissed me-- Here, upon this cheek, he kissed me!
Simmerdew was there, but she Did not like me altogether; Daisybright and Turtledove, Pilfercurds and Honeylove, Thistleblow and Amberglee On that gleaming, ghostly sea Floated from the misty heather, And around my trundle-bed Frisked, and looked, and whispering said-- Solemnlike and all together: “_You_ shall kiss him, Ganderfeather!”
Ganderfeather kissed me then-- Ganderfeather, quaint and merry! No attenuate sprite was he, --But as buxom as could be;-- Kissed me twice, and once again, And the others shouted when On my cheek uprose a berry Somewhat like a mole, mayhap, But the kiss-mark of that chap Ganderfeather, passing merry-- Humorsome, but kindly, very!
I was just a tiny thing When the prankish Ganderfeather Brought this curious gift to me With his fairy kisses three; Yet with honest pride I sing That same gift he chose to bring Out of yonder haunted heather. Other charms and friendships fly-- Constant friends this mole and I, Who have been so long together Thank you, little Ganderfeather!
BAMBINO
Bambino in his cradle slept; And by his side his grandam grim Bent down and smiled upon the child, And sung this lullaby to him,-- This “ninna and anninia”:
“When thou art older, thou shalt mind To traverse countries far and wide, And thou shalt go where roses blow And balmy waters singing glide-- So ninna and anninia!
“And thou shalt wear, trimmed up in points, A famous jacket edged in red, And, more than that, a peakéd hat, All decked in gold, upon thy head-- Ah! ninna and anninia!
“Then shalt thou carry gun and knife, Nor shall the soldiers bully thee; Perchance, beset by wrong or debt, A mighty bandit thou shalt be-- So ninna and anninia!
“No woman yet of our proud race Lived to her fourteenth year unwed; The brazen churl that eyed a girl Bought her the ring or paid his head-- So ninna and anninia!
“But once came spies (I know the thieves!) And brought disaster to our race; God heard us when our fifteen men Were hanged within the market-place-- But ninna and anninia!
“Good men they were, my babe, and true,-- Right worthy fellows all, and strong; Live thou and be for them and me Avenger of that deadly wrong-- So ninna and anninia!”
LITTLE HOMER’S SLATE
After dear old grandma died, Hunting through an oaken chest In the attic, we espied What repaid our childish quest; ’Twas a homely little slate, Seemingly of ancient date.
On its quaint and battered face Was the picture of a cart, Drawn with all that awkward grace Which betokens childish art; But what meant this legend, pray: “Homer drew this yesterday”?
Mother recollected then What the years were fain to hide-- She was but a baby when Little Homer lived and died; Forty years, so mother said, Little Homer had been dead.
This one secret through those years Grandma kept from all apart, Hallowed by her lonely tears And the breaking of her heart; While each year that sped away Seemed to her but yesterday.
So the homely little slate Grandma’s baby’s fingers pressed, To a memory consecrate, Lieth in the oaken chest, Where, unwilling we should know, Grandma put it, years ago.