The Book of the Little Past
Making a house

irst of all, I draw the Smoke

Trailing up the sky;

Then the Chimney, underneath;

And Birds all flying by;

Then the House; and every Window,

Watching, like an Eye.

Everybody else begins

With the House. But I

Love the Smoke the best of all;

And you don't know why!...

Here it goes,—like little feathers,

Sailing up the sky!

[Pg 2]

The Busy Child

 have so many things to do,

I don't know when I shall be through.

To-day I had to watch the rain

Come sliding down the window-pane.

And I was humming, all the time,


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