MISTRESS MARY
“O MISTRESS Mary—Mistress Mary—
What have you found in your new old house?
Paperers are waiting you, and carpenters, and gardeners—
And you are up garret, just as still as a mouse!
What makes your eyes so wet and so round?
Mary—Mary! What have you found?”
“Where the sour old wind grieves under the eaves
There’s an old trunk hid—Oh the dust on the lid!
I pulled out from it a gay round box,
And in it were worn-out boots and socks—
Little, soft socks and little, stout boots—
And a child’s crude drawings of flowers and fruits,
And a tiny toy whip, and a ship and a ball—
Oh—they’re just like a little lost boy! That’s all!”