Carolyn Wells Poems
There lived in ancient Scribbletown a wise old writer-man,
Whose name was Homer Cicero Demosthenes McCann.
He'd written treatises and themes till, 'For a change,' he said,
'I think I'll write a children's book before I go to bed.'
He pulled down all his musty tomes in Latin and in Greek;
Consulted cyclopaedias and manuscripts antique,
Essays in Anthropology, studies in counterpoise--
'For these,' he said, 'are useful lore for little girls and boys.'
He scribbled hard, and scribbled fast, he burned the midnight oil,
And when he reached 'The End' he felt ...
A Dream Lesson
Once there was a little boy who wouldn't go to bed,
When they hinted at the subject he would only shake his head,
When they asked him his intentions, he informed them pretty straight
That he wouldn't go to bed at all, and Nursey needn't wait.
As their arguments grew stronger, and their attitude more strict,
I grieve to say that naughty boy just yelled and screamed and kicked.
And he made up awful faces, and he told them up and down
That he wouldn't go to bed for all the nurses in the to