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Category: Funny Juniors Poems
       Classic humorous and funny poems for children, about kids, and for kids of all shapes and sizes.

  A LITTLE GOOSE  

The chill November day was done,
    The working world home faring;
The wind came roaring through the streets
    And set the gas-lights flaring;
And hopelessly and aimlessly
    The scared old leaves were flying;
When, mingled with the sighing wind,
    I heard a small voice crying.

And shivering on the corner stood
    A child of four, or over;
No cloak or hat her small, soft arms,
    And wind blown curls to cover.
Her dimpled face was stained with tears;
    Her round blue eyes ran over;
She cherished in her wee, cold hand,
    A bunch of faded clover.

And one hand round her treasure while
    She slipped in mine the other:
Half scared, half confidential, said,
    "Oh! please, I want my mother!"
"Tell me your street and number, pet:
    Don't cry, I'll take you to it."
Sobbing she answered, "I forget:
    The organ made me do it.

"He came and played at Milly's steps,
    The monkey took the money;
And so I followed down the street,
    The monkey was so funny.
I've walked about a hundred hours,
    From one street to another:
The monkey's gone, I've spoiled my flowers,
    Oh! please, I want my mother."

"But what's your mother's name? and what
    The street? Now think a minute."
"My mother's name is mamma dear--
    The street--I can't begin it."
"But what is strange about the house,
    Or new--not like the others?"
"I guess you mean my trundle-bed,
    Mine and my little brother's.

"Oh dear! I ought to be at home
    To help him say his prayers,--
He's such a baby he forgets;
    And we are both such players;--
And there's a bar to keep us both
    From pitching on each other,
For Harry rolls when he's asleep:
    Oh dear! I want my mother."

The sky grew stormy; people passed
    All muffled, homeward faring:
"You'll have to spend the night with me,"
    I said at last, despairing,
I tied a kerchief round her neck--
    "What ribbon's this, my blossom?"
"Why don't you know!" she smiling, said,
    And drew it from her bosom.

A card with number, street, and name;
    My eyes astonished met it;
"For," said the little one, "you see
    I might sometimes forget it:
And so I wear a little thing
    That tells you all about it;
For mother says she's very sure
    I should get lost without it."

                    Eliza Sproat Turner.


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