I

THE PALACE PLAYTIME

Follow Me!

Children go

To and fro,

In a merry, pretty row,
Footsteps light,
Faces bright;

"Tis a happy sight,

Swiftly turning round and round, Never look upon the ground;

Follow me,
Full of glee,
Singing merrily.

Work is done,

Play's begun;

Now we have our laugh and fun;

Happy days,

Pretty plays,

And no naughty ways.

Holding fast each other's hand,
We're a happy little band;

Follow me,
Full of glee,
Singing merrily.

Birds are free;

So are we;

And we live as happily.

Work we do,

Study too,

For we learn "Twice two ";
Then we laugh, and dance, and sing,
Gay as larks upon the wing;

Follow me,

Full of glee,

Singing merrily.

Eliza Lee Follen.

The Baby's Birthday

Come, Charles, blow the trumpet,

And George, beat the drum,

For this is the baby's birthday!
Little Annie shall sing,

And Jemmy shall dance,

And father the jews-harp will play.

Rad-er-er too tan-da-ro te

Rad-er-er tad-or-er tan do re.

Come toss up the ball,

And spin the hum top;

We'll have a grand frolic to-day;

Let's make some soap bubbles,
And blow them up high,

And see what the baby will say.
Rad-er-er too tan-da-ro te
Rad-er-er tad-or-er tan do re.

We'll play the grand Mufti;
Let's all make a ring;

The tallest the Mufti shall play;
You must look in his face,

And see what he does,

And mind what the Mufti shall say.

Rad-er-er too tan-da-ro te

Rad-er-er tad-or-er tan do re.

And now we'll play soldiers;

All hold up your heads!

Don't you know 'tis the baby's birthday?

You must turn out your toes,

And toss your feet high;

There! this, boys and girls, is the way.

Rad-er-er too tan-da-ro te

Rad-er-er tad-or-er tan do re.

Eliza Lee Follen.

Counting Out

Intery, mintery, cutery-corn,
Apple seed and apple thorn;
Wire, brier, limber-lock,
Five geese in a flock,

Sit and sing by a spring,
O-u-t, and in again.

A Tea-Party

You see, merry Phillis, that dear little maid,
Has invited Belinda to tea;

Her nice little garden is shaded by trees,-
What pleasanter place could there be?

There's a cake full of plums, there are strawberries too,

And the table is set on the green;

I'm fond of a carpet all daisies and grass,-
Could a prettier picture be seen?

A blackbird (yes, blackbirds delight in warm weather,)

Is flitting from yonder high spray;

He sees the two little ones talking together,

No wonder the blackbird is gay.

Kate Greenaway.