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Cornell University Library 
 PR4779.H13H2 
 
 Happy springtime in pictures by Oscar PI 
 
 3 1924 013 481 456 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013481456 
 
HAPPY SPRING-TIME 
 
 BY 
 
 OSCAR PLETSCH. 
 
HAPPY SPRINGTIME 
 
 IN PICTURES 
 
 OSCAR PLETSCH. 
 
 nilH RHYMES FOR MOTHERS AND CHILDREN 
 
 M,. 
 By Mrs. Charles Heaton. 
 
 3!'oubmv : 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 1874. 
 
■u OS ■h-i.\ 
 
 ldndon: 
 
 K. CLAY, 'bO^S, AND TAYLOR, I'RlNTEli^ 
 >iREAD STKEET KILL. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Oscar Pletsch's delightful pictures of child-life 
 are now so well known in England, that nothing 
 more need be said in recommendation of this 
 little volume than that it is illustrated by him. 
 The verses that appeared with the German edition 
 contained allusions that even in a translation would 
 have been unintelligible to English children. It 
 was therefore thought better to have fresh ones. 
 I hope that my interpretations of the pictures will 
 prove satisfactory to my little hearers or readers. 
 
 M. M. H. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 TAI.?, 
 
 Washing Baby . .... 11 
 
 Infancy .... 14 
 
 Spitz's Education 18 
 
 The Organ Boy . . 22 
 
 Margaret's Garden . .... 26 
 
 Little May . . 30 
 
 Our Baby-Boy ..... . . .34 
 
 Little Brook . . . ... .38 
 
 Pussy, dear Pussy . 42 
 
 Margaret's Masic . . . .46 
 
 Summer-time ... . .50 
 
 First Love .... . . 54 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 PACE 
 
 The Army's Eeturn . 5''^ 
 
 Lady Tabbtskin's Ball 62 
 
 Off to the War ... G6 
 
 Good Morning .... 70 
 
 The Fall ... 7i 
 
 A Village Maiti was I . 78 
 
 The Old Mill 82 
 
 Little Daisy . . . EG 
 
WASHINCx BABY. 
 
 ABY, baby, do not cry, 
 
 Nurse must wash and rub you dry ; 
 Wash tbe little dimply face, 
 Wash each little creasy place. 
 Wash the little curly ears, 
 Wash away the falling tears, 
 
 S%^ 
 
 2^- 
 
WASHING BABY. 13 
 
 Wash the soft fat neck so sweet, 
 Little hands and little feet. 
 
 When to bed my Baby goes, 
 Doggie runs off with her clothes ; 
 Pussy puts away her frock, 
 Mousey carries off her sock ; 
 And what is naughty Bunny at, 
 In my Baby's garden hat 1 
 He has stuck it on one ear. 
 Funny Bunny, bring it here ! 
 
" ffeaven lies about ics in our infancy." — Wuiidsworth. 
 
 So near to heaven our Baby-boy, 
 
 Wlio came to us last year, 
 That still his former playmates love 
 
 To play with him clown here. 
 
 In tender cooing tones he talks 
 
 To angel-guests unseen 
 By our dim eyes, that cannot pierce 
 
 Tlie mists of years between. 
 
 And often when asleep he lies, 
 
 A smile comes o'er his face. 
 And then we know that he hath dreams 
 
 Of some more joyful place ; 
 
INFANCY. 
 
 Of some fair world unknown to us, 
 But shedding still its rays 
 
 Of beauty and of innocence 
 O'er childhood's early days. 
 
SPITZ'S EDUCATION. 
 
 Oh, Spitz, this really is too bad, 
 
 A dog brouglit up like you ! 
 Do you forget already. Sir, 
 
 All you've been taught to do ? 
 
 Now look at me, and pray attend ; 
 
 Give me your right hand paw. 
 No ! that is not the right one, Spitz ; 
 
 I've told you that before. 
 
 When I say "Trust," you know, dear Spitz, 
 
 Your honour is concerned : 
 You would not gobble up the cake 
 
 Because my back was turned. 
 
spitz's educatiok. 21 
 
 And you must learn to balance things 
 
 Upon your shiny nose ; 
 And, Spitz, be careful when you walk, 
 
 To well turn out your toes. 
 
 Some day I'll teach you, Spitz, to walk 
 
 Upon two legs like me ; 
 But then, old Spitz, you must behave 
 
 With more gentility. 
 
 Your paw again — you shocking dog! 
 
 With all the pains I've taken, 
 To find in left and right paw still 
 
 You always are mistaken. 
 
 >^^ 
 
THE OEGAN BOY. 
 
 Where the orange sheds its bloom, 
 And the myrtle its perfume ; 
 Where the red pomegranate flower 
 Burns amidst its dark green bower ; 
 
 'Neath Italia's sunny skies 
 He first opened his dark eyes 
 In a world of light and joy — 
 The poor homeless organ boy. 
 
 But the tide of human woes, 
 Ebbless tide that ever flows. 
 
-C^j,^^' 
 
 THE ORGAN BOY. 
 
THE ORGAN BOY. 25 
 
 Drifted him on these cold shores, 
 To play the organ at our doors. 
 
 Little waif! not all forlorn, 
 
 Though from friends and country torn. 
 
 Still thy marmot loveth thee, 
 
 And kind hearts feel sympathy. 
 
l\rAEGAKET'S GARDEN. 
 
 I HAVE a little garden, 
 A garden of my own, 
 
 And every day I water there 
 The seeds that I liave sown. 
 
 I love my little garden, 
 
 4nd tend it with such care, 
 
 You will not find a faded leaf 
 (Jr blighted blossom there. 
 
 Sweet mignonette and larkspur, 
 Blue lupin and sweet peas, 
 
 White rocket and escholtzia, — 
 I've some of all of these. 
 

 
 MAKGAKET'S OARDEN. 
 
maegaret's garden. 29 
 
 And in the very middle 
 
 A fair white lily grows, 
 And by its side, contrasting well, 
 
 A beautiful red rose. 
 
 Pale primroses and violets 
 
 May also there be found 
 It is the gayest little plot 
 
 In aU the garden round. 
 
 But still I think that there is room 
 For one more flower as well : 
 
 Pray, Mr. Gardener, have you got 
 A Canterbury bell ? 
 
LITTLE MAY. 
 
 Five years old our little May, 
 Five years old her last birthday. 
 She can sing, and she can play. 
 Clever little May. 
 
 She can knit and she can sew, 
 She can read and write also : 
 Many things our May can do. 
 Useful little May. 
 
 May is neither dark nor fair; 
 Chestnut brown her plaited hair; 
 Tinged her skin by sun and air. 
 Henlthy little May. 
 
LITTLE MAT. 
 
LITTLE MAY. 33 
 
 Thoughtful eyes of softest hue, 
 You scarce can tell if grey or blue, 
 But you feel those eyes are true. 
 Honest little May. 
 
 Two sweet dimples when she smUes, 
 When from you, with artful wiles, 
 Some new story she beguiles. 
 
 Coaxing little May. 
 
 She has such a winning grace, 
 In your heart she steals a place ; 
 Very sweet her simple face. 
 
 Darling little May. 
 
 Little things delight her stiU, 
 Little joys her measure fill, 
 Little knows she yet of ill. 
 
 Happy little May. 
 
OUE BABY-BOY. 
 
 Who can that little boy be on the floor ? 
 I think I < remember him somewhere before. 
 
 Ten little fingers and ten little toes, 
 
 Two round eyes and a little snub nose, 
 
 Two dimpled cheeks so fat and so red. 
 
 And a big paper cap on the top of his head ; 
 
 Two curly ears like shells on each side, 
 
 A round little chin and mouth open wide ; 
 
 Four little teeth just able to bite, 
 
 Two rosy lips one could kiss day and night ; 
 
OUR BABr-BOY. 
 
OUR BABY-BOY. 37 
 
 Two sturdy legs just beginning to walk, 
 A sweet saucy tongue just beginning to talk. 
 Oh ! who can he be ? I wish I could tell ; 
 He looks as though he knew me very well. 
 
 Why, it's our little Baby, I really declare ! 
 No greater rascal you'll find anywhere. 
 Come, kiss me, my baby, and let me kiss you ; 
 That's the best thing for a baby to do. 
 
LITTLE BEOOK. 
 
 Where are you running so fast, little Brook, 
 
 Over the stones so grey 1 
 Stop for a moment, I prithee, clear Brook, 
 
 Just for a moment, and play. 
 
 You chatter away as you flow, little Brook, 
 
 But speak to me never a word. 
 Though often I whisper to you, little Brook, 
 
 Sweet secrets by others unheard. 
 
 Oh ! what do you say to the birds, little Brook, 
 
 That fly to your bosom to drink ? 
 Oh! what do you say to the flowers, dear Brook, 
 
 That cluster so close to your brink ? 
 

 LITTLE BEOOK. 
 
 K,. QER-Ttl. SL 
 
LITTLE BROOK. 41 
 
 And what do you say to yourself, little Brook, 
 
 As you ripple in music along ? 
 The while that I fill my pitcher, dear Brook, 
 
 Please, tell me the words of your song. 
 
 You are hasting away to the sea, dear Brook, 
 
 To the great unfathomfed sea ; 
 You may not delay for a moment, dear Brook : 
 
 Is that what you whisper to me 1 
 
 Ah ! then your life is like ours, little Brook ! 
 
 Ever hurrying, hurrying on, 
 Till the waves of an unknown sea, little Brook, 
 
 We reach some day, and are gone. 
 
PUSSY, DEAE PUSSY. 
 
 Pdssy, dear Puss}'-, I've made up your bed, 
 And here is a pillow to rest j^our poor head, 
 A nightcap I'll fetch to tie over your ears : 
 How funny you'll feel when a mousey appears. 
 
 You lie there by Dolly, just blinking your eyes. 
 
 Looking, old Pussy, so solemnly wise. 
 
 As though you knew ever so much more than 
 
 she : 
 Yet, what you are thinking, you never tell me. 
 
 Pray, are you the Pussy-cat, loyal and bold, 
 Who made that so famous long journey of old ? 
 That ever illustrious Pussy, I mean, 
 Who went up to London to visit the Queen. 
 
PUSSY, DEAR PUSSY. 
 
PUSSY, DEAR PUSSY. 45 
 
 Or, are you the cat of the Nursery rhyme, 
 Who played on the fiddle-striugs, once on a 
 
 time? 
 The same, I believe, who ran right up a tree, 
 While someone stood counting out one, two 
 
 and three. 
 
 No, Pussy, I've known you since you were a 
 kitten ; 
 
 Your life, I feel sure, Ma'am, has yet to be 
 written — 
 
 Perhaps by myself, when I know how to write ; 
 
 But now. Pussy dear, I must bid you good- 
 night. 
 
MAKGARET'S MUSIC. 
 
 Margaret [meditating as she counts 1, 2, 3). 
 
 Three crotchets in a bar, 
 Steady uotes those crotchets are ; 
 Six quavers somewhat quicker, 
 Semi-quavers coming thicker, 
 Demi-semi-quavers too. 
 Then a minim counting two. 
 
 Charlie. 
 
 If you don't cease that hum, strum, thrum, 
 I'll tell you what ! I'll get my drum 
 And thump upon it one, two, three. 
 Just in the way that you serve me, 
 Then we will see who makes most noise, 
 Affected girls or 'horrid boys.' 
 
MAEGARET'S MUSIC. 
 
Margaret's music. 49 
 
 Pwpa {in the next room, thin partition). 
 Orpheus with music lulled to rest 
 The passions of the human breast. 
 But I don't know! whene'er I hear 
 Such music as now greets my ear, 
 I feel my temper rising fast, 
 And patience gets worn out at last. 
 I cannot stand it any more. {Aloud.) 
 Pray, stop that wretched din, before — 
 Before you drive me down-right mad. 
 
 Mamma. Another father would be glad 
 To hear the progress Margaret's made 
 This last half-year. 
 
 Papa. For which I've paid. 
 
 Mamma. 
 
 The darling chUd ! She now can play 
 Three tunes ! 
 
 Papa. She's playing them all day. 
 
 Mamma. 
 
 And yet you grudge five pounds a quarter, 
 For music for your little daughter. 
 
 D 
 
SUMMEK-TIME. 
 
 The snow on the mountains 
 
 Is melting away ; 
 Tlie woodlands and valleys 
 
 With blossoms are gay. 
 
 The song-birds are singing 
 
 A melody swoet ; 
 All things are rejoicing 
 
 The summer to greet. 
 
 The bees' pleasant murmur 
 Pervades the warm air ; 
 
 The chirp of the cricket 
 Is heard everywhere. 
 
SUMMER-TIME. 
 
SUMMER-TIME. 53 
 
 The breath of the meadow 
 
 Is fragrant with hay ; 
 The cow is enjoying 
 
 Her rest at noonday ; 
 
 And voices of children 
 
 O'erflowing with mirth, 
 Fill up the glad chorus 
 
 That rises from earth. 
 
 The whole world is teeming 
 
 With summer delight; 
 The days are so long now, 
 
 There's no time for night. 
 
FIRST LOVE. 
 
 When vou could scarce toddle, 
 And I could just walk, 
 
 Before eveu you, dear. 
 Attempted to talk. 
 
 Then you were my sweetheart : 
 And I have been true 
 
 From that day to this, dear ; 
 But how about you '? 
 
 I gave you a doll, once. 
 
 Upon your birthday : 
 You poked out its eyes, 
 
 And then cast it away. 
 
FIRST LOVE. 
 
FIEST LOVE. 57 
 
 Would you serve me the same, dear, 
 
 I wonder, if I 
 Oave my heart to your keeping ? 
 
 I only can try. 
 
 'T would not be so cruel, 
 
 Though blind I should be. 
 As for my little sweetheart 
 
 To cease to love me. 
 
 So if, my sweet Molly, 
 
 You mean to say Nay, 
 You may poke out my eyes 
 
 Ere you cast me away. 
 
THE ARMY'S EETITEX. 
 
 Tramp of feet 
 Down the street, 
 
 March and march along ; 
 Beat of drum, 
 Here thej come, 
 
 With victorious song. 
 
 Wave the flag, 
 
 Honour's rag 
 In the field unfurled, 
 
 IMidst the strife. 
 
 Life for life, 
 Of a furious world. 
 
 Children all, 
 Soldiers small, 
 Like young heroes play ; 
 
THE army's return. 61 
 
 Shoulder gun, 
 And in fun 
 Gaily march away. 
 
 All forgot 
 
 Is his lot, 
 Who went with hopes so high : 
 
 Heart so bold 
 
 Lying cold, 
 'Neath a pitiless sky. 
 
 But alone 
 
 Making moan, 
 A sad heart indoors 
 
 Scarcely hears 
 
 For her tears, 
 Of these glorious wars. 
 
LADY TABBYSKIN'S BALL. 
 
 Lady Tabby.skix gave a large party last niglit, 
 AVliile we were asleep in our beds ; 
 
 The Pussycats danced in tlic clear moonlight, 
 All over the tiles and the leads. 
 
 Sir Grimalkin the fierce, just home from the 
 wars, 
 
 And JMademoiselle Mmette from France 
 (You'd never suspect such a darling had claws) 
 
 Led off in the first country-daDce. 
 
 iSweet Blanclii'tte was there, blue eyes and white 
 liair. 
 The Belle of the country all round ; 
 But so deaf that, though all were miouing for 
 her, 
 She never could hear the least sound. 
 
LADY TABBYSKIN'S BALL. 
 
LADY TABBYSKIN's BALL. 65 
 
 Black Tom gazed and sighed as if deeply in love; 
 
 He looked somewhat anxious and pale ; 
 But just as he hoped the fair creature to move 
 
 Slyboots gave a tug at his taU. 
 
 Miss Tortoiseshell sang a most beautiful song, 
 Though I could not quite make out the 
 words, 
 
 But the pith of the ditty, unless I heard wrong. 
 Was tender young mice and sweet birds. 
 
 Then aU joined in chorus, Oh dear ! Oh dear ! 
 
 It woke me from out of my sleep ; 
 Such music it never befel me to hear ! 
 
 I ran to the window to peep : 
 
 And there I beheld the sweet picture you see, 
 Of the big Pussy-eats, and the small, 
 
 As they danced, and they sang, on the roofs in 
 high glee, 
 At the great Lady Tabbyskin's ball. 
 
OFF TO THE WAR. 
 
 Come, saddle and bridle my gallant roan steed ; 
 
 Give him a mouthful of haj. 
 Sweet ostler, I hope he has had a good feed 
 
 Of beans and oats to-day. 
 
 Now give him his head. Goodbye, my love ; 
 
 My groom jumps up behind, 
 Then off we go at a galloping pace. 
 
 Outstripping far the wind. 
 
 Away, away, over hill and plain, 
 
 A rider bold am I ; 
 You cannot throw me off, old horse. 
 
 However much you try. 
 
OFF TO THE WAE. 
 
OFF TO THE WAE. 
 
 (i9 
 
 Away, away, we still gallop on ; 
 
 I hear the cannon's roar ; 
 My good broad sword I brandish high. 
 
 We're off unto the war. 
 
(iOOD MOENINC. 
 
 Good morning, shines the sun 
 In at our window pane ; 
 
 The day's work has begun, 
 And life awakes again. 
 
 Good morning, blows the breeze 
 Across the heathery lea ; 
 
 Good morning, nod the trees 
 To sails far out at sea. 
 
 Good morning, sings the lark, 
 Up in the cloudless blue, 
 
 And watchers through the dark, 
 AVith morn their hopes renew. 
 
GOOD MOBNING. 
 
GOOD MOKNING. 73 
 
 Good morning, coos the dove, 
 
 Unto its faithful mate ; 
 Good morning to my love, 
 
 Says darling little Kate. 
 
 Good morning, little maiden, 
 
 May thy days ever be 
 With happiness full laden, 
 
 No ill come nigh to thee. 
 
THE FALL. 
 
 What ! fallen down again, my pet, 
 And made your forehead bleed ? 
 
 Mamma has kissed the place, you say, 
 Yet something more you need ! 
 
 Perhaps an orange would do good, 
 
 Cut into slices thin ; 
 Or else a nice ripe pear, might ease 
 
 The pain that you are in. 
 
 I've known a fig to cure a smart, 
 
 When carefully applied, 
 Not to the wounded place itself, 
 
 But to the mouth — inside. 
 
THE PALL. 
 
THE FALL. 77 
 
 Once, I remember, cocoa-nut 
 
 Acted with magic power ; 
 And dried up tears that fast had flowed 
 
 For nearly half an hour. 
 
 And chocolate has virtue great. 
 For scratches, cuts, and bruises, — 
 
 But tofiee is the remedy 
 That little Mary chooses. 
 
A VILLAGE MAID WAS I. 
 
 In a far-off foreign land, 
 In a city big and grand, 
 Amidst pomp and show I live ; 
 But, all me ! what would I give, 
 
 The simple maid 
 
 To be once more. 
 Who played before our cottage door. 
 
 Sometimes in the ball-room's crowd. 
 When my beauty's praised aloud, 
 Sometimes when I sit alone. 
 Thinking of the time that's sone, 
 
 I see again 
 
 A peasant child, 
 Running barefoot o'er the wild ; 
 
A VILLAGE II AID WAS I. 
 
A VILLAGE MAID WAS I. 81 
 
 Picking flowers in the dell, 
 Drawing water at the well ; 
 Careless, happy, full of glee. 
 Laughing, talking merrily : 
 
 An artless girl, 
 
 Unconscious yet 
 Of anything she would forget. 
 
 Wearily on pleasure's stream 
 I pause a moment then, and dream 
 Of that sweet time of trustful youth 
 Ere I learnt the world's untruth. 
 
 And oft a tear 
 
 Comes in mine eye, 
 To think that village maid was I. 
 
 --^%1^-- 
 
THE OLD .MILL. 
 
 In twilight's dim and mystic hour, 
 When pales the day's broad light, 
 
 The glow of memory oft reveals 
 
 Scenes long since passed from sight. 
 
 I see once more the dear old mill, 
 Where we were wont to play 
 
 In childhood's happy summer days, 
 Before the blue turned grey. 
 
 I hear again the mill-wheel's splash, 
 
 The pigeons' cooing note, 
 The ripple of the little stream 
 
 That bore my paper boat. 
 
THE OLD UlLt. 
 
THE OLD MILL. 85 
 
 I see the gables of the roof, 
 
 The latticed windows small, 
 The overhanging eaves that made 
 
 Fantastic shadows fall. 
 
 I see myself a merry boy 
 
 That feigned to be a sack, 
 And oft was carried to the mill, 
 
 On sturdy Nanny's back. 
 
 I see you, dear, a blue-eyed girl. 
 
 With flowing golden hair 
 (I fancy I have still a curl 
 
 Out of Time's reach, somewhere). 
 
 And sitting in life's eventide 
 
 With you at close of day, 
 It does not seem so long ago 
 
 Since those days passed away. 
 
LITTLE DAISY. 
 
 Like a daisy in tlie grass 
 Grows our bonnie little lass ; 
 Just a daisy, and no more. 
 Springing up before our door. 
 
 But the earth would seem less fair 
 If the daisies grew not there ; 
 And our lives would lose a grace, 
 Should we miss that daisy face. 
 
LITTLE DAISY. 
 
TXNDON 
 
 It. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, I'HINTERS, 
 
 BREAD STREET HILL.