Posts filed under ‘Oliver Herford’
A Birdie cocked his little head,
Winked his eye at me and said,
“Say, are you a Pussy Willer,
Or just a Kitty-Catty pillar?”
A kitten went a-walking
One morning in July,
And idly fell a-talking
With a great big butterfly.
The kitten’s tone was airy,
The butterfly would scoff;
When there came along a fairy
Who whisked his wings right off.
And then—for it is written
Fairies can do such things—
Upon the startled kitten
She stuck the yellow wings.
With fear her heart was smitten,
And she began to cry,
“Am I a butter-kitten?
Or just a kitten-fly?”
OB-SERVE the Cat up-on this page.
Phil-os-o-phers in ev-er-y age,
The ver-y _wis-est_ of the wise,
Have tried her mind to an-a-lyze
In vain, for noth-ing can they learn.
She baf-fles them at ev-er-y turn
Like Mis-ter Ham-let in the play.
She leads their rea-son-ing a-stray;
She feigns an in-ter-est in string
Or yarn or any roll-ing thing.
Un-like the Dog, she does not care
With com-mon Man her thoughts to share.
She teach-es us that in life’s walk
‘T is bet-ter to let oth-ers talk,
And lis-ten while _they_ say in-stead
The fool-ish things we might have said.
by Oliver Herford
Under a toadstool crept a wee Elf,
Out of the rain to shelter himself.
Under the toadstool, sound asleep,
Sat a big Dormouse all in a heap.
Trembled the wee Elf, frightened and yet
Fearing to fly away lest he get wet.
To the next shelter–maybe a mile!
Sudden the wee Elf smiled a wee smile.
Tugged till the toadstool toppled in two.
Holding it over him, gaily he flew.
Soon he was safe home, dry as could be.
Soon woke the Dormouse–“Good gracious me!
“Where is my toadstool?” loud he lamented.
–And that’s how umbrellas first were invented.