Here is another wonderful illustration from my beloved book of Children's Poetry. Along with this drawing is this rather odd little poem.
He loves to be little, he hates to be big,
'Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig;
'Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin
That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win.
'Tis he, when at hight you go off to your bed,
Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your head
For wherevery they're lying, in cupboard or shelf,
'Tis he will take care of your playthings himself!
What a whimsical looking child! That is an odd poem. Maybe they are referring to an imaginary friend.
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This illustration is almost a dead ringer for one that Nast might have done or my friend Norman Rockwell. It is very nice. I also liked reading the poem.
She certainly looks like she might be playing with an imaginary friend ... rather pensive I'd say. The poem sounds a little emo-stalker though. I'm not sure I'd read that to my little ones at night!
What a carefree child and a lovely poem to go with her.
Glad your dad is coming along slow but sure. How lucky he is to have children who love and care for him and his wefare. Keep up the good work Sissy boo you're the best.
"'Tis he...that sides with the Frenchman and never can win." Classic.
What book is this from? I am looking for a book of children's poetry with similar drawings. It has the poem, Mr. Nobody in it. The illustration is of a boy with a black streak across his face, like he smeared soot or dirt over his eyes. It makes him look like a bandit. There is a wood stove in the background, and muddy boots. The all has dirty smudges beside of a door.
Leave me comment on my blog, if you have any ideas, or even if you don't.
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