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Number 9 To Number 1

Number 9 To Number 1 image
Parent Issue
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Well, Harían, fair eldcst sister, I'vo come. You are sorry, I know. For ril yoil, like the other eïght bables, Now grown to a dowii-Bloping row. And I'U biccough and stare and fali over, And tear ev'ry novel and note ; I'U grab at your ear-rings and bracelet, And twist off the tie at your throal. 111 wake up at 6 in the momin?, And ory to gat up and ba dressed, When poor little mother is weary, And needs ev'ry moment of rest. 111 hit little Ann, if I choose to, ril take Kitty'a doll byits clotheo, And I'll hammer it over the fewder TUI it haau't a scrap uf a nosc. 111 mako the cat dance In your basket, And tangle your knitting and wool ; 111 musn up my father's BQirt-boeom, And give Tommy'B white hair a pull.í won't have to be whipped for it, either, && you wero. Ton poor "Number One.!' You got all the discipline over, Whüe I oome in timo for the fun. For the mother, you soe, Is bo weary, And tired of nine littlo oaroa, And papa too busy to mind us Whilst etruggling with busineee affairs. But then, when your heart íb nigh broken, And, weary and worried, you ory, I'U come with my own little apron To wlpo off the tear from your eye. And putting both fat arms aronnd you, I'll'kiBB your soft, velvety cheek, And 111 teil you Hl try to be better, As plain as a baby can speak. And then, "Number One,1' you will hug me, You know, to yonr warm, lO7Ín breaBt, And will never teil mother your trotible. Bat leave her to health-giving rest. And if I wilt down in the summer, And, tooth-cutting, whimper and pine, Don 't I know how your tenderest touches Are waiting for Rmall " Number Nine?" Aü ! if I should slip out of trouble, To the bright other side of the sky, And your arms, that are tired, were empty, Don't X know how you'd, aorrowing, cry ? It's queer how they love us- we bables - It don't eeem as tho' we could pay ; And yet, how the arms close about us To keep the dark Shadow away ! Jnpt wait a few years, sister, darling, I'U grow up as quick as I can ; And then, wou't 1 emooth the rough places j For you, when I've grown Up a man ?


Old News
Michigan Argus