Page:Poems Piatt.djvu/168

He does not hide, and cut his hair,
 And wind the watches wrong, and cry
To throw the kitten down the stair
 And see how often it can die.
 (It's strange that you can wonder why!)

He never wakes too late to know
 A bird is singing near his bed:
He tells the tired moon: "You may go
 To sleep yourself." He never said,
 When told to do a thing, "Tell Fred!"

If I say "Go," he will not stay
 To lose his hat, or break a toy;
Then hurry like the wind away,
 And whistle like the wind for joy,
 To please himself—this Little Boy.

Let any stranger come who can,
 He will not say—though it be true—
"Old Lady" (or "Old Gentleman"),
 "I wish you would go home, I do;
 I think my mama wants you to!"