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Stories To Tell To Children


      I like to lie and wait to see
         My mother braid her hair.
      It is as long as it can be,
      And yet she doesn't care.
         I love my mother's hair.
      And then the way her fingers go;
         They look so quick and white,-
      In and out, and to and fro,
         And braiding in the light,
      And it is always right.
      So then she winds it, shiny brown,
         Around her head into a crown,
      Just like the day before.
      And then she looks and pats it down,
         And looks a minute more;
      While I stay here all still and cool.
         Oh, isn't morning beautiful?

      THE END.

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