Three little kittens, black, white and gray,
Went out in the garden one morning to play.
Said the white one, "I want to play hide and go seek,
'Tis long since we played it, much more than a week."
"All right," said the gray, "I'm ready for fun,"
And he started away with a hop and a run.
"Just wait," said the black with an ominous growl,
His face wrinkled up in the crookedest scowl.
"It's an old-fashioned game—I shan't play at that,
It is not becoming a stylish young cat;
I'll sport with the leaves or I'll play in the sun,
But it's tiresome, unpleasant and foolish to run."
The others agreed in a good-natured way,
And the three little kittens began then to play;
The dead leaves went flying to right and to left,
All three, for a time seemed of senses bereft;
But something went wrong—"I say that's not fair,"
The black kitten cried—"and to play I don't care"—
The gray and the white coaxed him hard for awhile,
But nothing would cause him to speak or to smile,
So they left him alone and hied them away—
"Hide and seek" 'mongst the roses and lilacs to play.
He heard their gay laughter and sullener grew—
The sun was too hot—the skies were too blue,
The grass, he was certain, was damp where he lay,
All things had conspired to annoy him that day,
He could bear neither sunshine, the mirth that he heard,
The hum of the bees, nor the chirp of a bird.
How silly they seemed—it made him so cross—
The pleasures of life were nothing but dross,
So he hastened away in a fit of despair;
All things were against him and "nothing was fair."
And now, little people, does any one know
A child who is cross, and always acts so?
Who cries with a pout—"I say I shan't play,
Unless you do everything just as I say."
If beaten at games, he says "It's not fair"—
And takes of good things far more than his share.
If you know such a child, I'm sure you will find
He is sour and unhappy, because he's unkind;
To be happy, be gentle, good tempered and sweet
To playmates and elders and all whom you meet.