Then the Toddling Baby Boy,
With shining morning face,
Creeping like a snail.

Queer, drifting fancies, vague and dim,
'Neath his gold curls are hid.
The kitchen steps appear to him
Those of a pyramid.
With mighty purpose in his mind,
He clambers up. And then,
With purpose quite as well defined,
He scrambles down again.
Then, of all busy ones of earth,—
Toilers beneath the sun,
Working away for all they're worth,
He is the busiest one!
Down in the sand he has to dig
A hole, exceeding deep;
And by its side, all smooth and big,
He piles a lovely heap.
With both hands then he scatters it
Round the verandah floor;
And when he's scattered every bit,
He scoops it up once more.
He has to watch the rainy drops
Drip, dripping from the wall;
Then, quick as anything, he stops
To go and roll his ball.
Across the lawn he seems to see
A funny little stick;
So he must needs go hastily
And give the thing a kick.
The laughing sunshine sifts right through
His mop of tangled curls;
Turning it to a golden hue,
And kinking it in twirls.

And then he hums with all his might
A funny little song;
Some of the notes are almost right,
And some are sort of wrong.
Then he must watch a lady-bird
That crawls across the floor;
Then listen! for he thinks he heard
An awful lion roar!
He has to stop and 'member things;
"Once out at Gran'ma's house
They was a birdy wiv red wings!
And kitty caught a mouse!
"And then in Sunday-school one day,
The children all stood 'round,
And sang a song 'bout why—delay,—
It had a lovely sound."
Whatever can, or can't be known,
He much desires to know;
For suddenly his wonder-bone
Has just begun to grow.
"I wonder what that birdy's at
Over to Gran'ma's house.
I wonder why a kitty cat
Is 'llowed to catch a mouse.
"I wonder why the doggie whines,
I wonder why he does;
I wonder why the dandylines
All turns to fuzzy-fuzz.
"I wonder why my shadow-boy
Hops fast along as me;
I wonder why my newest toy
So broken seems to be.
"I wonder why they disappear
That sharp and shiny tool;
I wonder why my muvver dear
Won't let me go to school.
"I wonder why a deaded fly
Won't ever come alive;
I wonder why I'm only free,
An Dorofy is five!"
Each hour with wonder new is fraught;
Until he thinks so fast,
He wonders what it was he thought
When he was thinking last.
Wondering, singing, 'membering,—
He learns anew each day,
The world is but a bounding ball
For him to kick in play.