Then the Epicure
With fine and greedy taste for porridge.

Next to the Epicure we turn,
With a discerning taste in porridge;
Yet careful, lest her mouth she burn,
Like the o'er hasty man from Norwich,
For now, her judging powers have grown;
She thinks with wisdom all her own.
In tones that leave no room for doubt
She intimates she is unable
To eat her bread and milk without
Her bear and dolly on the table.
And nurse, because of her insistence,
Follows the line of least resistance.
She does not want a nice clean dress;
She's very, very sure she doesn't!
She wants to go to Grandma's,—yes!
She wasn't naughty,—no, she wasn't!
And knows with wilful, shaking head,
She does not want to go to bed!
She doesn't want to speak her piece;
She doesn't want her hair all curly;
She isn't Auntie's pressus niece!
She isn't mother's darling girlie!
Then suddenly, a change pacific,—
And her new mood is beatific!

Cherubic smiles drive frowns away,
She vows that she loves evvybuddy!
She will be goody-girl all day;
Nor get her shoes and stockings muddy.
She will not go outside the yard;
And she "loves muvver awful hard!"
Sometimes the martyr mood appears,
She's good in meek, submissive fashion;
Reproachful eyes show signs of tears,
And red cheeks hint a stifled passion.
She wonders, "when she gets to heaven,
If children go to bed at seven!"
She favors games of "let's p'tend,"
And with an energy unfailing,
She plays the role of calling friend,
Dressed up in anything that's trailing.
From, "Ding-a-ling!" "Come in"; a bow,—
To, "Well, I must be going now."
Her reasoning powers have come alive,
Her mind is rapidly awaking.
The sharpest bargains she can drive,
Conditions she is ever making.
"I'll sing my song for uncle,—yes,
If you will make my doll a dress."
Her mind, obeying nature's law,
Like morning-glory's soft unfolding,
Fills with a deep, enchanting awe
Those who are breathlessly beholding;
And they exclaim, "Well, did you ever!"
"She's surely going to grow up clever!"
She dances down Life's primrose way
Unconscious of her faults and merits;
The grown-ups watch her at her play,
And they opine that "she inherits
Her mother's gentleness; but still
She seems to have her father's will."