Three little maidens, weary of the Rail—
Three pair of little ears, listening to a tale—
Three little hands, held out in readiness
For three little puzzles, very hard to guess—
Three pair of little eyes, opened wonder-wide
At three little scissors lying side by side—
Three little mouths, that thanked an unknown friend
For one little book he undertook to send—
Tho’ whether they’ll remember the friend, or book, or day,
For three little weeks, is more than I can say.
August 1869.