The Birthday Party

Had a birthday yesterday. First one for, I think, a year. Won't have one again, they say, Till another year is here. Funny, don't you think so? I Can't just understand now why. Anyhow my birthday came; And I had, oh! lots of things Birthday gifts I just can't name, Even count them: toys and rings; Hoops and books and hats. Indeed, Everything that I don't need. What I wanted was n't suits; Wooden toys and'Wonderland'; But a hoe to dig up roots; And a spade to shovel sand; Rake to rake where father said He has made a flower-bed. But I did n't get them; and Did n't get a box of paints, Which I wanted. I raised sand, Till my mother said, 'My saints! If you don't behave yourself, Party'll be laid on the shelf.' So I did behave, and played With the little girls and boys, Who just stayed and stayed and stayed, Played with me and with my toys; Broke some, too; but, never mind, Had the best time of its kind. Had the dinner then. I bet Y' never saw a finer sight. A big birthday cake was set, Thick with icing, round and white, In the centre of the table, Looking all that it was able. On it four pink candles burned: And we had a lot of fun When a little girl there turned, Blew them out, yes, every one, And I kissed her for it yes And she liked it, too, I guess. When I saw my father, why, All the children then were gone; Only child around was I. I was playing on the lawn By myself when father came, And he kissed me just the same. And I asked my father where Do the birthdays come from, while He sat in his rocking-chair, Looking at me with a smile. Then I asked him where they go When they're gone. He did n't know.