Cross Looks.

A poem by H. P. Nichols

Why, what a frightful face is this!
And what has happened, sir, amiss?
Come, let me wipe these tears away,
And see no more cross looks to-day.

If Kate did throw your blocks about,
She's very sorry, I've no doubt;
And here she stands to tell you so,
And build another house, I know.

No tears and crying here must be,
So have a pleasant smile for me.
There, that will do,--now run away,
And kindly with your sister play.