Little Silverhair

Shall I tell you the story of Silverhair
The little girl not easy to scare
     And the Little Bear
The Middle-sized Bear and Big Bear Grimm?
“Aye! Aye!” then come
Minnikin, Dimple-chin, Dumpy and Toddle-up
Sunny-Head, Jolly-Bob, skip, hop or waddle up;
Sit in a circle and you play mum;
And I’ll tell you the tale as they told it to me;
          Only, you seem
I’ll put it into my Verse Machine
And cut it in length with a rhyme between,
   And I’ll turn the crank to make things hum!

‘Twas away Somewhere, or otherwheres
      A long while ago before bears were dumb
When gentlemen bears and lady bears
Put on their furs and put on airs
And lived like folks, and cracked their jokes
   And talked of their own, not other’s affairs
     It was then and there
          As I’ve understood
   That Big Bear, Little Bear, Middle-sized Bear
Had built their house in the edge of the wood
   Of oak and cedar, of spruce and ash—
   None of your shaky hemlock trash,—
And lived in peace and grew in grease
And kept their house as good bears should.
If they sole a lamb, ‘twas to cure his bleat,
     And they used the bones for a rattle
Whereby, it may be, they made the baby
   So happy they couldn’t think that ill;
If they took green-corn it was only to eat,
And they had the good taste to prefer the sweet,
   And they left the husks for the cattle:
          O, they were good bears!
   They did not get rich by watering shares
The tricks of Wall Street never were theirs,
They loved to prey, in a certain way,—
Spelled with an e – and to run and forage,
And to thrust their paws into honey trees
And lick off the combs well peppered with bees
   And each had a wooden bowl for his porridge,
A little bowl for the little bear,
A middling bowl for the middle-sized bear
And a great tough bowl for the great rough bear
And they took good care of their crockeryware
Licking it clean when the dish was bare
And they had three spoons of a finish rare
Carved and polished and lettered, fair,
The little bear had a little spoon
The middle-sized bear had a middling spoon
And the big bear had a big horn spoon
About as big as a two days moon
          At morn or noon
A bigger one you will not see soon.
And then each bear had a cane-seat chair
A wee, wee chair for the little bear
A middling chair for the middle-sized bear
A big armchair for the big bear, there,
And a cushion of lamb’s wool and mo-hair
          And they do declare
That he caught the “Mo”, himself, in a snare
          To get the hair!
And they had three beds, each one his own
For the wise bears used to sleep alone
It was better for their health, they said.
The little bear had a little bed
Which they put her in when the day had fled
   With a wee, wee pillow for her wee head
And the middle-sized bear had a middling bed,
And a middling pillow, over the spread;
And the big bear’s bed was big as a sled
That oxen pull, and it had a big pillow
With no “sham” on it, a perfect billow
Of Turkey’s feathers,—I’ve heard them say,
That he got in a sort of coaxing way,—
That big bears have to this very day,—
By a treaty of peace that made them geese
And made their gobble forever cease—
Themselves being “gobbled” with utmost case!
O, but he was a right good bear,
His tastes were good, and he loved good fare!

Now one bright day in the last of May
When clear and blue was the morning air
Big Bear, Little Bear, Middle-sized Bear
Had gathered their fuel and boiled their gruel
And set it to cool
On a little, a big, and a middling stool
Before each little, big, middling chair,
          And with solemn air
Pulled up their dickeys and gone to walk
In the pleasant-woods for a pleasant talk
And, it may be, get some sort of forage
     To sweeten their porridge,—
Some sleepy rabbit under a tree,
Or nest of the humble Bumble-bee.
It was then that Little Silverhair
A wee, pretty miss not easy to scare
And with just a touch of the “de’il-may-care”
In the toss of her head and bounding tread,
Come don the oods to go somewhere,
Stopping for violets here and there;
Her little blue hat hung out of square
In the sunny falls of her flossy hair
And her scarf of scarlet beat the air
Like the wings of a scarlet tanager
As she skipped, and tripped, and hopped, and stopped,
          And stood to stare
From her great blue eyes in a queer surprise
   At the house she saw before her there,
   Of Big Bear, Little Bear, Middle-sized Bear
She wondered a moment, but didn’t scare
It wasn’t the fashion with Silverhair
The innocent and the curious dare
And she was both, as she was fair.

The door was shut, but it wasn’t locked
But no one answered when she knocked.
Only an echo feebly mocked—
Here eye at the key-hole saw but little,
The chimney-back and the porridge kettle.
Her ear at the key-hole heard still less
Only the hum of the wilderness
In the hollow room, of what or whom
The dwelling place it seemed hard to guess.
“If it’s Echo’s house” she said “I’ll see
On what she lives that she should be
So thin she has nothing left but sound.”
Lightly she tripped along the gravel
To the open window, and saw within
The smouldering coals, and the funny bowls
Above which only the smoke was thin;
The big chair, little chair, middling chair
Of the big bear, little bear, middling bear,
The big stool, little stool, middling stool,
Where the steaming porridge was set to cool,
And back in the gloom of another room
The big bed, little bed, middling bed,
:Echo, or not, the porridge is hot
And the place is fitted for three,” she said
But never a mouse is astir in the house
Nor the creak of a cricket nor mortal tread,
So I guess some fairy or gentle gnome
          Has built this home

For Echo, and Manners, and Me!” she said.
For hungry’s a bear was Silverhair
Hungry as children always are
And seeing the porridge smoking there
She just walked in, and quite delighted;
Reared in the woods and a little benighted
She did not wait to be invited.
Only she reckoned that Echo beckoned
In the curling vapor, and might feel slighted,
So on she went with a heedless courage
She tried right soon with his big horn spoon
          The big bear’s porridge.
She liked it not; it was much too hot
And she plumped the spoon down on the spot;
She tried the bowl of the middle-sized bear
With the middling spoon left lying there
But dropped her hold, it was much too cold
And the middling spoon to the carpet rolled.
She lifted the little spoon with care
From the little bowl of the little bear
And she found it neither too hot nor cold
[missing text] hold,
[missing text] hungry soul,
[missing text] was left in the bowl
And she didn’t seem to think for a wink
How the hungry little bear would fare
   Because, you know, he wasn’t there!

She went and sat in the big armchair
     Of the big, rough bear
But that was a deal too hard and wide
     And so she tried
The middling chair of the middle-sized bear
   And that was a deal too soft to suit her;
Then up she got and sat like a cat
In the wee-bit chair of the wee-bit bear
And that was a seat we might call neuter;
‘Twas neither too hard, nor soft, nor flat
Nor round, nor humpy, nor thin, nor fat,
Nor lean and hollow, and so she sat
And sat, and sat, and sat, till that
Collapsed, disrupted, of what’s no doubt
The same thing for it, the bottom fell out!
And so did the lady, and laugh’t at the fun
          Of the mischief done.
For Silverhair seemed never to care
How the weary little bear might fare
If he came and tried to sit down there,
But straight from the floor she’s up once more
She has slipped through bedroom door to explore,
As tired as she had been hungry before
She tried the big bed of the big rough bear
But that had the head too high and square. 
In the middling bed of the middle-sized bear
She crept and laid, but she wouldn’t stay there,
The foot was too low, it would never do, no:
And up she hopped on the tip of her toe,
And snuggled down with a weary air
On the wee, wee bed of the wee, wee bear
And that was neither too high at the head
Nor low at the foot, but it was, instead
Exactly right for a little bear,
Or a little maid with silver hair —
Of only one at a time were there!
So over the blue eyes slid each lid
And the dimpled cheeks bloomed out, half hid
In the flossy waves of her loosened hair,
And her arms, half bare, lay pink and fair,
On the white bed-spread of the wee, wee bear.

She was fast asleep and never dreamed
That the house she was in was the very lair
Of a Big Bear, Little Bear, Middling Bear,
          For then it seemed
A little smile went flitting across
Her dimpled face in the crispy floss
          Of her shining hair!

Now the big bear, wee bear, middling bear
          Began to think
Their porridge was cool enough to drink
So back they trudged all under the trees;
They’d had no taste of the bumble bees
And never a rabbit of flesh or cheese,
But the big bear swung his cane at his ease
With the little bear reaching just to his knees
And holding on by the shaggy hair
Of the big one’s trousers, such as a bear
Of the good old times was used to wear,—
And the middle-sized hear who had combed her hair
With a thistle’s crown, and smoothed it down
With bear’s oil, which she always took
To her toilette glass in the bend of the brook,
Walked on with an air which seemed to say
“Iff you wish to see style just look this way!”
Home they toddled, strutted and waddled
Straight to their porridge, and hungry as bears!
But only see how the big one stares,—
He rhrows up his arms, and looks and glares,
Down drops his cane, up bristle his hairs
For he sees right-soon, by the big horn spoon
That a meddler into his house has come.
With a big hoarse voice all rought and drim
He growls “I vum!
Somebody’s been at my porridge!”
Then the middle-sized hear, just rumpled her hair
And stared aghast with another such stare
As if her wits were gone with her courage
With a voice that was middling coarse and hoarse
She cried:—“I declare
Somebody’s been at my porridge!”
The wee-bit hear with a wee-bit squeak
Whining and whimpering spoke his speak
With his paw in his eyes he snivels and cries:—
Somebody has been at my porridge too!
And eaten it all! Boo, hoo! boo! hoo!”
Then the big bear, little bear, middling bear
Began to look round them everywhere
     To find the thief who had stolen their fare
     And the old big bear saw, then and there,
     The cushion he’d left so trig and square
Was mussed and tumbled, and gruff and grim
     He growled like a bear;—
“Somebody has been sitting down in my chair!”
When the middle-sized bear to her place had come
She growled with a voice that was middling grim
“Somebody has been sitting down in my chair!”
And she tumbled the French twist out of her hair
     Got her lace collar all out of square,
          And looked as beat as a drum!
Out of his eyes with a new surprise
     The little bear took his thumb.
And he squeaked, “O dear, look here, come here!”
And his voice was little and thin and queer,
And he didn’t say “chair,” he called it “cheer”
“Somebody’s set down in my cheer right here
And broke the bottom out, clean and clear”
And he squeezed his eye till he started a tear
          And squeaked: “O dear!”
Then all went in through the bedroom door
To explore still more, from ceiling to floor
And the big grim voice was most a roar
When the big bear seeing his pillow mussed
Began to growl like a thunder-gust,
Crying out with a shout you well might dread,
“Somebody’s been lying in my big bed!”
The middling bear, as soonas she’d come
To her middling bed, with a middling grum
Expression, mumbling and muttering said;
“Somebody has lain in my middling bed!”
Then the wee bear came to his wee bed side,
And there with a shrill little voice he cried:
“Somebody’s been lying in my little bed,
And there she is now!”
                         And her flaxen head
Popped up in a wink, and her great blue eyes
Opened wide in a great surprise,
For she was so deep in the world of sleep
Where pleasant dreams were flocking like sheep.
That the great gruff voice of the great rough bear
Made thunder roll I that dream land’s air,
And the middle-sized bear with her middling voice
Gave dreams of boys who were making a noise
At play in the garret with humming toys,
   But when the little bear spoke,
   With his little shrill voice, she woke,
   And seeing solemnly standing there,
A big bear, little bear, middling bear,
Whetting their jaws, and setting their claws
On the big bear’s headboard, ready to share
The frugal meal they had found just there – 
Sweeter, I guess, than their porridge fare,—
She didn’t wait to inquire just where
They intended to dine; she didn’t acre
How the big bear or the little bear
Or the middle-sized bear might chance to fare,—
But lightly ‘s a cat that is after a rat
She hopped out of bed with her scarf and hat,
And out of the window dived and fled!
At the last glimpse, as she turned her head,
She laighe doutright, ‘twas a funny sight,—
The puzzled bears were scratching their ears
With jaws locked, and their eyes in tears,
They were muttering this which she hardly hears
“Wal, neo! It ‘pears
That he can’t sometimes most alwas know
What a gal may do in this vale of woe”
Little Silverhair, who wouldn’t scare,
Ran laughing home to her mother’s door,
And the three bears never saw her more!