( THE LITTLE INVALID'S CONFESSION )

M Y head hurts orful bad, and when I lay
Flat down in bed, and see the birds and sky,
I wisht that I could run out doors and play —
Or leave my body here and fly — and fly!
I gotter pain 'most every place what is,
And when I try to set up, somethin' goes
Jest like a pin-wheel in my head — sizz! — sizz! —
And I kin feel it clear down to my toes.
Yet bein' sick is not so bad, someways —
Nobody has said, — Do n't! — to me for days!

Ma moves around the room jest like an elf,
Till sometimes I do n't know she's really there;
And then I tell long stories to myself
Until she comes and smooths my cheeks and hair.
— What is it, dear? — she asks me, soft and low,
And then I ketch her hand and kiss it — quick —
And tell her I do n't 'member — or do n't know.
What makes her turn so fast and look away?
She's never once said, — Do n't! — to me to-day!

The doctor telled her some day I'd be well,
And said that I was good to lay so still;
He ain't that pleasant always; I kin tell
That ma has ast him if I — truly will. —
And so, when I hurt worse — sometimes I do —
I do n't say so to her — 't would make her get
Discouraged with me, and feel awful blue;
So I jest keep my mouth and eyes tight shet.
Ma is so good to me! She has n't said
— Do n't! — to me once since they put me to bed!