THE HEN-YARD DOOR.

When careless Tommy fed the fowls, He did not shut the door; Out came the rooster and the hens; Out came the pullets four; Out came old Speckle-wings, with six Bewitching little Bantam chicks. At once the hens began to cluck, The cock began to crow, And here and there, and everywhere, They seemed possessed to go; They pecked the turnips; in a patch Of spinach they began to scratch: And when to drive them in we tried They straightway to our neighbors hied.

Upon our right, a new-made lawn Was just with grass-seed sown; Upon our left, a garden-plot With pinks and lilies shone. In rushed our right-hand neighbor's son, With flaming face, and said, "'Shut up your hens,' my father says, Or he will shoot them dead." Our left-hand neighbor wrote a note,— "I all the spring have toiled To rear the lovely flowers I find Your roving fowls have spoiled." To get them home, the livelong day We tried, till evening gathered gray: Then back to roost returned the cock, But some were missing from his flock. Four hens were with him; where were two? Perhaps our right-hand neighbor knew! Back came the pullets, having fed On dainty pinks, and roses red; Back came old Speckle; of her six The cat had caught three little chicks. We shut the door, and made it fast; We all were glad the day was past: We'd lost our hens, and lost our friends; Our neighbors smile no more; And all because our careless Tom Forgot to shut the door!