What May Happen to a Thimble

Come about the meadow,

Hunt here and there,

Where's mother's thimble?

Can you tell where?

Jane saw her wearing it,

Fan saw it fall,

Ned isn't sure

That she dropp'd it at all.

Has a mouse carried it

Down to her hole—

Home full of twilight,

Shady, small soul?

Can she be darning there,

Ere the light fails,

Small ragged stockings—

Tiny torn tails?

Did a finch fly with it

Into the hedge,

Or a reed-warbler

Down in the sedge?

Are they carousing there,

All the night through?

Such a great goblet,

Brimful of dew!

Have beetles crept with it

Where oak roots hide?

There have they settled it

Down on its side?

Neat little kennel,

So cosy and dark,

Has one crept into it,

Trying to bark?

Have the ants cover'd it

With straw and sand?

Roomy bell-tent for them,

So tall and grand;

Where the red soldier-ants

Lie, loll, and lean—

While the blacks steadily

Build for their queen.

Has a huge dragon-fly

Borne it (how cool!)

To his snug dressing-room,

By the clear pool?

There will he try it on,

For a new hat—

Nobody watching

But one water-rat?

Did the flowers fight for it,

While, undecried,

One selfish daisy

Slipp'd it aside;

Now has she plunged it in

Close to her feet—

Nice private water-tank

For summer heat?

Did spiders snatch at it

Wanting to look

At the bright pebbles

Which lie in the brook?

Now are they using it

(Nobody knows!)

Safe little diving-bell,

Shutting so close?

Hunt for it, hope for it,

All through the moss;

Dip for it, grope for it—

'Tis such a loss!

Jane finds a drop of dew,

Fan finds a stone;

I find the thimble,

Which is mother's own!

Run with it, fly with it—

Don't let it fall;

All did their best for it—

Mother thanks all.

Just as we give it her,

Think what a shame!—

Ned says he's sure

That it isn't the same!