Louisa May Alcott: 16 Novels in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Луиза Мэй Олкотт

in 1871, just after the publication of "Little Men":–

      August 5th.

      Dear Mr. Niles,–Thanks for the parcel and notes.

      ... The letters were very gushing from Nellie and Dollie and Sallie Somebody asking for pictures, autographs, family history, and several new books right away.

      I must give Dr. R. a fair trial, and if he fails I'll try Dr. B., just to make up the number of doctors to a round ten.

      "Happy Thoughts" is very funny, especially the trip to Antwerp.

      Yours truly,

      L. M. A.

      CHAPTER IX.

       EUROPE.

       Table of Contents

      THE LAY OF A GOLDEN GOOSE.

      Long ago in a poultry yard

       One dull November morn,

       Beneath a motherly soft wing

       A little goose was born.

      Who straightway peeped out of the shell

       To view the world beyond,

       Longing at once to sally forth

       And paddle in the pond.

      "Oh! be not rash," her father said,

       A mild Socratic bird;

       Her mother begged her not to stray

       With many a warning word.

      But little goosey was perverse,

       And eagerly did cry,

       "I've got a lovely pair of wings,

       Of course I ought to fly."

      In vain parental cacklings,

       In vain the cold sky's frown,

       Ambitious goosey tried to soar,

       But always tumbled down.

      The farm-yard jeered at her attempts,

       The peacocks screamed, "Oh fie!

       You're only a domestic goose,

       So don't pretend to fly."

      Great cock-a-doodle from his perch

       Crowed daily loud and clear,

       "Stay in the puddle, foolish bird,

       That is your proper sphere."

      The ducks and hens said, one and all,

       In gossip by the pool,

       "Our children never play such pranks;

       My dear, that fowl's a fool."

      The owls came out and flew about,

       Hooting above the rest,

       "No useful egg was ever hatched

       From transcendental nest."

      Good little goslings at their play

       And well-conducted chicks

       Were taught to think poor goosey's flights

       Were naughty, ill-bred tricks.

      They were content to swim and scratch, And not at all inclined For any wild-goose chase in search Of something undefined.

      Hard times she had as one may guess,

       That young aspiring bird,

       Who still from every fall arose

       Saddened but undeterred.

      She knew she was no nightingale,

       Yet spite of much abuse,

       She longed to help and cheer the world,

       Although a plain gray goose.

      She could not sing, she could not fly,

       Nor even walk with grace,

       And all the farm-yard had declared

       A puddle was her place.

      But something stronger than herself

       Would cry, "Go on, go on!

       Remember, though an humble fowl,

       You're cousin to a swan."

      So up and down poor goosey went,

       A busy, hopeful bird.

       Searched many wide unfruitful fields,

       And many waters stirred.

      At length she came unto a stream

       Most fertile of all Niles, Where tuneful birds might soar and sing Among the leafy isles.

      Here did she build a little nest

       Beside the waters still,

       Where the parental goose could rest

       Unvexed by any bill.

      And here she paused to smooth her plumes,

       Ruffled by many plagues;

       When suddenly arose the cry,

       "This goose lays golden eggs."

      At once the farm-yard was agog;

       The ducks began to quack;

       Prim Guinea fowls relenting called,

       "Come back, come back, come back."

      Great chanticleer was pleased to give

       A patronizing crow,

       And the contemptuous biddies clucked,

       "I wish my chicks did so."

      The peacocks spread their shining tails,

       And cried in accents soft,

       "We want to know you, gifted one,

       Come up and sit aloft."

      Wise owls awoke and gravely said,

       With proudly swelling breasts,

       "Rare birds have always been evoked

       From transcendental nests!"

      News-hunting turkeys from afar

       Now ran with all thin legs

       To gobble facts and fictions of

       The goose with golden eggs.

      But best of all the little fowls

       Still playing on the shore,

       Soft downy chicks and goslings gay,

       Chirped out, "Dear Goose, lay more."

      But goosey all these weary years

       Had toiled like any ant,

       And wearied out she now replied,

       "My little dears, I can't.

      "When I was starving, half this corn

       Had been of vital use,

       Now I am surfeited with food

       Like any Strasbourg goose."

      So to escape too many friends,

       Without uncivil strife,

       She ran to the Atlantic pond

       And paddled for her life.

      Soon up among the grand old Alps

       She found two blessed things,

       The health she had so nearly lost,

       And rest for weary limbs.

      But still across the briny deep

       Couched in most friendly words,

       Came prayers for letters, tales, or verse,