The Birthday Party

Had a birthday yesterday.     First one for, I think, a year.     Won't have one again, they say,     Till another year is here.     Funny, don't you think so? I     Can't just understand now why.     Anyhow my birthday came;     And I had, oh! lots of things     Birthday gifts I just can't name,     Even count them: toys and rings;     Hoops and books and hats. Indeed,     Everything that I don't need.     What I wanted was n't suits;     Wooden toys and"Wonderland";     But a hoe to dig up roots;     And a spade to shovel sand;     Rake to rake where father said     He has made a flower-bed.     But I did n't get them; and     Did n't get a box of paints,     Which I wanted. I raised sand,     Till my mother said, "My saints!     If you don't behave yourself,     Party'll be laid on the shelf."     So I did behave, and played     With the little girls and boys,     Who just stayed and stayed and stayed,     Played with me and with my toys;     Broke some, too; but, never mind,     Had the best time of its kind.     Had the dinner then. I bet     Y' never saw a finer sight.     A big birthday cake was set,     Thick with icing, round and white,     In the centre of the table,     Looking all that it was able.     On it four pink candles burned:     And we had a lot of fun     When a little girl there turned,     Blew them out, yes, every one,     And I kissed her for it yes     And she liked it, too, I guess.     When I saw my father, why,     All the children then were gone;     Only child around was I.     I was playing on the lawn     By myself when father came,     And he kissed me just the same.     And I asked my father where     Do the birthdays come from, while     He sat in his rocking-chair,     Looking at me with a smile.     Then I asked him where they go     When they're gone. He did n't know.