POETRY.

BEHIND THE SCENES.

LT0 "M. P.," aged 13; after taking her "behind the scenes" at the Standard

Theatre.] LITTLE Mandie little maidie, Tell me what you think it means ; Tell me what you thought, young lady, Of your peep behind the scenes.

Was it worth the fuss and riot, Just for pleasing me and you ? Shouldn't we be better quiet For that wasted hour or two ?

Reading books and storing knowledge, Bothering our little brains,—

Growing wise at school and college,— That alone is worth the pains.

Can there ever, could there ever, Anything so silly be, As to fancy you are clever To invent a fancy sea P Pasteboard rocks and mackintoshes, Spread to keep the people dry, When the nonsense-water washes Up into the nonsense.sky,— And a great big stupid curtain Falls between two eets of fools ! Such a waste of time, for certain,

Ought to be against the rules—

Yet your eyes grew bright and brighter, And your blood came fast and warm, And you set your small teeth tighter, As you watched the painted storm.

Can you let such make-believing Make you laugh and make you cry, Sometimes joying, sometimes grieving ?

Never mind, dear, so do I !

Was it very silly P clearly All of us were nothing loath ; All nice people, Maud, are merely Children of a larger growth.

So then, as you're growing older, Let the wise folk have their say ; Chilly souls alone grow colder, When they're sitting at a play.

"Play" is work, my girl ; to merit

There above no little gain, If it ease a single spirit

Of a single hour of pain.

Little Maudie ! little maidie, Let the heart's wild flowers grow wild ; Over all things, be a lady, But—to God—remain a child.