From the Grand Forks Daily Herald, May 23, 1914. By Eugene Field.

All day long they come and go—
Pittypat and Tippytoe!
    Footprints up and down the hall,
        Playthings scattered on the floor,
    Finger-marks along the wall,
        Telltale smudges on the door—
By these presents you shall know,
Pittypat and Tippytoe.

How they riot at their play!
And a dozen times a day
    In they troop, demading bread—
        Only buttered bread will do,
    And that butter must be spread
        Inches thick with sugar too!
And I never can say “No,”
Pittypat and Tippytoe.

Sometimes there are griefs to soothe,
Sometimes ruffled brows to smooth;
    For (I much regret to say)
        Tippytoe and Pittypat
    Sometimes interrupt their play
        With an internecine spat;
Fie, for shame! to quarrel so—
Pittypat and Tippytoe!

Oh the thousand worrying things,
Every day recurrent brings!
    Hands to scrub and hair to brush,
        Search for playthings gone amiss,
    Many a wee complaint to hush,
        Many a little bump to kiss;
Life seems one vain, fleeting show
To Pittypat and Tippytoe.

And when day is at an end,
There are little duds to mend;
    Little frocks are strangely torn,
        Little shoes great holes reveal
    Little hose, but one day worn,
        Rudely yawn at toe and heel!
Who but you could work such woe,
Pittypat and Tippytoe?

But when comes this thought to me:
“Some there are that childless be,”
    Stealing to their little beds,
        With a love I cannot speak,
    Tenderly I stroke their heads —
        Fondly kiss each velvet cheek.
God help those who do not know
A Pittypat or Tippytoe!

On the floor and down the hall,
Rudely smutched upon the wall,
    There are proofs in every kind
        Of the havoc they have wrought,
    And upon my heart you’d find
        Just such trade-marks, if you sought;
Oh, how glad I am ’tis so,
Pittypat and Tippytoe.