Poor litle Willie, and his family!

Down into the well
(Which the plumber built her)
Dear old Granny fell.
We must buy a filter.
*
Willie in a nice new sash
Fell in the fire and was burned to an ash.
Now, although the room grows chilly
I haven't the heart to poke poor Billy.
*
Willie, with a taste for gore
Nailed his sister to the floor.
Mother said, with humor quaint,
"Careful, Will, don't mar the paint."

But, Miss Penelope, you see that the poem "Lament on the death of Willie" for what it is, I'm certain: a masterpiece from the "Sweet Singer of Michigan," the late, lamented, American poetess Julia Moore.