« НазадПродовжити »
THE BROKEN DOLL.
THE BROKEN DOLL. — Miss Lamh.
An infant is a selfish sprite;
He laughs, and thinks it a fine joke, That he our new wax-doll has broke. Anger will never teach him better; We will the spirit and the letter Of courtesy to him display, By taking in a friendly way These baby frolics, till he learn True sport from mischief to discern.
Reproof a parent's province is; A sister's discipline is this, By studied kindness to effect A little brother's young respect. What is a doll ? a fragile toy ; What is its loss? if the dear boy, Who half perceives he has done amiss, Retain impression of the kiss That followed instant on his cheek, — If the kind, loving words we speak Of “ Never mind it," “ We forgive,” — If these in his short memory live,
Only perchance for half a day,
BLINDNESS. -- Miss Lamb.
In a stage-coach, where late I chanced to be,
A little, quiet girl my notice caught;
Her mind seemed busy on some childish thought.
1, with an old man's courtesy, addressed
The child, and called her pretty, dark-eyed maid, And bid her turn those pretty eyes, and see
The wide-extended prospect. — “Sir,” she said,
“I cannot see the prospect, — I am blind.”
Never did tongue of child utter a sound So mournful as her words fell on my ear.
Her mother then related how she found
Her child was sightless. On a fine, bright day,
She saw her lay her needlework aside, And, as on such occasions mothers will,
For leaving off her work began to chide.
“I'll do it when 't is day-light, if you please;
I cannot work, mamma, now it is night.”
And yet her eyes received no ray of light.
A NEGRO'S SONG.
A NEGRO'S SONG.
FROM PARK'S TRAVELS IN AFRICA. VERSIFIED BY THE
DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE.
The loud wind roared, the rain fell fast,
The white man shall our pity share;
The storm is o'er, the tempest past,
MABEL ON MIDSUMMER DAY.–Mary Hourtt.
A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME.
“ Arise, my maiden, Mabel,”
The mother said; "arise,
Is shining in the skies.
“ Arise, my little maiden,
For thou must speed away,
This livelong summer day.
“And thou must carry with thee
This wheaten cake so fine,
This little flask of wine.
“And tell the dear old body,
This day I cannot come,
And he is not come home.
"And more than this, poor Amy
Upon my knee doth lie;
The little child will die!
“And thou canst help thy grandmother;
The table thou canst spread;
And thou canst make her bed.
MABEL ON MIDSUMMER DAY.
" And thou canst fetch the water
From the lady-well hard by ;
The fagots brown and dry;
“Canst go down to the lonesome glen,
To milk the mother-ewe;
That thou wilt have to do.
“ But listen now, my Mabel,
This is midsummer day,
From elf-land come away.
"And when thou 'rt in the lonesome glen,
Keep by the running burn,
Nor break the lady-fern.
But think not of the fairy folk,
Lest mischief should befall;
And how thou lov'st us all.
“ Yet keep good heart, my Mabel,
If thou the fairies see,
If they should speak to thee.
“ And when into the fir-wood
Thou goest for fagots brown,
Go wandering up and down.