NO BREAKFAST FOR GROWLER.
No, naughty Growler, get a ay,
You shall not have a bit:
Now, when I speak, how dare you stay ?
I can't spare any, Sir, I say,
And so you need nut sit.
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RHYMES FOR THE NURSERY,
AUTHORS OF ORIGINALL POEMS,"
\VITH SIl.\IEN BE.I *I' L L' L DE-IGNS, EN~( RAEED BY CK'R)(OME.
K i~Ij!ij i [ y-
E' LMPII- LTL IA:
(ur-GE S. ArELE-(,h I- HL-UUT STREET
FOR THE NURSERY.
AUTHORS OF "ORIGINAL POEMS."
NEW ILLUSTRATED EDITION
WITH lXZTUZK DusIGNIe, xNeGxAVD TB OROOMK
GEORGE S. APPLETON, 164 CHESNUT STREET.
D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY.
IN the simple title of "Rhymes for the Nursery," the
pretensions of this little volume are fully explained. In
the .Jursery they are designed to circulate, and within
its sanctuary walls the writers claim shelter from the eye
of criticism; though, should they appear to have ad-
mitted any sentiment injudicious, erroneous, or dangerous,
they ask not such an indulgence.
It has been questioned by authority they respect,
whether ideas adapted to the comprehension of infancy
admit the restrictions of rhyme and metre? With hu-
mility, therefore, the present attempt has been made:
should it, however, in any degree prove successful, the
writers must certainly acknowledge themselves indebted
rather to the plainness of prose, than to the decorations
The Cow 13
Good Night 15
Getting up 17
Baby and Mamma 19
The Sparrows 20
The Kind Mamma 22
Learning to go alone 25
About the little Girl that beat her Sister 26
The little Girl to her Dolly 28
The Star 30
Come and play in the Garden 32
About learning to read 34
No Breakfast for Growler 36
Poor Children 38
Learning to draw. 460
Of what are your Clothes made 42
Little Girls must not fret 45
Breakfast and Puss 47
The Flower and the Lady, about getting up 49
The Baby's Dance 51
For a little Girl that did not like to be washed 52
The Cut 54
The little Girl that could not read 56
Questions and Answers 58
Playing with Fire 60
The Field Daisy 62
The Michaelmas Daisy 63
Dutiful Jem 64
The Ant's Nest 69
Sleepy Harry 71
Going to Bed 73
Idle Mary .. 75
The little Husbandman 77
The little Child 79
The Old Beggar Man 82
The little Coward 84
The Sheep 86
The little Boy who made himself ill 88
To a little Girl that liked to look in the Glass 91
The cruel Boy and the Kittens 93
The Work-bag 95
Which is the best way to be Happy 97
The frolicsome Kitten 99
A fine Thing 101
A pretty Thing 103
Little Birds and cruel Boys 105
The Snowdrop 108
The selfish Snails 115
Good Dobbin 117
Time to go to Bed 122
Time to get up. 124
The poor Fly 126
The Tumble 130
The little Fish that would not do as it was bid 132
The little Baby 135
What came of firing a Gun 138
The Golden Rnle 141
Dirty Hands 145
Poor Donkey 147
The Spring Nosegay 150
The Summer Nosegay 152
The Autumn Nosegay .. 154
The Winter Nosegay 156
The little Lark 158
The quarrelsome Dogs 161
The honest Ploughman 164
The little Beggar Girl 166
Poor Puss 168
The little Ants 171
The Meadows 173
The Wasp and the Bee 176
The little Girl who was naughty, and who was after-
wards very sorry for it 180
The Dunce of a Kitten 184
A very sorrowful Story 186
THANK you, pretty cow, that made
Pleasant milk to soak my bread,
Every day, and every night,
Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white.
Do not chew the hemlock rank,
Growing on the weedy bank;
But the yellow cowslips eat,
They will make it very sweet.
Where the purple violet grows,
Where the bubbling water flows,
Where the grass is fresh and fine
Pretty cow, go there and dine.
LITTLE baby, lay your head
On your pretty cradle-bed;
Shut your eye-peeps, now the day
And the light are gone away;
All the clothes are tucked in tight
Little baby dear, good night.
Yes, my darling, well I know
How the bitter wind doth blow;
And the winter's snow and rain,
Patter on the window-pane:
But they cannot come in here,
To my little baby dear;
For the window shutteth fast,
Till the stormy night is past;
And the curtains warm are spread
Round about her cradle-bed:
So till morning shineth bright,
Little baby dear, good night.
Now my baby, ope your eye,
For the sun is in the sky,
And he's peeping once again
Through the frosty window-pane:
Little baby, do not keep
Any longer fast asleep.
There now, sit in mother's lap,
That she may untie your cap;
For the little strings have got
Twisted into such a knot:
Ah! for shame, you've been at play
With the bobbin as you lay.
There it comes, now let us see
Where your petticoats can be:
Oh! they're in the window-seat,
Folded very smooth and neat:
When my baby older grows,
She shall double up her clothes.
Now one pretty little kiss,
For dressing you so nice as this;
And before we go down stairs,
Don't forget to say your prayers;
For 't is God who loves to keep
Little babies while they sleep.
BABY AND MAMMA.
WHAT a little thing am I !
Hardly higher than the table:
I can eat, and play, and cry,
But to work I am not able.
Nothing in the world I know,
But mamma will try and show me:
Sweet mamma, I love her so,
She's so very kind unto me.
And she sets me on her knee,
Very often, for some kisses:
Oh! how good I'll try to be,
For such a dear mamma as this is.
Hop about, pretty sparrows, and pick up
And the twigs, and the wool, and the
Indeed, I'll stand far enough out of your
Don't fly from the window so cross.
I don't mean to catch you, you dear little
And fasten you up in a cage;
To hop all day long on a straight bit of stick,
Or to flutter about in a rage.
I only just want to stand by you and see
How you gather the twigs for your
Or sit at the foot of the jenneting tree,
While you twitter a song in the boughs.
Oh dear, if you'd eat a crumb out of my
How happy and glad I should be!
Then come, little bird, while I quietly
At the foot of the jenneting tree.
THE KIND MAMMA.
COME, dear, and sit upon my knee,
And give me kisses, one, two, three,
And tell me whether you love me,
For this I'm sure, that I love you,
And many, many things I do,
And all day long I sit and sew
And then at night I lie awake,
Thinking of things that I can make,
And trouble that I mean to take
And when you're good and do not cry,
Nor into naughty passions fly,
You can't think how papa and I
But if my little girl should grow,
To be a naughty child, you know,
T would grieve mamma to see her so,
And when you saw me pale and thin,
By grieving for my baby's sin,
I think you'd wish that you had been
A better baby.
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LEARNING TO GO ALONE.
LEARNING TO GO ALONE.
COME, my darling, come away,
Take a pretty walk to-day:
Run along, and never fear,
I'll take care of baby dear:
Up and down with little feet,
That's the way to walk, my sweet.
Now it is so very near,
Soon she'll get to mother dear.
There she comes along at last:
Here's my finger, hold it fast:
Now one pretty little kiss,
After such a walk as this.
ABOUT THE LITTLE GIRL THAT BEAT
Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss
Your little sister dear;
I must not have such scenes as this,
And noisy quarrels here.
What! little children scratch and fight
That ought to be so mild;
Oh! Mary, it's a shocking sight
To see an angry child.
I can't imagine, for my part,
The reason of your folly,
She did not do you any harm,
By playing with your dolly.
See, see, the little tears that run
Fast from her watery eye:
Come, my sweet innocent, have done,
'Twill do no good to cry.
Go, Mary, wipe her tears away,
And make it up with kisses:
And never turn a pretty play
To such a pet as this is.
THE LITTLE GIRL TO HER DOLLY.
THERE, go to sleep, Dolly, in own mother's
I've put on your night-gown and neat little
So sleep, pretty baby, and shut up your eye,
Bye bye, little Dolly, lie still and bye bye.
I'11 lay my clean handkerchief over your
And then make believe that my lap is
So hush, little dear, and be sure you don't
Bye bye, little Dolly, lie still, and bye bye.
There, now it is morning, and time to
And I'll crumb you a mess in my own
So wake, little baby, and open your eye,
For I think it's high time to have done
with bye bye.
TWINKLE, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Then the traveller in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark!
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.
In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye
Till the sun is in the sky.
As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveller in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
COME AND PLAY IN THE GARDEN.
LITTLE sister, come away,
And let us in the garden play,
For it is a pleasant day.
On the grass-plat let us sit,
Or, if you please, we'll play a bit,
And run about all over it.
But the fruit we will not pick,
For that would be a naughty trick,
And very likely make us sick.
Nor will we pluck the pretty flowers
That grow about the beds and bowers,
Because you know they are not ours.
We'll take the daisies, white and red,
Because mamma has often said,
That we may gather them instead.
And much I hope we always may
Our very dear mamma obey,
And mind whatever she may say.
ABOUT LEARNING TO READ.
HERE'S a pretty gay book, full of verses
But Lucy can't read it; oh! what a sad
And such funny stories-and pictures too
I am glad I can read such a beautiful
But come, little Lucy, now what do you say,
Shall I begin teaching you pretty great A l
And then all the letters that stand in a
That you may be able to read it, you know ?
A great many children have no kind
To teach them to read, and poor children
But Lucy shall learn all her letters to tell,
And I hope by and bye she will read very
NO BREAKFAST FOR GROWLER.
No, naughty Growler, get away,
You shall not have a bit:
Now when I speak, how dare you stay ?
I can't spare any, Sir, I say,
And so you need not sit.
Poor Growler! do not make him go,
But recollect, before,
That he has never served you so,
For you have given him many a blow,
That patiently he bore.
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NO BREAKFAST F'1 GROWLER.
No, naughty Gro,\wl'r, gel a u\ay,
You shall not have a bit:
Now, when I speak, how dare you -ta) ?
I can't spare any, Sir, I say,
And so you need not sit.
Poor Growler! if he could but speak,
He'd tell (as well he might)
How he would bear with many a freak,
And wag his tail, and look so meek,
And neither bark nor bite.
Upon his back he lets you ride,
All round and round the yard;
And now, while sitting by your side,
To have a bit of bread denied
Is really very hard.
And all your little tricks he'll bear,
And never seem to mind;
And yet you say you cannot spare
One bit of breakfast for his share,
Although he is so kind!
WHEN I go in the meadows, or walk in
How many poor children I frequently
Without shoes or stockings to cover their
Their clothes are all ragged and let in the
And they have so little to eat, I am told,
That indeed 't is a pitiful sight to behold!
And then I have seen, very often that they
Are cross and unkind to each other at
But they've not been taught better, I've
heard mamma say.
But I have kind parents to watch over me,
To teach me how gentle and good I should
And to mourn for the poor little children
LEARNING TO DRAW.
COME, here are a slate, and a pencil, and
So let us sit down and draw some pretty
A man and a cow, and a horse, and a tree,
And when you have finished, pray show
them to me.
What! cannot you do it? Shall I show
you how ?
Come, give me your pencil, I'll draw you
___.- __ ...--
You've made the poor creature look very
She has but three legs, dear, and only
Now see, I have drawn you a beautiful
And here is a dicky-bird, perched on a
And here are some more flying down from
There now, is not that very pretty, my
0 yes, very pretty! now make me some
A house with a gate, and a window, and
And a little boy flying his kite with a string,
For you know, dear mamma, you can draw
OF WHAT ARE YOUR CLOTHES MADE ?
COME here to papa, and I'11 tell my dear
(For I think he would never have
How many poor animals we must em-
Before little Charles can be dressed.
The pretty Sheep gives you the wool from
To make you a jacket to use;
And the Dog or the Seal must be stripped
of their hides,
To give you these nice little shoes.
And then the shy Beaver contributes his
With the Rabbit, to give you a hat;
For this must be made of their delicate hair,
And so you may thank them for that.
All these I have mentioned, and many
Each willingly give us a share,
One sends us a hat and another a shoe,
That we may have plenty to wear.
Then as the poor creatures are suffered to
So much for the comfort of man,
I think 'tis but right, that as long as they live
We should do all for them that we can.
LITTLE GIRLS MUST NOT FRET.
WHAT is it that makes little Emily cry ?
Come then, let mamma wipe the tear from
There-lay down your head on my bosom
And now tell mamma what's the matter
What! Emmy is sleepy, and tired with
Come, Betty, make haste then, and fetch
But do not be fretful, my darling, because
Mamma cannot love little girls that are
She shall soon go to bed and forget it
Ah! here's her sweet smile come again, I
That's right, for I thought you quite naughty
Good night, my dear child, but don't fret
BREAKFAST AND PUSS.
HERE'S my baby's bread and milk,
For her lip as soft as silk;
Here's the basin clean and neat,
Here's the spoon of silver sweet,
Here's the stool, and here's the chair,
For my little lady fair.
No, you must not spill it out,
And drop the bread and milk about;
But let it stand before you flat,
And pray remember pussy-cat:
Poor old pussy-cat, that purrs,
All so patiently for hers.
True, she runs about the house,
Catching now and then a mouse:
But, though she thinks it very nice,
That only makes a tiny slice:
So don't forget that you should stop,
And leave poor puss a little drop.
THE FLOWER AND THE LADY, ABOUT
PRETTY flower, tell me why
All your leaves do open wide,
Every morning when on high
The noble sun begins to ride.
This is why, my lady fair,
If you would the reason know,
For betimes the pleasant air
Very cheerfully doth blow.
And the birds on every tree,.
Sing a merry, merry tune,
And the busy honey-bee
Comes to suck my sugar soon.
This is, then, the reason why
I my little leaves undo:
Little lady, wake and try
If I have not told you true.
THE BABY'S DANCE.
DANCE, little baby, dance up high:
Never mind, baby, mother is by;
Crow and caper, caper and crow,
There, little baby, there you go;
Up to the ceiling, down to the ground,
Backwards and forwards, round and round:
Then dance, little baby, and mother shall
While the gay merry coral goes ding, ding-
FOR A LITTLE GIRL THAT DID NOT
LIKE TO BE WASHED.
WHAT! cry when I wash you, not love to
Then go and be dirty, not fit to be
And till you leave off, and I see you have
I can't take the trouble to wash such a
Suppose I should leave you now just as
Do you think you'd deserve a sweet kiss
Or to sit on his knee and learn pretty
With fingers that have not been washed all
the day ?
Ay, look at your fingers, you see it is so:
Did you ever behold such a black little row '
And for once you may look at yourself in
There's a face to belong to a good little lass!
Come, come then, I see you're beginning
You won't be so foolish again, will you,
WELL, what's, the matter 1 there's a face!
What! have you cut a vein ?
And it is quite a shocking place!
Come, let us look again.
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I see it bleeds, but never mind
That tiny little drop;
I don't believe you'll ever find
That crying makes it stop.
'Tis sad indeed to cry at pain,
For any but a baby;
If that should chance to cut a vein
We should not wonder, may be.
But such a man as you should try
To bear a little sorrow:
So run about and wipe your eye,
'Twill all be well to-morrow.
THE LITTLE GIRL THAT COULD NOT
I DON'T know my letters, and what shall I
For I've got a nice book, but I can't read
O dear, how I wish that my letters I knew!
I think I had better begin them to-day,
'Tis so like a dunce to be always at play
Mamma, if you please will you teach me
great A ?
And then B and C, as they stand in the
One after another, as far as they go,
For then I can read my new story, you
So pray, mamma, teach me at once, and
What a good-very good little child I
To try and remember my A, B, C, D.
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.
WHO showed the little ant the way
Her narrow hole to bore,
And spend the pleasant summer day,
In laying up her store ?
The sparrow builds her clever nest,
Of wool, and hay, and moss:
Who told her how to weave it best,
And lay the twigs across ?
Who taught the busy bee to fly
Among the sweetest flowers,
And lay his feast of honey by,
To eat in winter hours .
'Twas God, who showed them all the way,
And gave their little skill,
And teaches children, if they pray,
To do his holy will.
PLAYING WITH FIRE.
I'VE seen a little girl, mamma!
That had got such a dreadful scar!
All down her arms, and neck, and face,
I could not bear to see the place.
Poor little girl, and don't you know
The shocking trick that made her so ?
'Twas all because she went and did
A thing her mother had forbid.
For once, when nobody was by her,
This silly child would play with fire;
And long before her mother came,
Her pinafore was all in flame.
In vain she tried to put it out,
Till all her clothes were burnt about:
And then she suffered ten times more,
All over with a dreadful sore:
For many months before 'twas cured,
Most shocking tortures she endured;
And even now when passing by her,
You see what 'tis to play with fire!
THE FIELD DAISY.
I'M'a pretty little thing,
Always coming with the spring;
In the meadows green I'm found,
Peeping just above the ground,
And my stalk is covered flat,
With a white and yellow hat.
Little Mary, when you pass
Lightly o'er the tender grass,
Skip about, but do not tread
On my bright but lowly head,
For I always seem to say,
c Surly winter's gone away."
THE MICHAELMAS DAISY
I AM very pale and dim,
With my faint and bluish rim,
Standing on my narrow stalk,
By the littered gravel walk,
And the withered leaves aloft,
Fall upon me very oft.
But I show my lonely head,
When the other flowers are dead,
And you're even glad to spy,
Such a homely thing as I;
For I seem to smile and say,
<( Summer is not quite away."
THERE was a poor widow, who lived in a
She scarcely a blanket to warm her had
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Her windows were broken, her walls were
And the cold winter-wind often whistled in
Poor Susan was old, and too feeble to
Her forehead was wrinkled, her hands they
And bread she'd have wanted, as many
If she had not been blessed with a good
But he. loved her well, like a dutiful
And thought her the very best friend that
And now to neglect or forsake her he
Was the most wicked thing he could pos.
For he was quite healthy, and active, and
While his poor mother hardly could hob-
And he thought it his duty andc greatest
To work for her living, from morning to
So he started each morning as gay as a lark,
And work'd all day long in the fields till
't was dark:
Then came home again to his dear mo-
And cheerfully gave her the wages he got.
And oh, how she loved him! how great
was her joy!
To think her dear Jem was a dutiful boy:
Her arm round his neck she would ten-
And kiss his red cheek, while the tears
Oh, then, was not this little Jem happier
Than naughty and idle, and foolish boys
For, as long as he lived, 'twas his comfort
To think he'd not been an undutiful boy.
THE ANT'S NEST.
IT is such a beautiful day,
And the sun shines so bright and so
That the little ants, busy and gay,
Are come from their holes in
All the winter together they sleep,
Or in the underground passages run,
Not one of them daring to peep,
To see the bright face of the sun.
But the snow is now melted away,
And the trees are all covered with
And these little ants, busy and gay,
Creeping out from their houses are seen.
They've left us no room to go by,
So we'll step aside on to the grass,
For a hundred poor insects might die,
Under your little feet as they pass.
11:1:I .1I II ~I ;
< I Do not like to go to bed,"
Sleepy little Harry said,
Go, naughty Betty, go away,
I will not come at all, I say!
Oh, what a little silly fellow!
I should be quite ashamed to tell her;
Then, Betty, you must come and carry
This very foolish little Harry.
The little birds are better taught,
They go to roosting when they ought;
And all the ducks and fowls, you know
They went to bed an hour ago.
The little beggar in the street,
Who wanders with his naked feet,
And has not where to lay his head,
Oh, he'd be glad to go to bed.
GOING TO BED.
DoWN upon my pillow warm,
I do lay my little head,
And the ram, and wind, and storm,
Cannot come too nigh my bed.
Many little children poor,
Have not any where to go,
And sad hardships they endure,
Such as I did never know.
Dear mamma, I '11 thank you oft
For this comfortable bed,
And this pretty pillow soft,
Where I rest my little head.
I shall sleep till morning light,
On a bed so nice as this;
So, my dear mamma, good night,
Give your little girl a kiss.
OH, Mary, this will never do!
This work is sadly done, my dear,
And then so little of it too!
You have not taken pains, I fear.
Oh, no, your work has been forgotten,
indeed you've hardly thought of that;
I saw you roll your ball of cotton
About the floor to please the cat.
See, here are stitches straggling wide,
And others reaching down so far;
I'm very sure you have not tried
In this, at least, to please mamma.
The little girl who will not sew,
Must neither be allowed to play;
And then I hope, my love, that you
Will take more pains another day.
THE LITTLE HUSBANDMAN.
I' a little husbandman,
Work and labour hard I can:
I 'm as happy all the day
At my work as if 'twere play:
Though I've nothing fine to wear,
Yet for that I do not care.
When to work I go along,
Singing loud my morning song,
With my wallet at my back,
Or my wagon-whip to smack:
Oh! I am as happy then,
As any idle gentlemen.
I've a hearty appetite,
And I soundly sleep at night.
Down I lie content, and say,
c I've been useful all the day:
I'd rather be a plough-boy, than
A useless little gentleman."
THE LITTLE CHILD.
I'M a very little child,
Only just have learned to speak;
So I should be very mild,
Very tractable and meek.
If my dear mamma were gone,
I should perish soon and die,
When she left me all alone,
Such a little thing as I!
Oh, what service can I do,
To repay her for her care ?
For I cannot even sew,
Nor make anything I wear.
Oh then, I will always try
To be very good and mild;
Never now be cross or cry,
Like a fretful little child.
For sometimes I cry and fret,
And my dear mamma I tease;
Or I vex her, while I sit
Playing pretty on her knees.
Oh how can I serve her so,
Such a good mamma as this!
Round her neck my arms I '11 throw,
And her gentle cheeks I'11 kiss.
Then I'11 tell her, that I will
Try not any more to fret her,
And as I grow older still,
Try to show I love her better.
THE OLD BEGGAR MAN.
I SEE an old man sitting there,
His withered limbs are almost bare,
And very hoary is his hair.
Old man, why are you sitting so ?
For very cold the wind doth blow:
Why don't you to your cottage go ?
Ah, master, in the world so wide,
I have no home wherein to hide,
No comfortable fire-side.
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TH OL EGAFMN
When I, like you, was young and gay,
I'11 tell you what I used to say,-
That I would nothing do but play.
And so instead of being taught
Some useful business as I ought,
To play about was all I sought.
And now that I am old and grey,
I wander on my lonely way,
And beg my bread from day to day.
But oft I shake my hoary head,
And many a bitter t6ar I shed,
To think the useless life I've led.
THE LITTLE COWARD.
WHY here's a foolish little man,
Laugh at him, donkey if you can;
And cat, and dog, and cow, and calf,
Come every one of you and laugh.
For only think, he runs away
If honest donkey does but bray!
And when the bull begins to bellow,
He's like a crazy little fellow.
Poor Brindle cow can hardly pass
Along the hedge, to nip the grass,
Or wag her tail to lash the flies,
But off he runs, and loudly cries!
And when old Tray comes jumping too,
With bow, wow, wow, for how d'ye do,
And means it all for civil play,
'T is sure to make him run away!
But all the while you're thinking, may be,
"( Ah! well, but this must be a baby."
Oh! cat, and dog, and cow, and calf,
I'm not surprised to see you laugh,
He's five years old and almost half.
LAzY sheep, pray tell me why
In the pleasant fields you lie,
Eating grass and daisies white,
From the morning till the night 1
Every thing can something do,
But what kind of use are you .
Nay, my little master, nay,
Do not serve me so, I pray:
Don't you see the wool that grows
On my back, to make you clothes ?
Cold, and very cold, you'd be,
If you had not wool from me.
True, it seems a pleasant thing,
To nip the daisies in the spring;
But many chilly nights I pass
On the cold and dewy grass,
Or pick a scanty dinner, where
All the common's brown and bare.
Then the farmer comes at last,
When the merry spring is past,
And cuts my woolly coat away,
To warm you in the winter's day:
Little master this is why
In the pleasant fields I lie.
THE LITTLE BOY WHO MADE
AH !" why is my sweet little fellow so pale ?
And why do these briny tears fall ?
Come to me, love, and tell me what is it
And we'll soon try to cure him of all.
There, lay your white cheek down on
own mother's lap,
With your pinafore over your head,
And perhaps we shall see, when you've
taken a nap,
That this pale little cheek may be red.
Oh! no, dear mamma, don't be kind to
For I do not deserve to be kissed;
Last evening some gooseberries and cur-
rants I ate,
For I thought that they would not be
And so, when in the garden you left me
I took them, although they were green,
But I thought, dear mamma, wouldd be
better to own
What a sad naughty boy I have been.
Indeed, my dear child, I am sorry to
This very wrong thing you have
'Twas not only eating the fruit when un-
But taking what was not your own;
THE LITTLE GIRL THAT LIKED TO LOOK IN A GLASS.