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RHYMES FOR THE NURSERY
Now, when Ispeak, how dare you stay
And so you need not sit
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RHYMES FOR THE NURSERY
Ng? tfe gttior of original l Vomsy"
W'ITH SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS BY GILBERT
STRAHAN & CO., PUBLISHERS
56 LUDGATE HILL, LONDON
STRAHAN & CO., PUBLISHERS
56 LUDGATE HILL, LONDON
IN the simple title of "Rhymes for the Nursery," the
pretensions of this little volume are fully explained. In
the Nursery 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 admitted
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 humility, there-
fore, the present attempt has been made: should it, how-
ever, in any degree prove successful, the writers must
certainly acknowledge themselves indebted rather to the
plainness of prose, than to the decorations of poetry.
THE Cow 1
GOOD NIGHT .
GETTING UP 5
BABY AND mMAMMA .
THE SPARROWS. .
THE KIND AMMA. 11
LEARNING TO GO ALONE .13
ABOUT THE LITTLE GIRL THAT BEAT IHER SISTER 14
THE LITTLE GIRL TO HER DOLLY 6
THE STAR. 18
COME AND PLAY IN THE GARDEN 20
ABOUT LEARNING TO READ 2
NO BREAKFAST FOR GROWLER 2
POOR CHILDREN .
LEARNING TO DRAW 28
OF WHAT ARE YOUR CLOTHES MADE ? 30
LITTLE GIRLS MUST NOT FRET 33
BREAKFAST AND PUSS .35
THE FLOWER AND THE LADY, ABOUT GETTING UP 37
THE BABY'S DANCE 39
FOR A LITTLE GIRL THAT DID NOT LIKE TO BE WASHED 40
THE CUT 42
THE LITTLE GIRL THAT COULD NOT READ 44
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 46
PLAYING WITH FIRE 48
THE FIELD DAISY 50
THE MICHAELMAS DAISY 51
DUTIFUL JEM 52
THE ANTS' NEST 57
SLEEPY HARRY 9
GOING TO BED .
IDLE MARY 63
THE LITTLE HUSBANDMAN 65
THE LITTLE CHILD 67
THE OLD BEGGAR AN 70
THE LITTLE COWARD 72
THE SHEEP 74
THE LITTLE BOY WHO MADE HIMSELF ILL .. 76
TO A LITTLE GIRL THAT LIKED TO LOOK IN THE GLASS. 79
THE CRUEL BOY AND THE KITTENS 81
THE WORK-BAG 83
WHICH IS THE BEST WAY TO BE HAPPY 85
THE FROLICSOMIE KITTEN 87
A FINE THING 89
A PRETTY THING 91
LITTLE BIRDS AND CRUEL BOYS 93
THE SNOWDROP 96
THE SELFISH SNALS 103
GOOD DOBBIN 135
GOING TO BD 110
TIME TO GET UP 112
THE POOR FLY 114
THE TUMBLE 117
THE LITTLE FISH THAT WOULD NOT DO AS IT WTAS BID. 120
THE LITTLE BABY 122
WHAT CAME OF FIRING A GUN 125
THE LITTLE NEGRO 128
ABOUT THE LITTLE NEGRO AGAIN 131
PooR DONKEY 134
THE SPRING NOSEGAY 137
THE SUMMER NOSEGAY 139
THE AUTUMN NOSEGAY 141
THE WINTER NOSEGAY 143
THE LITTLE LARK .145
THE QUARRELSOME DOGS 148
THE HONEST PLOUGHMAN 151
THE LITTLE BEGGAR GIRL 153
POOR Puss. 155
THE LITTLE ANTS 158
THE MEADOWS 160
THE WASP AND THE BEE 163
THE LITTLE GIRL WHO WAS NAUGHTY, AND WHO WAS
AFTERWARDS VERY SORRY FOR IT 167
THE DUNCE OF A KITTEN 171
A VERY SORROWFUL SToRY 173
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 perhaps will make it 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;
Or the curtains we may spread
Round about her cradle-bed:
So till morning shineth bright,
Little baby dear, good nigit.
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:
Yes, you know 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;
But before we go down-stairs,
Don't for et to say your prayers s
For 'tis GOD who loves to keep
Little babies while they sleep.
BABY AND MAMMIA.
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 I 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
Don't fly from the window so cross.
I don't mean to catch you, you dear
And fasten you up in a cage;
To hop all day long on a straight bit
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 to sit at the foot of the jenneting
While you twitter a song in the
Oh dear, if you'd eat a crumb out of
How happy and glad I should be I
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 many an hour I sit and sew
Sometimes 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 angry passions fly,
You can't think how papa and I
But if my little child should grow
To be a naughty child, you know
'Twould 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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LEARNNING 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 things 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 hurt,
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
So sleep, pretty baby, and shut up your
Bye bye, little Dolly, lie still and bye bye.
I'll lay my clean handkerchief over your
And then make believe that my lap is
So hush, little dear, and be sure you
Bye bye, little Dolly, lie still, and 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
I am glad I can read such a beautiful
But come, little Lucy, now what do you
Slall I begin teaching you pretty great
And then all the letters that stand in a
That you may be able to read it, you
Some poor little children may never
To teach them to read, a mamma of
But Lucy shall learn all her letters to
And I hope by-and-by she will read
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.
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 clothes are all ragged, and let in
And they have so little to eat I am told,
That indeed'tis 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
And to pity the poor little children I see.
LEARNING TO DRAW.
COME, here are a slate, and a pencil,
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 a cow.
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LEANING TO RA.
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You've made the poor creature look
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 there are some more flying down
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 a little boy flying his kite with a
For you know, dear mamma, you can
draw any thing I
OF WHAT ARE YOUR CLOTHES MADE ?
COME here to papa, and I'll tell my dear
(For I think he would never have
How many poor animals we must
Before little Charles can be dressed.
The pretty Sheep gives you the wool
from his side,
To make you a jacket to use;
And the Dog or the Seal must be
stripped of his hide,
To give you these nice little shoes.
And then the shy Beaver contributes
With the Rabbit, to give you a hat;
For this must be made of their delicate
And so you may thank them for that.
All these I have mentioned, and many
more too, '
Each willingly gives us a share,
They send us a jacket, a hat, or a shoe,
And so we have plenty to wear.
Then as the poor creatures are suffered
So much for the comfort of man,
I think 'tis but right, that as long as
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 her eye:
There-lay down your head on my
And now tell mamma what's the matter
What! Emmy is sleepy, and tired with
Come, Betty, make haste then, and
fetch her away;
But do not be fretful, my darling; you
Mamma cannot love little girls that
She shall soon go to bed and forget it
Ah! here's her sweet smile come again,
That's right, for I thought you quite
Good night, my dear child, but don't
fret any more.
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
Then dance, little baby, and mother
While the gay merry coral goes ding-
FOR A LITTLE GIRL THAT DID NOT
LIKE TO BE WASHED.
WHAT! cry when I wash you, not love
to be clean!
Then go and be dirty, not fit to be
And till you leave off, and I see you
I can't take the trouble to wash such a
Suppose I should leave you a figure like
Do you think you could ask dear papa
for a 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
And now you may look at yourself in
'There's a face to belong to a good little
Come, come then, I see you're begin-
ning to clear,
You won't be so foolish again, will you,
WELL, what'sthe matter? there's aface!
What! have you cut a vein ?
And is it 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, maybe.
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
For I've got a nice book, but I can't
read it through!
O dear, how I wish that my letters I
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.
MAMMA, a little girl I met
Had such a scar, I can't forget I
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,
Poor child! what tortures she endured
And still you see, when passing by her,
How sad it is 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,
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 leaves 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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I)TJU .JEM. jI
Her windows were broken, her walls
were all bare,
And the cold winter wind often whistled
Poor Susan was old, and too feeble to
Her forehead was wrinkled, her hands
they were thin;
And bread she'd have wanted, as many
If she had not been blessed with a good
But he loved her so well, like a dutiful
And thought her the very best friend
that he had:
And now to neglect or forsake her he
Was the most wicked thing he could
For he was quite healthy, and active,
While his poor mother hardly could
And he thought it his duty and greatest
To work for her living from morning to
So he started each morning as gay as a
And worked all day long in the fields
till 'twas dark;
Then came home again to his dear
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
Her arm round his neck she would ten-
And kiss his red cheek, while the tears
Oh, then, was not this little Jem hap-
Than naughty, and idle, and foolish
boys are ?
For, as long as he lived, 'twas his com-
fort and joy,
To think he'd not been an undutiful boy.
THE ANTS' 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 a
All the winter together they sleep,
Or in 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 little ants, busy and gay,
Creeping out from their houses are
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.
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SI 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, silly child! what is he saying!
As if he could be always playing!
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 warmth
Now I lay my little head,
And the rain, and wind, and storm,
Cannot here come nigh my bed.
Many little children poor
Have not anywhere to go,
And sad hardships they endure,
Such as I did never know.
Dear mamma, I'll 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, down how far they go!
I'm very sure you have not tried
To please mamma while working so.
The little girl who will not sew
Should neither be allowed to play;
But then I hope, my love, that you
Will take more pains another day.
THE LITTLE HUSBANDMAN.
I'M a little husbandman,
Work and labour hard I can:
I'm as happy all the day
At my work as if weree 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 waggon-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,
"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,
Oh, I think that I should die,
When she left me all alone,
Such a little thing as I!
Now what service can I do,
To repay her for her care ?
For I cannot even sew,
Nor make any thing I wear.
Well, then, I will always try
To be very good and mild;
Never now be cross or cry,
Like a fretful little child.
How unkind it is to fret,
And my dear mamma to tease,
When my lesson I should get,
Sitting still upon her knees.
Oh, how can I serve her so,
Such a good mamma as this!
Round her neck my arms I'll throw,
And her gentle cheek I'll kiss.
Then I'll 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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THE~~~~ OL EGRMN
When I, like you, was young and gay,
I'll 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 tear 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 how he cries!
And when old Tray comes jumping too,
With bow, wow, wow, for how d'ye do,
And means it all for civil play,
'Tis sure to make him run away!
But all the while you're thinking, maybe,
"Ah! well, but this must be a baby."
Oh! cat, and dog, and cow, and calf,
It seems enough to make you laugh!
He's five years old and almost half!
LAZY sheep, pray tell me why
In the pleasant fields you lie,
Eating grass or daisies white
From the morning till the night ?
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 your 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
An! why is my sweet little fellow so
And why do these briny tears fall?
Come to me, love, tell me what is it you
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 maybe red.
Oh! no, dear mamma, don't be kind to
For I do not deserve to be kissed;
Last evening some gooseberries and
currants I ate,
For I thought that they would not be
So, when in the garden you left me
I took them, although they were
But I thought, dear mamma, wouldd
be better to own,
What a sad naughty boy I have been.
Yes, love, it is better the truth to con-
And if you are tempted again,
Be certain that folly will lead to dis-
And sin be soon followed by pain.
LI ii 1
I I I LI I G
Ii i j
:--- ?`31ii _Iii I -----
H IT IN A
THELITL GRLTHT IKD O OO I AGLSS
THE CRUEL BOY AND THE KITTENS.
WHAT! go to see the kittens drowned,
On purpose, in the yard!
I did not think there could be found
A little heart so hard.
Poor kittens! no more pretty play
With pussy's wagging tail:
Oh! I'd go far enough away,
Before I'd see the pail.
Poor things! the little child that can
Be pleased to go and see,
Most likely, when he grows a man,
A cruel man will be.
And many a wicked thing he'll do,
Because his heart is hard;
A great deal worse than killing you,
Poor kittens! in the yard.
So now with the pain you must pa-
And remember-you're never alone,
For tho' you may fancy that no one is
GOD sees you on high from his throne.
TO A LITTLE GIRL THAT LIKED TO
LOOK IN THE GLASS.
WHAT! looking in the glass again!
Why is my silly child so vain ?
Do you think yourself as fair
As the gentle lilies are ?
Is your merry eye so blue
As the violet, wet with dew ?
Yet it loves the best to hide
By the hedge's shady side.
When your cheek the brightest glows,
Is it redder than the rose ?
But the rose's buds are seen
Almost hid with moss and green.
Little flowers that open gay,
Peeping forth at break of day,
In the garden, hedge, or plain,
Do you think that they are vain ?
I'VE got a pretty piece,-come here,
'Twill make a work-bag for you, dear;
Indeed you will not often see
A nicer bag than this shall be.
Now make it neatly, do your best,
And then I'll show you all the rest:
Nice things I've got,-yes, you shall
Scissors, and thread, and needle-book.