Oh, water-lilies, pure and white, Oh, pretty things, you love me so, I should not like to grieve you. My flowers, you need not shiver; My little buds, don't look so cross; Don't talk so loud, my river. I'm telling you I will not go, It's rude to interrupt me so, And I will make a promise, dears, That will content you, maybe : Till I'm a nice old lady! True love (like yours and mine), they say, Can never think of ceasing, But year by year, and day by day, Keeps steadily increasing. "WILL you walk into my parlor ?" Said a spider to a fly; "Tis the prettiest little parlor That ever you did spy. The way into my parlor To show when you are there." "Oh, no, no!" said the little fly, "To ask me is in vain; For who goes up your winding stair "I'm sure you must be weary With soaring up so high; Will you rest upon my little bed? Said the spider to the fly. "There are pretty curtains drawn around, The sheets are fine and thin; And if you like to rest awhile, Said the cunning spider to the fly, "Sweet creature," said the spider, If you'll step in one moment, dear, "I thank you, gentle sir," she said, And bidding you good-morning, now, The spider turned him round about, For well he knew the silly fly Would soon be back again; So he wove a subtle thread To dine upon the fly. He went out to his door again, "Come hither, hither, pretty fly, With the pearl and silver wing; Your robes are green and purple, There's a crest upon your head; Your eyes are like the diamond bright, But mine are dull as lead." Alas, alas! how very soon Hearing his wily, flattering words, With buzzing wings she hung aloft, Up jumped the cunning spider, He dragged her up his winding stair, She ne'er came out again! Unto an evil counsellor Close heart and ear and eye, And learn a lesson from this tale Of the spider and the fly. -Mary Howitt OVER IN THE MEADOW Ο VER in the meadow, In the sand, in the sun, Lived an old mother-toad In the sand, in the sun. |