« AnteriorContinuar »
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 !”
This silly little Fly,
Came slowly flitting by;
Then near and nearer drew,
And green and purple hueThinking only of her crested head
Poor foolish thing! At last,
And fiercely held her fast.
Into his dismal den,
But she ne'er came out again ! And now, dear little children,
Who may this story read, To idle, silly, flattering words, I
pray you ne'er give heed : Unto an evil counsellor
Close heart and ear and eye, And take a lesson, from this tale
Of the Spider and the Fly.
CHICKEN. SEE the chicken, round the gate, For their morning portion wait; Fill the basket from the store, Open wide the cottage door : Throw out crumbs, and scatter seed, Let the hungry chicken feed. Call them, see how fast they run! Gladly, quickly, every one ; Eager, busy; hen and chick, Every little morsel pick. See the hen, with callow brood, To her young how kind and good; With what care their steps she leads ! Them, and not herself, she feeds; Picking here, and picking there, Where the nicest morsels are. As she calls, they flock around, Bustling all along the ground. When their daily labours cease, And, at night, they rest in peace, All the little tiny things Nestle close beneath her wings; There she keeps them, safe and warm, Free from fear, and free from harm.
EPITAPH ON A HARE. HERE lies whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Nor swifter greyhound follow; Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo. Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
Who, nursed with tender care, And to domestic bounds confined,
Was still a wild Jack-hare. Though duly from my hand he took
His pittance every night, He did it with a jealous look,
And, when he could, would bite. His diet was of wheaten bread,
And milk, and oats, and straw, Thistles, or lettuces instead,
With sand to scour his maw.
On pippin's russet peel ;
Sliced carrot pleased him well.
Whereon he loved to bound, To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing his tail around.
His frisking was at evening hours,
For then he lost his fear, But most before approaching showers,
Or when a storin drew near. Eight years and five round-rolling moons
He thus saw steal away,
And every night at play.
For he would oft beguile
And force me to a smile.
He finds his long last home,
Till gentler Puss shall come.
THE SAILOR BOY. I Am a little sailor boy,
And would you know my story?
And seen it in its glory :
As gentle as a child,
Like a giant fierce and wild.
I was a little child,
When first I went to sea; I left the hills and valleys
That were so dear to me: With many, many tears,
I bade them all adieu ; My quiet little home,
And the rivulet so blue, The meadow and its flowers,
The forest and the dell, The old clock that told the hours,
I bade them all farewell. And now the ship was ready,
And was anchored in the bay, And soon the sails we hoisted,
And swiftly went away. Away upon the waters,
Like a proud bird she flew, And soon the distant shore
All faded from our view; My home among the hills
Seem'd to sink behind the sca, And I fancied it was lost,
For ever lost to me; And then I look'd around
On the far-spreading deep,