III. FORESIGHT, Or the Charge of a Child to his younger Companion. THAT is work of waste and ruin— Do as Charles and I are doing! We must spare them-here are many: I am older, Anne, than you. Pull the Primrose, Sister Anne! Pull as many as you can. -Here are Daisies, take your fill; Pansies, and the Cuckow-flower: Of the lofty Daffodil Make your bed, and make your bower; Primroses, the Spring may love them— Summer knows but little of them: Violets, a barren kind, Withered on the ground must lie; Daisies leave no fruit behind When the pretty flowerets die; Pluck them, and another year God has given a kindlier-power And for that promise spare the flower! IV. CHARACTERISTICS Of a Child three Years old. LOVING she is, and tractable, though wild; To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes; Not less if unattended and alone Than when both young and old sit gathered round And take delight in its activity, Even so this happy Creature of herself Is all sufficient: solitude to her Is blithe society, who fills the air With gladness and involuntary songs. Light are her sallies as the tripping Fawn's Forth-startled from the fern where she lay couched; Unthought-of, unexpected as the stir Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadow flowers; Or from before it chasing wantonly V. ADDRESS TO A CHILD, During a boisterous Winter Evening. WHAT way does the Wind come? What way does he go? He rides over the water, and over the snow, Through wood, and through vale; and o'er rocky height As, if you look up, you plainly may see; There's never a Scholar in England knows. He will suddenly s'op in a cunning nook, Round as a pillow, and whiter than milk, And softer than if it were covered with silk. Sometimes he'll hide in the cave of a rock, Then whistle as shrill as the buzzard cock; -Yet seek him, and what shall you find in the place? Nothing but silence and empty space, Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves, That he's left for a bed for beggars or thieves! As soon as 'tis daylight, to-morrow, with me And cracked the branches, and strewn them about; All last summer, as well you know, Studded with apples, a beautiful show! Hark! over the roof he makes a pause, And growls as if he would fix his claws -But let him range round; he does us no harm Untouch'd by his breath see the candle shines bright, |