Oh no! I wish I were a Robin. Through forest, field or garden, Well — tell! Where should I fly to, Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell? Before a day was over, William Allingham THE VISIT “Do you go to Norton, mamma, this next week? I wish you had leisure to listen to me, For when you are writing I don't like to speak, And that letter will never be finished, I see.” “I will lay down my pen, then, my dear little child, For I see you have minded the lesson we read; Come, jump on my knee here,” mamma and smiled, As she kissed the soft hair on her Emily's head. shall I say Yes, to Norton we are going, and what I To your two little playmates there, Har riet and Ann? Shall I say you can read now as well as can play, And can pull out your needle as fast as they can?” No, mamma, that was not what I wished you to hear! And I fear you won't like what I'm going to say; Stop, put down your head, let me speak in your ear, For to whisper, I think, is by much the best way.” She asked to be taken her young friends to see, And to show them her work-box, her dolls, and her toys; She said she would try such a good child to be, And be well-bred and kind to the two little boys. She said if they teased her, or for her dolls cried, She would not forget she was older than they, If as boys they were rude, she would try not to chide, But would put up the dolls until they went away. From Ann she could learn how her bracelets to string, And with Harriet would practice doll's bonnets to make; She would give to the latter her favorite ring, And for dear little Ann, that Dutch doll she would take. “Then pray, dear mamma, pray do not say no; You are always so kind, do indulge me in this: I think if you like it, papa 'll let me go, And I shall be so good, I'll do nothing amiss.” Papa was consulted, and though it was far, Little Emily's goodness and worth gained the day, She was promised to go when the next wa came round, there is the carriage now drive ing away. Rhymes for the Nursery And see THE BABY What is the pretty little thing A baby Poor baby. Here take a bite, you little dear, You baby Poor baby. Like baby. And then she taught your pretty feet His baby. Oh, good mamma, to take such care, A baby. GETTING UP BABY, baby, ope your eye, There, now, sit in mother's lap, 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 me see Where your petticoats can be; |