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Oh no! I wish I were a Robin.
Till winter comes with icy thumbs
Well-tell! Where should I fly to,
Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell? Before a day was over,
Home comes the rover,
For mother's kiss, sweeter this
Than any other thing!
"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
For I see you have minded the lesson we
Come, jump on my knee here," mamma and smiled,
As she kissed the soft hair on her Emily's head.
"Yes, to Norton we are going, and what shall I say
To your two little playmates there, Harriet 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
Stop, put down your head, let me speak in
For to whisper, I think, is by much the best way."
She asked to be taken her young friends to
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
She said if they teased her, or for her dolls cried,
She would not forget she was older than
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.
dear mamma, pray do not say
You are always so kind, do indulge me in
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
She was promised to go when the next we came round,
WHAT is the pretty little thing
Oh, dear, how very soft its cheek:
Here take a bite, you little dear,
'Tis very nice, you need not fear,
Oh, I'm afraid that it will die,
Why, you were once a baby too,
But good mamma took care of you,
And then she taught your pretty feet
And called papa to come and meet
Oh, good mamma, to take such care,
Jane and Ann Taylor
BABY, baby, ope your eye,
And he 's peeping once again
Any longer fast asleep.
There, now, sit in mother's lap,
For the little strings have got
Ah! for shame,-you've been at play
With the bobbin, as you lay.
There it comes, now let me see