66 Behold," quoth he," that mighty thing, "Which upwards cannot make it spring, "Whilst on this oak, a fruit so small, 66 "Its ill contrivance knows. My better judgment would have hung "And left this mast thus slightly strung Nor more the caviller could say, Th' offending part with tears ran o'er, Fool! had that bough a pumpkin bore, THE EMMETS. THESE emmets, how little they are in our eyes! Yet as wise as we are, if we went to their school, They don't wear their time out in sleeping or play, And for winter they lay up their stores: They manage their work in such regular forms, One would think they foresaw all the frosts and the storms, And so brought their food within doors. But I have less sense than a poor creeping ant, my Now, now, while my strength and my youth are in bloom, Let me think what will serve me when sickness shall come, And pray that my sins be forgiv❜n: Let me read in good books, and believe, and obey, That when Death turns me out of this cottage of clay, I may dwell in a palace in heav'n. THE SLUGGARD.-Watts. "Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him com plain, "You have wak'd me too soon, I must slumber again;" As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed, head. "A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;" Thus he wastes his days and his hours without number; And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands, I pass'd by his garden, and saw the wild brier, The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags; And his money still wastes, 'till he starves or he begs. f I made him a visit, still hoping to find He had taken more care in improving his mind : He told me his dreams, talk'd of eating and drinking, But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking. Said I then to my heart, "Here's a lesson for me; "That man's but a picture of what I might be : "But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding, "Who taught me betimes to love working and reading." INNOCENT PLAY. ABROAD in the meadows to see the young lambs Run sporting about by the side of their dams, With fleeces so clean and so white; Or a nest of young doves in a large open cage, If we had been ducks, we might dabble in mud, But Thomas, and William, and such pretty names, Should be cleanly and harmless as doves or as lambs, Those lovely sweet innocent creatures. Not a thing that we do, nor a word that we say, Should injure another in jesting or play; For he's still in earnest that's hurt: How rude are the boys that throw pebbles and mire ! There's none but a madam will fling about fire, And tell you, ""Tis all but in sport." THE STURDY ROCK. THE sturdy rock, for all its strength, The stately stag, that seems so stout, At length is caught in fowler's net; Yea, man himself, unto whose will Doth fade at length and fall away; There is no thing but time doth waste, The heav'ns, the earth, consume at last. But Virtue sits triumphing still Upon the throne of glorious fame; Though spiteful Death man's body kill, Yet hurts he not his virtuous name; By life or death whate'er betides, The state of Virtue never slides. WE ARE SEVEN.-Wordsworth. A SIMPLE child, dear brother Sim, I met a little cottage girl, She was eight years old, she said, Her hair was thick with many a curl That cluster'd round her head. She had a rustic woodland air, "Sisters and brothers, little maid, "And where are they, I pray you tell?" She answer'd, "Seven are we, "And two of us at Conway dwell, "And two are gone to sea. "Two of us in the church-yard lie, My sister and my brother, 66 "And in the church-yard cottage, I "Dwell near them with my mother," "You say that two at Conway dwell, "And two are gone to sea, "And yet you are seven, I pray you tell may be." "Sweet maid how this Then did the little maid reply, "You run about my little maid, "Your limbs are all alive, "If two are in the church-yard laid, Then you are only five." |