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 | Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds |  |
97
MY OLD SHOES.
You're now too old for me to wear, poor shoes,And yet I will not sell you to the Jews;
Yon wandering little boy must barefoot go,
Through mud and rain, and nipping frost and snow;
And as he walks along the road or street,
The flint is sharp, and cuts his tender feet.
My shoes, though old, might save him many a pain;
And should I sell them, what might be my gain?
A sixpence, that would buy some foolish toy:
No; take these shoes, poor shivering barefoot boy.
| Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds | |