 | Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds |  |
THE FOX AND THE CROW.
A FABLE.
The fox and the crow,
In prose, I well know,
Many good little girls can rehearse:
Perhaps it will tell
Pretty nearly as well,
If we try the same fable in verse.
In prose, I well know,
Many good little girls can rehearse:
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Pretty nearly as well,
If we try the same fable in verse.
In a dairy a crow,
Having ventured to go,
Some food for her young ones to seek,
Flew up in the trees,
With a fine piece of cheese,
Which she joyfully held in her beak.
Having ventured to go,
Some food for her young ones to seek,
Flew up in the trees,
With a fine piece of cheese,
Which she joyfully held in her beak.
A fox, who lived by,
To the tree saw her fly,
And to share in the prize made a vow;
For having just dined,
He for cheese felt inclined,
So he went and sat under the bough.
To the tree saw her fly,
And to share in the prize made a vow;
For having just dined,
He for cheese felt inclined,
So he went and sat under the bough.
She was cunning, he knew,
But so was he too,
And with flattery adapted his plan;
For he knew if she'd speak,
It must fall from her beak,
So, bowing politely, began.
But so was he too,
And with flattery adapted his plan;
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It must fall from her beak,
So, bowing politely, began.
“'Tis a very fine day”
(Not a word did she say):
“The wind, I believe, ma'am, is south;
A fine harvest for peas:”
He then looked at the cheese,
But the crow did not open her mouth.
(Not a word did she say):
“The wind, I believe, ma'am, is south;
A fine harvest for peas:”
He then looked at the cheese,
But the crow did not open her mouth.
Sly Reynard, not tired,
Her plumage admired,
“How charming! how brilliant its hue!
The voice must be fine,
Of a bird so divine,
Ah, let me just hear it, pray do.
Her plumage admired,
“How charming! how brilliant its hue!
The voice must be fine,
Of a bird so divine,
Ah, let me just hear it, pray do.
“Believe me, I long
To hear a sweet song:”
The silly crow foolishly tries:
She scarce gave one squall,
When the cheese she let fall,
And the fox ran away with the prize.
To hear a sweet song:”
The silly crow foolishly tries:
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When the cheese she let fall,
And the fox ran away with the prize.
MORAL.
Ye innocent fair,Of coxcombs beware,
To flattery never give ear;
Try well each pretence,
And keep to plain sense,
And then you have little to fear.
| Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds | |