 | The child's book |  |
THE BEE AND BUTTERFLY.
“Come, busy Bee,” said Butterfly,
“And spend a playful hour,
For cloudless is the summer sky,
And fragrant every flower.”
“And spend a playful hour,
For cloudless is the summer sky,
And fragrant every flower.”
But, bent on industry, the Bee
Replied, with serious brow,
“I cannot leave my task, you see;
I'm not at leisure now.
Replied, with serious brow,
“I cannot leave my task, you see;
I'm not at leisure now.
I think you'd better toil a while,
To lay up food in store,
For summer has a fleeting smile,
And winter's at the door.”
To lay up food in store,
For summer has a fleeting smile,
And winter's at the door.”
“No, no,” he said, “while skies are fair,
I choose to gad and play,
And not distress myself with care
About a future day:
I choose to gad and play,
And not distress myself with care
About a future day:
And so, wise neighbour Bee, good bye,”
But she, with thoughtful grace,
Scarce turn'd her head to see him fly
His wild and giddy race.
But she, with thoughtful grace,
Scarce turn'd her head to see him fly
His wild and giddy race.
From flower to flower, from tree to tree,
She patient roam'd along,
And cheer'd her faithful industry
With her own pleasant song.
She patient roam'd along,
With her own pleasant song.
But once, as from her hive she sped,
Beneath a frosty sky,
She saw, all desolate and dead,
The idle Butterfly.
Beneath a frosty sky,
She saw, all desolate and dead,
The idle Butterfly.
LETTER FROM A BABY TO HER NEIGHBOUR, ON HIS SECOND BIRTHDAY.
The rolling earth,
Your day of birth
Brings fair and fleeting;
And as a friend
I long to send
My simple greeting.
Your day of birth
Brings fair and fleeting;
And as a friend
I long to send
My simple greeting.
Yet almost fear
To have you hear
My poor inditing;
Your critic smile
Must scorn my style
Of baby-writing.
To have you hear
Your critic smile
Must scorn my style
Of baby-writing.
Six months have shed
Upon my head
But little knowledge;
While you are fit,
In sense and wit,
To enter college.
Upon my head
But little knowledge;
While you are fit,
In sense and wit,
To enter college.
My mother said,
The map you'd spread
And show with ease,
All the globe boasts,—
Realms, isles, and coasts,
And lakes, and seas.
The map you'd spread
And show with ease,
All the globe boasts,—
Realms, isles, and coasts,
And lakes, and seas.
That you 'd describe
The four-legged tribe
Both great and small,—
Both wild and tam'd,
That Adam nam'd
In Eden, all.
The four-legged tribe
Both wild and tam'd,
That Adam nam'd
In Eden, all.
Years, at this rate,
Will make you great,
Or I'm mistaken.
Perhaps, with Locke,
The crowd you'll mock,
Or shine like Bacon.
Will make you great,
Or I'm mistaken.
Perhaps, with Locke,
Or shine like Bacon.
With Franklin's zeal
The lightning steal,
And chain its rage;
Or nobly write
Your name, like Dwight,
On heaven's own page
The lightning steal,
And chain its rage;
Or nobly write
Your name, like Dwight,
On heaven's own page
Our sex, I'm told,
Are formed to hold
A lower place;
Our powers of mind
Being far behind
Your lordly race.
Are formed to hold
A lower place;
Our powers of mind
Being far behind
Your lordly race.
I've understood
That “household good”
Was our enjoyment.
To cook and mend,
And babies tend,
Our chief employment.
That “household good”
Was our enjoyment.
To cook and mend,
Our chief employment.
'Tis very well,
I shan't rebel;
And when I grow,
Shall like to make
Nice pies and cake,
And share, also.
I shan't rebel;
And when I grow,
Shall like to make
Nice pies and cake,
And share, also.
But now good bye,—
'Tis time that I
Your patience spare;
May you, each day,
In love repay
A parent's care.
'Tis time that I
May you, each day,
In love repay
A parent's care.
CHILDREN'S LETTER TO A GRANDFATHER, ON HIS BIRTHDAY.
A kiss of love,—your birthday morn,
We bring, grandfather dear,—
Fresh flowrets, and this letter too,
With tenderness sincere.
We bring, grandfather dear,—
Fresh flowrets, and this letter too,
With tenderness sincere.
We 're glad to see you look so well,
And hear your pleasant voice;
And then to walk with you to church,
We very much rejoice.
And hear your pleasant voice;
And then to walk with you to church,
We very much rejoice.
You call yourself an old, old man,
Of fourscore years and five;
Yet still you grow more dear to us
For every year you live.
Of fourscore years and five;
Yet still you grow more dear to us
For every year you live.
For we are taught the hoary head,
By time and wisdom crown'd,
Is blessed,—like the heart that sheds
A sweet example round.
By time and wisdom crown'd,
Is blessed,—like the heart that sheds
A sweet example round.
Yes, blessed is the pious man,
Who meekly, humbly waits
The will of God, and cheerful looks
Toward heaven's unfolding gates.
Who meekly, humbly waits
The will of God, and cheerful looks
Toward heaven's unfolding gates.
We love to sit upon your knee,
And in the Bible read;
And you to all our little wants
Are very kind indeed.
And in the Bible read;
And you to all our little wants
Are very kind indeed.
We pray that blessings on your head
May thro' this year be strew'd;
And should we live to be as old,
That we may be as good.
May thro' this year be strew'd;
And should we live to be as old,
That we may be as good.
THE PRISONER BIRD.
There you are, in your cage,
Little prisoner, I see,
Looking wishfully forth,
At the birds on the tree.
Little prisoner, I see,
Looking wishfully forth,
At the birds on the tree.
Gazing out all the day,
On your friends as they fly,
With the song of the heart,
From the earth to the sky.
On your friends as they fly,
From the earth to the sky.
The gay butterflies,
And the beetles and bees,
Unfold their light pinions
And rove where they please.
And the beetles and bees,
Unfold their light pinions
And rove where they please.
But there you are shut,
With a close-folded wing,
And a pang at your breast,
Tho' you 're trying to sing.
With a close-folded wing,
And a pang at your breast,
Tho' you 're trying to sing.
Might I open your prison,
And bid you be free,
To build you a nest
On the bush or the tree;
And bid you be free,
To build you a nest
On the bush or the tree;
And see you enjoying
This bright summer day,
It would gladden my heart
As I go to my play.
This bright summer day,
It would gladden my heart
As I go to my play.
BROTHER AND SISTER.
Early one morning,
A boy said to his sister,
I was not good to you, yesterday,—
I was cross and unkind;
I did not tell you that I was sorry.
A boy said to his sister,
I was not good to you, yesterday,—
I was cross and unkind;
I did not tell you that I was sorry.
At night, I laid down to sleep,—
But I was not happy.
I dreamed that you lay on your bed,—
You were very pale and sick,—
I spoke,—but you did not answer;
I feared that you would die.
But I was not happy.
I dreamed that you lay on your bed,—
You were very pale and sick,—
I spoke,—but you did not answer;
I feared that you would die.
When I awoke, I remembered
The text that we had learned,—
“Be kindly affectioned,
One toward another,
In brotherly love.”
The text that we had learned,—
“Be kindly affectioned,
One toward another,
In brotherly love.”
I knew that my sleep was troubled,
Because I had done wrong.
I am sorry that I was not good to you.
Dear sister, forgive me,—
I will try to be always kind.
Because I had done wrong.
I am sorry that I was not good to you.
Dear sister, forgive me,—
I will try to be always kind.
The little girl ran to her brother,—
She put her arms round his neck,
She kissed him, and said,
“I forgive you,—and I love you
Better than I did before.”
She put her arms round his neck,
She kissed him, and said,
“I forgive you,—and I love you
Better than I did before.”
THE LADY AND THE POOR BOY.
One cold day in winter,
A lady went to her door:
She saw a poor boy,—
His clothes were old and thin,—
Frost was upon his hair,
And he shivered, as he asked,
“Will you please to give me some work?”
A lady went to her door:
She saw a poor boy,—
His clothes were old and thin,—
Frost was upon his hair,
And he shivered, as he asked,
“Will you please to give me some work?”
“You may come in, and warm you:
Do you not want something to eat?”
“I had rather work first:
I do not wish to beg.”
Then the lady gave him leave
To pile some wood in her yard.
He was quick at the work,
And took pains to do it well.
Do you not want something to eat?”
I do not wish to beg.”
Then the lady gave him leave
To pile some wood in her yard.
He was quick at the work,
And took pains to do it well.
Then she gave him some breakfast.
He was hungry, yet he ate but little,
And asked, “Is this food mine?”
“Yes,” she said, “you have earned it.”
“If you please, I will take it to my mother.
She is sick now:
“She cannot leave her bed.
We were not so poor before.
She has told me not to beg,
But to ask for work:
I think she is the best woman in the world.”
He was hungry, yet he ate but little,
And asked, “Is this food mine?”
“Yes,” she said, “you have earned it.”
“If you please, I will take it to my mother.
She is sick now:
We were not so poor before.
She has told me not to beg,
But to ask for work:
I think she is the best woman in the world.”
“Take the food to her, my good boy.
Here, I will give you some wood,
That you may make a fire for her.”
He thanked her, and went gladly home.
Here, I will give you some wood,
That you may make a fire for her.”
He thanked her, and went gladly home.
The same day, the good lady visited them;
She found that he had told the truth:
His poor mother was sick and weak;
He had made her a fire
With the wood that had been sent.
He was feeding her with some of the food that he had warmed.
She found that he had told the truth:
His poor mother was sick and weak;
He had made her a fire
With the wood that had been sent.
He was feeding her with some of the food that he had warmed.
The next day the lady gave him more work;
She asked kindly after his sick mother,
And sent things for her comfort.
The boy looked thankfully at her,
And in his eyes were bright tears of joy.
And sent things for her comfort.
The boy looked thankfully at her,
And in his eyes were bright tears of joy.
So he worked willingly,—day after day,
And nursed and took care of his sick mother.
And nursed and took care of his sick mother.
His father was a sailor,
He was out upon the wide sea,
He was to be gone many months.
He was out upon the wide sea,
He was to be gone many months.
The boy prayed to God
That his dear mother might not die;
He was always at her side,
To wait upon her and to comfort her,—
Only when he went out and worked,
To earn their food and the fuel that kept them warm.
Slowly the poor woman grew better;
When her husband returned, she was almost well.
The good lady sent her son to school.
A part of every day he worked for her:
In the evening he read to his parents
Books, which she kindly lent him.
That his dear mother might not die;
He was always at her side,
To wait upon her and to comfort her,—
Only when he went out and worked,
To earn their food and the fuel that kept them warm.
When her husband returned, she was almost well.
The good lady sent her son to school.
A part of every day he worked for her:
In the evening he read to his parents
Books, which she kindly lent him.
He was a good and obedient son;
When he grew up to be a man,
He was respected by all.
The blessing of God was with him,—
For he kept the commandment,
Which is given in His Holy Word,
“Honour thy father and thy mother.”
When he grew up to be a man,
He was respected by all.
For he kept the commandment,
Which is given in His Holy Word,
“Honour thy father and thy mother.”
MOTHER AND CHILD.
A child had troubled his mother:
He was fretful and disobedient:
He went away to school:
He walked slowly, and thought
Of what he had said and done.
He was fretful and disobedient:
He went away to school:
He walked slowly, and thought
Of what he had said and done.
The morning sky was bright,
But he did not look up and smile.
Flowers sparkled with dew,
But he did not enjoy their sweetness.
Birds sang from tree and bush,
But he did not love their song,
For the spirit of naughtiness
Lay heavy at his heart.
But he did not look up and smile.
But he did not enjoy their sweetness.
Birds sang from tree and bush,
But he did not love their song,
For the spirit of naughtiness
Lay heavy at his heart.
He entered the school-room:
The teacher read a lesson:
“Children,—a few years ago
You were little infants,—
Your hands were weak and helpless,—
Your feet unable to walk.
The teacher read a lesson:
“Children,—a few years ago
You were little infants,—
Your hands were weak and helpless,—
Your feet unable to walk.
“Who held you tenderly in her arms?
And when you hungered, gave you food?
When you cried, who had patience with you?
Who smiled on your little plays,
And taught your little tongue its first words?
“When you were sick, who nursed you?
Who watched your cradle, thro' the long night?
Who bowed down, with tears upon her cheeks,
Fearing that you might die?”
And the children answered,
“It was our mother.”
And when you hungered, gave you food?
When you cried, who had patience with you?
Who smiled on your little plays,
And taught your little tongue its first words?
Who watched your cradle, thro' the long night?
Who bowed down, with tears upon her cheeks,
Fearing that you might die?”
And the children answered,
“It was our mother.”
The lesson went on:
“What then will you do for the mother
Who hath done so much for you?
Who hath never forgotten you for a moment
Who loveth you, night and day?”
And the children said,
“We will love and obey her,
All the days of our life.”
“What then will you do for the mother
Who hath done so much for you?
Who hath never forgotten you for a moment
And the children said,
“We will love and obey her,
All the days of our life.”
Then the child who had been bad at home,
Held down his head with shame.
As soon as school was done,
He hastened back to his mother:
He kneeled down by her side,—
He hid his face in her lap, and said,
“I was naughty to you, and did not repent.
I went to school, and was unhappy.
Mother, forgive me,—
That the flowers may be sweet to me again,
And that I may look at the bright, blue sky,
And be at peace.”
Held down his head with shame.
As soon as school was done,
He hastened back to his mother:
He kneeled down by her side,—
He hid his face in her lap, and said,
“I was naughty to you, and did not repent.
I went to school, and was unhappy.
Mother, forgive me,—
That the flowers may be sweet to me again,
And that I may look at the bright, blue sky,
And be at peace.”
The mother said, “I forgive you, my dear son,—
Ask God to forgive you, also,
That the voice in your bosom
May no longer blame you,
And you may be at peace with Him.
Ask God to forgive you, also,
That the voice in your bosom
May no longer blame you,
And you may be at peace with Him.
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