 | A gift book of stories and poems for children |  |
57
A FABLE.
FOR A YOUNG FRIEND.
In a beautiful garden, my dear little maid,
A grape-vine had twined itself into an arbour,
And under its branches in beauty array'd,
A small but sweet rose-bush delighted to harbour.
A grape-vine had twined itself into an arbour,
And under its branches in beauty array'd,
A small but sweet rose-bush delighted to harbour.
The blush on its bosom was brilliant and light,
As that which on modesty's cheek oft reposes,
And it beam'd with a freshness as fair to the sight,
As youth in its innocent beauty discloses.
As that which on modesty's cheek oft reposes,
And it beam'd with a freshness as fair to the sight,
As youth in its innocent beauty discloses.
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Those thought, who had seen it, its grace and its bloom,
Resembled the charms of a sweet little child;
And while giving delight by its grateful perfume,
Compar'd it to her who was pleasant and mild.
Resembled the charms of a sweet little child;
And while giving delight by its grateful perfume,
Compar'd it to her who was pleasant and mild.
One beautiful morning while nature was gay,
And the sun in his elegant splendour was seen,
The grape-vine appeared in her fairest array
Of dew-drops, that hung on her mantle of green.
And the sun in his elegant splendour was seen,
The grape-vine appeared in her fairest array
Of dew-drops, that hung on her mantle of green.
She rais'd up her head and look'd down to the shade
Where the sweet little rose-bush was blooming below,
And then in rough accents contemptuously said,
With words that were chilling as pride could bestow:
Where the sweet little rose-bush was blooming below,
And then in rough accents contemptuously said,
With words that were chilling as pride could bestow:
“You have dress'd yourself out in a beautiful style,
To attract all the gazers that come to your view;
And perhaps you expect by your graces the while,
To become for a time even my rival too.
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And perhaps you expect by your graces the while,
To become for a time even my rival too.
“You poor short-liv'd creature, and do you not know,
That I am the shade which prevents you from dying?
That exposed to the sun you no longer could grow,
And around your fine head all your leaves would be flying?
That I am the shade which prevents you from dying?
That exposed to the sun you no longer could grow,
And around your fine head all your leaves would be flying?
“Put off your pretensions, you look like a fright,
And don't try to blush and to smile as you do—
You think by this folly to give some delight,
But when I am present pray who would see you?”
And don't try to blush and to smile as you do—
You think by this folly to give some delight,
But when I am present pray who would see you?”
The rose really blush'd the deep scarlet of pride,
To see one so much older so cross and ill bred,
And she hid her sweet face on a shrub by her side,
Which press'd to support her soft innocent head.
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And she hid her sweet face on a shrub by her side,
Which press'd to support her soft innocent head.
But sudden the skies darken'd into deep gloom,
While the lightning's red gleam was tremendous and wild;
The high grape-vine trembled in fear of her doom—
But the innocent rose-bush look'd upward and smil'd.
While the lightning's red gleam was tremendous and wild;
The high grape-vine trembled in fear of her doom—
But the innocent rose-bush look'd upward and smil'd.
And now the wild winds whistled hoarsely around,
And deep peals of thunder came bursting between;
The rude tempest fell'd the fair vine to the ground,
And the arbour laid low, with its ringlets of green.
And deep peals of thunder came bursting between;
The rude tempest fell'd the fair vine to the ground,
And the arbour laid low, with its ringlets of green.
The loud storm had ceas'd, and the sun's brilliant ray,
Shone gaily on nature and open'd each sweet,
When Mary, young, innocent, modest and gay,
Stole into her garden, her fav'rite retreat.
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When Mary, young, innocent, modest and gay,
Stole into her garden, her fav'rite retreat.
She paus'd as she saw the high vine laid so low,
And the lesson she learn'd found its way to her heart,
And she pray'd, that her God would his favour bestow,
And bid from her mind evil passions depart.
And the lesson she learn'd found its way to her heart,
And she pray'd, that her God would his favour bestow,
And bid from her mind evil passions depart.
She pray'd, as the rose, to be modest and meek,
Nor boast, like the grape-vine, of beauty and grace:
For pride spoils the bloom of a beautiful cheek,
And a heart that is pur is more fair than a face.
Nor boast, like the grape-vine, of beauty and grace:
For pride spoils the bloom of a beautiful cheek,
And a heart that is pur is more fair than a face.
| A gift book of stories and poems for children | |