 | Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds |  |
114
THE MUSHROOM GIRL.
'Tis surely time for me to rise,
Though yet the dawn is grey;
Sweet sleep, O quit my closing eyes,
For I must now away:—
Each young bird twitters on the spray.
Though yet the dawn is grey;
Sweet sleep, O quit my closing eyes,
For I must now away:—
Each young bird twitters on the spray.
It is not for the dewy mead
I leave my soft repose,
Where daisies bloom, and lambkins feed;
But where the mushroom grows:
And that my widowed mother knows.
I leave my soft repose,
Where daisies bloom, and lambkins feed;
But where the mushroom grows:
And that my widowed mother knows.
I'll rove the wide heath far and near,
Of mushrooms fine in quest;
But you remain, kind mother, here,
Lie still and take your rest,
Although with poverty oppressed.
Of mushrooms fine in quest;
But you remain, kind mother, here,
Lie still and take your rest,
Although with poverty oppressed.
No toad-stool in my basket found;
My mushrooms when I sell,
I'll buy some bread; our labours crowned,
Then let our neighbours tell
That you and I live wondrous well.
My mushrooms when I sell,
I'll buy some bread; our labours crowned,
Then let our neighbours tell
That you and I live wondrous well.
| Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds | |