 | Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds |  |
POVERTY.
I saw an old cottage of clay,
And only of mud was the floor;
It was all falling into decay,
And the snow drifted in at the door.
And only of mud was the floor;
It was all falling into decay,
And the snow drifted in at the door.
Yet there a poor family dwelt,
In a hovel so dismal and rude;
And though gnawing hunger they felt,
They had not a morsel of food.
In a hovel so dismal and rude;
And though gnawing hunger they felt,
They had not a morsel of food.
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The children were crying for bread,
And to their poor mother they'd run;
“Oh, give us some breakfast,” they said,
Alas! their poor mother had none.
And to their poor mother they'd run;
“Oh, give us some breakfast,” they said,
Alas! their poor mother had none.
She viewed them with looks of despair:
She said (and I'm sure it was true),
“'Tis not for myself that I care,
But, my poor little children, for you.”
She said (and I'm sure it was true),
“'Tis not for myself that I care,
But, my poor little children, for you.”
Oh then, let the wealthy and gay
But see such a hovel as this,
That in a poor cottage of clay
They may know what true misery is:
But see such a hovel as this,
That in a poor cottage of clay
They may know what true misery is:
And what I may have to bestow
I never will squander away,
While many poor people I know
Around me are wretched as they.
I never will squander away,
While many poor people I know
Around me are wretched as they.
| Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds | |