Page 59—Temper Land
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A New Year's Gift A charming present comes from town, A baby-house quite neat; With kitchen, parlours, dining-room, And chambers, all complete. A gift to Emma and to Rose, From grandpa it came; The little Rosa smil'd delight, And Emma did the same. They eagerly examin'd all— The furniture was gay; And in the rooms they plac'd their dolls, When dress'd in fine array. At night, their little candles lit, And as they must be fed, To supper down the dolls were plac'd, And then were put to bed. Thus Rose and Emma pass'd each hour Devoted to their play; And long were cheerful, happy, kind— No cross disputes had they. Till Rose in baby-house would change The chairs which were below "This carpet they would better suit; I think I'll have it so." "No, no indeed," her sister said, "I'm older, Rose, than you; And I'm the pet—the house is mine: Miss, what I say is true." The quarrel grew to such a height, Mamma she heard the noise, And coming in, beheld the floor All strew'd with broken toys. "O fie, my Emma! naughty Rose! Say, why this sulk and pout? Remember this is New Year's Day, And both are going out." Now Betty calls the little girls To come upstairs and dress: They still revile, with threats And angry rage express. But just prepar'd to leave their room, Persisting yet in strife, Rose sick'ning fell on Betty's lap. As void of sense or life. Mamma appear'd at Betty's call— John for the doctor goes; The measles, he begins to think, Dread symptoms all disclose. "But though I stay, my Emma, you May go and spend the day." "O no, mamma," replied the child, "Do suffer me to stay. "Beside my sister's bed I'll sit, And watch her with such care, "No pleasure can I e'er enjoy, Till she my pleasure share. "How silly now seems our dispute, Not one of us she knows; How pale she looks, how hard she breathes, Poor pretty little Rose!" Adelaide Taylor |
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Quarrelling Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 'tis their nature too. Dr Watts |
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Angry Words Poison-drops of care and sorrow, Bitter poison-drops are they, Weaving for the coming morrow, Saddest memories of to-day. Angry words, oh! let them never From the tongue unbridled slip; May the heart's best impulse ever Check them ere they soil the lip. Love is much too pure and holy, Friendship is too sacred far, For a moment's reckless folly Thus to desolate and mar. Angry words are lightly spoken, Bitterest thoughts are rashly stirred, Brightest links of life are broken, By a single angry word. |
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The Tear And The Smile A little tear and a little smile Set out to run a race; We watched them closely all the while— Their course was baby's face. The little tear he got the start We really feared he'd win, He ran so fast and made a dart Straight for her dimpled chin. But somehow, it was very queer, We watched them all the while— The little, shining, fretful tear Got beaten by the smile. |
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Love One Another Silly little Mary, Sulking all the day, While the other children Run about and play. Silly little Mary Wears a peevish look, When she sees the others Laughing at the brook. Silly little Mary, Will not skip or swing, Won't at puss-in-corner play, Won't do anything. Silly little Mary Hides behind the bank, In among the roots and weeds, All so thick and rank. Mary hears a footstep O'er the velvet moss, Sees a roguish little face It is Willie Ross. I have found you, Mary. Won't you come play too? And with cheeks all crimsoned, Whispers—I love you. Ah! but love has conquered Fall the tears like rain, Then our little Mary Is herself again. Where are sulks and tears now? All are fled away. And our little Mary Will both laugh and play. |
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