Page 67—Laziness Land

Idle Mary
Oh, Mary, this will never do!
This work is sadly done, my dear,
And such little of it too!
You have not taken pains, I fear.
On no, your work has been forgotten,
Indeed you've hardly thought of that;
I saw you roll your ball of cotton
About the floor to please the cat.
See, here are stitches straggling wide,
And others reaching down so far;
I'm very sure you have not tried
At all to-day to please mamma.
The little girl who will not sew
Should never be allowed to play;
But then I hope, my love, that you
Will take more pains another day.

Lazy Sal
A lazy, lazy, lazy girl!
Her hair forever out of curl,
Her feet unshod, her hands unclean,
Her dress in tatters always seen.
Lounging here and dawdling there,
Lying out 'most anywhere
About the barn-yard. Not a thought
Of studying lessons as she ought;
But happiest when in sunny weather
She and "the other pig" together
Are playing tricks. No wonder, then,
The farmer, jolliest of men,
Is apt to say, when tired out
With seeing her sprawling round about,
"Beats all what ails that lazy gal!
Why, piggy's twice as smart as Sal!"

The Work-bag
To Jane her aunt a work-bag gave,
Of silk with flowers so gay,
That she a place might always have
To put her work away.
And then 'twas furnished quite complete
With cotton, silk and thread,
And needless in a case so neat,
Of all the sizes made.
A little silver thimble, too,
Was there among the rest;
And a large waxen doll, quite new,
That waited to be dress'd.
But Jane was very fond of play,
And loved to toss her ball;
An I am quite ashamed to say,
She scarcely worked at all.
But if at any time she did,
'Twas but a stitch or two;
And though she often has been bid,
But little more would do.
The pretty little bag, indeed,
Was hung upon her chair;
But cotton, needles, silk, and thread
Were scattered here and there.
Her aunt, by chance, came in that day,
And asked if the doll was dress'd;
Miss Jane has been engaged in play,
And careless of the rest.
The silk, to make her little dress,
Was on the table laid,
And, with an equal carelessness,
The cap had also strayed.
With gauze and lace the floor was strewed,
All in disorder lay,
When, bounding in with gesture rude,
Came Jane, returned from play.
She little thought her aunt to find,
And blushed to see her there;
It brought her carelessness to mind,
And what her doll should wear.
"Well, Jane, and where's your doll, my dear?
I hope you've dress'd her now;
But there is such a litter here,
You best know when and how."
So spoke her aunt, and, looking round
The empty bag she spied;
Poor Jane, who no excuse had found,
Now hid her face and cried.
"Since," said her aunt, "no work, you do,
But waste your time in play;
The work-bag, of no use to you,
I now shall take away."
But now, with self-conviction, Jane
Her idleness confessed,
And ere her aunt could come again,
Her doll was neatly dressed.

The Two Gardens
When Harry and Dick
Had been striving to please,
Their father (to whom it was known)
Made two little gardens,
And stocked them with trees,
And gave one to each for his own.
Harry thank'd his papa,
And with rake, hoe, and spade,
Directly began his employ;
And soon such a neat
Little garden was made,
That he panted with labour and joy.
There was always some bed
Or some border to mend,
Or something to tie or stick:
And Harry rose early
His garden to tend,
While snoring lay indolent Dick.
The tulip, the rose,
And the lily so white,
United their beautiful bloom!
And often the honey-bee
Stoop'd from his flight,
To sip the delicious perfume.
A neat row of peas
In full blossom was seen,
French beans were beginning to shoot!
And his gooseb'ries and currents,
Tho' yet they were green,
Foretold of plenty of fruit.
But Richard loved better
In bed to repose,
And snug as he curl'd himself round,
Forgot that not tulip,
Nor lily, nor rose,
Nor plant in his garden was found.
Rank weeds and tall nettles
Disfigur'd his beds,
Nor cabbage nor lettuce was seen,
The slug and the snail
Show'd their mischievous heads,
And eat ev'ry leaf that was green.
Thus Richard the idle,
Who shrank from the cold,
Beheld his trees naked and bare;
Whilst Harry the active
Was charmed to behold
The fruit of his patience and care.
Ann Taylor.

Doing Nothing
I asked a lad what he was doing;
"Nothing, good sir," said he to me.
"By nothing well and long pursuing,
Nothing," said I, "you'll surely be."
I asked a lad what he was thinking;
"Nothing," said he. "I do declare."
"Many," said I, "in vile inns drinking,
By idle minds were carried there."
There's nothing great, there's nothing wise,
Which idle hands and minds supply;
Those who all thought and toil despise,
Mere nothings live, and nothings die.
A thousand naughts are not a feather,
When in a sum they all are brought;
A thousand idle lads together
Are still but nothings joined to naught.
And yet of merit they will boast,
And sometimes pompous seem, and haughty,
But still 'tis very plain to most,
That "nothing" boys are mostly naughty.

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