ENVIOUS ELIZA
Eliza never was content.
Indeed ’twas very sad
That any child could envy so
The things that others had.
ENVIOUS ELIZA
ELIZA was an envious child,
Indeed ’twas very sad
To see the way she wished for things
That other children had.
Instead of playing like the rest,
She’d stand about and whine,
“I do not see why every one
Has better things than mine.
“Jane’s doll is prettier than mine.
John has a better ball.
The one Aunt Sarah gave to me
Will hardly bounce at all.
“My picture book is old and torn
And Mary’s looks quite new.
And Tom has all the building blocks.
I wish I had some, too.”
’Twas thus the envious little girl
Complained day after day.
She made herself unhappy,
And spoiled the fun and play.
At last one day when she began
With her complaints once more,
John quickly gathered up his toys
And games from off the floor.
“Here, you may have my things,” he said,
“I’ll give them all to you.”
“And you may have my doll,” said Jane,
“And all her dresses, too.”
“Yes,” Mary cried, “and take my books,
”My grace-hoop, sticks and all,
And Noah’s Ark.“ ”And here!“ said Tom,
”Here are my blocks and ball.“
Eliza scarce believed her ears,
“You’ll give them all to me,—
The books and games and toys? Oh dear!
How happy I shall be.”
The other children ran away,
And left her standing there,
But since they’d also left their things
But little did she care.
Quite happily, all by herself,
She played that afternoon,
It seemed to her that supper time
Had never come so soon.
Next day, all by herself again;
She settled down to play,
But oh! the room seemed strangely still
With all the rest away.
“I wonder what they’re all about,
And where they are,” thought she;
And then she called them, “Come in here
And play awhile with me.”
“We can’t,” she heard them answer back,
“There’s nothing we can do
Now we have given all our toys
And games and books to you!”
“But oh! I cannot always play
All by myself,” cried she,
“Come here, and you shall have again
The things you gave to me.
“The toys and books and dolls and games—
Each one shall take his own,
I’d rather never have a thing
Than always play alone.”
The children now have taken back
The toys they gave to her,
The nursery’s full of merriment
And fun and cheerful stir.
Eliza now is quite content
To play like all the rest,
And never gives a single thought
To which one has the best.