THE CATERPILLAR
The Caterpillar has to crawl.
He cannot run or jump at all.
ANNE was a lively child at play,
And quick as she could be,
But when an errand must be run
Ah, slow of foot was she.
“My child,” said grandmamma one day,
“Run to my room and look,
And bring me, from my bureau there,
My spectacles and book.”
“Oh, grandmamma, I’m reading now,”
The lazy Annie said,
“I do not want to leave my book,
Mayn’t Mary go instead?”
No wonder grandmamma looked pained
When Annie answered so,
But little Mary cried, “Why, yes!
Of course I’d love to go.”
“Come little Anne,” her mother called,
“Run down the street for me,
And get some thread to sew your frock.
Let’s see how quick you’ll be.”
“Oh dear! I’m tired,” Anne replied,
“Why cannot Mary go?
Or nurse? She’s not been out all day,
Indeed she told me so.”
“My child, my child!” her mother said,
“Whatever shall I do?
You’re such a lazy, useless girl
I feel ashamed of you.
“Your little feet run fast enough
For pleasure or for fun,
But you can hardly crawl about
When errands must be run.”
But listen now! One day Anne woke
And felt quite strange and queer.
“Whatever’s happened to me now,”
She cried; “Oh dear, oh dear!
“Oh mother! nurse! Come in here quick
And tell me what is wrong.
I seem to have so many feet—
My body feels so long.”
Mamma and nurse came hurrying in,
Ah what a sight to see!
Poor Anne! A caterpillar’s legs
And stubby feet had she.
She scarce knew how to turn herself
Nor how to climb from bed.
“However shall I run or play!”
The poor child sadly said.
Mamma and nurse were shocked and grieved,
And so was grandma, too,
While little Mary sobbed, “Oh dear!
Whatever will she do!”
But like a caterpillar soon
She learned to crawl around,
Although her legs were now so short
She almost touched the ground.
’Twas sad indeed to be so slow
When she had been so fleet.
No longer could she play about
Nor run out in the street.
Her greatest pleasure was to find
Some errand she could go,
And up and down the stairs she’d trudge
With patient steps and slow.
She waited on her grandmamma,
And on her mother, too.
No one could ask her anything
She was not glad to do.
One day her watchful mother said,
“It really seems to me
Anne’s legs are growing long and slim,
More like they used to be.
“She does not have so many now.
Her body’s shorter, too.
I saw her standing up to-day
Quite as she used to do.”
“I’ve noticed that,” her grandma said,
“Indeed I hope some day
To see our Anne herself again,
And fit for work and play.”
And so it was. For one day Anne
Awoke to find once more
She was the selfsame nimble child
That she had been before.
Then what rejoicings filled the house,
All gathered round to see;
And as for Anne, as you may guess,
A thankful child was she.
And never since has Annie lost
Her willing, useful ways,
And her mamma and every one
All speak of her with praise.