Oh dear! what a noise:—will a noise make it well?
Will crying wash bruises away?
Suppose that it should bleed a little, and swell,
’Twill all be gone down in a day.
That’s right; be a man, love, and dry up your tears,
Come, smile, and I’ll give you a kiss;
If you live in the world but a very few years,
You must bear greater troubles than this.
A WALK TO THE MEADOWS.
We’ll go to the meadow, where cowslips do grow,
And buttercups looking as yellow as gold;
And the daisies and violets beginning to blow,
For it is a most beautiful sight to behold.
The honey-bee humming about there is seen,
The butterfly merrily skims it along;
The grasshopper chirps in the hedges so green,
And the linnet there sings us his liveliest song.
The birds and the insects are happy and gay;
The beasts of the field all are glad, and rejoice;
We, too, will be thankful to God every day,
And praise His great name in a loftier voice.