DO you know that when you wait
To tell the truth, and fear—
Until it grows almost too late—
God leans to hear?
PUNISHMENT
SOME days my doll-child is so bad,
I have to whip her very hard.
I put her in the corner there,
And take away her picture-card.
She's put to bed without a kiss.
She doesn't have her way one bit,
But then, I am the one it hurts,
And so what is the use of it?
Copyright, 1908, by Duffield & Co.
FIRST PITY
I 'VE found a bird that's hurt.
It flutters so and cries,
Then looks its pain at me
With such bright frightened eyes.
Its feathers are so soft!
How quiet it is now!
I want to make it well—
I wish my hands knew how!