As Dot sat by the fire one night,
She thought of times gone past;
Of summer days, of romps, and plays,
Of school, and its hard task.
She thought of times of misspelled words,
And numbers hard to sum,
Of tardy lines, and awful times,
And scales she could not run.
So Dot resolved that winter night,
The new year she would try
To study well, and learn to spell,
And sing the scale up high.
So when began the winter term,
And Dot went off to school,
She with the rest then tried her best
To learn each little rule.
Though little Dot meant all she said,
Somehow 'twas hard to do;
'Twas greater fun to slide or run
Than multiply by two.
The seat grew hard, the teacher cross,
And lessons harder got;
"I'd rather skate than use my slate,"
So mused poor little Dot.
When time wore on to balmy days,
With sunshine and with showers;
She stayed away from school, to play
And gather wild-wood flowers.
So when, at last, the school was closed,
She dropped behind the class;
For little Dot, her leaf forgot,
And then she did not pass. |