Phebe, the Blackberry Girl / Uncle Thomas's Stories for Good Children - Anonymous

The little Girl and her Pets.

Girl.	Swallow, thou dear one! now thou, indeed, From thy wandering dost reappear, Tell me, who is it to thee that hath said That again it is spring-time here.
Swa.	The fatherly God, in that far-off clime, Who sent me, he told me ’twas sweet spring-time.
	And though she had come so far and wide, She was not deceived in time or tide. The snow it was gone, the sun shone warm, The merry gnats danced in many a swarm, The Swallow knew neither want nor care, She found for her children enough and to spare.
Girl.	Come, little Dog, ’tis your master’s will That you learn to sit upright and still.
Dog.	Learn must I? I’m so small, you see, Just for a little while let it be!
Girl.	No, little Dog, it is far best to learn soon, For later it would be more painfully done.
	The little Dog learned, without more ado, And soon could sit upright and walk upright too; In deepest waters unfearing could spring, And whatever was lost could speedily bring. The master saw his pleasure, and he too began To learn, and thus grew up a wise, good man.

Say, Ma! did God make all the flowers
That richly bloom to-day?
And is it he that sends sweet showers
To make them look so gay?

Did he make all the mountains
That rear their heads so high?
And all the little fountains
That glide so gently by?