THE SAIL-BOAT.
Oh, see our little boat,
How prettily it glides;
Like a bird it seems to float,
Press’d forward by the tides,
By the tides.
The sky is shining brightly,
The fishes dart below,
While our little boat so lightly
Leaps onward as we go—
As we go.
I would like to be a boat,
And live upon the sea;
So merrily I’d float,
With naught to trouble me—
Trouble me.
But should a storm come near,
And fill me with alarms,
I would row to mother dear—
My boat should be her arms,
Mother’s arms.
A LITTLE STORY.
I will write a little story,
About a little boy;
He is his father’s comfort,
He is his mother’s joy.