THE BUT-TER-FLY.
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A yel-low But-ter-fly one day, Grown tired of play and tired of fly-ing, Up-on a this-tle blos-som grey With out-spread wings was i-dly ly-ing. The stur-dy bees went hum-ming by, Draw-ing sweet ho-ney from the clo-ver, Nor stir-red the yel-low But-ter-fly, For he was but an i-dle ro-ver. Two lit-tle girls, named Anne and May, Came by with mirth and laugh-ter ring-ing, Anne ran to seize the in-sect gay— May fol-low-ed fast and ceased her sing-ing. "Oh! dar-ling An-nie, let it be, Your touch will rob its plumes of beau-ty; And God, who made both you and me, Has taught us kind-ness is a du-ty." |
"GO A-WAY, RO-VER!"
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"You big black dog, go, go a-way! I will not let you bite My lit-tle pet; it can-not play, You gave it such a fright! "I think you want to eat it up Be-cause it is so small, But if you dare to touch my pup For help I mean to call; "And then pa-pa will bring a stick, And make you run a-way; So, Ro-ver, you had best go quick, And leave us here to play!" Why, Ro-ver, is quite good and tame— You need not be a-fraid; He on-ly wants to have a game, You sil-ly lit-tle maid! |
