"From Betty now your breakfast take,
And drink it, if you choose,
And beg that she your haughtiness
And passion will excuse.
"What! silent and perverse become?
Then, Betty, you may go
And give the milk to that poor girl
Who's in the yard below.
"She spins or labours hard all day,
Yet eats the coarsest food;
She's thankful for the smallest gift,
And smiles, because she's good.
"But you, with that sad pouting lip,
And brow o'erhung with gloom,
May, if you please, from hence retire,
And stay in your own room.
"No breakfast you will have to-day,
Nor need again appear,
Till from your brow you chase that frown,
And from your eye the tear.
"Till you can come with cheerful mien,
And pardon ask from me;
Then, if you are a better girl,
Forgiven you may be."
THE CUCKOO.
Little cuckoo, com'st thou here,
When the blooming spring is near,
To sing thy song and tell thy tale,
To every hill and every vale?