Angry Words
Poison-drops of care and sorrow,
Bitter poison-drops are they,
Weaving for the coming morrow,
Saddest memories of to-day.
Angry words, oh! let them never
From the tongue unbridled slip;
May the heart's best impulse ever
Check them ere they soil the lip.
Love is much too pure and holy,
Friendship is too sacred far,
For a moment's reckless folly
Thus to desolate and mar.
Angry words are lightly spoken,
Bitterest thoughts are rashly stirred,
Brightest links of life are broken,
By a single angry word.
The Tear And The Smile
A little tear and a little smile
Set out to run a race;
We watched them closely all the while—
Their course was baby's face.
The little tear he got the start
We really feared he'd win,
He ran so fast and made a dart
Straight for her dimpled chin.
But somehow, it was very queer,
We watched them all the while—
The little, shining, fretful tear
Got beaten by the smile.
Love One Another
Silly little Mary,
Sulking all the day,
While the other children
Run about and play.
Silly little Mary
Wears a peevish look,
When she sees the others
Laughing at the brook.
Silly little Mary,
Will not skip or swing,
Won't at puss-in-corner play,
Won't do anything.
Silly little Mary
Hides behind the bank,
In among the roots and weeds,
All so thick and rank.
Mary hears a footstep
O'er the velvet moss,
Sees a roguish little face
It is Willie Ross.
I have found you, Mary.
Won't you come play too?
And with cheeks all crimsoned,
Whispers—I love you.
Ah! but love has conquered
Fall the tears like rain,
Then our little Mary
Is herself again.
Where are sulks and tears now?
All are fled away.
And our little Mary
Will both laugh and play.

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Page 60—Naughtiness Land

Anger
Oh! anger is an evil thing
And spoils the fairest face;
It cometh like a rainy cloud
Upon a sunny place.
One angry moment often does
What we repent for years:
It works the wrong we ne'er make right
By sorrow or tears.
It speaks the rude and cruel word
That wounds a feeling breast:
It strikes the reckless sudden blow—
It breaks the household rest.
We dread the dog that turns in play,
All snapping, fierce and quick;
We shun the steed whose temper shows
In strong and savage kick.
But how much more we find to blame,
When passion wildly swells
In hearts where kindness has been taught,
And brains where reason dwells!
The hand of peace is frank and warm
And soft as a ring-dove's wing;
And he who quells an angry thought
Is greater than a king.
Shame to the lips that ever seek
To stir up jarring strife,
When gentleness would shed so much
Of Christian joy through life!
Ever remember in thy youth,
That he who firmly tries
To conquer an to rule himself,
Is noble, brave and wise.
Eliza Cook
The Little Girl That Beat Her Sister
Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss
Your little sister dear;
I must not have such things as this,
Nor noisy quarrels here.
What! little children scold and fight,
That ought to be so mild:
Oh! Mary, 'tis a shocking sight
To see an angry child.
I can't imagine, for my part,
The reason of your folly,
As if she did you any hurt
By playing with your dolly.
See, see the little tears that run
So quickly from her eye:
Come, my sweet innocent, have done,
'Twill do no good to cry.
Go, Mary, wipe her tears away
And make it up with kisses:
And never turn a pretty play
To such a pet as this is.