NEGLIGENT MARY.
Ah, Mary! what, do you for dolly not care?
And why is she left on the floor?
Forsaken, and cover'd with dust, I declare;
With you I must trust her no more.
I thought you were pleased, as you took her so gladly,
When on your birthday she was sent;
Did I ever suppose you would use her so sadly?
Was that, do you think, what I meant?
With her bonnet of straw you once were delighted,
And trimm'd it so pretty with pink;
But now it is crumpled, and dolly is slighted:
Her nurse quite forgets her, I think.
Suppose now—for Mary is dolly to me,
Whom I love to see tidy and fair—
Suppose I should leave you, as dolly I see,
In tatters, and comfortless there.
But dolly feels nothing, as you do, my dear,
Nor cares for her negligent nurse:
If I were as careless as you are, I fear,
Your lot, and my fault, would be worse.
And therefore it is, in my Mary, I strive
To check every fault that I see:
Mary's doll is but waxen—mamma's is alive,
And of far more importance than she.
THE SPIDER.
"Oh, look at that great ugly spider!" said Ann;
And screaming, she brush'd it away with her fan;
"'Tis a frightful black creature as ever can be,
I wish that it would not come crawling on me."
"Indeed," said her mother, "I'll venture to say,
The poor thing will try to keep out of your way;
For after the fright, and the fall, and the pain,
It has much more occasion than you to complain.
"But why should you dread the poor insect, my dear?
If it hurt you, there'd be some excuse for your fear;
But its little black legs, as it hurried away,
Did but tickle your arm, as they went, I dare say.
"For them to fear us we must grant to be just,
Who in less than a moment can tread them to dust;
But certainly we have no cause for alarm;
For, were they to try, they could do us no harm.
"Now look! it has got to its home; do you see
What a delicate web it has spun in the tree?
Why here, my dear Ann, is a lesson for you:
Come learn from this spider what patience can do!
"And when at your business you're tempted to play,
Recollect what you see in this insect to-day,
Or else, to your shame, it may seem to be true,
That a poor little spider is wiser than you."
FOR A NAUGHTY LITTLE GIRL.
My sweet little girl should be cheerful and mild,
She must not be fretful and cry!
Oh! why is this passion? remember, my child,
God sees you, who lives in the sky.
That dear little face, that I like so to kiss,
How alter'd and sad it appears!
Do you think I can love you so naughty as this,
Or kiss you, all wetted with tears?
Remember, though God is in Heaven, my love,
He sees you within and without,
And always looks down, from His glory above,
To notice what you are about.
