Little Ann, and Other Poems

by Jane Taylor; Ann Taylor

In tears to her mother poor Harriet came,
Let us listen to hear what she says:
"O see, dear mamma, it is pouring with rain,
We cannot go out in the chaise.
"All the week I have long'd for this holiday so,
And fancied the minutes were hours;
And now that I'm dress'd and all ready to go,
Do look at those terrible showers!"
"I'm sorry, my dear," her kind mother replied,
The rain disappoints us to-day;
But sorrow still more that you fret for a ride,
In such an extravagant way.
"These slight disappointments are sent to prepare
For what may hereafter befall;
For seasons of real disappointment and care,
Which commonly happen to all.
"For just like to-day with its holiday lost,
Is life and its comforts at best:
Our pleasures are blighted, our purposes cross'd,
To teach us it is not our rest.
"And when those distresses and crosses appear,
With which you may shortly be tried,
You'll wonder that ever you wasted a tear
On merely the loss of a ride.
"But though the world's pleasures are fleeting and vain,
Religion is lasting and true;
Real pleasure and peace in her paths you may gain,
Nor will disappointment ensue."

JAMES AND THE SHOULDER OF MUTTON.

Young Jem at noon return'd from school,
As hungry as could be,
He cried to Sue, the servant-maid,
"My dinner give to me."
Said Sue, "It is not yet come home;
Besides, it is not late."
"No matter that," cries little Jem,
"I do not like to wait."
Quick to the baker's Jemmy went
And ask'd, "Is dinner done?"
"It is," replied the baker's man.
"Then home I'll with it run."
"Nay, Sir," replied he prudently,
"I tell you 'tis too hot,
And much too heavy 'tis for you."
"I tell you it is not.
"Papa, mamma, are both gone out,
And I for dinner long;
So give it me, it is all mine,
And, baker, hold your tongue.
"A shoulder 'tis of mutton nice!
And batter-pudding too;
I'm glad of that, it is so good;
How clever is our Sue!"

Now near the door young Jem was come,
He round the corner turn'd,
But oh, sad fate! unlucky chance!
The dish his fingers burn'd.
Now in the kennel down fell dish,
And down fell all the meat;
Swift went the pudding in the stream,
And sail'd along the street.
The people laugh'd, and rude boys grinn'd
At mutton's hapless fall;
But though ashamed, young Jemmy cried.
"Better lose part than all."
The shoulder by the knuckle seized,
His hands both grasp'd it fast,
And deaf to all their gibes and cries,
He gain'd his home at last.
"Impatience is a fault," cries Jem,
"The baker told me true;
In future I will patient be,
And mind what says our Sue."

THE GOOD-NATURED GIRLS.

Two good little children, named Mary and Ann,
Both happily live, as good girls always can;
And though they are not either sullen or mute,
They seldom or never are heard to dispute.

If one wants a thing that the other would like—
Well,—what do they do? Must they quarrel and strike?
No, each is so willing to give up her own,
That such disagreements are there never known.
If one of them happens to have something nice,
Directly she offers her sister a slice;
And never, like some greedy children, would try
To eat in a corner with nobody by!
When papa or mamma has a job to be done,
These good little children immediately run;
Nor dispute whether this or the other should go,
They would be ashamed to behave themselves so!
Whatever occurs, in their work or their play,
They are willing to yield, and give up their own way:
Then now let us try their example to mind,
And always, like them, be obliging and kind.