TWILIGHT.
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The happiest hour of all the day To me, is always last; When both my studies and my play, My walks and work, are past.
When round the bright warm fire we come, With hearts so light and free, And all within our happy home Are talking quietly,
Then, by my dear, kind father's side I sit, or on his knee, And then I tell him I have tried His gentle girl to be.
And then he says the little child Is loved by every one, Who has a temper sweet and mild And smiling as the sun.
Let me do always as I should, Nor vex my father dear; And let me be as glad and good As he would have me here. | |
THE WRONG STORY.
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"My little Edward, how could you Tell me a thing that was not true? And make me feel thus grieved and sad To find I have a child so bad?
"And then, to do a deed so mean, And wish by that yourself to screen! Would you have had me blame poor Tray, And send him from the fire away?
"O! never, when you've disobeyed, Or by your mischief trouble made, Think that a wicked act is right Because you hide it from my sight.
"It will be always seen by One, Who knows each wrong that you have done; And I shall know it too, no doubt, For sin must always find you out.
"I cannot let you here to-day With me and little sisters stay; But you must go up stairs alone, Till you a better boy have grown." | |
