Original Poems for Infant Minds

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L.B. Clarke, 1830 - Всего страниц: 144
 

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Стр. 136 - ... shady bed, A modest violet grew ; Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, As if to hide from view. And yet it was a lovely flower, Its colours bright and fair ; It might have graced a rosy bower, Instead of hiding there.
Стр. 49 - God's holy book and day, And walk in wisdom's pleasant way? My Mother. And can I ever cease to be, Affectionate and kind to thee, Who wast so very kind to me? My Mother. Ah! no, the thought I cannot bear, And if God please my life to spare, I hope I shall reward thy care, My Mother.
Стр. 132 - The Cat will walk away; The Monkey's cheek is very bald, The Goat is fond of play. The Parrot is a prate-apace, Yet knows not what he says; The noble Horse will win the race, Or draw you in a chaise.
Стр. 136 - THE VIOLET. DOWN in a green and shady bed, A modest violet grew ; Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, As if to hide from view.
Стр. 100 - Pray what is the reason (I see none at all) That I always must go when Suke chooses to call? Whatever I'm doing ('tis certainly hard) I'm forced to leave off to be milked in the yard.
Стр. 136 - THE WAY TO BE HAPPY. How pleasant it is, at the end of the day, No follies to have to repent ; But reflect on the past, and be able to say, That my time has been properly spent.
Стр. 65 - Stop, stop little ant, do not run off so fast, Wait with me a little and play; I hope I shall find a companion at last, You are not so busy as they.
Стр. 25 - And then he looked over the wall. And as he again cast his eye on the tree, He said to himself, " Oh, how nice they would be, So cool and refreshing to-day ! The tree is so full, and I'd only take one, And old John won't see, for he is not at home, And nobody is in the way.
Стр. 55 - (Not a word did she say) : " The wind, I believe, ma'am, is south; A fine harvest for peas : " He then looked at the cheese, But the crow did not open her mouth.
Стр. 49 - My healthy arm shall be thy stay, And I will soothe thy pains away, My Mother. And when I see thee hang thy head, 'Twill be my turn to watch thy bed, And tears of sweet affection shed, My Mother. For God who lives beyond the skies, Would look with vengeance in his eyes, If I should ever dare despise, My Mother.

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