80

THE GLEANER.

THE GLEANER.

Before the bright sun rises over the hill,
In the wheat-field poor Mary is seen,
Impatient her little blue apron to fill

With the few scattered ears she can glean.

She never leaves off or runs out of her place
To play or to idle and chat,

Except, now and then, just to wipe her hot face,
And fan herself with her broad hat.

"Poor girl! hard at work in the heat of the sun,
How tired and warm you must be !

Why don't you leave off as the others have done,
And sit with them under the tree?"

"Oh, no! for my mother lies ill in her bed,
Too feeble to spin or to knit;

And. my dear little brothers are crying for bread,
And yet we can't give them a bit.

"Then could I be merry, be idle, or play,
While they are so hungry and ill?

Oh, no! I would rather work hard all the day,
My little blue apron to fill."

JANE TAYLOR,

THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.

81

THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.

Now ponder well, you parents dear,

These words which I shall write;

A doleful story you shall hear,

In time brought forth to light.

A gentleman of good account
In Norfolk dwelt of late,

Whose wealth and riches did surmount

Most men of his estate.

Sore sick he was, and like to die,
No help his life could save;
His wife by him as sick did lie,
And both possess one grave.

No love between these two was lost, -
Each was to other kind;

In love they lived, in love they died,
And left two babes behind:

The one a fine and pretty boy,

Not passing three years old;

The other a girl more young than he,
And made in beauty's mould.

82

THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.

The father left his little son,

As plainly doth appear,

When he to perfect age should come,
Three hundred pounds a year.

And to his little daughter Jane
Two hundred pounds in gold,
To be paid down on marriage-day,
Which might not be controlled.

But if the children chanced to die
Ere they to age should come,
Their uncle should possess their wealth, ·
For so the will did run.

"Now, brother," said the dying man,
"Look to my children dear;

Be good unto my boy and girl,
No friends else have they here.

"To God and you I do commend
My children night and day:
A little while be sure we have
Within this world to stay.

"You must be father and mother both,
And uncle, all in one;

God knows what will become of them,
When I am dead and gone."

With that bespake their mother dear,
"O brother kind," quoth she,
"You are the man must bring my babes
To wealth or misery:

84

THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.

With lips as cold as any stone

They kissed the children small: "God bless you both, my children dear! With that the tears did fall.

These speeches then their brother spoke
To this sick couple there:
"The keeping of your children dear,
Sweet sister, do not fear.

"God never prosper me or mine,
Nor aught else that I have,
If I do wrong your children dear,
When you are laid in grave."

Their parents being dead and gone,
The children home he takes,
And brings them both unto his house,
And much of them he makes.

He had not kept those pretty babes
A twelvemonth and a day,
When, for their wealth, he did devise
To make them both away.

He bargained with two ruffians rude,
Who were of furious mood,

That they should take the children young
And slay them in the wood.