Phebe, The Blackberry Girl | Page 4

The little Dog learned, without more ado,
And soon could sit upright and walk
upright too;
In deepest waters unfearing could
spring,
And whatever was lost could speedily
bring.
The master saw his pleasure, and he too
began
To learn, and thus grew up a wise, good
man.
[Illustration]
THE FLOWERS.
Say, Ma! did God make all the flowers
That richly bloom to-day?

And is it he that sends sweet showers
To make them look so gay?
Did he make all the mountains
That rear their heads so high?
And
all the little fountains
That glide so gently by?
And does he care for children small?
Say, ma! does God love me?
Has he the guardian care of all
The various things we see?
Yes! yes! my child, he made them all--
Flowers, mountains, plants
and tree;
No man so great, no child so small,
That from his eye can
flee.
[Illustration]
THE CHILD AND THE FLOWERS.

Put up thy work, dear mother;
Dear mother, come with me,
For I've
found within the garden
The beautiful sweet-pea!
And rows of stately hollyhocks
Down by the garden-wall,
All
yellow, white and crimson,
So many-hued and tall!
And bending on their stalks, mother,
Are roses white and red;
[Illustration: "Put up thy work, dear Mother."]
And pale-stemmed balsams all a-blow,
On every garden-bed.
Put up thy work, I pray thee,
And come out, mother dear!
We used
to buy these flowers,
But they are growing here!
O, mother! little Amy
Would have loved these flowers to see;
Dost
remember how we tried to get
For her a pink sweet-pea?
Dost remember how she loved
Those rose-leaves pale and sere?
I
wish she had but lived to see
The lovely roses here!
Put up thy work, dear mother,
And wipe those tears away!
And
come into the garden
Before 'tis set of day!
[Illustration]
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE
One, two,
Buckle my shoe;
Three, four,
Shut the door;
Five, six,

Pick up sticks;
Seven, eight,
Lay them straight;
Nine, ten,
A
good fat hen;
Eleven, twelve,
Who will delve?
Thirteen, fourteen,

Maids a courting;
Fifteen, sixteen,
Maids a kissing;
Seventeen,
eighteen,
Maids a waiting;
Nineteen, twenty,
My stomach's
empty.
[Illustration]

WASHING AND DRESSING.
Ah! why will my dear little girl be so cross,
And cry, and look sulky
and pout?
To lose her sweet smile is a terrible loss;
I can't even kiss
her without.
You say you don't like to be washed and be drest,
But would you be
dirty and foul?
Come, drive that long sob from your dear little breast,

And clear your sweet face from its scowl.
If the water is cold, and the comb hurts your head,
And the soap has
got into your eye,
[Illustration]
Will the water grow warmer for all that you've said?
And what good
will it do you to cry?
It is not to tease you, and hurt you, my sweet,
But only for kindness
and care,
That I wash you and dress you, and make you look neat,

And comb out your tanglesome hair.
I don't mind the trouble, if you would not cry,
But pay me for all with
a kiss;
That's right, take the towel and wipe your wet eye;
I thought
you'd be good after this.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE INDUSTRIOUS BOY.
In a cottage upon the heath wild,
That always was cleanly and nice,

Liv'd William, a good little child,
Who minded his parents' advice.
'Tis true he lov'd marbles and kite,
And spin-top, and nine-pins, and
ball;
But this I declare with delight,
His book he loved better than

all.
In active and useful employ
His youth gayly glided away;
While
rational pleasures and joy
Attended his steps every day.
And now let us see him grown up;
Still cheerfulness dwelt in his
mind,
Contentment yet sweeten'd his cup,
For still he was active
and kind.
His garden well loaded with store,
His cot by the side of the green,

Where woodbines crept over the door.
And jessamines peep'd in
between.
These fill'd him with honest delight,
And rewarded him well for his
toil:
He went to bed cheerful at night,
And woke in the morn with a
smile.
[Illustration]
WE ARE SEVEN
BY WM. WORDSWORTH.
A simple child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in
every limb.
What should it know of death!
I met a little cottage girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair
was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.