The Youths Coronal | Page 7

fine looks,?Than virtue or truth,?Or devoting her youth?To usefulness, friendship, or books.
Her passion for show was unchecked;?And therefore, it happened one day,?Arrayed in bright hues,?And with new hat and shoes,?Miss Vain walked abroad for display.
She took the most populous streets.?To cause but aversion in those,?Who saw how she prinked,?And the bystanders winked.?While the boys cried, "Halloo! there she goes!"
It chanced, that, in passing on way,?She came near a pool, and a green?With fence close and high;?And, as Vivy drew nigh,?A donkey stood near it unseen.
He put his mouth over its top,?The moment she came by his place;?And gave a loud bray?In her ear, when, away?She sprang, shrieked, and fell on her face.
She thought she was swallowed alive,?Awhile upon earth lying flat;?And the terrible sound?Seemed to furrow the ground?She embraced in her fine gown and hat.
She gathered herself up, and ran,?Yet heeded not whither or whence,?To flee from the roar,?That continued to pour?Behind her, from over the fence.
In passing a slope near the pool,?She slipped and rolled down to its brim;?The geese gave a shout,?And at length hissed her out?Of the bounds, where they'd gathered to swim.
In turning a corner, she met?Abruptly, the horns of a cow?That mooed, while the cur,?At her heels, turned from her,?And aimed at Miss Vain his "bow-wow."
Then Vivy's bright ribbons and skirt,?As she flew, flirted high on the wind;?The children at play,?Paused to see one so gay,?And all in a flutter behind.
A group of glad schoolboys came by:?Said they, "So it seems, that to-day,?Miss Vain carries marks?At which the dog barks,?And that make sober Long-Ears to bray."
And when, all bedraggled and pale,?Poor Vivy approached her own door,?She went, swift and straight?As a dart, through the gate,?Abhorring the gay gear she wore.
She sat down, and thought of the scene?With humiliation and tears:?The words, and the noise?Of the brutes and the boys?Were echoing still in her ears.
She reasoned, and came at the cause,?Resolving that cause to remove;?And thence, her desire?Was for modest attire,?And her heart and her mind to improve.
And soon, all who knew her before?Remarked on the change and the gain?In mind, and in mien,?And in dress, that were seen?In the once flashy Miss Vivy Vain.
=The Lost Kite=
"My kite! my kite! I've lost my kite!?Oh! when I saw the steady flight,?With which she gained her lofty height,?How could I know, that letting go?That naughty string, would bring so low?My pretty, buoyant, darling kite,?To pass for ever out of sight?
"A purple cloud was sailing by,?With silver fringes, o'er the sky;?And then I thought, it seemed so nigh,?I'd make my kite go up and light?Upon its edge, so soft and bright;?To see how noble, high and proud?She'd look, while riding on a cloud!
"As near her shining mark she drew?I clapped my hands; the line slipped through?My silly fingers; and she flew,?Away! away! in airy play,?Right over where the water lay!?She veered and fluttered, swung and gave?A plunge, then vanished with the wave!
"I never more shall want to look?On that false cloud, or babbling brook;?Nor e'er to feel the breeze that took?My dearest joy, to thus destroy?The pastime of your happy boy.?My kite! my kite! how sad to think?She flew so high, so soon to sink!"
"Be this," the mother said, and smiled,?"A lesson to thee, simple child!?And when by fancies vain and wild,?As that which cost the kite that's lost,?The busy brain again is crossed,?Of shining vapor then beware,?Nor trust thy joys to fickle air.
"I have a darling treasure, too,?That sometimes would, by slipping through?My guardian hands, the way pursue,?From which, more tight than thou thy kite,?I hold my jewel, new and bright,?Lest he should stray without a guide,?To drown my hopes in sorrow's tide!"
=A Summer-Morning Rumble=
Oh! the happy Summer hours.?With their butterflies and flowers,?And the birds among the bowers
Sweetly singing;--?With the spices from the trees,?Vines, and lilies, while the bees?Come floating on the breeze,
Honey bringing!
All the East was rosy red,?When we woke and left our bed;?And to gather flowers we sped,
Gay and early.?Every clover-top was wet,?And the spider's silken net?With a thousand dew-drops set,
Pure and pearly.
With their modest eyes of blue?Were the violets peeping through?Tufts of grasses, where they grew,
Full of beauty,?At the lamb in snowy white,?O'er the meadow bounding light,?And the crow just taking flight,
Grave and sooty.
On our floral search intent,?Still away, away we went,--?Up and down the rugged bent,--
Through the wicket,--?Where the rock with water drops,--?Through the bushes and the copse,--?Where the greenwood pathway stops
In the thicket.
We heard the fountain gush,?And the singing of the thrush;?And we saw the squirrel's brush
In the hedges,?As along his back 't was thrown,?Like a glory of his own.?While the sun behind it, shone
Through its edges.
All the world appeared so fair,?And so fresh and free the air,--?Oh! it seemed that all the care
In creation?Belonged to God alone;?And that none beneath his throne,?Need to murmur or to groan
At his station.
Dear little brother Will!?He