Volume I Part 27 (1/2)

Matilda, smarting with the pain, And tingling still, and sore, Made many a promise to refrain From meddling evermore.

And 'tis a fact, as I have heard, She ever since has kept her word.

Ann Taylor [1782-1866]

CONTENTED JOHN

One honest John Tomkins, a hedger and ditcher, Although he was poor, did not want to be richer; For all such vain wishes in him were prevented By a fortunate habit of being contented.

Though cold were the weather, or dear were the food, John never was found in a murmuring mood; For this he was constantly heard to declare,-- What he could not prevent he would cheerfully bear.

”For why should I grumble and murmur?” he said; ”If I cannot get meat, I'll be thankful for bread; And, though fretting may make my calamities deeper, It can never cause bread and cheese to be cheaper.”

If John was afflicted with sickness or pain, He wished himself better, but did not complain, Nor lie down to fret in despondence and sorrow, But said that he hoped to be better to-morrow.

If any one wronged him or treated him ill, Why, John was good-natured and sociable still; For he said that revenging the injury done Would be making two rogues when there need be but one.

And thus honest John, though his station was humble, Pa.s.sed through this sad world without even a grumble; And I wish that some folks, who are greater and richer, Would copy John Tomkins, the hedger and ditcher.

Jane Taylor [1783-1824]

FRIENDS

How good to lie a little while And look up through the tree!

The Sky is like a kind big smile Bent sweetly over me.

The Suns.h.i.+ne flickers through the lace Of leaves above my head, And kisses me upon the face Like Mother, before bed.

The Wind comes stealing o'er the gra.s.s To whisper pretty things; And though I cannot see him pa.s.s, I feel his careful wings.

So many gentle Friends are near Whom one can scarcely see, A child should never feel a fear, Wherever he may be.

Abbie Farwell Brown [1875-1927]

ANGER

Anger in its time and place May a.s.sume a kind of grace.

It must have some reason in it, And not last beyond a minute.

If to further lengths it go, It does into malice grow.

'Tis the difference that we see 'Twixt the serpent and the bee.

If the latter you provoke, It inflicts a hasty stroke, Puts you to some little pain, But it never stings again.