. Pleasant rhymes for little readers, or, Jottings for juveniles . !Never will she meet them more !Never bound to greet her father, Hastening home—days labour oer. t •> Ernes coming up the meadow ! Eosy Erne, robed in white,Flinging crimson sorrel blossomsAt her nurse with wild delight. 76 Pleasant Rhymes. When she reaches little Mary,Why does Effie laugh no more ? Ah ! she sees the lonely orphanHas been weeping very sore. Not a word she speaks in passing, But she often looks behind,Watching Marys poor black tippet Flapping in the autumn wind. • Effie reaches home in silence,Thinking of tha
. Pleasant rhymes for little readers, or, Jottings for juveniles . !Never will she meet them more !Never bound to greet her father, Hastening home—days labour oer. t •> Ernes coming up the meadow ! Eosy Erne, robed in white,Flinging crimson sorrel blossomsAt her nurse with wild delight. 76 Pleasant Rhymes. When she reaches little Mary,Why does Effie laugh no more ? Ah ! she sees the lonely orphanHas been weeping very sore. Not a word she speaks in passing, But she often looks behind,Watching Marys poor black tippet Flapping in the autumn wind. • Effie reaches home in silence,Thinking of that child forlorn; And mamma inquires, with wonder,Where her merry smiles are Then with bursting tears she answers, Mary Eobins sits to cryBy the new grave in the churchyard, Where her poor dead parents lie. - Oh, mamma! let little Mary Sometimes come and play with me,- Help me weed my pretty garden,Swing me neath the chestnut tree. Let us read sweet tales together,Eide about on Dapple-grey, Gather wild flowers in the orchard,Listening to the blackbirds Sad and still sits little Mary, On the mossy churchyard wall,With the dying leaves around herDropping from the elm tree tall. The Orphan Comforted. 79 Good mamma with kindness promised She should on the morrow come;And at early morning Erne Fetched her to her happy home. Oh ! what sunshine after showers ! How they talked, and read, and played !And mamma trained gentle Mary To be Ernes little maid. To the new grave in the churchyard Effie would with Mary go,Bearing clustering roots of snowdrops That would in the spring-time blow. And when Springs sweet face came smiling, Truly on that mound were seenFull a hundred pure white blossoms, Trembling mid their leaves of green. And the little girls would watch them, Sitting on the mossy wall,With the tender leaves above them Shooting from the elm tree tall. They would sit and talk together Of that day, with deep delight,When the dead should rise in beauty, Like the snowdrops,
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Keywords: ., book, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, booksubjectchildrenspoetry
