LITMIR.BIZ

      Richard, come and play with me,

      Underneath the willow tree;

      Sitting in its peaceful shade,

      We'll sing the song papa has made,

      Whilst its drooping branches spread,

      Stretching far above our head,

      Sweetly tempering the blaze

      Of the sun's meridian rays.

      There the rose and violet blow,

      The lily with her bell of snow,

      And the richly scented woodbine,

      Round about its trunk doth twine;

      There the busy bee shall come,

      And gather sweets to carry home.

      Oh, how happy we shall be,

      Underneath the willow tree!

      Mary, raise that sleepy head,

      For the lark doth carol high,

      And the sun has left his bed—

      Mary, ope that sleepy eye.

      Come, and let me wash you clean,

      Brush your hair and tie your frock;

      There's your sister Geraldine,

      Waiting at the mossy rock.

      Hark! the little chicken's cries,

      Loudly call for Mary's care,

      But if the sluggard will not rise,

      George their breakfast shall prepare.

      Who shall get the fresh-laid egg,

      To place beside her father's cup?

      Who shall pour the tea, I beg,

      If my Mary is not up?

      Come, little Mary, come to me,

      And say your lesson on my knee,

      Your book is there, the pointer in it,

      All ready to begin this minute.

      What! pout your lip, and scream and cry,

      And say, "I won't, I can't:"—Oh fie!

      Then go, and in that corner stay,

      Till sobs and tears have pass'd away;

      Till you can come with voice more mild,

      And say, "Mamma, forgive your child."

      What little girl is this, whose eyes

      Smile through her tears, while thus she cries?

      "My dear mamma, I love you, pray

      Forgive your child, and let me say

      My lesson, standing at your knee,

      Then give a kind sweet kiss to me."

      It is my Mary! now her look

      Is turn'd attentive to her book,

      And now her lesson she has read,

      Her task without a fault has said,

      Mamma's best kiss she now has won,

      So well her lessons she has done:

      She's happy now, and good and gay,

      And joins her sisters at their play;

      There on the grass they skip, they sing,

      Till all the hills and valleys ring.

      Brightly shines the winter's sun,

      O'er mountains clad with snow,

      Blithe and gay the youthful throng

      Sport in the plains below.

      "Come," the venturous Edward cries,

      "Let's try yon glassy tide;

      Upon its smooth and frozen breast

      We'll make a glorious slide."

      "Oh, stay," his sister Ellen said,

      "My dearest Edward, stay!

      You know mamma forbade us all

      To try the ice to-day."

      "Hush! foolish Ellen, see how strong,

      How firm the ice appears:

      Mamma, I'm sure, if she were here,

      Would banish all her fears.

      "This stone with mighty force I throw,

      Nor break, nor crack you see;

      Then surely I may slide secure,

      It will not yield with me."

      He said, and darted o'er the stream,

      Then turn'd in triumph round:

      "Come, follow me, my comrades brave,

      What danger have I found?"

      In his success exulting now,

      He leaps with sudden spring—

      It cracks! it breaks! his cries are vain,

      He plunges headlong in!

      Who now the hapless boy shall snatch

      From a cold wat'ry grave?—

      Poor Ellen flies, with breathless speed,

      Her brother's life to save.

      He rises half—her shawl she flings

      Into his eager hand,

      Then, with her playmate's added strength,

      She drags him safe to land.

      With shivering limbs and dripping clothes,

      Homeward he pensive turns;

      He deeply now, alas! too late,

      His disobedience mourns.

      For three long months poor Edward groan'd

      Upon a bed of pain;

      'Twas three long months before he felt

      The breeze of heaven again.

      These three long months did Ellen strive,

      By every tender care,

      To soften Edward's grief, and soothe

      The pain she wish'd to share.

      What joy for both, when he once more

      Could join the festive throng!

      Yet oft he paus'd amid their sports,

      To think if this were wrong.

      "Bring me my breakfast instantly,"

      Th' impatient Julia said;

      It came—"'Tis meal, 'tis nasty meal,

      When I had order'd bread!"

      She tastes:—"Oh, it is burnt," she cried,

      "Pray

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