‘Our governess is not in school,
Sit down upon this little stool,Come, little Mary, sit:‘And, my dear playmate, tell me whyIn dismal black you’re drest?Why does the tear stand in your eye?With sobs why heaves your breast?‘When we’re in grief, it gives reliefOur sorrows to impart;When you’ve told why, my dear, you cry,‘Twill ease your little heart.’‘O, it is trouble very…