As do the bee and bird;
Nor does it, like the prudent ant,
Lay up the grain for times of want,
A wise and cautious hoard.
My youth is but a summer’s day:
Then like the bee and ant I’ll lay
A store of learning by;
And though from flower to flower I rove,
My stock of wisdom I’ll improve
Nor be a butterfly.
Similar Posts
THE wind blows down the largest tree,
Playmates far off, who have been kind,My thought can bring before my mind;The past by it is present brought,And yet I cannot see my thought;The charming rose scents all the air,Yet I can see no perfume there.Blithe Robin’s notes how sweet, how clear!From his small bill they reach my ear,And whilst upon the air they…
Who sat and watched my infant head
And tears of sweet affection shed?My Mother.When pain and sickness made me cry,Who gazed upon my heavy eye,And wept for fear that I should die?My Mother.Who taught my infant lips to prayAnd love God’s holy book and day,And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?My Mother.And can I ever cease to beAffectionate and kind to thee,Who wast…
Poor Martha is old, and her hair is turn’d grey,
Ten to one if she knows what it is that you say,Though she puts her poor wither’d hand close to her ear.I’ve seen naughty children run after her fast,And cry, ‘Martha, run, there’s a bullock so bold;’And when she was frighten’d, laugh at her at last,Because she believed the sad stories they told.I’ve seen others…
‘I THINK I want some pies this morning,’
So down he threw his slate and books,And saunter’d to the pastry-cook’s.And there he cast his greedy eyesRound on the jellies and the pies,So to select, with anxious care,The very nicest that was there.At last the point was thus decided:As his opinion was divided‘Twixt pie and jelly, being lothEither to leave, he took them both.Now…
‘Dear me! what signifies a pin!
My pincushion has others in,Mamma has plenty more:A miser will I never be,’Said little heedless Emily.So tripping on to giddy play,She left the pin behind,For Betty’s broom to whisk away,Or some one else to find;She never gave a thought, indeed,To what she might to-morrow need.Next day a party was to ride,To see an air-balloon!And all…
LITTLE sister, come away,
For it is a pleasant day.On the grass-plat let us sit,Or, if you please, we’ll play a bit,And run about all over it.But the fruit we will not pick,For that would be a naughty trick,And very likely make us sick.Nor will we pluck the pretty flowersThat grow about the beds and bowers,Because you know they…