The Boy, delighted with his game, At last they found that they were cheated. The Boy was in a real fright, He cried, "Wolf! wolf!"-the neighbors heard, But not a single creature stirred. "We need not go from our employ, 'Tis nothing but that idle boy." The little Boy cried out again, "Help, help! the Wolf!" he cried in vain. At last his master came to beat him. This shows the bad effect of lying, Or met with any serious harm, Your cries could give me no alarm; They would not make me move the faster, I should be sorry when I came, But you yourself would be to blame. John Hookham Frere [1769–1846] THE STORY OF AUGUSTUS, WHO WOULD NOT HAVE ANY SOUP AUGUSTUS was a chubby lad; Fat, ruddy checks Augustus had; The Story of Little Suck-a-thumb 115 But one day, one cold winter's day, He screamed out- "Take the soup away! I won't have any soup to-day." Next day begins his tale of woes; The third day comes; O what a sin! I won't have any soup to-day." Look at him, now the fourth day's come! He's like a little bit of thread, And on the fifth day, he was dead! From the German of Heinrich Hoffman [1798-1874] THE STORY OF LITTLE SUCK-A-THUMB ONE day, mamma said: "Conrad dear, I must go out and leave you here. But mind now, Conrad, what I say, He takes his great sharp scissors out You know, they never grow again." Mamma had scarcely turned her back, The great, long, red-legged scissors-man. Snip! snap! snip! They go so fast, From the German of Heinrich Hoffman (1798–1874] WRITTEN IN A LITTLE LADY'S LITTLE ALBUM HEARTS good and true Have wishes few In narrow circles bounded, And hope that lives On what God gives Is Christian hope well founded. Small things are best; Grief and unrest To rank and wealth are given; But little things On little wings Bear little souls to heaven. Frederick William Faber [1814-1863] MY LADY WIND My Lady Wind, my Lady Wind, A chink to set her foot in; And drove the chimney soot in. A Farewell And then one night when it was dark That all the town was bothered; From it she raised such flame and smoke And many more were smothered. And thus when once, my little dears, 117 Unknown A FAREWELL My fairest child, I have no song to give you; I'll tell you how to sing a clearer carol Than lark who hails the dawn on breezy down; Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Charles Kingsley [1819-1875] RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD REEDS OF INNOCENCE PIPING down the valleys wild, And he laughing said to me: "Pipe a song about a lamb!" So I piped with merry "Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; While he wept with joy to hear. "Piper, sit thee down and write And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, Every child may joy to hear. William Blake [1757-1827] THE WONDERFUL WORLD GREAT, wide, beautiful, wonderful World, |