Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories Part 46

MORAL

Ye innocent fair, Of c.o.xcombs beware, To flattery never give ear; Try well each pretense, And keep to plain sense, And then you have little to fear.

LITTLE B. (TAYLOR?)

THE USE OF FLOWERS

G.o.d might have bade the earth bring forth Enough for great and small, The oak tree and the cedar tree, Without a flower at all.

We might have had enough, enough For every want of ours, For luxury, medicine, and toil, And yet have had no flowers.

The ore within the mountain mine Requireth none to grow; Nor doth it need the lotus flower To make the river flow.

The clouds might give abundant rain, The nightly dews might fall, And the herb that keepeth life in man Might yet have drunk them all.

Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, All dyed with rainbow light, All fashioned with supremest grace, Upspringing day and night,--

Springing in valleys green and low, And on the mountain high, And in the silent wilderness, Where no man pa.s.ses by?

Our outward life requires them not, Then wherefore had they birth?-- To minister delight to man, To beautify the earth;

To comfort man, to whisper hope Whene'er his faith is dim; For Whoso careth for the flowers Will much more care for him.

MARY HOWITT

CONTENTED JOHN

One honest John Tomkins, a hedger and ditcher, Although he was poor, did not want to be richer; For all such vain wishes in him were prevented By a fortunate habit of being contented.

Though cold was the weather, or dear was the food, John never was found in a murmuring mood; For this he was constantly heard to declare,-- What he could not prevent he would cheerfully bear.

"For why should I grumble and murmur?" he said; "If I cannot get meat, I can surely get bread; And, though fretting may make my calamities deeper, It can never cause bread and cheese to be cheaper."

If John was afflicted with sickness or pain, He wished himself better, but did not complain, Nor lie down and fret in despondence and sorrow, But said that he hoped to be better to-morrow.

If any one wronged him or treated him ill, Why, John was good-natured and sociable still; For he said that revenging the injury done Would be making two rogues when there need be but one,

And thus honest John, though his station was humble, Pa.s.sed through this sad world without even a grumble; And I wish that some folks, who are greater and richer, Would copy John Tomkins, the hedger and ditcher.

JANE TAYLOR

THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, AND HOW HE GAINED THEM

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried; "The few locks which are left you are gray; You are hale, Father William--a hearty old man: Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," Father William replied, "I remembered that youth would fly fast, And abused not my health and my vigor at first, That I never might need them at last."

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "And pleasures with youth pa.s.s away; And yet you lament not the days that are gone: Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," Father William replied, "I remembered that youth could not last; I thought of the future, whatever I did, That I never might grieve for the past."

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "And life must be hastening away; You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death: Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied; "Let the cause thy attention engage: In the days of my youth I remembered my G.o.d; And he hath not forgotten my age."

ROBERT SOUTHEY

THE FROST

The frost looked forth on a still, clear night, And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight; So through the valley and over the height I'll silently take my way.

I will not go on like that bl.u.s.tering train, The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain, That make so much bustle and noise in vain, But I'll be as busy as they!"

He flew up, and powdered the mountain's crest; He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed With diamonds and pearls;--and over the breast Of the quivering lake he spread A bright coat of mail, that it need not fear The glittering point of many a spear That he hung on its margin, far and near, Where a rock was rearing its head.

He went to the windows of those who slept, And over each pane, like a fairy crept; Wherever he breathed--wherever he stepped-- Most beautiful things were seen By morning's first light! There were flowers and trees, With bevies of birds and swarms of bright bees; There were cities--temples, and towers; and these, All pictured in silvery sheen!

But one thing he did that was hardly fair-- He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there That none had remembered for him to prepare, "Now, just to set them a-thinking, I'll bite their rich basket of fruit," said he, "This burly old pitcher--I'll burst it in three!

And the gla.s.s with the water they've left for me Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking!"

HANNAH FLAGG GOULD