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SAY, little child, who gives to thee
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Thy life and limbs, so light and free? |
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Thy moving eyes to look around, |
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Thy ears to catch the softest sound? |
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Thy food and clothing, friends and home? |
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'Tis God from whom those blessings come; |
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And what shouldst thou do? canst thou guess? |
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To prove to Him thy thankfulness |
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For life and friends, for clothes and food?— |
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"Be good." |
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And tell me, little-one, I pray, |
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Who gives thee pleasure in thy play? |
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Who makes the happy girl and boy |
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To run, and leap, and shout for joy, |
― 209 ―
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When looking on the clear blue sky; |
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The clouds, that float, the birds that fly; |
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Trees, flowers, and every pretty thing? |
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'Tis God from whom those blessings spring; |
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And in return what shouldst thou do? |
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"Be good, and love Him too." |
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FAT Tommy on the carpet lay,
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And held with sprightly kit his play. |
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To her the twisted cord he flung, |
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At which with teeth and claws she sprung; |
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His worsted ball then past her roll'd, |
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Which soon within her clutching hold |
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She whirled, and checked, and tugged, and tore, |
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Then sent it rolling as before. |
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Tommy—his blue eyes glancing bright, |
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View'd all these antics with delight; |
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Then fondly stroked her tabby fur, |
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And smiled to see her wink and purr; |
― 210 ―
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And then her ears began to touch, |
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Which she endured, but liked not much; |
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Then did her hinder parts assail, |
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And pinch'd and pull'd her by the tail. |
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On this her sudden anger rose, |
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She turn'd and growl'd, and scratched his nose. |
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Then Tommy roared like any bull |
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And said—his eyes with tears brim full— |
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"Mamma, beat kit."—"And why?" quoth she. |
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"Beat naughty kit for scratching me, |
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And teach her not to scratch again." |
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"No child, such teaching were in vain. |
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She can feel pain, but lacks the wit |
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To learn a lesson; but we'll hit |
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Upon a plan more plain and easy. |
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Tommy has sense to learn, so, please ye, |
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Let him be taught this simple lore, |
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To pull his play-mate's tail no more." |