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If ye take out o' their nest；
Ye'll never thrive again！
The robin and the red…breast；
The martin and the swallow；
If ye touch one o' their eggs；
Bad luck will surely follow！
〃SING ON； BLITHE BIRD〃
I've plucked the berry from the bush； the brown nut from the tree；
But heart of happy little bird ne'er broken was by me。
I saw them in their curious nests； close couching； slyly peer
With their wild eyes； like glittering beads； to note if harm were near；
I passed them by； and blessed them all； I felt that it was good
To leave unmoved the creatures small whose home was in the wood。
And here； even now； above my head； a lusty rogue doth sing；
He pecks his swelling breast and neck； and trims his little wing。
He will not fly； he knows full well； while chirping on that spray；
I would not harm him for the world； or interrupt his lay。
Sing on； sing on； blithe bird！ and fill my heart with summer gladness；
It has been aching many a day with measures full of sadness！
William Motherwell ＇1797…1835＇
〃I LIKE LITTLE PUSSY〃
I like little Pussy； her coat is so warm；
And if I don't hurt her she'll do me no harm。
So I'll not pull her tail； nor drive her away；
But Pussy and I very gently will play。
She shall sit by my side； and I'll give her some food；
And she'll love me because I am gentle and good。
I'll pat little Pussy and then she will purr；
And thus show her thanks for my kindness to her。
I'll not pinch her ears； nor tread on her paw；
Lest I should provoke her to use her sharp claw；
I never will vex her； nor make her displeased；
For Pussy can't bear to be worried or teased。
Jane Taylor ＇1783…1824＇
LITTLE THINGS
Little drops of water；
Little grains of sand；
Make the mighty ocean
And the pleasant land。
So the little moments；
Humble though they be；
Make the mighty ages
Of eternity。
So our little errors
Lead the soul away
From the path of virtue；
Far in sin to stray。
Little deeds of kindness；
Little words of love；
Help to make earth happy
Like the heaven above。
Julia Fletcher Carney ＇1823…1908＇
THE LITTLE GENTLEMAN
From 〃Little Derwent's Breakfast〃
Take your meals； my little man；
Always like a gentleman；
Wash your face and hands with care；
Change your shoes； and brush your hair；
Then so fresh； and clean； and neat；
Come and take your proper seat：
Do not loiter and be late；
Making other people wait；
Do not rudely point or touch：
Do not eat and drink too much：
Finish what you have； before
You even ask； or send for more：
Never crumble or destroy
Food that others might enjoy；
They who idly crumbs will waste
Often want a loaf to taste！
Never spill your milk or tea；
Never rude or noisy be；
Never choose the daintiest food；
Be content with what is good：
Seek in all things that you can
To be a little gentleman。
THE CRUST OF BREAD
I must not throw upon the floor
The crust I cannot eat；
For many little hungry ones
Would think it quite a treat。
My parents labor very hard
To get me wholesome food；
Then I must never waste a bit
That would do others good。
For wilful waste makes woeful want；
And I may live to say；
Oh！ how I wish I had the bread
That once I threw away！
〃HOW DOTH THE LITTLE BUSY BEE〃
How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour；
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower！
How skilfully she builds her cell！
How neat she spreads the wax！
And labors hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes。
In works of labor or of skill；
I would be busy too；
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do。
In books； or work； or healthful play；
Let my first years be passed；
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last。
Isaac Watts ＇1674…1748＇
THE BROWN THRUSH
There's a merry brown thrush sitting up in the tree。
〃He's singing to me！ He's singing to me！〃
And what does he say； little girl； little boy？
〃Oh； the world's running over with joy！
Don't you hear？ Don't you see？
Hush！ Look！ In my tree；
I'm as happy as happy can be！〃
And the brown thrush keeps singing； 〃A nest do you see；
And five eggs； hid by me in the juniper…tree？
Don't meddle！ Don't touch！ little girl； little boy；
Or the world will lose some of its joy！
Now I'm glad！ Now I'm free！
And I always shall be；
If you never bring sorrow to me。〃
So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree；
To you and to me； to you and to me；
And he sings all the day； little girl； little boy；
〃Oh； the world's running over with joy！
But long it won't be；
Don't you know？ Don't you see？
Unless we're as good as can be。〃
Lucy Larcom ＇1824…1893＇
THE SLUGGARD
'Tis the voice of a sluggard； I heard him complain；
〃You have waked me too soon； I must slumber again〃；
As the door on its hinges； so he on his bed
Turns his sides； and his shoulders； and his heavy head。
〃A little more sleep； and a little more slumber〃；
Thus he wastes half his days； and his hours without number；
And when he gets up； he sits folding his hands
Or walks about saunt'ring； or trifling he stands。
I passed by his garden； and saw the wild brier
The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher；
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags；
And his money still wastes till he starves or he begs。
I made him a visit； still hoping to find
That he took better care for improving his mind；
He told me his dreams； talked of eating and drinking。
But he scarce reads his Bible； and never loves thinking。
Said I then to my heart； 〃Here's a lesson for me；
That man's but a picture of what I might be；
But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding；
Who taught me betimes to love working and reading。〃
Isaac Watts ＇1674…1748＇
THE VIOLET
Down in a green and shady bed
A modest violet grew；
Its stalk was bent； it hung its head；
As if to hide from view。
And yet it was a lovely flower；
Its colors bright and fair；
It might have graced a rosy bower；
Instead of hiding there。
Yet there it was content to bloom；
In modest tints arrayed；
And there diffused a sweet perfume；
Within the silent shade。
Then let me to the valley go；
This pretty flower to see；
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility。
Jane Taylor ＇1783…1824＇
DIRTY JIM
There was one little Jim；
'Tis reported of him；
And must be to his lasting disgrace；
That he never was seen
With hands at all clean；
Nor yet ever clean was his face。
His friends were much hurt
To see so much dirt；
And often they made him quite clean；
But all was in vain；
He got dirty again；
And not at all fit to be seen。
It gave him no pain
To hear them complain；
Nor his own dirty clothes to survey；
His indolent mind
No pleasu