قراءة كتاب Gems of Poetry, for Girls and Boys
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Though I am now in younger days,
Nor can tell what shall befall me,
I'll prepare for every place
Where my growing age shall call me.
Should I e'er be rich or great,
Others shall partake my goodness;
I'll supply the poor with meat,
Never showing scorn or rudeness.
When I see the blind or lame,
Deaf or dumb, I'll kindly treat them;
I deserve to feel the same,
If I mock, or hurt, or cheat them.
If I meet with railing tongues,
Why should I return their railing?
Since I best revenge my wrongs
By my patience never failing.
When I hear them telling lies,
Talking foolish, cursing, swearing,
First I'll try to make them wise,
Or I'll soon go out of hearing.
What though I be low and mean,
I'll engage the rich to love me,
While I'm modest, neat and clean,
And submit when they reprove me.
If I should be poor and sick,
I shall meet, I hope, with pity;
Since I love to help the weak,
Though they're neither fair nor witty.
I'll not willingly offend,
Nor be easily offended;
What's amiss I'll strive to mend,
And endure what can't be mended.
LOVE AND DUTY TO PARENTS.
My father, my mother, I know,
I cannot your kindness repay;
But I hope that, as older I grow,
I shall learn your commands to obey.
You loved me before I could tell
Who it was that so tenderly smiled;
But now that I know it so well,
I should be a dutiful child.
I am sorry that ever I should
Be naughty and give you a pain;
I hope I shall learn to be good,
And so never grieve you again.
But, for fear that I should dare
From all your commands to depart,
Whenever I'm saying my prayer
I'll ask for a dutiful heart.
THE APPLE-TREE.
Let them sing of bright red gold;
Let them sing of silver fair;
Sing of all that's on the earth,
All that's in the air;
All that's in the sunny air,
All that's in the sea;
And I'll sing a song as rare,
Of the apple-tree!
The red-bloomed apple-tree;
The red-cheeked apple-tree;
That's the tree for you and me,
The ripe, rosy apple-tree!
Learned men have learned books,
Which they ponder night and day;
Easier leaves than theirs I read,—
Blossoms pink and white;
Blossom-leaves all pink and white,
Wherein I can see
Charactered, as clear as light,
The old apple-tree;
The gold-cheeked apple-tree;
The red-streaked apple-tree;
All the fruit that groweth on
The ripe, rosy apple-tree!
