قراءة كتاب The Keepsake or, Poems and Pictures for Childhood and Youth
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اللغة: English
The Keepsake or, Poems and Pictures for Childhood and Youth
الصفحة رقم: 1
| FRONTISPIECE |
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| Richard and his Brother |
| see page 1 |
THE
KEEPSAKE;
OR,
POEMS AND PICTURES
FOR
CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR DARTON, HARVEY, AND DARTON,
55, GRACECHURCH-STREET.
1818.
CONTENTS.
| Page. | |
| Richard and his Brother | 1 |
| Sleepy Mary | 2 |
| Mary's Lesson | 3 |
| Edward thought he knew better than his Mamma | 5 |
| Impatient Julia | 9 |
| The Cuckoo | 12 |
| Red Shoes and Black Shoes | 13 |
| The Gardeners | 15 |
| Little Girl | 17 |
| The Blind Boy | 19 |
| Spring | 22 |
| Summer | 23 |
| Autumn | 25 |
| Winter | 27 |
| Anne and Edward, Part I. | 29 |
| ——————— Part II. | 31 |
| George and Edmund | 33 |
| Fanny | 37 |
| Alfred | 40 |
| William | 41 |
THE KEEPSAKE.
RICHARD AND HIS BROTHER.
Richard, come and play with me,
Underneath the willow tree;
Sitting in its peaceful shade,
We'll sing the song papa has made,
Whilst its drooping branches spread,
Stretching far above our head,
Sweetly tempering the blaze
Of the sun's meridian rays.
There the rose and violet blow,
The lily with her bell of snow,
And the richly scented woodbine,
Round about its trunk doth twine;
There the busy bee shall come,
And gather sweets to carry home.
Oh, how happy we shall be,
Underneath the willow tree!
Underneath the willow tree;
Sitting in its peaceful shade,
We'll sing the song papa has made,
Whilst its drooping branches spread,
Stretching far above our head,
Sweetly tempering the blaze
Of the sun's meridian rays.
There the rose and violet blow,
The lily with her bell of snow,
And the richly scented woodbine,
Round about its trunk doth twine;
There the busy bee shall come,
And gather sweets to carry home.
Oh, how happy we shall be,
Underneath the willow tree!
SLEEPY MARY.
Mary, raise that sleepy head,
For the lark doth carol high,
And the sun has left his bed—
Mary, ope that sleepy eye.
For the lark doth carol high,
And the sun has left his bed—
Mary, ope that sleepy eye.
Come, and let me wash you clean,
Brush your hair and tie your frock;
There's your sister Geraldine,
Waiting at the mossy rock.
Brush your hair and tie your frock;
There's your sister Geraldine,
Waiting at the mossy rock.
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