Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
Run about and play.
Silly little Mary
Wears a peevish look,
When she sees the others
Laughing at the brook.
Silly little Mary,
Will not skip or swing,
Won't at puss-in-corner play,
Won't do anything.
Silly little Mary
Hides behind the bank,
In among the roots and weeds,
All so thick and rank.
Mary hears a footstep
O'er the velvet moss,
Sees a roguish little face
It is Willie Ross.
I have found you, Mary.
Won't you come play too?
And with cheeks all crimsoned,
Whispers--I love you.
Ah! but love has conquered
Fall the tears like rain,
Then our little Mary
Is herself again.
Where are sulks and tears now?
All are fled away.
And our little Mary
Will both laugh and play.
[Page 60--Naughtiness Land]
Anger
Oh! anger is an evil thing
And spoils the fairest face;
It cometh like a rainy cloud
Upon a sunny place.
One angry moment often does
What we repent for years:
It works the wrong we ne'er make right
By sorrow or tears.
It speaks the rude and cruel word
That wounds a feeling breast:
It strikes the reckless sudden blow--
It breaks the household rest.
We dread the dog that turns in play,
All snapping, fierce and quick;
We shun the steed whose temper shows
In strong and savage kick.
But how much more we find to blame,
When passion wildly swells
In hearts where kindness has been taught,
And brains where reason dwells!
The hand of peace is frank and warm
And soft as a ring-dove's wing;
And he who quells an angry thought
Is greater than a king.
Shame to the lips that ever seek
To stir up jarring strife,
When gentleness would shed so much
Of Christian joy through life!
Ever remember in thy youth,
That he who firmly tries
To conquer an to rule himself,
Is noble, brave and wise.
Eliza Cook
The Little Girl That Beat Her Sister
Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss
Your little sister dear;
I must not have such things as this,
Nor noisy quarrels here.
What! little children scold and fight,
That ought to be so mild:
Oh! Mary, 'tis a shocking sight
To see an angry child.
I can't imagine, for my part,
The reason of your folly,
As if she did you any hurt
By playing with your dolly.
See, see the little tears that run
So quickly from her eye:
Come, my sweet innocent, have done,
'Twill do no good to cry.
Go, Mary, wipe her tears away
And make it up with kisses:
And never turn a pretty play
To such a pet as this is.
Home Peace
"Whatever brawls disturb the street
There should be peace at home;
Where sisters dwell and brothers meet
Quarrels should never come."
Dr. Watts
Little Dick Snappy
Little Dick Snappy
Was always unhappy
Because he did nothing but fret;
And when he once cried,
'Twas in vain that you tried
To make him his troubles forget.
His mother once brought him
A drum, which she bought him
Hard by at a neighbouring fair,
And gave such another
To Edward his brother,
And left them their pleasures to share.
Little Edward began,
Like a nice little man,
To play with his little new drum;
But Dick, with a pout,
Only turned his about
In his hands, and looked sulky and glum.
"What's the matter, dear Dick?
You look sad; are you sick?
Come, march like a soldier with me:
The enemy comes
Let us beat on our drums,
And mamma will out merriment see."
"No! I don't like my new toy,"
Said my ill-humoured boy,
"And yours is the best and most new;
If you'll give me yours,
Then I'll go out of doors;
But if not, I'll kick mine in two."
"Oh no! brother, no--
Pray do not say so
Of a trifle, in anger and haste;
Though they are equally new,
Yet my drum I'll give you,
But I've tied it in knots round my waist."
Then quarrelsome Dick
Gave his brother a kick;
But he did not give him another,
But, saying no more,
Edward walked to the door,
Only giving one look at his brother.
Then, bursting with spite,
With his utmost of might
Master Dick trod his drum on the floor;
The parchment did crack,
When lo; Edward comes back,
And his drum in his hands then he bore.
"The string is untied,
Dearest brother," he cried--
"So now I with pleasure will change;"
But when Dick's drum he found
Lying broke on the ground,
Oh! how did his countenance change.
"I'm really ashamed,"
Dick, sobbing, exclaimed,
"At the difference between you and me;
But continue my friend,
And I'll try to amend,
And a good-tempered fellow to be."
Which Shall It Be, Dear?
If fretting pays you, fret;
And get into a pet,
And slam and bang
The doors with a whang,
And flame and flare,
And say "Don't care."
And slip round sly,
And make the baby cry,
And thus get sent to bed, to sob it out.
But if it does not pay
Why then, my dear, do pray
Just do the other thing,
And toot and sing,
And whistle like a bird.
Letting your voice be heard,
From morn till night,
In echoes bright,
Sending the best of cheer into the home.
[Page 61--Naughtiness Land]
Govern Your Temper
Oh, Govern your temper!
For music, the sweetest,
Was never so sweet--
Nor one-half so divine,
As a heart kept in tune,
Which, the moment thou greetest,
Breathes harmony dearer
Than notes can combine!
Never say it is nature.
And may not be cured;
One tithe of the time,
Which to music we yield
Would render the conquest
Of temper insured,
And bring us more music
Than a song e'er revealed.
Oh, govern your temper!
For roses, the fairest,
Were never so fair,
Nor so rich in perfume,
As the flowers, which e'en thou,
Chilly winter sparest--
The flowers of the heart,
Which unchangingly bloom!
Never think it is nature--
For oh! if it be,
The sooner the spirit
Of nature is shown
That the spirit of heaven
Is higher than she,
The sooner, the longer,
Will love be our own.
Where Do You Live
I knew a man, and his name was Horner,
He used to live at Grumble Corner,--
Grumble Corner, in Cross Patch Town,--
And he never was seen without a frown.
He grumbled at this, he grumbled at that;
He growled at the dog, he growled at the cat;
He grumbled at morning, he grumbled at night,
And to grumble and growl was his chief delight.
He grumbled so much at his wife, that she
Began to grumble as well as he;
And all the children wherever they went
Reflected their parents' discontent.
If the sky was dark and betokened rain,
Then Mr. Horner was sure to complain;
And if there was never a cloud about,
He'd grumble because of threatened drought.
One day, as I loitered along the street,
My old acquaintance I chanced to meet.
Whose face was without the look of care
And the ugly frown it used to wear.
"I may be mistaken, perhaps," I said.
As, after saluting, I turned my head;
"But it is, and it isn't, the Mr. Horner
Who lived so long at Grumble Corner."
I met him next day, and I met him again,
In melting weather, in pouring rain;
When stocks were up and when stocks were down;
But a smile, somehow, had replac'd the frown.
It puzzled me much, and so, one day,
I seized his hand in a friendly way,
And said "Mr. Horner, I'd like to know
What can have happened to change you so."
He laughed a laugh that was good to hear,
For it told of a conscience calm and clear,
And he said, with none of the old-time drawl,
"Why, I've changed my residence, that is all."
"Changed your residence?" "Yes," said Horner,
"It wasn't healthy at Grumble Corner,
And so I've moved: 'twas a change complete;
And you'll find me now at Thanksgiving Street."
And every day, as I move along
The streets, so filled with busy throng,
I watch each face, and can always tell
Where men, and women, and children dwell.
And many a discontented mourner
Is spending his days at Grumble Corner,
Sour and sad, whom I long to entreat
To take a house in Thanksgiving Street.
Temper
Bad temper, go,
You shall never stay with me;
Bad temper, go,
You and I shall never agree.
For I will always be kind, and mild,
And gentle pray to be,
And do to others as I wish
That they should do to me.
Temper bad
With me shall never stay;
Temper bad
Can never be happy and gay.
[Page 62--Pride Land]
A Fine Lady
Did ever you see such wondrous airs!
Oh, oh! my Lady Jane!
Your airs will blow you quite away,
You'll go to Vanity-land to stay,
And ne'er come back again.
Pray, what's the price of your hat my dear?
And what'll you take for your gloves?
And how'll you sell each pink kid shoe?
And your wonderful dressed-up poodle, too?
You're a precious pair of loves.
You're all too fine for us, you know,
With your airs and stately tread,
From your pretty feet to your pretty dress,
And up to your ruffled neck, oh, yes,
And on to your feathered head.
So go your way, my Lady Jane,
Till you come from Vanity-land again.
To A Little Girl Who Liked To Look In The Glass
Why is my silly girl so vain,
Looking in the glass again?
For the meekest flower of spring
Is a gayer little thing.
Is your merry eye so blue
As the violet, wet with dew?
Yet it loves the best to hide
By the hedge's shady side.
Is your bosom half so fair
As the modest lilies are?
Yet their little bells are hung
Bright and shady leaves among.
When your cheek the brightest glows,
Is it redder than the rose?
But its sweetest buds are seen
Almost hid with moss and green.
Little flowers that open gay,
Peeping forth at break of day,
In the garden, hedge, or plain,
Have more reason to be vain.
The Ragged Girl's Sunday
"Oh, dear Mamma, that little girl
Forgets this is the day
When children should be clean and neat,
And read and learn and pray!
Her face is dirty and her frock,
Holes in her stockings, see;
Her hair is such a fright, oh, dear!
How wicked she must be!
She's playing in the kennel dirt
With ragged girls and boys;
But I would not on Sunday touch
My clean and pretty toys.
I go to church, and sit so still,
I in the garden walk,
Or take my stool beside the fire,
And hear nice Sunday talk.
I read my bible, learn my hymns,
My catechism say;
That wicked little girl does not--
She only cares to play."
"Ah! hush that boasting tone, my love,
Repress self-glorying pride;
You can do nothing of yourself--
Friends all your actions guide."
Criminal Pride
Hark the rustle of a dress
Stiff with lavish costliness!
Here comes on whose cheek would flush
But to have her garment brush
'Gainst the girl whose fingers thin
Wove the weary 'broidery in,
Bending backward from her toil,
Lest her tears the silk might soil,
And in midnight's chill and murk,
Stitched her life into the work.
Little doth the wearer heed