Nay, my little master, nay, Do not serve me so, I pray.

Don't you see the wool that grows On my back to make your clothes?

Cold, and very cold you'd be, If you had not wool from me.

True, it seems a pleasant thing To nip the daisies in the spring; But many chilly nights I pa.s.s On the cold and dewy gra.s.s, Or pick a scanty dinner where All the common's brown and bare.

Then the farmer comes at last, When the merry spring is past, And cuts my woolly coat away, To warm you in the winter's day.

Little master, this is why In the pleasant fields I lie.

--_Jane Taylor_.

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[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE WOUNDED LAMB By Von Bremen

"How think ye? if any man have a hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and go unto the mountains, and seek that which goeth astray? And if so be that he find it, verily I say unto you, he rejoiceth over it more than over the ninety and nine which have not gone astray. Even so it is not the will of your Father who is in heaven, that one of these little ones should perish."--_The Words of Jesus_ [End ill.u.s.tration]

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THE COW

Thank you, pretty cow, that made Pleasant milk to soak my bread, Every day, and every night, Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white.

Do not chew the hemlock rank, Growing on the weedy bank; But the yellow cowslips eat, They perhaps will make it sweet.

Where the purple violet grows, Where the bubbling water flows, Where the gra.s.s is fresh and fine, Pretty cow, go there and dine.

--_Jane Taylor_.

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[Ill.u.s.tration]

Music for "Going to Bed".

[End ill.u.s.tration]

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GOING TO BED

Little baby, lay your head On your pretty cradle-bed; Shut your eye-peeps, now the day And the light are gone away.

All the clothes are tucked in tight; Little baby dear, good night!

Yes, my darling, well I know How the bitter wind doth blow; And the winter's snow and rain Patter on the window pane.

But they cannot come in here, To my little baby dear;

For the window shutteth fast, Till the stormy night is past; Or the curtains we may spread Round about her cradle-bed.

So, till morning shineth bright, Little baby dear, good night!

--_Jane Taylor_.

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BABY AND MAMMA

What a little thing am I!

Hardly higher than the table.

I can eat, and play, and cry, But to work I am not able.

Nothing in the world I know, But mamma will try and show me.

Sweet mamma, I love her so, She's so very kind unto me.

And she sets me on her knee, Very often, for some kisses.

Oh! how good I'll try to be, For such a dear mamma as this is.

--_Jane Taylor_.

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[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHILD WITH DOG Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792) [End ill.u.s.tration]

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THE TEMPEST

See the dark vapors cloud the sky, The thunder rumbles round and round; The lightning's flash begins to fly, Big drops of rain bedew the ground: The frightened birds with ruffled wing, Fly through the air and cease to sing.

'T is G.o.d who on the tempest rides And with a word directs the storm, 'T is at His nod the wind subsides, Or heaps of heavy vapors form.

In fire and cloud He walks the sky, And lets His stores of tempest fly.

--_Jane Taylor_.

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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 its 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_.

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