The Pin
“Dear me! what signifies a pin!
I’ll leave it on the floor;
My pincushion has others in,
Mamma has plenty more:
A miser will I never be,”
Said little heedless Emily.
So tripping on to giddy play,
She left the pin behind,
For Betty’s broom to whisk away,
Or some one else to find;
She never gave a thought, indeed,
To what she might to-morrow need.
Next day a party was to ride,
To see an air-balloon!
And all the company beside
Were dress’d and ready soon:
But she, poor girl, she could not stir,
For just a pin to finish her.
‘Twas vainly now, with eye and hand,
She did to search begin;
There was not onenot one, the band
Of her pelisse to pin!
She cut her pincushion in two,
But not a pin had slidden through!
At last, as hunting on the floor,
Over a crack she lay,
The carriage rattled to the door,
Then rattled fast away.
Poor Emily! she was not in,
For want of justa single pin!
There’s hardly anything so small,
So trifling or so mean,
That we may never want at all,
For service unforseen:
And those who venture wilful waste,
May woeful want expect to taste.
Related poetry:
- Reuben Pantier Well, Emily Sparks, your prayers were not wasted, Your love was not all in vain. I owe whatever I was in life To your hope that would not give me up, To your love that saw me still as good. Dear Emily Sparks, let me tell you the story. I pass the effect of my […]...
- 'Out, Out ' The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. And from there those that lifted eyes could count Five mountain ranges one behind the other Under the sunset far into Vermont. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and […]...
- WITH A PAINTED RIBBON LITTLE leaves and flow’rets too, Scatter we with gentle hand, Kind young spring-gods to the view, Sporting on an airy band. Zephyr, bear it on the wing, Twine it round my loved one’s dress; To her glass then let her spring, Full of eager joyousness. Roses round her let her see, She herself a youthful […]...
- Charlie French Did you ever find out Which of the boys it was Who snapped the toy pistol against my hand? There when the flags were red and white In the breeze and “Bucky” Estil Was firing the cannon brought to Spoon River From Vicksburg by Captain Harris; And the lemonade stands running And the band was […]...
- Little Popeet – the Lost Child Near by the silent waters of the Mediterranean, And at the door of an old hut stood a coloured man, Whose dress was oriental in style and poor with wear, While adown his furrowed cheeks ran many a tear. And the poor coloured man seemed very discontent, And his grief overcame him at this moment; […]...
- The Floor The floor is something we must fight against. Whilst seemingly mere platform for the human Stance, it is that place that men fall to. I am not dizzy. I stand as a tower, a lighthouse; The pale ray of my sentiency flowing from my face. But should I go dizzy I crash down into the […]...
- Posies Bracelets This keepes my hands From Cupid’s bands. Goe, keepe that hand From Hymen’s band. Silke though thou bee More soft is heeshee That weareth thee. Vouchsafe my prisoners thus to bee HeeShee’s faster bound that sent it thee. When you putt on this little band Think then I take you by the hand...
- Tommy I went into a public-‘ouse to get a pint o’ beer, The publican ‘e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.” The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die, I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I: O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go […]...
- 326. Song-The Posie O LUVE will venture in where it daur na weel be seen, O luve will venture in where wisdom ance has been; But I will doun yon river rove, amang the wood sae green, And a’ to pu’ a Posie to my ain dear May. The primrose I will pu’, the firstling o’ the year, […]...
- Sonnet XV: You That Do Search You that do search for every purling spring, Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows, And every flower, not sweet perhaps, which grows Near thereabouts, into your poesy wring; You that do dictionary’s method bring Into your rimes, running in rattling rows; You that poor Petrarch’s long-deceased woes, With new-born sighs and denizen’d wit […]...
- Astrophel and Stella: XV You that do search for every purling spring Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows, And every flower, not sweet perhaps, which grows Near thereabouts, into your poesy wring; Ye that do dictionary’s method bring Into your rimes, running in rattling rows; You that poor Petrarch’s long-deceased woes With new-born sighs and denizen’d wit […]...
- Ninon De Lenclos, On Her Last Birthday So let me have the rouge again, And comb my hair the curly way. The poor young men, the dear young men They’ll all be here by noon today. And I shall wear the blue, I think- They beg to touch its rippled lace; Or do they love me best in pink, So sweetly flattering […]...
- Segregation I stood beside the silken rope, Five dollars in my hand, And waited in my patient hope To sit anear the Band, And hear the famous Louie play The best hot trumpet of today. And then a waiter loafing near Says in a nasty tone: “Old coon, we don’t want darkies here, Beat it before […]...
- Sand Scribblings THE WIND stops, the wind begins. The wind says stop, begin. A sea shovel scrapes the sand floor. The shovel changes, the floor changes. The sandpipers, maybe they know. Maybe a three-pointed foot can tell. Maybe the fog moon they fly to, guesses. The sandpipers cheep “Here” and get away. Five of them fly and […]...
- The Meditation Of The Old Fisherman You waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play, Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart; In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay, When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart. The herring are not in […]...
- Little Girls Must Not Fret What is it that makes little Emily cry? Come then, let mamma wipe the tear from her eye: There lay down your head on my bosom that’s right, And now tell mamma what’s the matter to-night. What! Emmy is sleepy, and tired with play? Come, Betty, make haste then, and fetch her away; But do […]...
- In the Smoking Car The eyelids meet. He’ll catch a little nap. The grizzled, crew-cut head drops to his chest. It shakes above the briefcase on his lap. Close voices breathe, “Poor sweet, he did his best.” “Poor sweet, poor sweet,” the bird-hushed glades repeat, Through which in quiet pomp his litter goes, Carried by native girls with naked […]...
- God Gave To Me A Child In Part GOD gave to me a child in part, Yet wholly gave the father’s heart: Child of my soul, O whither now, Unborn, unmothered, goest thou? You came, you went, and no man wist; Hapless, my child, no breast you kist; On no dear knees, a privileged babbler, clomb, Nor knew the kindly feel of home. […]...
- If I were dead ‘IF I were dead, you’d sometimes say, Poor Child!’ The dear lips quiver’d as they spake, And the tears brake From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled. Poor Child, poor Child! I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song. It is not true that Love will do no wrong. Poor Child! […]...
- 7. Ah, woe is me, my Mother dear AH, woe is me, my mother dear! A man of strife ye’ve born me: For sair contention I maun bear; They hate, revile, and scorn me. I ne’er could lend on bill or band, That five per cent. might blest me; And borrowing, on the tither hand, The deil a ane wad trust me. Yet […]...
- Treat 'Em Rough First time I dared propose, A callow lad was I; I donned my Sunday clothes, I wore my Old School Tie. Awaiting me Louise Was dolled to beat the band, So going on my knees I begged her hand. Oh yes, she gave me her hand, A box upon the ear; I could not understand, […]...
- Anthem The birds they sang At the break of day Start again I heard them say Don’t dwell on what Has passed away Or what is yet to be. Ah the wars they will Be fought again The holy dove She will be caught again Bought and sold And bought again The dove is never free. […]...
- There Was One There was one a-riding grand On a tall brown mare, And a fine gold band He brought me there. A little, gold band He held to me That would shine on a hand For the world to see. There was one a-walking swift To a little, new song, And a rose was the gift He […]...
- The Captive's Dream Methought I saw him but I knew him not; He was so changed from what he used to be, There was no redness on his woe-worn cheek, No sunny smile upon his ashy lips, His hollow wandering eyes looked wild and fierce, And grief was printed on his marble brow, And O I thought he […]...
- A Soldier's Reprieve ‘Twas in the United States of America some years ago An aged father sat at his fireside with his heart full of woe, And talking to his neighbour, Mr Allan, about his boy Bennie That was to be shot because found asleep doing sentinel duty. “Inside of twenty-four hours, the telegram said, And, oh! Mr […]...
- The Chipmunk My friends all know that I am shy, But the chipmunk is twice and shy and I. He moves with flickering indecision Like stripes across the television. He’s like the shadow of a cloud, Or Emily Dickinson read aloud....
- Amoretti LXVIII: Most Glorious Lord of Life Most glorious Lord of life, that on this day, Didst make thy triumph over death and sin: And having harrow’d hell, didst bring away Captivity thence captive, us to win: This joyous day, dear Lord, with joy begin, And grant that we for whom thou diddest die, Being with thy dear blood clean wash’d from […]...
- So Let Us Love Most glorious Lord of life! that on this day Didst make thy triumph over death and sin, And having harrowed hell, didst bring away Captivity thence captive, us to win: This joyous day, dear Lord, with joy begin; And grant that we, for whom Thou diddest die, Being, with thy dear blood, clean washed from […]...
- Now I sit here on the 2nd floor Hunched over in yellow Pajamas Still pretending to be A writer. Some damned gall, At 71, My brain cells eaten Away by Life. Rows of books Behind me, I scratch my thinning Hair And search for the Word. For decades now I have infuriated the Ladies, The critics, […]...
- The Song of the Shirt With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch She sang the “Song of the Shirt.” “Work! work! work! While the cock is crowing aloof! And work […]...
- The Rat's Tight Schedule A man stumbled on some rat droppings. Hey, who put those there? That’s dangerous, he said. His wife said, those are pieces of a rat. Wait, he’s coming apart, he’s all over the floor, said the Husband. He can’t help it; you don’t think he wants to drop pieces of Himself all over the floor, […]...
- Teach Him When He makes the names Teach Him When He makes the names Such an one to say On his babbling Berry lips As should sound to me Were my Ear as near his nest As my thought today As should sound “Forbid us not” Some like “Emily.”...
- The Ballad of G. R. Dibbs This is the story of G. R. D., Who went on a mission across the sea To borrow some money for you and me. This G. R. Dibbs was a stalwart man Who was built on a most extensive plan, And a regular staunch Republican. But he fell in the hands of the Tory crew […]...
- All In The Golden Afternoon All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little skill, By little arms are plied, While little hands make vain pretense Our wanderings to guide. Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour, Beneath such dreamy weather, To beg a tale of breath too weak To stir the tiniest feather! […]...
- Dear Colette Dear Colette, I want to write to you About being a woman For that is what you write to me. I want to tell you how your face Enduring after thirty, forty, fifty. . . Hangs above my desk Like my own muse. I want to tell you how your hands Reach out from your […]...
- Reunited Let us begin, dear love, where we left off; Tie up the broken threads of that old dream; And go on happy as before; and seem Lovers again, though all the world may scoff. Let us forget the graves, which lie between Our parting and our meeting, and the tears That rusted out the goldwork […]...
- Purgatory And suppose the darlings get to Mantua, Suppose they cheat the crypt, what next? Begin With him, unshaven. Though not, I grant you, a Displeasing cockerel, there’s egg yolk on his chin. His seedy robe’s aflap, he’s got the rheum. Poor dear, the cooking lard has smoked her eye. Another Montague is in the womb […]...
- To Emily Dickinson You who desired so much in vain to ask Yet fed you hunger like an endless task, Dared dignify the labor, bless the quest Achieved that stillness ultimately best, Being, of all, least sought for: Emily, hear! O sweet, dead Silencer, most suddenly clear When singing that Eternity possessed And plundered momently in every breast; […]...
- Little-oh dear See, what a wonderful garden is here, Planted and trimmed for my Little-Oh-Dear! Posies so gaudy and grass of such brown – Search ye the country and hunt ye the town And never ye’ll meet with a garden so queer As this one I’ve made for my Little-Oh-Dear! Marigolds white and buttercups blue, Lilies all […]...
- The Spider “Oh, look at that great ugly spider!” said Ann; And screaming, she brush’d it away with her fan; “‘Tis a frightful black creature as ever can be, I wish that it would not come crawling on me. ” “Indeed,” said her mother, “I’ll venture to say, The poor thing will try to keep out of […]...