Jane Taylor
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 colour
Mischief
Let those who’re fond of idle tricks, Of throwing stones, and hurling bricks, And all that sort of fun, Now hear a tale of idle Jim, That warning they may take by him, Nor
The Good-Natured Girls
Two good little children, named Mary and Ann, Both happily live, as good girls always can; And though they are not either sullen or mute, They seldom or never are heard to dispute. If
Finery
In an elegant frock, trimm’d with beautiful lace, And hair nicely curl’d, hanging over her face, Young Fanny went out to the house of a friend, With a large little party the evening to
The Village Green
On the cheerful village green, Skirted round with houses small, All the boys and girls are seen, Playing there with hoop and ball. Now they frolic hand in hand, Making many a merry chain;
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
The Disappointment
In tears to her mother poor Harriet came, Let us listen to hear what she says: “O see, dear mamma, it is pouring with rain, We cannot go out in the chaise. “All the
Sleepy Harry
“I do not like to go to bed,” Sleepy little Harry said; “Go, naughty Betty, go away, I will not come at all, I say! “ Oh, silly child! what is he saying? As
The Holidays
“Ah! don’t you remember, ’tis almost December, And soon will the holidays come; Oh, ’twill be so funny, I’ve plenty of money, I’ll buy me a sword and a drum. ” Thus said little
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
Come and Play in the Garden
Little sister, come away, And let us in the garden play, For it is a pleasant day. On the grass-plat let us sit, Or, if you please, we’ll play a bit, And run about
The Orphan
My father and mother are dead, Nor friend, nor relation I know; And now the cold earth is their bed, And daisies will over them grow. I cast my eyes into the tomb, The
Greedy Richard
“I think I want some pies this morning,” Said Dick, stretching himself and yawning; So down he threw his slate and books, And saunter’d to the pastry-cook’s. And there he cast his greedy eyes
The Apple-Tree
Old John had an apple-tree, healthy and green, Which bore the best codlins that ever were seen, So juicy, so mellow, and red; And when they were ripe, he disposed of his store, To