Anger in its time and place May assume a kind of grace. It must have some reason in it, And not last beyond a minute. If to further lengths it go,

This picture does the story expres… Of Moses in the bulrushes. How livelily the painter’s hand By colours makes us understand! Moses that little infant is.

‘I keep it, dear papa, within my g… ‘You do—what sum then usually, my… Is there deposited? I make no dou… Some penny pieces you are not with… 'O no, papa, they’d soil my glove,…

A little boy with crumbs of bread Many a hungry sparrow fed. It was a child of little sense, Who this kind bounty did dispense; For suddenly it was withdrawn,

O what a joyous joyous day Is that on which we come At the recess from school away, Each lad to his own home! What though the coach is crammëd f…

JANE. Mamma is displeased and looks very… And I own, brother, I was to blam… Just now when I told her I wanted… Like Miss Lydia, a very fine name…

A little child, who had desired To go and see the Park guns fired… Was taken by his maid that way Upon the next rejoicing day. Soon as the unexpected stroke

One Sunday eve a grave old man, Who had not been at church, did sa… ‘Eliza, tell me, if you can, What text our Doctor took to—day?… She hung her head, she blushed for…

Mamma gave us a single peach, She shared it among seven; Now you may think that unto each But a small piece was given. Yet though each share was very sma…

While young John runs to greet The greater Infant’s feet, The Mother standing by, with trem… Of devout admiration, Beholds the engaging mystic play,…

My neat and pretty book, when I t… They seem for any use to be unfit… My writing, all misshaped, uneven… Within this narrow space can hardl… Yet I will strive to make my hand…

I saw where in the shroud did lurk A curious frame of Nature’s work. A flow’ret crushed in the bud, A nameless piece of Babyhood, Was in a cradle—coffin lying;

A child’s a plaything for an hour; Its pretty tricks we try For that or for a longer space; Then tire, and lay it by. But I knew one, that to itself

I saw a boy with eager eye Open a book upon a stall, And read as he’d devour it all: Which when the stall—man did espy, Soon to the boy I heard him call,