The Peach
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 small,
We owned when it was eaten,
Being so little for us all
Did its fine flavour heighten.
The tear was in our parent’s eye,
It seemed quite out of season;
When we asked wherefore she did cry,
She thus explained the reason:—
‘The cause, my children, I may say,
Was joy, and not dejection;
The peach, which made you all so gay,
Gave rise to this reflection:
’It’s many a mother’s lot to share,
Seven hungry children viewing,
A morsel of the coarsest fare,
As I this peach was doing.'
