With Red Riding Hood, the darling, Did the painter, dreaming Giving us a sweet surprise In Red Riding Hood, the darling, Too long in the meadow staying, Did the little maiden stay. Sorrowful the tale for us; We, too, loiter mid life's flowers, A little while so glorious, So soon lost in darker hours. All love lingering on their way, Like Red Riding Hood, the darling, The flower of fairy lore. LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON. THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. In time brought forth to light: Whose wealth and riches did surmount Sore sick he was, and like to die, And both possessed one grave. In love they lived, in love they died, And left two babes behind: The one a fine and pretty boy, Not passing three years old; The other a girl, more young than he, And made in beauty's mould. The father left his little son, As plainly doth appear, When he to perfect age should come, Three hundred pounds a year, And to his little daughter Jane Five hundred pounds in gold, To be paid down on marriage-day, Which might not be controlled; But if the children chanced to die Ere they to age should come, Their uncle should possess their wealth, For so the will did run. "Now, brother," said the dying man, "Look to my children dear; Be good unto my boy and girl, "O brother kind," quoth she, "You are the man must bring our babes To wealth or misery. "And if you keep them carefully, Then God will you reward; If otherwise you seem to deal, God will your deeds regard." With lips as cold as any stone She kissed her children small: "God bless you both, my children dear," With that the tears did fall. Their parents being dead and gone, He bargained with two ruffians strong, That they should take these children young, He told his wife, and all he had Away then went these pretty babes, They should on cock-horse ride; So that the pretty speech they had Made Murder's heart relent; And they that undertook the deed Full sore they did repent. And now the heavy wrath of God Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house, His barns were fired, his goods consumed, His lands were barren made; His cattle died within the field, And, in the voyage of Portugal, Two of his sons did die ; And, to conclude, himself was brought He pawned and mortgaged all his land The fellow that did take in hand These children for to kill Was for a robber judged to die, As was God's blessed will; You that executors be made, Of children that be fatherless, A MOTHER'S LOVE. ANONYMOUS A LITTLE in the doorway sitting, But when the boy had heard her voice, O, what a loveliness her eyes O, mother's love is glorifying, In the eyes a moistened light, THOMAS BURBIDGE THE GAMBOLS OF CHILDREN. Down the dimpled greensward dancing Rows of liquid eyes in laughter, How they glimmer, how they quiver! Sparkling one another after, Like bright ripples on a river. Tipsy band of rubious faces, Flushed with Joy's ethereal spirit, Make your mocks and sly grimaces At Love's self, and do not fear it. GEORGE DARLEY. UNDER MY WINDOW. UNDER my window, under my window, Flit to and fro together : There's Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen, And Maud with her mantle of silver-green, And Kate with her scarlet feather. Under my window, under my window, Merry and clear, the voice I hear, Of each glad-hearted rover. Ah! sly little Kate, she steals my roses; Under my window, under my window, I catch them all together : Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen, Under my window, under my window, And off through the orchard closes ; While Maud she flouts, and Bell she pouts, They scamper and drop their posies; But dear little Kate takes naught amiss, And leaps in my arms with a loving kiss, And I give her all my roses. THOMAS WESTWOOD. THE MOTHER'S HEART. WHEN first thou camest, gentle, shy, and fond, All that it yet had felt of earthly pleasure; Faithful and true, with sense beyond thy years, Yei patient to rebuke when justly given; Obedient, casy to be reconciled, And meekly cheerful; such wert thou, my child! Now with her empty can the maiden turned away; But ere ten yards were gone, her footsteps did she stay. Right towards the lamb she looked; and from a shady place I unobserved could see the workings of her face. If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring, SEVEN TIMES ONE. THERE's no dew left on the daisies and clover, I am old, so old I can write a letter; My birthday lessons are done. Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid The lambs play always, they know no better : might sing: They are only one times one. O Moon in the night I have seen you sailing And shining so round and low. You were bright — ah, bright — but your light is failing; You are nothing now but a bow. You Moon! have you done something wrong in heaven, That God has hidden your face? Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran; I hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven, And twice in the day, when the ground is wet And shine again in your place. with dew, I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it O velvet Bee! you 're a dusty fellow, is, and new. "Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now; You 've powdered your legs with gold. O brave marsh Mary-buds, rich and yellow, Give me your money to hold! Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony in O Columbine! open your folded wrapper, |