Jane Taylor

(23 September 1783 – 13 April 1824 / Colchester, England)

Jane Taylor Poems

1. My Mother 4/8/2015
2. The Squire’s Pew 4/8/2010
3. The World In The House 4/8/2010
4. The World In The Heart 4/8/2010
5. Poetry And Reality 4/8/2010
6. Experience 4/8/2010
7. Egotism 4/8/2010
8. A Fable 4/8/2010
9. Aims At Happiness 4/8/2010
10. Accomplishment 4/8/2010
11. A Pair 4/8/2010
12. Soliloquy 4/8/2010
13. Prejudice 4/8/2010
14. Good Night 4/8/2010
15. Pretty Cow 4/8/2010
16. A Town 4/8/2010
17. Dirty Jim 4/8/2010
18. Teaching From The Stars 4/8/2010
19. Recreation 4/8/2010
20. Poverty 5/11/2012
21. The Star 4/8/2010
22. Finery 1/3/2003
23. Greedy Richard 1/3/2003
24. Come And Play In The Garden 1/3/2003
25. The Spider 1/3/2003
26. The Village Green 1/3/2003
27. The Holidays 1/3/2003
28. Little Girls Must Not Fret 1/3/2003
29. The Apple-Tree 1/3/2003
30. The Disappointment 1/3/2003
31. Sleepy Harry 1/3/2003
32. The Orphan 1/3/2003
33. Mischief 1/3/2003
34. The Good-Natured Girls 1/3/2003
35. The Violet 1/3/2003
Best Poem of 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 bright and fair;
It might have graced a rosy bower,
Instead of hiding there.

Yet thus it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;
And there diffused a sweet perfume,
Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go
This pretty flower to see;
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility.

Read the full of The Violet

My Mother

Who fed me from her gentle breast
And hushed me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheek sweet kisses prest?
My mother.

When sleep forsook my open eye,
Who was it sung sweet lullaby
And rocked me that I should not cry?
My mother.

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