Ann Taylor

(30 January 1782 - 20 December 1866 / Colchester, England)

Little Girls Must Not Fret - Poem by Ann Taylor

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 matter to-night.

What! Emmy is sleepy, and tired with play?
Come, Betty, make haste then, and fetch her away;
But do not be fretful, my darling; you know
Mamma cannot love little girls that are so.

She shall soon go to bed and forget it all there–
Ah! here's her sweet smile come again, I declare:
That's right, for I thought you quite naughty before.
Good night, my dear child, but don't fret any more.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 1, 2010

Poem Edited: Thursday, March 1, 2012


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