Jane Taylor Poems
|2.||Poetry And Reality||4/8/2010|
|5.||The World In The House||4/8/2010|
|6.||The Squire’s Pew||4/8/2010|
|9.||Aims At Happiness||4/8/2010|
|13.||The World In The Heart||4/8/2010|
|16.||Come And Play In The Garden||1/3/2003|
|19.||Teaching From The Stars||4/8/2010|
|26.||Little Girls Must Not Fret||1/3/2003|
|28.||The Village Green||1/3/2003|
|33.||The Good-Natured Girls||1/3/2003|
Comments about Jane Taylor
I saw an old cottage of clay,
And only of mud was the floor;
It was all falling into decay,
And the snow drifted in at the door.
Yet there a poor family dwelt,
In a hovel so dismal and rude;
And though gnawing hunger they felt,
They had not a morsel of food.
The children were crying for bread,
And to their poor mother they’d run;
‘Oh, give us some breakfast,’ they said,
Alas! their poor mother had none.
She viewed them with looks of despair,
She said (and I’m sure it was true),
‘’Tis not for myself that I care,
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.