Suppose, my little lady,
Your doll should break her head,
Could you make it whole by crying
Till your eyes and nose are red?
A Story of Holland
The good dame looked from her cottage
At the close of the pleasant day,
One sweetly solemn thought
Comes to me o’er and o’er;
I am nearer home to-day
Than I ever have been before;
HE dwelt among 'apartments let,'
About five stories high;
A man I thought that none would get,
When lovely woman wants a favor,
And finds, too late, that man won't bend,
What earthly circumstance can save her
The crocus rose from her snowy bed
As she felt the spring’s caresses,
And the willow from her graceful head
Shook out her yellow tresses.
We were crowded in the cabin,
Not a soul had room to sleep;
It was midnight on the waters,
And the banks were very steep.
“Now, good-wife, bring your precious hoard,”
The Norland farmer cried,
“And heap the hearth, and heap the board,
For the blessed Christmas-tide.
My friend, 0, my dearly beloved!
O, do you feel, do you know,
How the times and the seasons are going;
The day is done, and darkness
From the wing of night is loosed,
As a feather is wafted downward,
From a chicken going to roost.