Heinrich Hoffmann

(13 June 1809 - 20 September 1894 / Frankfurt am Main)

Sophie Spoilall - Poem by Heinrich Hoffmann

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I never saw a girl or boy
So prone as Sophie to destroy
Whate'er she laid her hands upon,
Though tough as wood, or hard as stone;
With Sophie it was all the same,
No matter who the thing might claim,
No matter were it choice or rare,
For naught did the destroyer care.
Her playthings shared the common lot;
Though hers they were, she spared them not,
Her dolls she oft tore limb from limb,
To gratify a foolish whim.


'Fie!' said her mother, 'don't you know,
That if you use your playthings so,
Kriss Kringle will in wrath refuse
To give you what you might abuse?
Remember, how in times gone by,
You've always found a rich supply
Of Christmas presents; but beware,
You'll find no more another year.'


You'd think such words would surely tend
To make this child her ways amend.
But no; she still her course pursued,
Regardless of advice so good.
But when her mother sees 'tis plain
That all her arguments are vain,
Says she, 'Since I have done my best,
I'll let experience do the rest.'
Meantime the season of the year
For Christmas gifts was drawing near,
And Sophie doubted not that she
An ample store of them would see.
At length the happy hour was come.
The children, led into the room,
Behold, with wonder and surprise,
Three tables set before their eyes.
One is for Nelly, one for Ned,
And both with choicest treasures spread.


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 25, 2012



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