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Poem by Ann Taylor


Little Girls Must Not Fret


WHAT is it that makes little Emily cry?
Come then, let mamma wipe the tear from her eye:
Therelay down your head on my bosomthat'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. 



                      Ann Taylor


Ann Taylor's other poems:
  1. Meddlesome Matty
  2. The Washing and Dressing
  3. A True Story
  4. The Baby's Dance
  5. To A Little Girl That Has Told A Lie


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